#this is. poetry to me. i will be turning this around in my head and also chewing on AW2 forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freshlyrage · 3 days

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 24

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.7k

IMPORTANT a/n: I've got no explanation this time, school and work just have been beating my ass. But this is the last chapter of the second part of this series. There's going to be a... different stylistic change next chapter. Things are um... not going to be as peaches and cream. Don't start the Mari witch hunt... i'm sorry in advance....

Enjoy

Masterlist

You cried after sex for the first time with Javi tonight. He fucked you roughly into his mattress, bit your shoulder and kissed you. He looked at the clock and stood up from the bed after finishing on your sheets. Watching him begin to leave made you heave. You start to sob with you face pressed into the pillow. He damn near tripped over his shoes rushing back to the bed.

You couldn’t explain it to him, he was panicked.

What did I do?

Did it hurt?

Andrea, please talk to me.

Hey, hey—I’m not leaving, I was getting you a towel—

Baby, please you’re scaring me.

He presses his thumb across your cheek collecting your tears. His eyes are wild, blown out and concerned.

Your first question scares him. You didn’t mean to, it was only a segway.

“Do we have too much sex?” You pant, warm tears still falling. Javi swallows hard, you could nearly feel his heart beat at the pad of his thumb while strokes your face.

It’s Friday night.

The week had been good. Great even. After your little lake day you and Javier decided to no longer be apart. You biked home that night and snuck him into your room. He ate you out, the sun had you beat and you fell asleep immediately after. He is learning how to sneak out quietly. That was wednesday.

On Thursday, you decided to go to the public library. You had some lessons for the second session of summer school to get done and you wanted him around.

He was very good. Silent and reading while you chewed your pen cap. You caught him doing more staring than reading but you couldn’t mind. You’d just smile and go back to your work.

When you were done the two of you strolled the aisles of Laredo Public Library, picking books for each other. You spot Neruda in the poetry section and you silently squeal. Getting up on your tiptoes to reach when you’re lifted off your feet. Javier lifts you to the top row and you let out a cackle deserving of a shhh from the ancient librarian.

He behaved well, until you were driving home and he took you from behind in the back seat of his truck.

He kisses you sweetly, tells you he loves you and drives you home.

He finds himself in your bed once more, this friday night. You know he should leave soon, tomorrow morning is the wedding. You hadn’t anticipated breaking down in this way. You need all of the rest you can get, god knows Melissa will be raising hell at 9 am. It was only ten when you asked Javier the question.

“Uh— No—yes? Please tell me why you’re still crying.”

You sigh, “I’m… sorry.”

“Why? Should we turn it down? Am I being too much-“

You scrunch your face and turn your head into his hand. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start this conversation, crying and asking him if their sex is too much. Strangely you felt too scared to tell him. “God no! I was just…” You choke on your own words. “Nevermind.”

“Nope—nope, none of that querida.” Javier pushes your hair back out of your face, you close your eyes surrounded by his warmth. You could die here you fear. You can’t believe you’re here—there, in his arms like it’s nothing.

You think of Xavier. Xavier made you cry.

“This is my first sexual relationship where I’m like not sighing and bracing myself before you touch me. It was like that with Xavier, I’d disassociate while we had sex. It was okay at the beginning because I suppose I somehow liked him, but then he just got fucking mean.” You picture him, what he looked like in high school. The dirty blonde, blue eyed jaw clenched soccer player. You wouldn’t guess he was hispanic in a million years, he seemed to be so distant from his culture, you tried to understand but you just didn’t get how—it bothered you, his ignorance. You somehow looked past it all, he kissed you sweetly before class. You hadn’t been kissed sober since Javier by that point. You were easily molded. “I don’t know why I’m talking about this, I'm sorry.” You rub your eyes, you know Javier could be a jealous lover. You didn’t want to bicker over details of your previous relationships.

“Andrea, just talk to me. Tell me about him. I’ve told you plenty about her.”

Lorraine, you’ll face her tomorrow. You fear you might chew her head off, or maybe she’ll claw your eyes out. No mimosas tomorrow, or else it’ll get messy.

You suddenly feel a wave of tears threatening behind your eyes, burning. Somehow you begin to ramble while he watches, stroking and caressing your face.

“He asked me out at a beach in Corpus Christi, it was my idea of romance back then. I suppose I just wanted to be liked by someone. We dated for almost two years, you know? I sort of enjoyed our time together. When we were just sitting around watching tv, making fun of episodes of Dynasty. Then he’d touch me and I would dread it every time. Like my whole body would just leave, and somehow I’d end up on my back. I don’t think I ever felt violated or anything like that, he was just cold during sex and selfish. One time he got rough out of nowhere, and I got really excited, like yes, you’re trying something new. Those times when he’d be rough, it didn’t feel like him so I would enjoy myself. I finished, once. And I was so sensitive after, I wanted to cuddle and kiss him, thank him. But I remember he just bit my shoulder and got up to leave. Without cleaning me, I was seventeen. I started to cry, I would cry every time he left afterward” You were sobbing. You remember it all, you remember the feeling of being fucked and left, and the gaping hole it left in your heart. “I wasn’t even crying because I didn’t want him to leave, I didn’t want anyone to leave me. And they had, I thought I moved on from that. You’ve rushed out of my room plenty of times.” You hiccup, “I just got really sad today, I’m sorry I ruined our sex.”

Javier looks down at you, your head leaning against his knee. The light in your bedroom casting him an orange glow, his brow quivered and he shook his head, stroking your hair once more.

“I love you.”

It hurts to hear, “I know. I love you t-“

“No- I love you and I can’t bear to watch you like this. You can never ruin anything, please never apologize to me for something so silly. Please Andrea.” He slides down to lay with you again. You begin to cry harder.

“I need to get help. I have severe abandonment issues.”

You’ve known it deep inside, you’ve been too afraid to say it. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you wanted Javier to be enough to fix you. But even though he soothes the pain so well, there’s too many layers to ignore just because he’s here right now.

It’s silent for a beat. He just breathes and nods, you fill his chin at the top of your head.

“I do too.”

“You don’t have to say it to make me feel better.”

He’s perfect, how could he ever need help-“I’m turning into my mother, the past few years have been self destructive decisions. I’m aware of it so much that it makes me ill. I threw up on Tuesday because I saw my departure date circled on my calendar.”

Now you’re silent.

“Yeah we need help.”

“God bless our therapists.”

Genie had other friends. Three other girls crowded your kitchen island downing fruity cold drinks clad in flowy yellow gowns. You decline the lounging and giggling, you rather keep Genie company. She requested no bridesmaids during hair and makeup—just come up when I’m in my gown—you figured you were an exception. And you were because she beamed the second you walked into the room.

She was alone in a white slip, her face painted so beautifully and her brown locks pulled into a decorated bun. You prepped your room for powdering and pampering, cleaning at the crack of dawn after your night with Javier. Genie sat on a lush chair by the window facing the backyard. You could hear the bustle of workers putting their final touches.

“You look so pretty my love.” Genie grins.

Your eyes widen at her compliment, she beat you to it. You suppose you were lucky that she wasn’t one of those bridezillas that wanted her bridesmaids to suffer in puffy dresses, to ensure the idea of always the bridesmaid and never the bride or what not.

Instead she allowed the four of you to pick dresses as long as they were A. Pale Yellow, and B. Bohemian. You weren’t afraid to admit that your little childhood friend group seemed to be stuck in 1975 fashion, your icons were Stevie Nicks not Madonna!

“Me, look at you. I-“ Tears well in your eyes and she isn’t even in her gown yet. It was rare, a thing like this. To not have to adjust to a new love in your brother's life. You felt if they ever broke up you would make Frankie’s life a living hell because there was absolutely no way you were staying away from Genevieve. The only person who rubbed your back when you cried during those six years, the first person at your bedside when it ended with Xavier and now there she is, about to marry your brother giving you a niece—giving you an older sister. “I’m just so happy it’s you—that you’re my family.”

Your voice cracks and your period is definitely approaching. She frowns with a wiggling chin as she stands to pull you in. “Te quiero, de verdad, Andrea. Soy una mujer afortunada.” She whispers and she smells like she did in high school, an amber warm scent that comforted you but a smell so familiar you can—-

“Are you wearing the perfume you would spray Javier’s basement with after we smoked?” You laugh through tears.

“Yes!”

The two of you sat for a bit, rambling on about everything but the ceremony in four hours. She rubbed her stomach frequently, stretching her legs out on your bed like a cat getting prepared to nap. You knew her other bridesmaids slightly. Two of them were her employees at her first salon, Harrietta and Wilma. The third was her cousin who flew in from California, Olivia. Still, she chose you to be her maid of honor.

“Are you prepared?” You ask finally, she looks at you and pauses her belly rubs. Genie giggles and blows a raspberry, with a head shake.

“Thinking about it makes me so nervous and it upsets her…” She taps her belly.

You nod again, sipping your water before glancing down at the yard through your window. It was slightly less hectic, you spotted your mother straightening a seat. She was clad in a float blue gown. You can’t help but wonder if she would put this much effort into your wedding one day. The thought makes your lips quirk in a frown. “Have you practiced your vows?”

“Let’s talk about something else, I do not want to sweat my blowout.” She was nervous, pale as a ghost, you suppose in your gaze out the window you hadn’t noticed just how anxious this topic was making her. Your eyes widen and you place your cup down. Unsure what to even talk about.

“Right uhm—“

“Is Javier treating you well?” She cuts, reaching over to your bedside table and getting ahold of the church fans your mother placed on each seat. It was eighty five degrees out. Your cheeks go crimson, will you ever get used to someone knowing?

“Yeah… I don’t know… he always has, somehow he’s better in a relationship.”

“Be honest, have you guys had sex here?” She points at the bed she’s lying in. Your eyes double in size and you cover your face. But this is how it was with the two of you, she’d press about your sex life, you’d tell her, you’d giggle like schoolgirls then she’ll attempt to tell you about hers and you nearly vomit because of the circumstances in which her sex life occurs.

“Yes! Often too… You know I struggled with sex before Javi.”

She frowns, she heard all about it during your monthly sister in law sleepovers when you were still in high school. Genie tried so hard to encourage you to demand what you needed out of Xavier. “Yeah… I know.” She rubs the sheets beside her and you wince.

“Ew don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” She retracts her hands and folds them in her lap with a chuckle. “Not for nothing but If you would have told me earlier I could have rescinded the invite to Lorraine.”

It was your turn to be avoidant.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Fair.”

It’s silent again and all you could do is sip your water and worry about seeing Lorraine face to face after so many years.

“Has he told you he loves you?” Genevieve asks, lying on her side now, propped up with her chin in her palm. Your lips quirk in a smile and you stare at the bottom of your gown.

“He has.” You sigh when you think of what this must look like to outsiders. Andrea goes back to Javier after everything, “I think he means it.” You wonder why it scares you to be loved so much. You think being loved might sever you in two, it’s starting, you aren’t sure what to do now.

She stands at that, and wraps her arms around your shoulders while you sit. “I know he does, he has forever. We’ve seen it, it pisses your brother off, sure, but it can’t be denied. Hopefully in a few years I’ll be talking you down while you’re laid in a wedding dress. He’ll be nervous next door.” She kisses the top of your head. You tremble at the thought. You can’t think about that now.

“One wedding at a time, let’s get you in your dress.” You jump to your feet and walk toward the white dress hung up on your dresser door. Unzipping the white plastic. Genie stands too.

“Right! Right. But I'll be your maid of honor, right?”

Your brows furrow and you snap your head over your shoulder.

“Bitch please.”

You loved Javier in a suit. Luckily for you his career allowed him to be formal a lot of the time he snuck into your room at night, but this suit was reminiscent of prom and you grin.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, surveying your surroundings. It was nearly your cue to walk out together, behind you were the three other bridesmaids and your brothers three other groomsmen. Friends he met at work that you never bothered getting to know. They were standing side to side with the girls. Javier clenches his jaw and looks at the chattering groups behind the two of you. He looks annoyed by the presence of the groomsmen. You shake your head, it was so like Javier. “Have you even tried… to befriend your wedding companions?”

Javi furrows his brows and looks back at you then softens immediately. He grunts, “Nope, red head over there joked about asking you out tonight. Who the fuck are these guys?” He cranes his head to level with you. You loved when he did that, feeling guarded and protected by his presence even when it wasn’t necessary.

You flatten the lapels of his crisp suit with a little tight lipped smile. “Friends Frankie had to make when you were gone because it came out that you were actually his only friend.”

“Ah.”

“Think I got a chance with Charles?” You joke, tugging on his suit jacket once more. Javier’s face drops and his mustache twitches into a firm frown. His big puppy dog eyes make you never want to tease him ever again.

“Maybe, Wilma offered to cut my hair for free when I was serving Frankie some scotch earlier-“

“Okay enough of this game.” You snap, your face turning hot. He puts on that stupid smug smile and nods a truce. The two of you face forward shoulder to shoulder, the music begins and you know you must count to twenty before the doors open.

Javier offers you an arm. You slap his behind before intertwining.

“You’re gross.”

“You love me gross.” You giggle, squeezing his bicep. The doors open and you walk out to your backyard. The entirety of Laredo were at their feet smiling at the two of you. Javier leans in your ear and whispers, “Hmm yeah, you look beautiful in yellow but I rather see you in white.”

And the two of you walk down the aisle and you hope it isn’t your last time.

Genie loved drama. Well, no. Genie loved being the drama. You silently cried the entire time they exchanged their vows. Why Genie decided to have her wedding three days before your cycle begins is beyond you. The vows were very much Genie, with some censoring. She promised your mother that she won’t be vulgar, she already went against Melissa’s wishes when she said she rather have the ceremony and reception at home instead of the ceremony at church.

