#“if you really really like them” is not a defence it is trying to skirt responsibility for the enormity of a set of actions you do not

[soracities]

Hey mim, you usually have very insightful responses so i thought I would ask you about this. Is it okay to ruin someone's marriage if you really really like them? asking for a friend. thx.

i'm literally.................babe, No

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are <3

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[atydblack]

"hands"

professor remus lupin x reader

masterlist (requests are open!)

heres an older remus x reader fic! pls send in some requests like give me a character and a kink or an idea and ill try my best to write it <3 warnings: smut, age gap, professorxstudent (consenual) MDNI

Professor Lupin sat at his desk in his office as you approached him. Your cheeks were blushed red at the sight of him staring intently at your papers in his hands.

"Hi, Professor." You spoke quietly as you took a seat next to him. You had been failing miserably at his classes to the point he's had to give you extra tutoring... not that you could complain.

"Y/N." He gives you a small smile as he places your classwork on his desk. "I understand that you've been having some difficulties understanding the material in my class?"

You nod obediently, ignoring the burning sensation between your legs as you took in his every detail. You used to be top of the class at Defence Against The Dark Arts, alongside every other class. However, since he because your teacher... you could no longer focus on your classwork.

"I see," Remus' eyebrows furrowed as he sat back in his chair, manspreading. "Which chapters have caused you the most trouble?"

Your mind grew hazy as you basically drooled at the sight of him, wanting nothing more than to place yourself on his lap and let him fuck you senseless.

"I-" You stuttered, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some sort of tension. Remus noticed this, his eyes travelling down to your skirt and bare legs. "All of it."

"Even the basic chapters?" His face hardened as you nodded. "I've been looking through your papers from previous years, Y/N... it seems to be a recent issue."

Remus shifted slightly, leaning forwards in his seat. His eyes remained fixed on yours as your cheeks grew red.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N?" Remus said softly, one hand resting on the arm of your chair making you almost whimper. You glanced at his hand for a moment, visualising all the things he could do with it. Your eyes return to his and you nod obediently.

"Is it really the course material that you're struggling with? Or are there other reasons for your poor performance?" His expression held a hint of curiosity.

"I-I guess I've been a little distracted." You almost mumble, feeling yourself get wet at having his undivided attention.

"Oh," His eyebrows raised curiosity flashing across his face for a second. He spoke almost innocently, his eyes scanning your body once more, taking in your appearance. "Distracted by what?"

"You, Professor." You whimper, feeling completely transfixed under his gaze.

Remus took a quick breath as his chest raised and lowered again.

"Me?" You could tell he was holding back a smirk as he continued to pry and his voice darkened. "What is it exactly that you find distracting about me?"

"Y-you've just been causing some... dark thoughts." You respond quietly.

"Dark thoughts?" He couldn't hold back his smirk anymore. Your breath caught in your through as his hand moved from the arm of your chair to your bare thigh. "Can you specify?"

"Y-your hands." You moan out, opening your legs ever so slightly absentmindedly. You looked down at his hands, they wrapped round your small legs perfectly.

"What about my hands?" As he spoke, his hands travelled inch by inch up your thigh.

"W-when I see them... all I can think about is having them round my throat." You whine, his eyes widening at your words.

"Your throat?" He questioned further, squeezing your thigh.

"And other places." Your eyes returned to his and you realised just how close he was to you.

"Other places?" Remus was now inches from your face.

"My wrists... my waist... my mouth..." You noticed his eyes darken as a subtle grin crept into his features.

"Is that it?" He spoke in a dark voice and you shook your head no obedienty.

"My pussy." You finally let out and in that second he snapped, his mouth attaching itself to yours desperately.

You moaned against his lips as his tongue quickly found yours. His harsh grip on your thigh was replaced with your throat and you felt your brain grow foggy at the lack of oxygen.

Your fantasy was coming true, all those lessons sat with a puddle between your legs imagining Remus fucking you dumb was about to happen.

"Bend over my desk." Remus instructed, breaking away from the kiss.

"Y-yes, Professor." You whimpered, bending over in front of him so your abdomen was placed against the oak and your ass was facing him.

All you could do is whimper as he lifts your skirt to reveal your panties soaked in your own pleasure.

"Fucking hell, kitten." He chuckles, bringing his fingers up to your clothed cunt and rubbing small circles. "Are you always this wet for me?"

You nodded submissively and let out a yelp as he smacked you harshly on your bare cheek.

"Words, kitten." Remus spoke agressively.

"Yes, Professor." You spoke quietly. "I-I'm always wet for you."

He pulled your panties down slowly and you heard his own buckle being undone.

"You didn't think I was gonna reward you, did you?" You can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks. "Dumb kittens don't deserve rewards."

Remus aligned himself with your pussy, not bothering to touch you beforehand to ease you into it. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up slightly so he could whisper in your ear.

"You want this, kitten?" He whispered. "Tell me you want your Professors cock in your sweet little pussy."

"I want your cock, Professor." You cry, desperate for any kind of stimulation. "Please."

Without a second thought he pushed himself into you, giving you no time to ease into things before thrusting into you.

You tightened around him as he let out a low groan, his cock filled you perfectly.

"Fuck" He muttered, not used to how tight your pussy is. He let go of your hair and grabbed your throat.

"Look how pathetic you are for me, baby." He groaned, quickening his pace. "Open your mouth."

You comply and feel two of his fingers down your throat. You try your best not to cough and choke around them but fail miserable.

"Aw, baby can't you handle it? I thought this is what you wanted?" He speaks sarcastically as suddenly he removes himself from you. You whimper at the loss of contact but he quickly turns you around so you're on your back.

"I-I can handle it." You whine, your brain foggy as he looks at you with a dark grin.

He pushes his cock into you again, this time thrusting into you at a ridiculously slow rate.

"You want me to fuck you properly, huh?" His voice belittling as you nod desperately.

"Yes, Professor."

"Then promise me you'll get your grades up," He smirks. "I don't want a dumb kitten."

"I-I'm not dumb." You whine, raising your hips to his but he quickly forces you down with his big hands.

"Then promise me."

"I-I promise, Professor." You don't have the chance to think twice as he begins fucking you relentlessly.

His mouth finds your neck as he sucks harshly, leaving bite marks all over you. You quickly reach your high, clenching around him as he finishes too, his cum spreading inside your tight cunt.

Remus removes himself from you all too quickly, pulling his trousers back up and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

You stand to your feet, your legs weak as his cum runs down your bare thighs.

"I'll see you in class, Y/N" He smirks, grabbing your underwear from the floor and putting it in his pocket. "Get your grades up and maybe I'll think about that reward."

[utterlyotterlyx]

4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff

(not spell checked sorry x)

What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.

Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.

The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.

You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.

You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.

There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.

It was a part you played well.

Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.

Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.

Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.

But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.

It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.

The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.

Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.

Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.

You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.

It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.

Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.

And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.

You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.

An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.

"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.

The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.

No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.

Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.

Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.

Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.

Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.

He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.

"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.

Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.

Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.

You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.

Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."

You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.

Go fuck yourself, Rhys.

I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.

The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.

"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.

"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.

Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"

"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.

"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.

In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.

"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."

"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.

Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.

I've never known him to be like this, you know.

Like what?

Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.

Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.

Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.

Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.

Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.

"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."

Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.

Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"

"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."

"You never said anything."

"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."

You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.

"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.

Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.

If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.

Author's Note

Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[sunbaby01]

Sweeter than usual

Conrad Fisher x reader

“I’ll take care of this guys” Conrad flashed his fake ID around the car ignoring Jeremiah’s baffled “with that?” and the giggles coming from Belly and Emmy in the backseat.

It only took 5 minutes of then staring at the store in silence before Conrad came out the store empty handed.

“Oh, no. What, ID didn’t work Mr Herbertson?” Jeremiah leaned out the window mockingly at Conrad before winking at Belly who was also leaning out of her window too.

“Fuck off. At least I have one” Conrad drawled, raising his middle finger to emphasise his words. Emmy tried to ignore the way his attitude sent chills down her spine, really she did. Honest.

“What?” Jeremiah scoffed moving out the car, “listen, it’s cause I don’t need one all right? Jumper and I are tight, we’re like bros. C’mon how hard could it be?” He shut the door behind him flashing a smirk at them all ‘watch and learn’ he mouthed.

Famous last words.

“Watch and learn my ass” Emmy snorted.

“Awww look at that face” Conrad teased and Belly laughed at the pair.

“So, what? Do you want to, like, pay someone to in and buy it for us or…?” Jere started.

“Try a different store? Hop a few towns over where they don’t know us as well?” Conrad finished.

Belly and Emmy looked at one another in the back seat, communicating with their eyes. The long years of being best friends allowed that sort of thing. Emmy lifted a brow first as if to say ‘you’re up’

Belly sighed “Yeah, I just don’t think that anyone is gonna buy your Guam ID”

“I mean who even chooses Guam-“ Emmy leant forward resting her chin on Conrad’s seat.