The entire backyard erupted in cheers when she made a comment about being so grateful to be starting a family with Frankie. Somehow you forgot that only your small circle knew. Genies ninety-one year old grandmother jumped to her feet in happiness.

It was surely safe to say that your brother's wedding reception ranked high on the happiest you’ve ever felt. When the officiant granted them their first kiss as a married couple Genie of course pinched his behind causing your mother to gasp and everyone in their seats to giggle. Most importantly your brother smiled brightly against his wife’s lips.

The cocktail party was in your front yard, half an hour while they set up the backyard once more to fit all guests. It was the duty of the direct family of the groom and bride to scurry around and set up. So you and Javier did just that. Folding white chairs and loading them in the van. Centering flowers on tables. Picking up fallen name cards.

Once the sun began to set, the guests walked through the pathway leading to your backyard and found their places. And the live mariachi arrived. You let out a huff when you were finally able to sit down, Javier groaned at the bend of his knees.

“I’m going to need sixteen hours of sleep after this.” He says, picking up his beer and sipping. The scene was oddly similar to Liandras quince. You laugh, taking your own beer and following suit. You glance over to the Bride and Grooms table, decorated more elegantly and intentionally. They were beaming, swaying back and forth while talking to each other. The kids of town dancing and running around, kicking balloons in the air and not letting it drop. “We should get a hotel tonight.” He whispers against your shoulder. You side eye him and smirk, pinching his thigh.

“Yeah, we should.” Your eyes scan the crowd once more, landing on a table in the far right corner of the party. Mr. and Mrs. Smithfield, clad in light blue. And right next to them, sitting in silence, Lorraine. Your eyes widen at the sight of her for the first time in nearly seven years. Her hair a darker shade of blonde, pin straight. Her eyes land on you. Although you feel your heart drop you still offer a small smile.

She rejects the gesture, eyes darted between you and Javier, and peels her eyes alway with a straight face.

You frown and look at Javier. “I just saw Lorraine.” He frowns just the same, placing his hand on yours while it rested on the table. The touch burned straight through you. Removing your hand and placing it back into your lap. You couldn’t dare to look at him while you just retracted at his touch. But you could feel his body tensing beside you. You want to apologize for your reaction but you just can’t. You tried to avoid the idea of Lorraine coming back home, but now it’s here and the guilt is climbing up your throat and making your cheeks burn. And now you’ve made Javier upset. He takes another sip of his drink.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes while you panic. She knows. It took her one glance to read you, read your body language. You feel sick, and you know that technically you didn’t do anything wrong but you were once her friend. Yet on the same coin you also know that she mistreated him.

So why does this feel so bad?

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You blurt, standing from your chair. Javier places his beer down loud enough for you to hear, he’s upset with you. He is. Your heart contracts in your chest.

He stands alongside you, “Well I do too.” He says in a tone so deep you know you’re going to get your ass handed to you. You want to pinch yourself because his anger makes your cunt clench around nothing. You figure that you want to be chased by him. Captured, maybe he’ll fuck you in the bathroom and it’ll teach you a lesson.

Still, there’s guilt in that thought. You won’t allow it, not when you’re feeling this way. “Javier we aren’t doing this-“

“Don’t make a scene.” He demands once more and you’re already walking towards the house, and he’s following you. The party was too busy to notice the interaction. You swing the screen door open without holding it for him, it nearly swings back in his face but he slams it wide open.

You look over your shoulder at him as he trails behind you with a furrow in his brow. A jaw clenched. “I really do have to pee.” You say, the house empty besides the caterers, you had figured people would be trickling in and out considering your home bathroom was the only one for this event. A slight oversight on your mother’s behalf.

“I don’t give a shit.” He grumbles and the two of you stumble into the bathroom.

You sigh and glance at him while he stands with arms crossed at the door. Studying your every move. You lift the bottom of your dress and tuck it under your chin while you attempt to pull your panties down to pee. Javier shakes his head and strides towards you, holding your dress up from the back. You shut your eyes, “This is embarrassing and gross I can do this myself.”

He keeps a straight face, “I can’t even help you now? Now I'm embarrassing you?”

You shoot him an annoyed glance, “Peeing is private.”

He grunts, you know slightly that you’re being ridiculous. You know he’d quite literally do anything to help you even if it’s as small as holding up your expensive dress while you peed. You shake your head and do your business quickly, wiping yourself with cheeks hot. “Why are you upset with me?” He asks while you pull your panties back on.

He drops your dress as you stand a foot away from the toilet, he gets on one knee fixing the lining of your bridesmaid dress. God damn it, this boy was a dream. He stands once again with a grunt. Viejo, you want to say. You move past him without a response and stand in front of the mirror, beginning to wash your hands. “Andrea.”

“I wasn’t ready to see Lorraine and she—she knows.” You look at him through the mirror. His hands are crossed, the suit tightening around his arms. You wish you didn’t feel so gross, you’d turn around and drop to your knees, that’s just the sort of mood you’ve been in.

He doesn’t seem to phased. “Knows…? She knows what?” Still, grumpy, angry. Still sultry and hot. He’s burning into your eyes through the mirror.

You take a few moments to think, stare at him through glass–make sure he understands how you’re feeling.

“She knows we’re fucking.” You grip the edge of the sink, he’s so tall behind you.

He nods, stepping up closer behind you. Hips pinning you against the sink. “Is that what we’re doing? We’re fucking?” He dips his head into your shoulder, your breath gets caught in your throat. Yes, yes, yes. His hands come to your waist and ride up, up, to your breasts. Both palms cover yours completely and then some. He grinds against your ass.

“Y-yes Javi.” You whimper, you don’t understand how he can turn you on so quickly. He kisses your neck and you watch. He’s craned over you while your neck is tilted, like he’s ready to devour you whole, sink his teeth into you and suck. You watch his hands through the mirror, pull your top down and expose your dark nipples to the fluorescent light of your downstairs bathroom. He pinches your nipples and you moan.

And in an instant he bends you over the sink, your breasts pressed upon the cold surface. And he grinds into you clothed, “You’re my girlfriend, you understand?” The air is cut out of your throat. He drives again, “We aren’t fucking, okay? We’re together, I’m yours. Tell me you’re mine.”

You bite your lip, your hair falling over your face. “I’m yours Javi.” You arch your back like a kitten, hoping he’ll pull up your dress and fuck you raw and fast. But he doesn’t, he leans over and stands you up straight, pulling your dress back up.

“Good, I'm glad we have that all cleared up.”

You’re left panting and wanting a kiss. Wanting to apologize for being so—You shut your brain off and turn to kiss him. Lips pressed to his but his hands don’t move to hold you.

Your brows furrow and you part, feeling wrong inside.

“What’s wrong?” Your brows crease, in heels there’s still space to look up at him.

He turns away from you for a moment, you hope to god what you’re feeling in your chest isn’t the way he felt when you dropped his hand. “I don’t feel good when you talk about us like that. Like we just fuck.”

Oh, your eyes drop to your heels as they stand perfectly in front of his oxfords. You aren’t sure how to apologize about your own insecurity climbing at your throat. But he doesn’t ask you to, instead he places a hand on your cheek, “You know that I love you right?”

The bathroom door swings open and you jump from his touch once more. His hand dropping to his side and your bodies reacting to the intruder. Eyes wide at the sight.

Lorraine Smithfield. Again, but up close with another red straight face, in a green dress. Your eyes flick down to her stomach, a small bump protruding and filling the dress. You feel your mouth go dry and you can’t help but look up at Javier. Your stomach is twisting into something sick. Your own face getting beat red at his own brows softening at the sight of his ex-girlfriend carrying a child.

She just shook her head and turned on the faucet as if you two weren’t caught red handed. Your cheek stings from where he once touched you. “If you want to sneak around at a wedding you should at least lock the door.” She chuckles bitterly, pressing soap into her palms. “Frankie knows you’re feeling up his baby sister Javi?”

She smirks and looks at the two of you once more. Javier’s nostrils flare, you could feel him counting to ten in his head.

She’s pregnant.

Lorraine is pregnant.

“I’m an adult, don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” You snap, and Lorraine stands up straight, blocking the doorway with crossed arms. She looks between the two of you and chooses to ignore you once more. Like her business was only to zero in on Javier.

“You talked a lot about Andrea being nothing to you all those years in Houston. Interesting how you switched on me.” Your chin quivers but you keep your face straight, you weren’t going to break in front of Lorraine, of all fucking people. You can’t help but look at her belly bump once more and furrow your brows. What is happening?

“I don’t really feel like talking to you, not when you’re angry. So we’re going to go.” He grabs your hand and you feel the sick instinct to retract again but you let him anyway.

She hesitates to move before saying one last thing, and this time she looks you in the eye, placing a hand on the swell of her stomach.

“He keeps you burning for him. Remember where he’ll be in a few months, none of this will matter again. I suggest you get over it Andrea.”

Your eyes shoot open for a moment while Javier drags you out of the bathroom. You chest constricting and you drop his hand finally. Feeling the same panic you felt last night when you sobbed against your bedsheets. Walking ahead of him with dual intention, being upset and not wanting to look suspicious to the party you’re about to approach.

“Andrea—“ He grabs your upper arm right before you exit your house.

“Please, let’s just—talk later or tomorrow.” Your words are hurried and snappy, the apples of your cheeks hot and crimson. You knew you weren’t ready for all of this, you fucking knew it. Javier wasn’t having any of it, he shakes his head.

“No.” His mustache twitches in a disapproving frown. You scoff with a taste of copper on your tongue making your face screw.

“No— I’m saying no to you.”

He cuts you off, “We need talk about this now because I know you-“

“If you loved you’d listen to me when I say no. Let me go.”

Let me go.

He doesn’t bother you the rest of the night, he doesn’t invite you to dance which you didn’t expect considering the optics of it all but sitting in silence side by side made you feel green. And you couldn’t help but think of what it means for Lorraine to be pregnant. You’d hope she wasn’t in a relationship, that poor man should know how bitter she still is.

You feel bad for her a bit, whoever the father is wasn’t in the picture which was a mortal sin in her family. Preacher's daughter pregnant and unmarried, heavens.

You can’t help but feel uneasy. You try to smile and enjoy the wedding but Javier’s eyes burn, he’s waiting for you to say something—anything. You pulled the love card, low blow. So you know he has no choice but to give you space to think. It wasn’t like you were jealous but you saw every muscle in his face drop at the sight of her mothering figure. You suppose you’d have a reaction if Xavier came to you with a pregnant girlfriend.

For a fleeting moment you wonder if his face was something toeing the line of concern-worry. Concern, you understand, is close to love. You were brutally shaken out of the bubble the two of you created in the past week.

The sun set and you found yourself avoiding the table that the two of you housed. Javier really only shook the hands of those who approached him and asked him in spanish borderline insulting questions about his career. Your mother fortunately was a woman to be feared so once she announced the night was coming to a close the crowd flooded the front lawn, watching Genie climb into Frankie’s Ford Escort with a giggle and struggle to fit the train in the car. Just married chalked on the windows and streamers and cans tied on the bumper. They drove off with beeping horns and cheers. Javier brings his fingers to lips and whistles a splitting one. The married couple had reservations at the nicest hotel an hour out of town. Their tickets to Puerto Rico awaiting them for the next week.

You walk past Javier and head straight to the backyard to close up some chairs , the only person focused on cleaning just yet. Your mother was still doing her part in crowd control at the yard.

The moon was bright that night, and your feet were killing you. You just wanted to be in bed. Be in bed with him. You know he followed you, you focused on your attempt of cleaning (avoiding him)--in your peripheral you saw him folding chairs a few feet from you. You sigh to yourself, not wanting to talk now but you feel him.You can feel that his anger became sadness. And you can't stand to see him sad.

He still talks first.

“I got a hotel out of town tonight.”

You pause standing up straight, looking at him while he corners the table he was dissembling.

“I’m–I’m going to stay here tonight I think.”

Javier’s entire face drops, gone ashen under the moonlight. He looks at the grass below him like he’s trying to decipher if all of this is real or not. He nods, “Alright. I’ll see you then?”

You nod, crossing your arms like you're holding your body from its instinct to jump into his arms. You needed to think. “Yeah, goodnight.”

The air is thick between the two of you and he frowns. Placing his hand on your elbow, leaning down to press a warm kiss against your lips, you can’t help but lean back into it. “Goodnight,” He kisses the corner of your lips, “I love you.”

You aren't sure why you freeze but Javier walks right past you before your brain could catch up with your heart.

You cry holding your stomach, alone in the aftermath of the simplest presentation of love.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

15 notes · View notes

katabay · 5 months

Text

Omar El Akkad's forward to the Annotated Arabian Nights: Tales from 1001 Nights (trans. Yasmine Seale)

#book club tag #thought about making a book club side blog. but actually. i will keep it here but i'll keep the prev tag as it's dedicated tag #also the joy of reading and finding beautiful turns of phrases is 90% of why i include citations in much of what i post #and i want to pass that happiness on to whoever might find a similar delight in reading it. you know?? sometimes i don't have art #to go with it. i just really! loved what something had to say! i got nothing else to add! anyway. book club tag. will be the tag for this #also this is like. GOD. this is thee creative statement of the century. the drive to tell stories. i love!! this forward!!!!!!!!#i was listening to the Something Rotten spoilercast episode about Alan Wake 2 and I'm OBSESSED with everything they had to say #about how this is a game that's very aware of the creative process. it is!!!!! IT IS!!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!#this is. poetry to me. i will be turning this around in my head and also chewing on AW2 forever

138 notes · View notes

celestial-kestrel · 4 months

Text

It's that time of year again where Mari Lwyd starts to be talked about and shared around and an INCREDIBLY misleading post gets shared a lot. As someone who grew up with Mari Lwyd I wanted to clear some things up.