“I’d love to hear your plan Belly. And don’t even get me started Emmeline. I don’t see either of you heading to the store” Conrad turned to make eye contact with Emmy holding her gaze.

“Why don’t I just go in and ask?” Belly said confidently. Too confidently.

“That’s not gonna work” Conrad disagreed, Jeremiah nodded along. “It won’t”

“Okay” Belly shrugged and got out the car.

“Yeah I didn’t think that was her plan” Emmy sighed and rubbed her hand over her face and in Belly’s defence, inside the store she’d been the closest to success and yet still left empty handed.

“Well now what?” Jere asked the four once again.

“Emmy…” Belly started.

“No” the girl stopped her.

“But look at your outfit you could so do it. And, you’ve done it before-“ she contributed

“Leave the clothes out of it Belly. And yeah I’ve done it. At home with friends. In desperate times, not here in cousins”

The boys looked at one another in confusion before Belly caught Conrad’s eye lifting a brow the boy immediately understanding what she needed.

“C’mon Emmy this is a desperate time” he begged her, looking at her in the way he reserved for her, feeling a grin pull at his lips when she rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

“Conrad Fisher, you fucking owe me,” she pointed to the eldest boy.

“Anything you want” he allowed himself to smile at her flushed cheeks, “so what’s actually happening?” he looked back to his brother when both girls stepped out the car, the siblings rushing to follow them. When Conrad rounded the back of the car his eyes widened slightly. Emmy’s denim skirt been undone and rolled down at the waistband and her halter top adjusted to show more cleavage. Well, shit. She’d already looked hot but this? This was too much.

“Hey…uh maybe we should just drive a town over after all?” He tried to remain cool rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes flickering down at the girl.

“It’ll be the same there,” she sighed, “who did you say was working today?” She asked Jere groaning once again when he reminded her it was Jumper.

“Fuck” she mumbled, ignoring Belly’s whoop and Jeremiah’s whistle as she walked towards the store emphasising her hips as she did so. She couldn’t, however, ignore Conrad’s eyes burning into her.

“Maybe we should go get her?” Conrad tapped his foot, gaze not breaking from the store door.

“Connie it’s been like 2 minutes” Jere smacked his back moving to wrap his arms around Belly.

“Two minute too fucking long” he huffed, looking at the sky.

“Better open the trunk boys!” Her voice called out and he snapped his gaze back down seeing her grin as she walked towards them. Jumper may as well have been hypnotised the way he was following her and looking at her. Conrad clenched his jaw.

“Don’t get pulled over and god if you do? I’ll claim you stole in on my shift. I’ll see you tonight?” Jumper turned his attention to Emmy and ran his eyes over her one more time not noticing her noncommittal nod before heading back to work.

“What?” She asked Conrad who just stared blankly. “Half cherry, half coke” she shrugged and held out the cups to Jere and Belly who smiled in thanks already sipping them and heading to the car. She then pulled out the lolly from her pocket quickly ridding the wrapper and placing the candy in her mouth.

“Nothing for me?” Conrad questioned lifting the final crate of alcohol into the trunk and closing it.

“You hate slushys say they’re too sugary..” she trailed off as he stepped closer to her.

“I still like sweet things” he corrected her, reaching forward and pulled her hand holding the sucker towards his mouth.

“Mmm” he moaned slightly, “sweeter than usual” Conrad smirked, heading back towards the drivers seat.

Well, fuck.

[transmutationisms]

I would love to hear more of your thoughts on House & its relation to the detective genre ! I think that house (completely accidentally and very badly) stumbles into a good critique of how doctors & medical structures view addicts & disabled people, with house being a horrible hegemonic mr malpractice to his patients frequently yet half is series is unironically just about all the injustice/mistreatment he faces because his doctor colleagues can’t see him as a person but only as a problem to be solved/rehabbed/therapized/institutionalized/treated like a child with stolen candy/treated like a criminal. and then it also randomly takes an incredibly pro MAID stance. which isn’t really part of this but I just remembered how batshit insane that show was. and then chase killed a dictator and I feel like the show was squarely on his side for that one. Anyway. Do you have thoughts? I really like house.