Also hello, if you are unaware who Mari Lwyd is. This is about the Welsh tradition of the horse skull who visits houses during the Christmas to New Years period in Wales asking for alcohol.

First off and probably the most important one:

Mari Lwyd is not a cryptid!

I can not emphasise this enough. She. Is. Not. A. Cryptid. There is no story or mystery about a ghost or zombie horse roaming the Welsh valleys. She's not even supposed to be a ghost or a zombie. It's just a horse skull on a stick with a guy under a sheet. She's a hobbyhorse and a folk character used to tell Welsh stories and keep songs alive. When people spread the misinformation that she's a cryptid, it's the equivalent of saying Kermit the Frog is a cryptid.

She is actually only one character in a wider cast of characters who go door to door or, in more modern times, pub to pub. The cast of characters can change town to town and village to village but there are some common ones I see time and time again. The Leader, the Merryman, The Jester and The Lady are just some I see regularly. Punch and Judy used to be more popular a few years ago but I haven't seen them in a while as their tradition has mostly fallen out of popularity. In most cases, almost the whole cast will be played by men. Even the characters are considered and referred to as female. Though this again depends and varies by which group is partaking in the Mari Lwyd tradition.

This point also goes onto my second point,

Mari Lwyd does not rap.

I think this comes from a very common misunderstanding of what rap is vs spoken word. Rap is a very specific style of music originating from the African American communities of the USA and has it's own structure and motifs unique to it. It's a lot more complex than people give it credit for as a style of music and just flippantly assign anything similar to it as being rap. If someone is talking fast or reciting poetry, it is not rap. Or anything that is an exchange of words between two people is not a rap battle. Mari Lwyd does not do rap, actually something that gets left out of these posts is the fact Mari Lwyd does not even speak. It's actually the Leader, who does all the speaking and song based banter between the house/pub owner for entry. Mari Lwyd just clicks her mouth, bites people and bobs her head around.

I think Mari Lwyd is a really beautiful and unique part of Welsh culture. She's not actually as wildly celebrated as a lot of the posts make her out to be. Actually, I think most Welsh people themselves learn about Mari Lwyd through the internet as well. Her popularity is increasing thanks to the drive of local groups wanting to keep the traditions alive and a renewed desire to document Welsh traditions before they're gone. Which is why it's such a shame that she's turned into something she's not to earn horror points on the internet. I think this is why it bothers me so much to see the misunderstandings of the culture and the folk tradition. Mari Lwyd's origin is very hot debated as well as how long it's been going on for. But I think it's thanks to a lot of traditions like this that the Welsh language and our stories weren't lost forever. Welsh culture is recovering as is the language. But it's still in a very fragile place. I think it's why it's important to document and correct information when it's spread.

Anyway, if you want to see the tradition in action, here's a lovely video from the Cwmafan RFC going to one of the pubs for charity. It includes the song exchange with the pub owner for entry and the whole pub singing and joining in once Mari Lwyd and the rest are inside.

youtube

As well with another video from St Fagan's showcasing the more traditional and door to door form with the larger cast.

youtube

#Mari Lwyd #Wales #Welsh #Welsh culture #Youtube

18K notes · View notes

inkskinned · 2 months

Text

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

#warm up #writeblr

2K notes · View notes

lendeah · 3 months

Text

Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

[ao3 link]

You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 prompts #astarion prompt

1K notes · View notes

gojoux · 3 months

Text

『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.

· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.

When you’re training by yourself.

You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.

After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.

“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.

You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”

“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”

You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.

“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”

“Of course,” he grins cheekily.

“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”

You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.

“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”

“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a pointed look.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.

You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.

“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.

Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”

“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.

You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”

When you’re on your mission.

The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.

Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.

The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.

Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.

Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.

She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”

You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.

As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.

“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.

You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”

You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, it was a good show.”

Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”

His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”

You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”

He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”

“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”

“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.

A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”

You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.

“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”

“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.

“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.

When you’re dressed up for a date.

“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.

“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”

You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”

It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”

Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”

One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.

He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.

“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”

“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.

He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”

You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.

“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.

He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.

Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.

“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”

He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.

Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.

“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.

The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.

Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”

You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.

Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”

“Only about a hundred times tonight.”

“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.

No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.

When you failed your mission.

The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.

But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.

By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.

He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.

When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.

“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.

Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”

You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”

You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.

Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”

A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.

His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.

Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.

Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.

“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”

You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.

He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”

Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.

When you’re happy.

You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.

One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.

Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.

When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”

Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.

You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.

In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.

There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:

“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”

Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:

“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”

Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:

“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”

His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.

On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.

“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”

Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.

“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.

He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.

“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”

When you’re sick.

A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.

A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”

He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.

Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.

“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.

Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.

You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.

He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.

He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”

You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.

When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.

True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.

“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”

“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”

His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.

After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.

Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”

Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”

You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.

When you’re annoyed at him.

“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.

The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.

“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.

You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.

“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.

You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”

Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”

Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)

With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”

Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.

He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”

Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”

Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.

You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.

He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”

The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.

“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”

He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”

The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”

“I always do,” he retorted cockily.

True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.

By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.

“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”

You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.

Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”

Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.

You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.”

“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.

Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”

He just loves everything about you.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.

“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.

“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.

He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.

“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”

Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.

It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.

It was so utterly Gojo.

As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.

He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”

Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.

When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.

Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.

When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”

Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.

Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.

“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.

“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.

“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.

As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.

In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.

Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol

1K notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 4 months

Text

— CHARITY

pairing: dark!president!coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

warnings: violence, basically torture, unhinged coryo, obsession, forced marriage, short fic

a/n: based on this request, this is actually insane

what an angel he is.

the capitol viewed your dear husband as nothing short of a saint. an amazing president, an even better husband. of course they all knew about you, his dear wife, the one who swept him off his feet.

the start of your marriage was torture enough for you, having been forced into it by your parents. all they could talk about was what a sweet man coriolanus was. how accomplished he was. it didn’t matter what he’d been in the past, he had built himself up again and he was undeniably coveted by many. you should be thanking him for choosing you.

yet you couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

you’d already told him you weren’t interested. you weren’t charmed by the copious amounts of gifts he’d sent your way. the poetry books that you were sure you’d never talked about to anyone else, only written of in your journals and read at home. the pretty dresses and jewellery but the only gift you’d accept of coriolanus’s was his absence from your life.

and he couldn’t handle it so he went over your head and enticed your parents.

you hated him with your whole soul and every bone in your body whilst he worshipped you. “you look gorgeous, fit to be my wife.” you stood in front of him, hand in hand, wedding dress donned and ready to marry.

you wanted to punch him in the face yet you held your breath, and smiled at him as well as the guests, of which you knew only a few. he kept you restricted, as if on lockdown in your own home. he was like a leech, feeding in your happiness and you’d been sucked dry. coriolanus was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to you and you wouldn’t let him win.

so you ran.

you’d made it about a few steps down the street before his sleek black car pulled up, his driver walking around to you whilst you backed up, all the way against the tall, black bars of your home. prison.

“did you think you’d get far? that i’d let you? you are my wife, my responsibility, you are here for me. i was trying so hard to give you space, to let you adjust and you took advantage of my generosity.” his words were filled with spite, each word piercing your skin.

he was truly insane.

“generosity? generosity? you forced me into a marriage and expect me to kneel down and kiss your feet for this? for me to not fight back? i have never loved you nor will i coriolanus.” you were a cornered animal, only being able to lash out, bad mistake. the sun reflected off of the crowbar in his hand, twirled between his hands as he stepped out of the car, you were shrinking into yourself whilst he grew taller.

a selfish man stealing the oxygen you needed, the freedom, and now, your abilities.

“how many times must i correct you, it’s coryo darling.”

the unspeakable pain broke your heart, your throat raw from the shrieking and screaming. eyes stinging at the touch of a hand, puffy and sore. blood drawn from your lips tasted metallic and odd, yelling seemed to do nothing so you resorted to biting down on anything.

he’d shattered your legs.

you’d never walk again.

you’d have to rely on him.

you were confined to a wheel chair for your life.

he now controlled where you went.

you’d never be able to move on your own.

in your desperation to escape you’d overlooked and underestimated coriolanus’s obsession for you. he knew the second you’d stepped out of the home, either he was waiting for it or was always ready to come home. whether it was a trap or just bad luck, you were stuck.

most of panem viewed your husband to be an absolute angel, he could have remarried, he could have turned you away yet he stuck by your side, ever the supportive partner. how lucky you were! the rest of them saw you as a chore, someone undeserving, unable to provide for your family. he was a nice man.

you were just charity.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #yandere!coriolanus snow #yandere coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games fic

903 notes · View notes

basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 4 days

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

549 notes · View notes

discotitsposts · 9 days

Text

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

596 notes · View notes

revasserium · 3 months

Text

promise (to be holy)

rafayel; 1,745 words; fluff, fluff w/out plot, established relationship, kinda?spoilers for raf's lvl 55 affection story, no "y/n", genderless!reader, very suggestive but not actually nsfw

summary: oh, didn't you know? promises are sacred things beneath the ocean...

a/n: @syneilesis thank u for being my lad screaming buddy; this one's for you and for raf the little slut

The ocean has always been a certain kind of poetry, hasn’t it? You smile to yourself as you blink yourself awake and the world is the size of your sunlit bedroom. Rafayel’s breaths are even, his lashes so dark and long they remind you of a certain kind of midnight — the kind that catches starlight in her hair and has magic in her fingertips.

The kind of midnight that inspires wonder.

“If you really are that enamored with me… I can paint you a portrait. It’ll last longer.”

You blush, even as Rafayel’s eyes flicker open to catch yours, his lips pulled into a teasing, sleep-heavy smile.

“I — I wasn’t staring. I just woke up too and you were blocking my sun.”

You try to turn away, but Rafayel is faster, his arm looping around your middle to pin you to him, his breath warm as it kisses the skin of your bare shoulder. He cocks his head, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh? Is that so?” he asks, shifting so that your eyes are level. The morning light paints his outline in liquid gold, and from here, the shade of his eyes makes you think of all the secrets the sea might keep from the sky.

“Mhm,” you nod, licking your lips, and watching with some satisfaction, as his eyes flick down to trace the movement. His skin is warm and his fingers soft as they press into the bend of your waist to pull you closer.

“Liar,” he says — whispers, before he dips down to graze his lips against yours.

You sigh against him, grinning as you curl your fingers into his hair and tug. The way he gasps makes a certain, unnamable hunger surge within you, pushing you forward till you’re pressing him back into the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips.

“Y-you — ngh —” Rafayel hisses as he tips his head back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, his fingers inadvertently into your skin. You cock your head — and perhaps it’s the tantalizing line of his neck as he leans back, straining beneath you, or perhaps it’s just the morning light, falling like a lover’s caress across the smooth of his skin, the soft wave of his hair as it splays across the pillow — dark against light.

“Now… who’re you calling a liar?” you ask, flattening your palm slowly against his chest, reveling in the way his stomach tenses beneath you, how his breaths seem to quicken as you lean down and down and down.

“Y-you —” he almost musters up a glare as he hisses, “bullying the weak…” he murmurs as he tries to turn away. You twist his face back towards you with a finger beneath his chin and watch as his eyes go wide.

“Oh? You think this is bullying? But… I haven’t even gotten started yet…” you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate, the way his entire body goes rigid and then soft.

“I — you — I’m not accustomed to the ways of you humans! T-to a Lemurian like me… this is — this is —” The words die on his lips as you lean down to skim your lips along the bend of his neck, dropping phantom kisses on the long line of his collarbone, your fingers still holding his head in place.

“Hm?” you hum, grinning as he arches up into your touch, his fingers digging crescent-moon grooves into your hips and thighs, “this is… what, exactly?”

Rafayel makes a broken, keening noise at the back of his throat as you pull away, a fox-fire smile twisting your lips. You blink down at him, feigning innocence.

“Didn’t you say you were going to tell me all about Lemurian traditions? Why not start now?”

His eyes narrow as he forces himself to look away from you. You can almost feel the heat radiating off him in waves, burning from the tips of his ears all the way to the roots of his hair.

“I — you —” his lashes flutter and you can’t help your own laughter as it bubbles from you.

“C’mon, let’s get up — didn’t you want to go to the paint shop today — oh!”

You make to pull away, swinging your legs off him, but the world tilts as a pair of hands pull you back, and a moment later, you’re being pressed into an ocean of tangled sheets and pillows, Rafayel’s face hovering above yours, his expression caught between annoyance and ill-concealed desire.

“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” he cocks his head, lips drawn into a delightful pout as you try to tug your hand away. He huffs as he pins you down harder, the redness in his cheeks deepening even as he leans in.

“Who said I was starting anything?” you ask, batting your lashes up at him even as he scoffs.

“Words aren’t the only way to make promises, y’know,” he says, and you feel his grip on you loosen. But there’s a tantalizing lilt to his voice that holds you in place, a dark, faraway look in his eyes as he leans back slightly, his gaze grazing down the shape of you, splayed out beneath him.

“Yeah? Then… what’s another way of making a promise?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows as he shifts back to allow you more space. You shift and the pair of you find yourself sitting face to face, the sheets rumpled around you like a white-sand beach, the remnants of the night before scattered in the folds like footsteps in the sand.

He looks at you before his eyes cast downwards. Your fingertips itch toward him and you reach out, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. Quick as a flicker, he catches your hand, pressing his cheek to your palm, eyes falling shut as he sighs.

“There’s… lots of ways to make a promise…” he says, murmuring it against your skin as he turns his face to press a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. You shiver as heat chases up your arm, tingling through your body as you swallow.

You sit there, frozen, as he leans in, slow and slow and slow — till you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

“You see… words are a little harder when you’re underwater, so sometimes we make promises by touching palms —” he turns his hand around yours till your fingers lace, “sometimes… we brush cheeks…” he grins as he leans in further, his cheek brushing by yours.