ok here's my house md take. like a lot of medical dramas, the show essentially relies for its dramatic appeal on the construal of patients as gross, weird, and stupid—rubes who are too uneducated and self-serving in their petty lies to solve their own bodies, and thus need the intervention of house to fix them. this is standard for the genre, although slightly meaner on house than on some other examples (cf. grey's or even the older and soapier generation of these shows). i don't even think house committing malpractice is all that new; it's relatively common as a plot point that positions the noble rule-breaking doctor as someone who 'does what needs to be done' and skirts the bureaucratic red tape to follow their own superior judgment. what makes house more interesting is that from the get-go, house himself is both a doctor and an unwilling patient. in itself this isn't a tension that's new to the medical soap (injuring a major character is pretty par for the course) but house's particular interactions with the ruling biomedical epistemology are, as you point out, characterised by hostility and resistance, and the show frequently either sides with house, or at least leaves it somewhat up to the viewer to decide whether house is right to resist the pathologisation that cuddy and wilson try to impose on him.

this is kind of a tricky line to walk for 7 seasons or however long the show is. my recollection is there are episodes, for example, where it's very clear that house's pain is physical, and the writers use this to morally justify his vicodin use. this is obviously not a full-throated defence of opioid users, but it is at least pointing to a position on chronic pain that allows for the possibility that for some people, long-term use of drugs with a high addiction potential and side effects is legitimately the best thing. but, this messaging is also undercut by the fact that it's primetime television, they need to make drama, and there are definitely also episodes where house is framed as potentially lying about his pain, or at least mistaking a somatic problem for a physical one, which the writers often (not always, but often) present as evidence that actually, house shouldn't be trusted to make his own decisions about drug use, and ideally should be 'de-toxed' and probably sent to cbt or whatever. of course all of these considerations are also contextualised by the fact that house is, again, not just a patient but a doctor: his right and ability to make these types of calls for himself is, it's suggested, a result of his having attained medical education and credentials. the patients who come to be treated by him are seldom, if ever, given this same level of consideration or presumed to have sufficient self-awareness to make their own medical decisions. this isn't to say they're portrayed entirely unsympathetically, but ultimately the narrative engine of the show relies on house being the smartest guy in the room (though ofc, sometimes tragically 'held back by his addiction').

so, although there are moments on the show that genuinely transgress some of the norms of the med-drama genre, i have never agreed with people who thought that the show as a whole was presenting any sustained critique of the medical system, the treatment of chronic pain/disability, or the power-imbalanced doctor-patient relationship. ultimately all authority on house md is supposed to emanate from the physician, or the physician's superiors (cuddy as a 'check' on house, though sometimes a failed one! again because of the need to generate drama for like 140 episodes), and at its most radical the show is really only capable of presenting house himself as an out-of-control aberration whose existence strains the existing system rather than being produced by it.

this is where i think the comparison to the cop show genre becomes more clarifying. house md never made a secret of being an interpolation of the detective genre, specifically sherlock holmes. however, i'm not sure i've ever really seen writing on the show that analyses what effect this actually has on house. like police, doctors are tasked with maintaining certain social norms; the dichotomy between policing and medicine isn't even a solid line, as criminality is frequently rhetorically construed as a pathology in itself and medical authorities can and do have recourse to carceral systems in order to discipline and confine recalcitrant patients, the 'criminally insane', addicts, and so forth. (policing has historically also been understood in a more expansive sense than how we use the word today; our understanding of the medical/public health system as separate from police authority is arguably more to do with university credentialling than the actual exercise of social and political power).

so, if we want to be serious about the portrayal of medicine in popular culture (i am always serious about this) then we're necessarily talking about broader systems of power, social control, and discipline, and doubly so on a show like house that is explicitly inspired by detective fiction. this is where house md is most ideologically objectionable to me: as with the trope of the cop who breaks all the rules, house is basically positioned in one of two ways throughout the show. either he's a lone genius who alone is willing to achieve noble ends (cure) through distasteful means (breaking into patients' homes, berating them, performing risky interventions on them, &c), or—and this is rarer on house but does happen—he's portrayed as genuinely crossing an ethical line, in which case he's a kind of monstrous aberration from the normal, ethical functioning of the medical system, often represented metonymously by the objections that cuddy, wilson, or house's underlings raise. in both of these cases, as with copaganda, the function is ultimately to reinforce the idea that doctors, though occasionally capable of human error, are prima facie wiser than their patients, looking out for their patients' best interests, and performing noble social roles as healers. house, ofc, is very rarely willing to admit that he has any underlying ethical motivations, though much of the show is driven by the flashes where he is revealed to 'secretly' care about another person (often wilson) and anyway, the construction of an ethical society in which all individual actors are motivated solely by selfish interests is a very established rhetorical move for those interested in defending liberal capitalist societies (cf. charles darwin, thomas malthus, adam smith, &c).

because of television's need to generate profit via audience engagement, house md always relied on a certain level of shock or at least provocation in order to sustain itself. so, there are certain aberrations from the more overtly doctor-valorising medical dramas, like the suggestion (sometimes tongue-in-cheek) that house was better at his job when he was mildly high on opioids. this was, for the reasons outlined above, never a serious entry into political critique, but it was at least refreshing in a certain way as a departure from, eg, the portrayal of addiction and drug use that we see on grey's, which is completely limited to the medicalised AA narrative of 'recovery' as a battle against the malevolent intervention of an external chemical agent. which is to say that although house md is ultimately reactionary in the way we should expect from an american tv show, it did at least dabble in a certain level of caustic iconoclasm that allowed limited departures from the genre conventions. even with what was ultimately a pretty solid vindication of the anti-opioid narrative, the show does stand out in my mind as one of the few very popular presentations of any kind of alternative stance on chronic drug use. that it's usually put in house's own mouth means it is occasionally legitimated by his epistemological authority as a physician, though ofc ultimately this authority is challenged not through a critique of the medical system, but by presenting house as individually and aberrantly licentious, undisciplined, and insane—and his chronic pain/disability are both a justification for this, and a shorthand for conveying it.

[qvrcll]

hiii!! i love ur work!!!

could u pls do an ellie(or abby) period piece where reader is a princess, but ellie(or abby) is a knight and it’s lowk forbidden ykyk?🫣

pink matter

summary: what starts off as a secret, and blatantly innocent rendezvous to the castle stables ends in a question between the strength you possess to deny ellie and the urgency of her that you crave — all in touches and hushed questions.

warning: slightly suggestive but nothing happens, knight ! ellie, princess ! fem ! reader, period piece

a/n: oh lord. this ask made my head spin in the best way HELLOOO. thank u so much for your interest in my works and such a lovely req!! i know this is a little short but i’m thinking of making a part two or something like that… maybe with abby? both of them? dangerous? idk! let’s see :P in the meantime, enjoy :-]

Ellie could never not worry about you. It was a habit now properly buried in the various mechanisations of her being, her footing as a soldier-turned-knight struck in deep mud and sworn to the kingdom she fought for tooth and nail.

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you purse your lips, stepping over the threshold of the stable you’ve seemingly snuck out into. The mud had tapered to rough chalk-like granules beneath the strength of your heels, which embedded rather than sunk with the kiss of the Earth. But you don’t mind — you’d barely swung a glance to the stain dotting your powdered garb, barely acknowledged the swing and pull of your arms against the stable edges, mantels, the way they smelt like trouble for a lady like you.

And yet, Ellie did.

“Princess,” she grunts, in that way that had your tummy churning in the oddest of directions when her fingers crossed the small of your back, warm and stitched with heat as she presses half her side to the back of you, “You mustn’t dirty your garb. If you allow it, I can carry you—“

“That is not necessary” you swallow, barely coherent without a pause to ascertain your breath. Was she insane? Was she just? Was she playing your poor heart with stannic poles as trusses?

Did she know this effect she carried in the very smell of her?

“Of course,” she sounds reserved, now, and you’re afraid you’ve scared her. Well, scrap ‘scared.’ Offended, at most. Left barren of the very services she can offer — her brawn is stalked clean and at the ready; muscle in her arm, muscle in her calf, muscle on her chest. She was a soldier, alright. Still, she’s far more awkward and bony with you, no longer any semblance of the blood and teeth she was of yesterday. Just a dear friend who followed at your heels with more caution than merriment as fuel, “Be careful.”

And you are. For the next thirty minutes, just to prove you can be, if you want to. Your shoes are a scratch dirty but indistinguishable from its acclaimed standards and your dress is smothering, molten quartz against the dirt in the stable. You pet the horses and giggle, try to hide the tense of your fingers and the sweat that kisses your neck when Ellie comes close, tries to balance you on your toes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“See, pet here — horses prefer neck to ear rather than elsewhere.”

“Hush, princess. You’ll get us caught.”

“You make it sound scandalous,” you regard her latest comment, opting to face away and question her with thw stretch of your back facing her as a proxy, “that we’re here. We’re just here to pet the horses, are we not?”

“We are.”

“So? Why must we be so cautious?”