“And sometimes…” he pulls back ever so slightly, till you feel your own breath catch in your chest. His voice is deep and warm and soft and sweet — tugging you in as the moon on the tide, and you can’t help but wonder at the mysterious forces that might’ve pulled you towards one another in the beginning.

Chance, or perhaps something much less nebulous — like gravity.

Your lips meet like magnets clicking into place, and it’s far from the first time you’ve kissed but somehow here, in the morning light, with the windows of the bedroom thrown open to welcome the sea, the salt hanging solid and heavy in the air, it feels like the first time. You can taste the smile on Rafayel’s lips, can feel the eager way he presses in, tongue sweeping across your lips as you gasp open for him. You feel the weight of his body as he pulls you in, pushes you down, and the gentle give and take of it all somehow rings out against the slow shushing of the rising tides.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. You wonder, briefly, dazedly, if he might’ve been able to go on kissing like that forever. Do Lemurians even need to breathe? What might it be like to kiss like that and never feel the burning ache of oxygen in your lungs? It’s a dizzying thought, and you let yourself linger on it for a second more before Rafayel’s laughter breaks your train of thought.

“What? Was it so good that you’ve gone into shock?”

You blink, shaking your head as you feel heat wash up into your cheeks.

“No! I — I was just wondering… what does a kiss promise, exactly?”

And at this, Rafayel’s cheeks darken again, but he sighs and lowers himself onto the bed next to you, a finger trailing idly along the bend of your ear.

“Well…” he says, “it depends on the kind of kiss.”

You yelp, swatting at him with a pillow as your stomach flips inside you at the implications. His laughter is bright and pure and sweet, but as you both settle down again, he shrugs, pulling you closer to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“But mostly… a kiss just promises that there’ll be another kiss.”

You smile, leaning up to graze your lips against his, “Like that?”

He lets out a soft groan before pulling you in, his lips parting yours, slow and sensuous.

“Yeah… just like that.”

“And so… if you kiss once then…” you press a finger to his lips to stop him from leaning down again, “you’ve gotta keep on kissing? Forever?”

Rafayel grins, tugging away your hand, “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

You purse your lips, humming as you feign contemplation. Rafayel scoffs and makes to move away again, but you pull him back, laughing.

“You can’t leave yet! We’ve got a promise to keep, remember?” and with that, you kiss him, and he softens. As he always does.

“I think…” he says, a little breathless as the pair of you sink back into the sheets, “we’ve got a bit more than one promise… but I think we can start with this one…” and he leans in to capture your lips in his, fingers drifting to the skin of your waist. And as the dawning day watches from beyond the window, the ocean shushes itself against a stretch of forgotten beach, water through sand like tangling lovers’ fingers, reaching and holding, pushing and pulling.

And for lovers like that, there will always be promises to keep, and keep, and keep.

pls come talk to me about love and deepspace oh m ygod

1K notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 1 month

Note

hiii i was wondering if you would write a blurb about vamp h taking care of a drunk y/n lol i think it’d be awfully cute omg or a girls night out (+ one vampire) and he’s like trailing after her trying to keep her out of trouble

wordcount: 3.9k+

—————

"Darling, are you certain you are not going to be cold?"

Twisting and turning in the mirror, her dress ruched over her body in tight folds, it took all of (Y/N)'s effort to keep her smile at bay. "I'm sure I'll be fine, H. It's not that cold out, and we won't be spending much time outside anyway."

It was clear he still wasn't pleased at her answer with the way he folded his arms across his chest and set his mouth in a grim line. (Y/N) had to bite back her smile lest he see her amusement from where he was leaning against the doorframe to her closet. He hadn't moved much from where he'd started the night watching her try on practically every outfit she had stuffed into both their wardrobe and closet.

She could feel his eyes on her as she smoothed her dress over her thighs, pulling down the hem another inch before ruching it back up. Counting down in her head, she had to keep herself from laughing when he followed the same pattern he'd curated for the past ten minutes.

"What if you fall ill? Or the weather changes while we're out? Y'could freeze before I have a chance to warm you."

This time, she couldn't stop the laugh from falling from her lips. She stopped her assessment in the mirror, turning to Harry with her amusement clear on her features and a cant of her head.

"H, c'mon."

His own expression tightened, his stubborn streak peeking out. "Come on, what?"

Stepping towards him on bare feet, (Y/N) peered up at him. "I know you think humans can't handle anything, but, honestly, do you really think it's that easy for me to get sick or freeze to death?"

They both knew well that Harry had done his share of research when it came to anything human. Especially after bonding and ensuring (Y/N) wanted to be at his side for their forever, he'd deep dived into anything and everything human to refresh his knowledge and become the most perfect beloved he could be—including knowing just how to take care of her. He knew better than to assume she would drop dead after a gust of wind.

Despite the stubborn line of his jaw, he relented, "No."

"Then, why are you so nervous about tonight?" she crooned, wrapping her arms around his middle with her chin set on his chest.

His palms ghosted down her back, leaving a chilled trail just barely felt through the fabric of her dress, until he stopped at the bottom of her spine. His touch was delicate. She could see the whole of him softening the longer she looked up at him.

"You know I worry about you," he murmured, "Anything is possible when it comes to humans. I dread testing the limits when it comes to you."

As much as she teased him and found his concern over something as simple as a breeze something to laugh over, the root of it all was something that had her softening. It was hard not to hear his words and grow tender.

"I promise I'm going to be okay, Harry," she told him, "I'm going to bring a jacket, and you're meeting us after dinner, anyway. If I feel like I need more than my jacket I can text you and let you know."

Though she knew he would never be one hundred percent pleased with her answer unless it was her layering up with all dangers padlocked away from her, this seemed to be enough for him as he sucked in an unnecessary breath.

"I suppose that will work," he sighed, overdramatic as always, "You are rather strong."

Stretching to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) pecked a quick kiss to the soft of Harry's lip. "I promise I'll be okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."

He chased after her when she pulled away, craning his neck to steal one more kiss before she landed on the flat of her feet once more. "'S a privilege, m'love."

It was poetry like that that almost had her agreeing to wrap up in layers and layers complete with a shell of bubble wrap before she left the house.

—————

Harry couldn't keep the frown from his face as he parked across the street from the nightclub he was meeting (Y/N) and her friends at. He'd never been to an establishment like this before (minus blood clubs but that was an entirely different concept that appealed to his more baser needs, so it didn't count), and, judging by the specimens he could see pouring in and out, he would have liked to keep it that way.

But, this was where (Y/N) had asked him to meet her and there was no way he was going to let her down.

He was just going to have to hold his breath, he decided. Before setting foot inside, he was sure he would not be a fan of the scents perfuming the building.

It would only be a few hours, he reminded himself as he stepped out of his car. Hours like this were a minute compared to the eternity of his existence. He could handle tonight without a doubt.

The slight breeze in the air (he didn't even want to think about (Y/N)'s bare legs enduring this wind) pushed open the unbuttoned lapels of his shirt. He hadn't been sure what he should wear for the night, but he took some cues from (Y/N)'s dress and heels when he decided to pull a shimmering satin piece from the wardrobe and fitted black trousers. Looking at the young men walking in and stumbling out of the nightclub, he wondered if they were underdressed or if he was overdressed.

That concern didn't last long, though, pushed aside once he heard a familiar peal of laughter pouring out of the swinging door of the nightclub. What he was wearing was pushed to the back of his mind then, his priority shifting. He needed to get inside and ensure (Y/N) was alright just like she had promised.

Making it to the entrance of the nightclub, Harry was stopped by a man tucked away in a cubby by the door. He was dressed in all black, a bored expression on his face when Harry approached.

"Hey, how are you?" the man asked, barely looking at Harry as he spoke.

A furrow pinched Harry's brow. "I am well, thank you."

At his abrupt tone, the man finally chanced a look at Harry. He lingered for only a moment on his stern expression before seemingly shaking it off. "That's great, man. Can I see your ID?"

The man set his hand out, palm up in expectation. The knit in Harry's brows tightened that much more at the ask. This never happened at the blood clubs from what he could remember; why did it matter who he was before stepping inside?

Nonetheless, he pulled out the (forged) ID out of his wallet, passing it off to the man with a quick flash of his hand. The man barely glanced at the piece of plastic before he flicked his eyes back up to Harry with a slight smile curling his lips.

"So, you're Harry," the man pointed out, passing back Harry's ID.

Pocketing it, Harry wasn't sure what this man was trying to get at, but answered him nonetheless, "Yes. That's me. Why?"

The man shook his head, a small laugh falling from his lips before he stepped away from the door. "Nothing. Your girlfriend just made sure to let everyone know you were coming tonight. She'll be excited to see you."

Mumbling a thank you to the man, Harry stepped around him and entered the nightclub. While it was a sweet thought that (Y/N) had boasted about him to the nightclub staff, he wasn't sure why she would go through all of the trouble. It wasn't like her to bubble off to strangers.

The lights were off, leaving the bar lining the back of the space with only a dim glow for the tenders to work by. The main floor, full of people dancing (at least that's what he thought that was what they were doing. Harry couldn't be sure, and he truthfully didn't want to look close enough to find out) was the darkest space with only pumping strobes and multicolored spotlights to be the only guides. Here and there were tall tables stationed by the bar and rounded booths tucked into the walls, no seat left unclaimed despite the busy dance floor. Scanning his eyes over the packed bodies, Harry searched for a familiar dress or the peak of a familiar scent, hoping to find (Y/N) somewhere.

His hunt didn't take long, finding (Y/N) with a few other girls he was familiar with only through photos on the far edge of the dancing crowd. He was only able to catch a view of her profile, where she had a lazy smile on her lips and her lashes sitting half lidded over her eyes. There was a cup in her hand, the neon liquid almost empty between shards of ice, though she still managed to slosh it almost to the edge with every uncoordinated sway of her body.

Harry didn't waste any time before he was meandering his way through the throng of bodies, keeping his breath stilted so as to not bother his senses with the scent of so many others that were not his beloved. It was bad enough he felt the heat of their bodies and the unnecessary brushes against him, he didn't want anything more from him to invade his senses.

Just as he hit the edges of their little group, (Y/N) stumbled on her heels, her features falling. In a rush, Harry was at her side, saving her balance and settling her back on her feet. A bewildered expression crossed her face, one he was sure matched her friends who all had eyes on him as well. Though the second she recognized his chilled touch and the familiar hands wrapped around her arms, she loosened back into her oblivious state.

"Harry!" she cheered, completely forgetting about her almost finished drink when she twirled on her feet and threw her arms around his shoulders, "You're here!"

His bunched muscles finally relaxed, allowing him to reciprocate her hug. Dipping his head down, his cheek pressed to hers with his lips by her ear, he murmured, "'M here, love. Are y'alright?"

"Yeah, why?" she bubbled, seemingly having wiped the stumble right out of her mind already.

It didn't take Harry's extra senses to notice the vodka on her breath, though he was sure he was the only one that could notice the sharp edge added to her scent from the alcohol. With how saturated it was, she hadn't just started her night at the club. That would at least explain why she had made sure to alert the man out front that her boyfriend (a silly title, but cute nonetheless) was on his way.

"No reason," he smiled, dropping his hands to sit on her waist, "Are y'having fun?"

"I am! I'm so happy you're here now! I've been telling everyone that you were coming, and now you're here!"

The glaze over her eyes was enough to draw Harry in, his lips curling into an amused smile. He'd never seen her anything past a bit tipsy. Drunk (Y/N) was a person he'd never met before.

Before he had a chance to offer any kind of response, using a surprising amount of her strength given her state, she pulled him along before presenting him to her friends.

"Guys!" she bubbled, catching the attention of the rest of the women, "Look who's here!"

One of the women looked decidedly more sober than the rest, though Harry could smell a tint of alcohol on her as well. She was the first to step forward, giving a small smile.

"Harry, right?" she said, the ends of her short blonde hair dusting her collarbones, "(Y/N)'s been so excited to see you tonight."

"As I've learned," he laughed, offering a hand out for her to shake, "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Charlotte! It's nice to meet you!"

At that, the surrounding group made their own introductions with (Y/N) clinging to his side. He dedicated each name to memory, hoping that would help him pass the test that he was surely going through that night. Meeting her friends had been foiled before with the changes in weather keeping him stuck inside, or his insistence that (Y/N) live her life outside of him lest she feel trapped in the manor at his side. Tonight had been the first time everything had fallen into place: a girls' night with an open invitation after dinner.

Shifting his arm around her shoulders, Harry pulled (Y/N) to his side as he guided her out of the way of those still dancing behind them. His features set pleasantly neutral, he looked towards Charlotte first.

"(Y/N) told me your significant others might also be joining us tonight," he drawled, his version of asking of their whereabouts as he seemed to be the only boyfriend having shown up so far.

"I'm not sure, actually," Charlotte mused, the evidence of her own drinking beginning to show. "I know my boyfriend will be here to pick me up later, but I haven't really heard anything about the other girls’. It might just be you, if that's okay."

Feeling eyes on him, Harry glanced down at his side to see (Y/N) still gazing up at him with a dreamy smile on her lips. He hoped he didn't come off as rude when the sight distracted him as Charlotte spoke, taking a beat to reciprocate her look and keep her snug to his side.

"I am okay with that. I hope 'm not intruding on your night then," Harry charmed, shooting his gaze around the room in search of a vacant booth or barstool, "Perhaps, I can find a free spot and let you all have fun without me interrupting."

"No," (Y/N) piped up, "You have to stay with us now! I don't want you to go."

Her words are slightly slurred but her passion was clear enough. He didn't bother to look at what the rest of the women had to say, only worrying about keeping the smile on his beloved face. "Okay, then I will stay, love. I will still try to find a table, though, so y'can sit with me for a little."

She was more than quelled by his answer, her body pliant against his own as if she were already ready for him to drag her wherever he wanted.

"I don't know if anything is going to be open," Charlotte interjected, having heard his proposal over the music, "I've been hoping someone would move, but they've all been taken since we got here."

"I'm sure I can make something work," Harry smiled, already spotting a booth he would prefer over the others, "We'll be right back."

As soon as Harry stepped out of the small circle formed by their group with (Y/N) on his arm, it was closed up once more, though he could feel eyes pasted to his back watching where they went. Aware of her stumbling steps at his side, Harry took it slow as he escorted her towards a booth situated in the back corner, just out of view of the others.

"I think people have—hic—they're already sitting there, H," (Y/N) murmured.

"'S alright," he answered, tightening his hold on her hand, "I think they're about to leave."

He didn't waste any time in reaching the group, a charming smile on his lips when he picked out the leader. An underdressed (in Harry's opinion) blonde man with a drink in hand seemed to be the center of attention, the first one to acknowledge Harry approaching.

Before he could utter any kind of greeting, Harry took over the situation. "Hello," he smiled, "M'girlfriend and her friends would like to sit here, please."

The man looked bewildered for a moment, unable to meet Harry's eyes. "Um—I'm sorry, but—"

"No need to be sorry," Harry cut him off, voice taking on a quality he didn't utilize very often, but this was a special occasion, "You can find another space. Right?"

As soon as the man met his eyes, Harry could tell the effects he wanted were taking place. It was all within the span of a heartbeat that this man took Harry's words as his own idea and nodded his head.

"Yeah, we can find another spot," he relented, a faux cheer to his voice as he beckoned his friends to follow him out, "C'mon, guys, let's try the bar."

There were a few questioning glances thrown to both the man as well as Harry, but no one questioned. Instead they only murmured amongst themselves as they followed their leader towards the bartop. As he led her into the now free vinyl seating, (Y/N) was one of the few that had a question in her eyes and pinch in her brows.

"How did you do that?" she asked, her voice low under the music but still audible to Harry's ears, "Is that a vampire thing?"

A breath of laughter fell from his lips at her words. "A little bit, yes. I don't like to do it often, but I want to make sure y'have somewhere to sit and relax while I get y'some water."

"You're getting me water?" she questioned, thoroughly distracted at his new offer as if she didn't have a cup of half melted ice in her hand.

"Mhm," he hummed, releasing her hand once she had tucked herself into the corner of the booth, "After I grab your friends, 'm getting y'some water before y'have any more fun."

With the way she was looking at him, he would have figured he had proposed and offered diamonds and jewels to her, and not just a glass of water from the bar. This night was already going better than he'd thought.

—————

"Did you guys know that Harry's a painter?! Like, he does huge murals and things all over the house! He's amazing."

Only Charlotte seemed to catch (Y/N) words—the same declaration she had cheered about only ten minutes prior. She and Harry exchanged a small glance while the rest of the table treated this as new information.

It'd been a long time since Harry had drank, and even longer since he'd been intoxicated to (Y/N)'s degree. Was short term memory something that was now lost when mixed with spirits, or was that just her?

"Do you really?!" one of (Y/N)'s friends (Cecilia, maybe?) bubbled, her cup of ice water cradled in her hands as she leant over the table with wide eyes, "What kind of stuff do you paint?"

"A little bit of everything," Harry answered, just as he had the last time a similar question was posed, "M'style has changed a lot over the last year or so. I can show you all some time if you'd like—'m sure (Y/N) would love to have you over to the manor."

Even Charlotte perked up at this offer, looking to (Y/N) for confirmation. "That would be so much fun, (Y/N)! We could do that the next time we get together!"

At that, Harry sat back while the chattering arose amongst the group. Under the table, his hand rested on (Y/N)'s thigh, the warmth of her skin anchoring him through the pumping music, strobing lights, and unfamiliar smells surrounding him. As much as he was aiming to leave a good first impression on her friends, he was still very much out of his element in the nightclub. He hoped (Y/N) would call for him to take her home sooner rather than later.

As if she knew he had her on his mind, (Y/N) leant into his side, looking up at him with a toothy grin and affectionate eyes. The chattering was going strong on the other side of the table, the conversation sounding as if the women were making plans for their next outing together—one that would take place at the manor with bottles of wine and movies.

"You'd really be alright with everyone coming over?" (Y/N) asked, moony eyes trained on his face.

"Of course," he answered, a smile landing on his face on instinct, "It is your home too, petal. Y'can have your friends over as well—'s not jus' Mitch and Niall that are allowed over."

She curled into his side, her thigh under the table practically draped over his own. "Do you think Sarah would want to hang out with us?"

The thought of Sarah playing around with a bunch of human girls was more amusing than he thought it would be. He wondered if that was how she and Mitch felt when they realized he was courting a human girl.

"She might," he told her, keeping his amusement to himself, "I can ask for you."

In an impossible feat, (Y/N) looked that much more in love with him at his offer. As much as he missed her regular scent without the sticky edge of alcohol, he did like just how tender she became—adoring his every and any move.

"That would be so nice, H. Thank you," she told him earnestly, her hand coming to rest on his middle with his shirt in her grip, "You're the best ever, you know that?"

"I have been told as much a few times." All by her, but that was a detail that he would leave out for the moment.

"Well," she pouted, "It's true. I'm so happy you came tonight. I think the girls really like you, too."

"Yeah?" he smiled, hoping it was more than just her drunken tongue making the claim.

"Mhm," she hummed, stretching to rest her head on his shoulder with a squeeze of her hand over his shoulder, "You're better than all of their boyfriends."

At that, Harry couldn't help but to release the laugh building in his chest. While he understood the sentiment, that wasn't quite the impact he was going for.

"You think so?" Harry questioned, unable to wipe his amusement from his voice.

(Y/N) didn't seem to notice—or, most likely, care—responding with a definitive nod. "I know so."

Another breathy laugh left his lips as he ducked his head, burying his nose in her hair. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Charlotte glancing their way; an adoring smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw the way her friend clung to him.

Taking in a lungful of (Y/N)'s scent, Harry decided that nightclubs weren't so bad.

At least when (Y/N) was there.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Cecilia babbled, a look of urgency on her face, “You said he cooks, right? You cook right?”

Her attention was splashed over Harry then, forcing him to draw away from (Y/N)’s hair. Clearing his throat under the music, he nodded his head. “I do, yes.”

A squeal fell from her lips with her companions being just as excited. “Would you make us food when we come over? (Y/N) says you’re so good!”

Just as (Y/N) perked up at his side, turning her wide eyes on him, Harry stifled his own laugh. God, how he wished he had been a fly on the wall while she apparently spouted off all these facts about him—the ones reserved for her.

“If you’d like.”

Just as he expected, more noise erupted from the table.

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas or requests you have!!

610 notes · View notes

torialefay · 2 months

Text

You Know Whose You Are 👀

hyunjin x gn!reader smut

✨ friends to lovers trope 🔞

✨ request: "Hi!! For your smut prompts can I pls request Hyunjin & 24 (Hyunjin being the jealous one)? Maybe enemies to lovers or friends to lovers scenario? And for the actual p-in-v part can he fck reader holding her up against the wall (like her back against the wall and legs around his waist position)? Sorry if this is a lot, I’m on my period and I’m having many specific thoughts lmao. Thank you!! 🥰🤍" -anon

✨ word count: ~3.5k

✨ warnings: porn with a plot; minors dni!

• you and hyunjin had become close friends quite a while ago.

• he quickly became one of your closest friends after you'd met him in a bookstore after first arriving to korea.

• while keeping your eyes fixated on the rows of books next to you, you accidentally ran straight into his chest.

• after quickly apologizing to him, you both struck up a conversation about your favorite books & authors. you had no clue who he was, and he liked that about you.

• a real friend.

• since that day, you'd messaged back and forth a lot, hung out almost on a routine basis, and made lots of fun memories.

• after a while, you eventually found out he was an idol (it was bound to happen with his weird "work schedule" he always had), but it didn't matter. he was the same hyunjinnie that you'd built a solid friendship with over the past few weeks.

• but that was the problem- you didn't want it to be just a friendship.

• and who could blame you? hyunjin was the most amazing, kind, intelligent person you'd ever met. you had more in common with him than even your very best friend. it was only natural to develop those feelings for him.

• but you knew the feelings weren't reciprocated.

• he'd never made so much as a subtle hint that he was interested in you as more than a friend... and let's be honest, he was basically the most wanted guy in all of korea. how could you compete with all these other beautiful people?

• so you didn't even let your mind wander to that extreme. you accepted the fact that he'd be nothing more than a friend to you, no matter how much you knew it could have worked out.

• "my best friend", you'd learned to teasingly call him. and soon, even you started to believe it. only that.

• one day, you'd gone over to hyunjin's apartment. he mentioned that he wanted to repaint the walls in the living room, so you offered up some of your free time to help him out.

• it wasn't super often that you came to his apartment. only a couple of times. you'd usually only gone out to do things together like go to a new art gallery or to grab coffee and talk about life. cutesy little things.

• you weren't the most familiar with his apartment, but that didn't matter much as you quickly settled in. you placed your phone in the kitchen to blare music, then headed to the living room to help coat the walls with a fresh set of paint.

• it did take a bit longer than you thought, but you didn't mind. when you and hyunjin were together, you always had fun, taking little jabs at each other and laughing to funny stories you had. the time always seemed to melt away.

• after a couple of hours, your playlist turned off. you guessed it had run out of songs.

• "jinnie, could you get a new playlist going on my phone?" you held your hands up, covered in paint. "i think it'd take me a while to do it."

• he laughed, realizing how messy you were compared to him.

• he didn't need to say anything, just got up and walked over to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away.

• as he went to tap the screen, a notification popped up... from one of hyunjin's life-long friends.

• the two of you had met a week or so ago when hyunjin invited him to go to a poetry reading with the two of you. his friend, ha-joon, wasn't necessarily as into the activity as the two of you were, but hyunjin felt bad canceling his original plans with him when he'd found out the event was happening and really wanted to go.

• and now... he was texting you?

• he read the message as it splayed across the screen:

Ha-Joon: Excited to see you tomorrow :) What are you doing?

• it's not that you were very enamored by ha-joon when you first met, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. plus he was friends with jinnie, so you figured he couldn't be too bad. when he messaged to ask if you'd be interested in going out with him, you thought you'd give it a shot. it's not like you had any other romantic prospects.

• "what's your password? i'll flip to a different playlist," hyunjin raised his voice, trying to act non-chalant. he silently thanked the fact that he was just out of sight.

• "2-7-4-4-1-2" you said back to him.

• he quickly scrolled through the playlists and chose one, letting the music blast through the speaker once again.

• "i'm gonna get a drink, do you want one?" hyunjin lied, going to open up the messages on your phone.

• "yeah, i'll take a water if that's okay?"

• "sure, i'll get it in just a sec." he started to sound nervous as he clicked to ha-joon's name on your phone. dang, texts going back to the beginning of the week. he quickly scrolled through to find quite a few message exchanged between the two of you. he scrolled back to the conversation that started last night.

Ha-joon: This might be a little bold, but I'd really like to get to know you more. Not just through texting. Would you want to grab a coffee sometime? Just you and me?

Sure! That'd be really fun :)

Ha-joon: Are you free sometime tomorrow?

I'm not really sure yet. I'm going to help Hyunjin paint. How about we just plan for the next day?

Ha-joon: Sounds good to me!

Ha-joon: Hyunjin will be okay with this, right? With us meeting up?

I don't see why not. He'd probably be happy about introducing us!

Ha-joon: Okay, I just didn't know if I should let him know or not is all.

Ahh that's okay. I don't think we need to rope him into any of this unless things go well between us ☺️

Good plan. I'm excited to see you!

Same here :) Text me tomorrow and let me know where you want to meet up.

Will do! Sleep well 😊

• hyunjin felt his heart break. he knew he had no right to. but he couldn't help it.

• of course he harbored feelings for you. how could he not fall for the one girl he ever felt like truly "got" him?

• but he hadn't wanted to tell you. not yet. he didn't want you to think that was the only reason he kept hanging out with you. he genuinely LOVED being around you. he was himself when he was with you. and he was so scared he'd lose that if he told you.

• but he hadn't said anything. so he couldn't be upset.

• he mentally kicked himself for introducing you to ha-joon.

• he thought on it for a bit as he reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of water for you. he quickly exited out of the app as he rested your phone back on the table to play the music.

• the upbeat tunes coming out completely mismatched what he was feeling in the moment.

• he stood for a moment, then walked back to the living room, where he saw you sitting cutely on the floor, knees bent criss-crossed as you painted the bottom of the wall carefully.

• suddenly, he started to think about how lucky he felt with this sight in front of him. and how he didn't want another man to be able to see you like this: hair tied up, sitting contently on the floor, completely covered in paint, looking so happy just to be there while bopping your head to the beat without a worry in the world.

• he wanted that. he wanted you. and suddenly, he saw red.

• he leaned against the door frame, now subconsciously squeezing the bottle of water in his hand.

• "y/n, can you come over here for a minute?" he said, voice now full of authority. his face looked annoyed, as he looked off, not able to focus his eyes on you.

• you looked at him confused for a moment, then carefully stood up, walking over to him wondering what was wrong all of a sudden.

• "what is it?" you asked, looking up at him innocently. you could tell something had him deeply bothered.

• his jaw clicked for a moment before he finally looked at you.

• "why didn't you tell me you were going out with my best friend?"

• the question caught you off guard.

• "were you going through my phone?" you asked. you didn't mean to sound accusatory, but that's how it came out.

• "i didn't mean to, but there it was." he looked down at you, not backing down.

• "i mean, yeah, he invited me to get coffee... is it a big deal? i thought you'd be happy if maybe we started seeing each other."

• "well, i'm not."

• "look jinnie, i'm sorry. maybe i should have told you, but i didn't think you'd care. surely he's a good person if he's your friend. and i'd like to think i'm a good person, so it just-" suddenly, he cut you off.

• "it's not about being a good person, y/n!" he began to raise his voice. "what about me?!"

• "what about you?" you asked, voice full of confusion.

• "i like you, goddamn it! give me a chance, not him!" he was full on yelling now, pressing himself up against you. suddenly, you felt small, but so fucking smitten at the same time. hyunjin actually liked you? this whole time?

• your head started spinning. it was just... it was a lot. you began to slowly move back from him a bit.

• "jinnie... i don't... i don't know what to say."

• he followed your path, pushing his body forward toward yours. you were about to be trapped in against the freshly painted wall behind you. you had no where else to go without ruining the wall.

• "say you'll let me take you out. not him." his eyes were trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what. you'd never seen him like this.

• "i can't just do that to him... i mean he's your friend and i don't want to make things weird and i didn't know you even thought about me-" you were just rambling at this point before hyunjin cut you off.

• "i don't give a fuck if he's my friend. i wanted you first." he pushed his body right against yours, your front feeling him completely. he aligned his face perfectly in front of yours.

• "for how long?" you asked meekly.

• "since i first saw you." he let his eyes wander down to look at your lips before coming back up to focus on your eyes.

• being so close to you, he lightly closed his eyes, letting his lips linger next to you. "give me a chance first. if you don't like it, you can go to him... but i want you more than he does. i promise you that."

• goose bumps popped up along your skin. you couldn't believe he was actually into you. it was actually such a shock, you almost didn't even let your mind think on it. you'd wanted it so bad and suppressed it for so long. you didn't even know what to think. so you remained quiet, just pondering on what you could say.

• "let me show you," he whispered into your ear, getting too impatient to wait for your response. "let me show you how good i could be to you."

• again, you couldn't muster up words. you were so shell-shocked, you didn't even know where to start.

• he leaned into your ear, his breath hot over top of you.

• seductively, he whispered into you, "just tell me to stop," before planting a slow kiss to the side of your neck, at the sensitive spot right below your ear.

• you let out a slight moan at the unexpected sensation. you felt the hairs on your body start to stand up.

• hyunjin smiled and moved his small kisses along your jaw and cheek, then planting straught onto your lips.

• he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, running his hands through your hair until he was holding the back of your head in one hand and squeezing your jaw with the other. he wanted full control of you.

• he moaned as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, giving him access to enter inside your mouth too.

• as you smiled into him, he walked you back until you were pressed up against the wet wall. to hell with it.

• you continued grappling at each other, shoving tongues down throats like horny teenagers. you couldn't help it. this was all you'r ever wanted.

• until you started feeling hyunjin slightly buck his hips into yours. you felt his bulge grind the tiniest bit against you, turning you on with the gentlest touch.

• he let out a small chuckle as you moaned at the sensation.

• he kept sucking on your tongue, harder and harder as he more fervently grinded himself into you. you could feel him getting rock hard against you. and fuck did it feel so good. you couldn't help but pant, and run your hands along his body, desperate to grapple onto whatever you could.

• you pulled on his collar, pushed your hand up his shirt to run along his abdomen, tugged on his waist band- anything and everything you could cling to in order to feel closer to him.

• and he reciprocated fully. he moved his hand around your jaw to secure your face down against the wall, pinning you back hard. his mouth never disconnected from yours as he used his other hand to run along your body. down your neck, around your boobs, down your stomach, down to wear he ground against you, hoping to make brief contact with you before taking his hand around your waist to grab your ass.

• you moaned loudly as he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth and grabbed a handful of your ass with a harsh squeeze. the slight pain felt too fucking good to not yell out about.

• your noises only agged him on more.

• he pulled his mouth off of yours for a split moment.

• "let me take these off?" he asked hungrily, pulling at the top of your leggings.

• you didn't have to respond, you quickly yanked the fabric down, along with your underwear and ripped them from your feet and to the side.

• he smiled down at the sight, loving how willing you were to give into him.

• he connected his mouth back to yours as he followed suit and hastily unbuttoned and slid down his pants and boxers.

• when he was done, he grunted as he felt himself now unclothed, finally getting some friction against you.

• you couldn't contain yourself as you heard him grunt for you. you quickly pulled your hand up to your mouth, spitting into it quickly before bringing it back down to stroke hyunjin's cock.

• "ah fuck," he let out, letting himself grow harder and harder. this was the hardest he'd ever been.

• a wave of aggression came over him as he started to feel territorial. he brought a hand around your neck to give it a tight squeeze.

• "faster," he instructed. he reached his hand down to toy with you too, slowly working up pace.

• you felt yourself becoming more deprived of oxygen as you pumped your hand along him, going down to his tip. when he wasn't satisfied, he rested his forehead on yours and began thrusting his cock into your hand, throwing out grunts as he went. he kept working at your hole until you were lightheaded and writhing underneath him.

• he smiled and let out a little laugh as he released the pressure from your neck to let you gasp for air. you felt light-headed and needed to come back down. but hyunjin didn't let up.

• "let me fuck you." it was more of a demand than a question, but you didn't fight it. you slowly nodded from underneath him.

• he swiftly rand both hands down to your waist and then around your ass until they were resting behind your thighs.

• "jump," he instructed.

• you weren't sure about this. you'd never done it before. you were scared you'd fall and ruin the moment, but you decided to just put your trust into it. pushing your back against the wall, you threw your legs up as he guided them and secured them in place around his hips. he made sure to support the rest of you by keeping your back pressed tight to the wall.

• he used one hand to guide his dick to your entrance before steadily thrusting himself inside. it took your breath away at the sudden stretch and feeling of him inside of you. he didn't give you very much time to settle into it though as he started to fuck into you. hard and steady.

• his hand came back up to support under your thighs, securing you on top of him and pushing you back so your head was almost slamming into the wall as he pounded into you.

• you felt so good around him. so tight. squeezing onto him for dear life.

• he hungrily brought his mouth to your next as he sent fast, angry strokes into your. he guided his tongue around, planting sloppy kisses and fast, violent bites that made you scream out. he fucking loved it. he wanted to hear you scream. make you forget about any other man.

• "that's right baby, scream for me. you know whose you are," he growled. he was fucking you so hard you thought you'd pass out from the overstimulation of it all.

• you kept moaning for him, not knowing how to do anything else.

• before too long, you felt yourself start to pant harder, feeling hyunjin hit just the right spot. you started to grow warm inside, getting your breath taken away with each pounding.

• "jinnie," you breathed out, finally opening your eyes to see him with his eyes hyper focused on you, like he was ready to attack at any moment.

• you could only breathe heavily before repeating his name again. "jinnie, i'm gonna cum." you felt yourself reach a breaking point. it was coming. now.

• "that's fucking right. you're gonna cum for me right now... it's just me from now on. only me." he growled, fucking himself into you faster. "cum on me right fucking now!" he ordered, ramming into just the right spot to send you over the edge.

• you gasped as you threw your head back, beginning to spasm around his cock.

• "ahhh fuckkkkk, just like that," hyunjin mimicked you, throwing his head back now too. "fuck, fuck, fuck," he breathed out, slamming into you faster than ever.

• "ughhhhhhhhh," he yelled as you felt him release inside of you. you could feel yourself still shaking around him, not being given any sort of break.

• as he finished out his high, you wiped at the few tears that had built up in your eyes from the overstimulation.

• once hyunjin was done, he slowly lowered your legs off of his hips and set them back down on the floor, keeping his cock resting inside of you as he put you down.

• with you both now panting and trying to settle down, he just brought both hands up to cradle the sides of your face. he pushed himself a bit deeper inside of you, just enjoying the feeling of resting within you.

• he smiled down as he planted a soft kiss to your forehead.

• you smiled back up at him, placing your hands on his chest over his heart.

• "i think this is how we're meant to be," hyunjin said in a low voice.

• "i think so too," you grinned.

• he kept planting tiny kisses onto the same spot of your forehead. "tell me you aren't still going with him tomorrow."

• "of course not. i know whose i am." you gave him a quick wink.

-------------------------------------

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging <3

✨ head over to my masterlist for more!

504 notes · View notes

fullsunstrawberry · 2 months

Text

Singles Fest

genre: friends to lovers, very fluffy (extremely)

synopsis: Valentine's Day has always been a sore spot for you, never having a Valentine. This year, Haechan proposes a gift exchange among single friends. You find yourself paired with Chenle, reluctantly at first, but as you prepare your gifts, you start to look forward to it. Back at his apartment, an innocent gift exchange takes a turn.

warnings: Mature content, strong language, vanilla sex, no condom mentioned…(oops)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: my english class has been assigning poetry so sorry if this is a little too much 💀

a/n(2): also gift for @lowkeyjaemle <3 happy valentine’s day >_-

"Valentine's Day has always been a sore spot for you, never having a Valentine. Sure, friends have offered tokens of affection like chocolates or stuffed animals, but it never quite fills the void. This year seems to be heading in the same direction.

Which leads to Haechan, equally disappointed with the lack of romantic gestures in his life. He proposes a solution: a gift exchange among the single members of your friend group, mirroring the Christmas tradition you all do every year. Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung all agree without any protests, while Chenle needs a bit more persuasion. Mark and Renjun, both already in relationships, found this all amusing.

₊˚⊹₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ˚ ₊ ⊹ ˚ ₊

The weekend before Valentines, you're rudely awakened by Haechan's loud pleas.

"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!" he begs, shaking you awake.

You groan, not entirely sold on the concept. "I'm not exactly keen on being someone's Valentine, especially not a friend. It feels a bit... strange."

"Come on!" Haechan persists, undeterred. "Fine, I'll pair you with Chenle."

You scoff, tossing a pillow in his direction. "And why on earth would I want that?"

"He's loaded!" Haechan retorts with a mischievous grin. "You won't be getting cheap chocolates, that's for sure."

Well, he does have a point. You find yourself considering. "You know what? You've sold me. I'm in."

Your plans of having a pity party are now over. But at least you’ll have some expensive chocolate to get you through the day. Maybe you can still watch romcoms afterwards.

₊˚⊹₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ˚ ₊ ⊹ ˚ ₊

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Haechan's voice echoed through the room, prompting immediate silence. Not out of respect, mind you, but everyone knew he would get even more annoying if they didn’t.

"For this year's singles fest, I've gone ahead and randomly paired you all up," Haechan declared, his enthusiasm bordering on excessive.

As the collective groans of the guys filled the room, Haechan shot you a sly wink. You exchange an amused glance with Haechan, wondering what kind of mischief he's cooked up this time.

Haechan dramatically produces a hat from behind his back, adorned with hearts and glitter, and swirls it around dramatically before dramatically plucking out slips of paper bearing the names of each participant's assigned gift exchange partner.

Jeno's eyes widen as he unfolds his slip, revealing he's been paired with Jaemin, while Jaemin's face lights up with a mischievous grin. Jisung lets out a resigned sigh upon discovering he's partnered with Haechan, who looks a little too excited.

Chenle, who had been reluctantly dragged into all of this, reluctantly opens his slip and discovers he's been matched with you. He raises his eyebrows in shock. You shoot Haechan a playful smirk, knowing that he's probably rigged the pairs for maximum entertainment value.

Haechan flashes you a devilish grin in return, clearly pleased with the chaos he's created.

As everyone breaks up into pairs to plan what they are going to do, you find yourself warming up to the idea of participating in the gift exchange with Chenle. Despite his initial reluctance, Chenle seems open to the idea of making the best of everything.

₊˚⊹₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ˚ ₊ ⊹ ˚ ₊

The night before Valentine's Day, you couldn't help but feel butterflies as you prepared your gift for Chenle. You had settled on a handmade scrapbook, filled with memories and inside jokes that the two of you had shared throughout the years. Yeah, it was very heartfelt but you knew you couldn’t buy him anything he didn’t already have. Regretting that one time you bought him a sweater that he already had, in secret santa.

On Valentine's Day morning, you woke up actually excited. As you got ready, thoughts of Chenle's reaction danced in your mind. Would he appreciate the effort you had put into the gift? Would he like it?

You and Chenle had agreed on meeting at a cute little café in town, where you would exchange your gifts over a cup of hot chocolate.

As you step into the warm café, your eyes search for Chenle. Spotting him in the corner, you made your way to the table where he's already sitting, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. He stands up to greet you with a warm smile, and you can't help but notice how his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink.

"Hey," Chenle says, his voice filled with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Despite this being a casual gift exchange among friends, the environment felt a little too romantic.

With trembling hands, Chenle pushes the gift bag towards you. "I hope you like it," he says, his voice filled with nervousness.

You reach into the bag and pull out a small box wrapped in colorful paper. Carefully, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a charm shaped like a music note. It's simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your shared love for music.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the thoughtfulness behind Chenle's gift. You look up at him, speechless, and he blushes under your gaze. "I know how much music means to you," he says softly. "And I wanted to give you something that represents our friendship."

Touched beyond words, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. This gift exchange has far exceeded your expectations; you expected silly pranks or meaningless gestures from Chenle, not this.

As you wipe away a stray tear, all your initial reservations about Valentine's Day fade away. Haechan's mischievous plan may have kickstarted this gift exchange, but Chenle has truly made it special. At that moment, you realize that this Valentine's Day will forever hold a special place in your heart. Even if he views you two as just friends and nothing more.

Grateful for the beautiful necklace and touched by the sentiment behind it, you reach into your bag and retrieve the scrapbook you've created for Chenle. Handing it to him with a shy smile, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise. He flips through the pages, laughter and nostalgia mixing in the air as he rediscovers precious moments you've shared together.

"Oh wow," Chenle breathes out, his voice filled with emotion. "You put so much thought into this."

"I wanted to capture all the incredible memories we've made," you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "Our friendship means the world to me, Chenle, and I wanted to show you just how much."

Chenle's eyes shimmer with unshed tears as he closes the scrapbook gently, holding it against his chest. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "I couldn't have asked for a better gift."

As you sit there, basking in each other’s presence, the café fades into the background. It feels as though it's just the two of you at this moment.

With a sudden burst of courage, Chenle leans forward, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. The touch is electric, sending a jolt of excitement through both of you. And in that split second, something shifts in the air between you. As quickly as he reached for your hand, he took his away. “I didn’t even ask if you wanted anything to eat or drink” Chenle awkwardly chuckled.

You laugh softly, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment at the sudden change in atmosphere. "I'm fine, really. Just being here with you is enough," you reply, giving Chenle a reassuring smile.

He visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping slightly as he returns your smile. "Okay then," he says, his voice filled with a newfound confidence

Well, in that case, let's skip the hot chocolate and go straight for dessert," he suggests, his voice laced with a teasing tone.

A playful smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you raise an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we indulge in something sweet, Chenle?"

He nods, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing stronger. "Absolutely," he replies. "Life is too short to resist temptation, especially on Valentine's Day."

You chuckle and play along, feeling the spark of excitement between you grow even stronger. "I couldn't agree more," you say, your voice filled with a newfound boldness.

Chenle got up from his seat and asked “the usual you like?” You nodded before Chenle smiled and went to order, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You’re a little scared, this feels a little too real for just friends. But before you could farther your thoughts, a random man came up to your table

“A girl like you shouldn’t be alone on Valentines Day” He sat down in front of you

and you immediately felt a wave of discomfort wash over you. His presence was intrusive and unwanted, as he continued to make inappropriate comments about your appearance and how lucky he was to have stumbled upon you. You glanced around the café, hoping for someone to intervene, but everyone seemed in their own world.

“Suprised you don’t have a boyfriend, how about I change that?”

Just as you were about to stand up and ask him to leave, Chenle returned with two plates of heart-shaped desserts. He froze in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. Without missing a beat, he swiftly placed the plates on the table and stepped next to you, shielding you from the man's view.

"Excuse me," Chenle said firmly, his voice carrying a subtle edge. "I believe you're unwanted."

The man scoffed and looked Chenle up and down dismissively. "What's it to you? This lady looks like she could use some company."

Chenle's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She’s taken.”

The man hesitated for a moment, taken aback by Chenle's sudden assertiveness. Sensing the underlying determination in Chenle's voice, he slowly stood up, glancing at you with a mix of annoyance and disappointment. "Fine," he grumbled, before sauntering away from your table.

As soon as the man disappeared into the crowd, Chenle turned his attention back to you, concern written on his face. He reached out and gently grabbed your hand in his, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded, grateful for his protective gesture and the way he had quickly dealt with the situation.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Chenle said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smiled at him appreciatively, feeling a surge of warmth. "Thank you for standing up for me," you replied softly.

You started to laugh, a mix of relief and amusement bubbling out of you. "You really came to my rescue, didn't you? My knight in shining armor."

Chenle chuckled, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Well, someone's got to keep the creeps away," he said with a wink.

You took a bite out of your dessert and chuckled again “So I’m taken?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

Chenle grinned mischievously, a hint of newfound confidence in his expression. "Well," he began, his tone playful, "consider it a way to ward off any unwanted attention. Besides, who wouldn't want to be taken by me?" He winked again, his charm and wit in full swing like always.

You laughed and playfully nudged him with your elbow. "Oh, so now you're getting cocky, huh? Just because you saved me from that guy doesn't mean you can go around proclaiming how great you are to the world."

Chenle feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Hey now, who said I was boasting? I'm just stating the obvious." He chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

The two of you continued enjoying your desserts together, the lingering tension from the encounter slowly dissipating as conversation flowed effortlessly between you.

The sun was starting to set but you didn’t want to go home yet. Chenle could tell something was wrong by the way your face shifted.

“What’s wrong?”

You sighed, feeling a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty wash over you. "I guess... I just don't want this day to end," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting Chenle's. "I've had such an incredible time with you, and I don't want it to be over."

Chenle's expression softened as he reached across the table, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Me neither," he confessed, “Let’s go back to my place, daegal misses you anyways.”

You smiled, “I miss her too! We can take her out for a walk or something”

Chenle nodded eagerly, your heart fluttering. "That sounds perfect," He replied, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “Oh and remind me when we get there, I bought you something and I didn't have time to wrap”

Chenle paid the bill and you both made your way out of the café, hand in hand. The chilly winter air hit your cheeks as you walked side by side, the cityscape twinkling with streetlights. The walk to Chenle's apartment was filled with comfortable silence, the kind that only true companionship could bring.

As you entered the apartment building, Chenle opened the door for you. "Welcome to my humble abode," he said playfully, gesturing for you to enter first.

You stepped inside, feeling a wave of familiar warmth embrace you as soon as you walked through the door. The apartment was cozy and inviting, filled with soft lighting and a faint scent of home. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of Daegal, Chenle's adorable mini-bichon wagging her tail.

“Take a seat on the couch, I’ll go get your other gift.” Chenle gestured to the couch before jogging up the stairs to his room.

You got comfortable on the couch, thinking to yourself, what could he have got you? The necklace was already the best gift ever.

“Okay, now I have no idea what these are…” Chenle started as he brought down a couple of amazon bags “I just asked Haechan to buy stuff from your amazon wishlist with my card”

Confused you asked him “Wait, which one?”

“Uh he said the one with a heart would be the best?” Chenle spoke unsure.

You started to laugh, of course Haechan would do this to you! “oh god!” Your face started to get red.

“What? Oh no, did Haechan do something…?” Chenle sounded disappointed

“I probably shouldn’t open these in front of you” You grabbed the packages out of Chenle’s hands but he started to protest “Wait but I bought them! I should at least be in on the joke!”

You hid your face in your hands, “this is so embarrassing”

Chenle's curiosity piqued as he watched you hide your face, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. "Come on, now you've got me really curious," he insisted, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I promise I won't judge."

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, you reluctantly grabbed one of the bags from Chenle. With a deep breath, you unveiled its contents, revealing a red lace set of lingerie. Your face flushed an even deeper shade of red, and you couldn't bring yourself to look Chenle in the eye.

Chenle's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the contents of the bag. A mix of shock and amusement flickered across his face, but he quickly composed himself and let out a hearty laugh. "Well, well," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You... You have a red lace lingerie set on your wishlist?" Chenle managed to say between fits of laughter. "I never would've expected that from you!"

You peeked through your fingers, feeling both mortified and entertained by Chenle's reaction. "Well, you know... It was just a little something for myself," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

Chenle's laughter subsided as he smirked, his playful nature taking over once again. "So, are you planning on modeling this for me?" he asked with a wink.

You playfully swatted Chenle's arm, unable to hide your laughter any longer.

“You did buy me some expensive sets…it’s only fair”

Chenle’s eyes narrowed and he slowly licked his bottom lip, “I mean it’s the same thing as me trying on the jacket you bought me for Christmas”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. "Oh, really? So you're saying that modeling this lingerie for you, is the same thing as you trying on a jacket" you challenged.

Chenle's eyes widened, realizing he had walked right into a trap. He chuckled nervously, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Well... um... I suppose it would only be fair," he stammered, unable to hide his growing excitement.

You couldn't help but giggle at Chenle's flustered state. "Okay then," you said playfully, "deal. But only if you promise not to laugh or make fun of me."

Chenle held up his hands in surrender, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I promise," he declared. "No laughing, no making fun. Just two people having a little harmless fun."

After slipping away to change into the lingerie, nerves fluttered in your stomach as you wondered how this would play out. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that Chenle had promised not to laugh or make fun of you. You walked back into the living room, feeling a mixture of self-consciousness and a little excitement that you didn’t know where it came from.

Chenle's eyes widened as he set his gaze upon you, his mouth slightly agape. The playful smirk he had worn moments ago disappeared, replaced with an expression of awe. "Wow," he breathed out, his voice barely a whisper.

A blush spread across your cheeks, but you couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence at Chenle's reaction. You slowly walked toward him, savoring the anticipation that hung in the air. As you came to stand in front of him, you noticed how his eyes glittered with desire and admiration.

Chenle reached out and gently traced a finger along the lace of the lingerie, his touch causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You look absolutely breathtaking," he murmured, his voice thick.

Getting nervous from how he is looking at you, you start to cover yourself with your hands.

Chenle's eyes widened with concern as he noticed your sudden change in demeanor. He gently took hold of your hands, easing them away from your body. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "Don't hide yourself. You're beautiful, and you have nothing to be ashamed of."

His words brought a surge of warmth to your heart, and you took a deep breath, willing yourself to let go of your self-consciousness. With a newfound sense of confidence, you allowed Chenle to guide you toward the couch, where he sat down and motioned for you to straddle his lap.

As you settled onto his lap. Chenle's hands cupped your face, tilting it gently to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Chenle whispered, his voice husky. "Just trust me, and let go. We'll take things as slow as you need."

With his words, any lingering unease melted away, replaced with a growing hunger for a connection between you. The air grew warm as Chenle leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. The softness of his touch sent shivers down your spine. As the kiss deepened, Chenle's hands explored the curves of your body until his hands landed on the curve of your back.

The constraints of the lingerie became nothing more than an afterthought. With each piece that he admired, you both became more eggar.

Chenle pulled away from your lips, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Should we move to my bedroom?” You nodded eagerly.

Chenle stood up, his grip on your hand never faltering as he led you to his bedroom. The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow from the bedside lamp, casting shadows that filled the walls.

As you entered the room, Chenle turned to face you, his eyes filled desire. His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke, "Are you sure about this? We don't have to if you're not ready."

With a gentle smile, you reassured him, "I'm sure, Chenle. I want this." Your voice was filled with sincerity.

In an instant, Chenle's arms were around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His hands roamed over your body with purpose and adoration, leaving trails of fire as they traveled over your skin.

You reached down, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head. As the shirt fell away, you were greeted with a sight that took your breath away. Chenle's body was a masterpiece, chiseled and defined, but his eyes were focused on you.

You took a step back, breaking the kiss, and let your gaze travel over his body. It was then that you realized just how much you truly desired him. The hunger in your eyes was reflected back at you, and you could see in Chenle's that he felt the same.

Your eyes met, and he gently led you to his bed. As you lay down, he kissed you once more, his lips tender yet fiery. His hands continued to explore your body, sending shivers down your spine. You reached up to unhook your bra, revealing your bare chest to him. His eyes widened at the sight, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, his tongue tracing the outline of your nipple.

You moaned softly, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment coursing through your body. You had never felt so exposed, yet so intimate with someone before. Yeah you’ve hooked up with people before but this is different, this is your friend.

Chenle continued to kiss and lick your chest, slowly working his way down your body. He reached your waist, undoing the clasp of your lingerie and sliding it down your leg. Kicking it away, revealing your naked body to him.

His eyes locked on yours, and he slowly started to kissing your inner thighs.

Your breath hitched as he moved closer to where you wanted him most.

You bit your lip, trying to hold in your moans, but the pleasure was too much. Chenle's tongue found its way to your most sensitive area, and you could feel his lips and tongue working their magic. Your body trembled, and you let out a soft cry.

Chenle looked up at you, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him, and he knew it.

He slowly made his way up your body, his lips trailing kisses across your skin. When he reached your lips, he captured them in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting your sweet lips.

You pulled away and fumbled for his belt. Chenle let out a small laugh when you couldn’t get it undone. He took hold of your hands and pulled them away.

Chenle's eyes never left yours as he unbuttoned his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. You bit your lip, watching him as he took your hand again, guiding it to his erection.

You gripped him gently, feeling the warmth and firmness. Chenle's eyes still locked onto you, he titled his head down and his breath quickened, mirroring your own.

You leaned in, kissing him once more, your hands still wrapped around him. You could feel him growing harder in your grasp, and you knew this was it. You were ready.

Chenle broke the kiss, his eyes filled with desire and adoration. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.

He slowly leaned your body back down and groaned softly, as he slowly eased himself into you. You let out a soft gasp, your body adjusting to the sensation of him inside you.

Chenle's hand gently cupped your face, pushing your hair off your forehead as his eyes locked on yours. You felt his breath hitch as he began to move slowly, the rhythm of his body matching the pace of your heart.

With each thrust, he deepened the kiss, his lips devouring yours as his body moved against yours.

As Chenle increased his pace, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You felt his body tremble, and he groaned softly, matching his rhythm to yours. The sensations were overwhelming, and you knew you were close.

Chenle's eyes locked onto yours, his expression filled with raw emotion. His thrust got harder, his gaze never leaving yours as you both started to breathe heavier.

Your body tensed, your breath hitched, and you could feel the climax building within you. Chenle's eyes never left yours, his expression filled with raw emotion. The pleasure coursing through you was overwhelming, and you knew this was it. With one last thrust, Chenle cried out your name, his body shaking as his climax took hold.

You felt him pulse inside you, you felt your body give into the pleasure as well. You cried out his name and a series of cuss words, your body shook with the intensity of everything happening.

The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the thud of pounding hearts. Chenle slowly pulled out, his gaze never leaving yours. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips gentle and tender.

He pulled away from the kiss as your mouth followed him for more, “I have to get you all cleaned up, I promise ill be quick”

You chuckled lightly, nodding your head.

It didn’t take Chenle long to help you clean up and give you some pajamas for the night.

As he got comfortable in his bed you spoke up, “We should really talk about us”

He turned to look at you, "I agree. But first, can we just enjoy this moment?"

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. "Of course."

Chenle smiled, his hand gently stroking your hair. You looked up at him and giggled “You owe me a date”

Chenle laughed “This was a date!”

You rolled your eyes playfully, "An official date!"

Chenle chuckled, "Alright, alright, we'll do that.”

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly alive and connected to someone. You never expected it to be with one of your friends, let alone Chenle. But as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was only the beginning of something truly special.

permanent taglist (18+): @vvsmydiamonds127 @haechansbbg

dreamie taglist: @loveforred @rmslover

(to be added to any of my taglist, please state which one and you have to be 18+)

#chenle #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #chenle smut #chenle x y/n #chenle friends to lovers #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #nct

431 notes · View notes

steddiewithachance · 4 months

Text

In Your Dreams

Steve has a good dream about Eddie. Eddie fights a blush as he is forced to sit and listen to Steve tell him all about it. Part one is SFW!

Part One • Part Two

***

Eddie startles when he hears someone knock on his window. He flails and clutches his chest. Outside, Steve smiles smugly and does his little wiggly finger wave. Eddie takes a deep breath before pushing the glass open so that he can talk through the dusty screen.

“Jesus Steve, I have trauma. You’re not allowed to scare me.”

“Sorry Eds. I did try your door first but I was ignored. Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, darling.” He teases and then nods his head towards the front door. Steve starts walking back around the house.

When Eddie whips open the front door, Steve is jogging up the porch steps with a spring in his step. He’s wearing a sweater that Eddie always compliments him on. It's black, maybe the only black item of clothing that Steve owns. It’s tight and it just looks so mouth-wateringly good on his chest and arms… not that he’s expressed the mouth-watering part to Steve, he usually just says, ‘I like that sweater, man. It suits you.’

“You’re wearing the sweater.” Eddie pokes him in the chest.

“I know, your favorite.” Steve wiggles his eyebrows and pushes past him into the trailer towards Eddie’s room.

Eddie gets a whiff of cologne in his wake. Fuck. There go his chances of functioning normally around Steve this afternoon. He follows Steve down the hall in a daze.

When he enters Eddie’s room, Steve kicks off his shoes and launches himself forward onto the bed with a grunt. He wiggles around to get comfortable.

“Hi.” Steve says after he has settled and Eddie wants to punch a hole in the wall because he’s so goddamn cute. Eddie could write poetry about how it feels to have Steve drop by unannounced just wanting to spend time with him. Steve has done this a handful of times, laid across Eddie’s bed and made easy conversation while Eddie messes with his guitar or works on a project. Ed just feels so childishly giddy and warm every time it happens.

Steve points to the jacket Eddie had been painting on his desk. “What are you working on?”

Eddie turns and reaches for Wayne’s old denim jacket. Wayne’s been so precious about all of Eddie’s artwork since spring break. Eddie thinks his near-death experience really hit Wayne in ways he hadn’t expected it to. Now Wayne is asking to keep all the doodles that Eddie shows him like he’s cherishing everything deeply just in case Eddie suddenly disappears again. Eddie doesn’t mind, he thinks he owes Wayne for everything he put his old man through this year.

Wayne asked Eddie to paint on one of his favorite jackets. He had no specific requests so Eddie’s painting a landscape over the left shoulder. He hands Steve the photo he’s using as a reference.

“It’s a gift for my uncle. The inspiration was the background of that photo of him as a kid, except I’m painting it in color, obviously.” Eddie holds the jacket up so Steve can look between the reference and the jacket. It’s a wide valley with jagged mountains framing the tall grass.

“That’s so fucking sweet Eddie. You’re a sweetheart.” Steve hands the photo back and looks up at him with sparkling eyes. Eddie nearly blushes, he turns around before he can give Steve the satisfaction of seeing that.

“So, any particular reason you stopped by? Did you just want company?” Eddie lays the jacket back down carefully and sticks his paintbrushes in the mug of murky water placed beside them. Steve is quiet for a moment, so Eddie turns to see what sort of expression he’s wearing. He’s looking at Eddie with dark thoughtful eyes, chewing on his lip.

“Wanted to tell you about a dream I had.” He finally says and flips onto his back, cushioning his head with his hands.

“Uh oh, nightmare?” Eddie sits down beside Steve, leveling him with an empathetic frown. They’ve had a lot of conversations about nightmares. Steve admitted that it’s easier to talk to Eddie about them than anyone else. Steve feels a responsibility to appear strong around the rest of the party: unaffected.

“No, not a nightmare this time. This was a good dream.” The corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like it’s a joke Eddie’s not in on. Is he about to tell Eddie about a wet dream he had or something? Eddie is suddenly uncomfortable by how little space there is between them. He jumps up.

He awkwardly moves to lean on the desk and then restlessly slides into his desk chair again, as ungraceful as ever. He cringes at his own unnerving behavior.

“Oh… that- that’s good.” Eddie’s voice cracks.

“You were there,” Steve tells him. His voice has gone all sultry. Eddie’s heart is pounding. Oh, Jesus Christ.

“Oh yeah?” he barely manages to croak out.

“We were right here, on your bed.” Steve carries on. He stretches a leg out and presses his socked foot against the inside of Eddie’s thigh. He uses his foot to swivel Eddie around so they’re facing each other fully. Eddie must be bright red. He rubs his face aggressively.

This is territory that they have never come near to crossing into. Eddie barely even jokingly flirts with Steve anymore. He received one too many knowing glances from various party members.

“Ah yeah. I get the picture Steve, you don’t have to go on.” It’s partly muffled by his clammy palms. How is this real? In what world is Steve Harrington willingly hitting on Eddie Munson? In what universe does Steve have sweet dreams about him?

“Oh yeah? Tell me what you think happened next then.” Steve challenges, Eddie can hear the amusement in his voice.

“I dunno.” Eddie peaks through his hands to see Steve is all splayed out, sweater riding up, hair haloed around him sweetly. Evil, he’s evil.

“Use your creativity, Eds. I know you can do it.”

“Steve, please,” Eddie shrinks into himself in embarrassment.

“You started undressing me. Took your sweet time too.” Steve starts pushing the sweater up his stomach with a seductive slide of his hand. Eddie’s pretty sure this afternoon is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He swallows loudly like a love-sick cartoon character.

“I’d let you, you know? Right now if you wanted to.” Steve bats his eyelashes at Eddie. Now’s your time to act, you virgin idiot. Do something! Say something, he urges himself. But he’s paralyzed.

When Eddie makes no move to get up from his desk chair, Steve scoots off the bed and stands over Eddie. Walks right up so that he’s got one of Eddie’s legs between his own. He grabs Eddie’s chin and pulls his face up.

Eddie blinks up at him nervously. Sure he’s heard loads about the Steve Harrington charm, but having it directed at him is heady and overwhelming. He’s not confident enough to enjoy it. Steve’s hand twitches and his expression falters slightly.

“Or… sorry, do you not want me? Robin thought- well, nevermind. Did I read you wrong?” Steve is giving him uncertain, puppy dog eyes. He wonders how anyone has ever said no to Steve’s pretty eyes.

Eddie would be an idiot to pass up an opportunity like this. But the fact of the matter is, he’s scared. He’s scared to disappoint and scared because he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s scared because he doesn’t know what Steve expects from him. He doesn’t want to blow his only shot at this.

“No, I do. I want you,” Eddie assures him. He swallows and rests a shaky hand on Steve’s hip. “I worry I won't live up to Dream-Eddie, though. He seems like a charming fellow.”

Steve smiles and hooks a finger in the collar of Eddie’s shirt.

“I guess you have your work laid out for you then. You’re competitive, right?” Steve pulls Eddie to his feet so they're standing, beating hearts pressed together. Eddie wants to curve away, embarrassed by the absurdity of how fast his heart rate must feel.

Steve trails gentle hands up the lengths of Eddie’s arms. Eddie does his damndest to suppress the shiver he gets. Steve slides his fingers into the sleeves of Eddie’s t-shirt and wraps his hands around Eddie’s biceps.

“Flex.” Steve demands, and looks up at Ed through long pretty eyelashes. It takes Eddie a second to realize what he’s asking. He belatedly tightens his arm muscles and Steve squeezes with a satisfied little grin. He hums appreciatively.

Steve slides out of Ed’s sleeves and continues upward to wrap his arms around Eddie's neck, gently sweeping hair out of the way. It brings them impossibly close. They’re sharing air now, it’s expensive Steve Harrington air. It’s a commodity. It tastes like Eddie’s about to get his first kiss.

Eddie suddenly remembers that he has arms and Steve is probably waiting for him to use them. A million different ways Eddie could touch him, flash behind his eyes like a montage of all of his sweetest daydreams.

Eddie isn’t really sure what possesses him, then. He doesn’t think too much about it. He just slides his hands into Steve’s back pockets, and he fucking squeezes. Oh god.

Steve’s mouth drops open; he lets out a soft surprised huff. His cheeks are flushed, and his big brown eyes bounce between Eddie’s.

Steve moves to cradle either side of Eddie’s jaw, pushing a thumb into one of his cheeks. Eddie must look confused by that because Steve whispers, “dimple,” before tilting his head and surging forward to catch Eddie’s lips.

Eddie’s heart jumps when he feels Steve’s pillowy lips seal against his. The kiss is heated, insistent from the get go. Steve sets an ambitious pace, pushing and pulling, and Eddie is doing his best to follow his lead.

Steve’s big hands are framing his face, keeping him in place, and the smell of his summery cologne is giving Eddie butterflies.

Eddie can’t help himself, he reaches up with a shaky hand to gently thread his fingers through the ends of Steve’s hair. He misses twice because Steve is writhing against him as the kiss picks up in intensity. When he finally gets a handful of hair, he sighs. It’s so soft, he wants to run it along his face.

Meanwhile, he tries not to feel embarrassed about the loud smacking sounds of their lips breaking apart and the deep exhales from their noses pressed into each other’s cheeks.

Eddie jolts backwards when Steve’s tongue licks across the inside of Eddie’s bottom lip. Steve pulls away unwillingly, voicing a hum of dissatisfaction. He opens his eyes to behold Eddie’s undoing; Ed can only imagine what he looks like right now. His cheeks are probably splotchy and red, eyes wide, looking a mess.

“What are you acting so shy for?” Steve chuckles and pulls Eddie in by the waist. He presses a few more smiley tight-lipped kisses from corner to corner of Eddie’s mouth, switching the tilt of his head to maneuver around Eddie’s nose.

When he pulls back again, Eddie covers his face by crossing strands of hair in front of it to hide his smile.

“So shy! You’re acting like it’s your first kiss or something!” Steve exclaims playfully.

Eddie feels his face drop and heart sink like someone just cast an anchor and dragged his confidence along with it. Is that why Steve made a move? He was expecting Eddie to be just as experienced and adept?

“Yeah, I mean… it is. It is my first.” He whispers and steps back until his thighs hit his desk. He crosses his arms in front of himself and wonders how unappealing he just became in Steve’s eyes. He could have lied maybe, but the jig was up as soon as Steve kissed him. Eddie has no idea what he’s doing.

Steve’s shoulders drop, his eyebrows furrow. Eddie Munson: ruining moods since ‘65.

“Oh, no shit? You’ve never kissed anyone?” Steve grabs Eddie’s elbow.

“Well, I have now.” He responds with a pout. Steve steps back and runs hands down his face.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry Eddie, I didn’t know! I feel a dick for coming on so strong now.” Steve’s eyes are wide and apologetic.

“I had no idea, I swear. It’s just, you walk around swaying your little hips and smirking at people like you’re some sort of… sex god. Or something.”

“Sex god?!” A loud laugh is startled out of Eddie. Now it’s Steve’s turn to look embarrassed.

“You’re usually so confident! I dunno! You’re the freak! I thought you were a freak.”

“Nah, man. You’re a freak, Harrington. You come into my home and start insisting we act out your sex dream…” Eddie pulls him in and squeezes his sides so that he knows Eddie’s only teasing.

“Sorry, Eddie. We can do a do-over of your first kiss. I’ll be softer.” Steve leans in and nuzzles into Eddie’s neck. He presses a kiss against the silver chain that rests there.

“C’mere, Handsome” Eddie whispers and pulls Steve into a sweeter kiss. This time it’s delicate, indulgent. He luxuriates in the drag of Steve’s lips every time they pull apart. He winds his arms under Steve’s to rest palms against his broad swimmer shoulders. It’s a dream, kissing Steve Harrington. How lucky he should be to experience it twice. He wonders what Steve’s dream was like.

“Tell me what happened in your dream?” Eddie asks between tender kisses. Steve drags them over to sit on the edge of his bed together. He gives Ed one last lingering press of his lips before responding.

“You were sweet, kind of a tease. I liked it.”

“I was a sex god?” Eddie cracks a wide smile and Steve reaches to smooth over one of Eddie’s dimples.

“Shut uppp. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll never let it go.”

“I’m just as dismayed as you are, Sunshine. I also wish I was a sex god.” Eddie flops back on the bed and Steve crawls over, following him up. Eddie lowers his chin to watch. Steve lays his weight on top of Eddie and it feels so good.

Eddie runs eager hands all over him. “Are you still interested in me despite my lack of experience, or…?” Eddie asks him. He feels Steve nod eagerly into his neck, and Eddie sighs in relief.

“Well where do you wanna start, Sunshine?”

I could be persuaded into writing a part 2 if the people wanted... Otherwise I hope you enjoyed ◡̈

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #virgin eddie munson #steve harrington is a flirt #steve loves eddies dimples #should I write a part 2 #steddiewithachance

1K notes · View notes