“Because is that really all there is to it…” a tingle of her breath skirts the best of your neck at her sudden adjacency, “Y/N?”

You turn, swivel and nearly fall into the crass below you at the gall of this woman — insinuating just as much was inapt, was it not? Absolutely malapropos, much to the tastes of the kingdom, your parents, things of other importance. And you do open your mouth, in protest…

…only that nothing of such… ‘importance’ comes to your defence. You look like a fish, red and blistering with heat like a teenager caught in a crush, not a princess toes deep in a stable with her sworn knight at knee and lip level. Not like that.

“Well?” she eggs on, and now her fingers pamper the skin of your neck, near the base, where they’ve grown warm and excited with your silence — she glances at you, mischievous and all smiles, for once, and it excites you. Makes you worry your lip against your teeth. Makes you carry the innocent part.

“W-Well… I don’t know… what are we doing, exactly?” you close in on the question, and her fingers flit against your cheek. That you can handle, you think. Hope. Her left palm is heavy on your hip, cradling the flesh so gingerly as she crowds you into the corner of the stable.

Her eyes light, once more, and it takes you seconds to figure the feel of her fingers on your lips. Firm and goading some reaction from you; excitement, thrill, something convoluted and messy.

“You tell me: what is this?” she asks, and her question feels like a weight against your throat in the way she nudges her nose into the flesh of it, tests your limits, asks you silently: ‘Are you willing to take the fall?’

And like clockwork, you offer her no words, but just an answer in the form of action, with her mouth on yours and the spit of each other marking the fervor of it as you go — and the way she holds you against the thew of her makes you forget the mud that has begun to discolour your robes.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[ladamedusoif]

Snowflakes (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 6

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2091

Warnings: Reader is a colleague of Javi’s; set sometime around the events of Narcos S1; non-canon; no use of Y/N; no physical description of reader; alcohol consumption; smoking; references to sex work; swearing; references to Christmas but more often to ‘holiday season’; reader has a large family; fluff; minor angst; heavy making out; implied smut; Javi is a softie really

Summary: With the holidays approaching, you volunteer to stay on and work at the embassy in Colombia so that other colleagues can take time off and head back to the US to spend time with family. It’s just you, mountains of paperwork - and Javier “Where’s Your Festive Spirit?” Peña.

Winding down for the holidays in the embassy in Bogotá isn’t exactly how it was when you were based in D.C. That being said, even narcotics kingpins - and the people tasked with trying to topple their empires - eased off a little around the festive season. It’s three days before Christmas Eve, and the embassy offices are abuzz with colleagues exchanging cards and well-wishes before many of them depart for some much-needed time with family back in the US.

You’ve volunteered to stay put and let others, especially those with kids or older parents, get home. You come from a large family and - while you’ll miss them - you know your absence won’t be felt quite so keenly. 

The strains of “White Christmas” float through the office as you sort out stacks of paperwork in preparation for the (hopefully) quieter days ahead, humming along to yourself. 

Javier Peña sidles into the room, cigarette dangling from his lower lip and body poured into those stupidly tight jeans and shirt as per usual, and lets out a groan. 

“Ironic we’ve got Bing fuckin’ Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas, while we’re here trying to put a stop to a different kind of snow.”

You roll your eyes and exhale. “C’mon, Javi. Where’s your festive spirit?”

He swivels and gives you that hooded stare you feel is more of a practiced defence mechanism than anything else. 

“Don’t have it. Don’t need it. Just want to get some work done when it’s quieter. When are you leaving, anyway?”

You put on your best and brightest smile. “I’m not. I volunteered to stay over the holidays, too. Now, when are we planning on making some popcorn garlands and drinking eggnog?”

You hold your wide-eyed, innocent expression for just long enough to spark panic in Javi’s eyes, before collapsing in giggles.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man! Fuck. But I do have holiday sweaters and I’m not afraid to wear them.”

Javi rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and leaves.

You know all about Javier Peña and his reputation. Grumpy lothario with a moral compass painted in shades of grey. Supposedly fucked every hooker in Colombia by now, and a few embassy staffers for good measure. Sullen, snarky, and the definition of an asshole. 

You don’t buy it. 

Okay, he’s not exactly subtle about the way he checks out pretty much everything in a skirt, though he has his limits. And his knowledge of local brothels is just too good to be entirely based on police intelligence reports, though you suspect at least some of the stories are heavily embellished if not entirely made up. 

There’s just something about him that tells you he’s not the grumpy asshole people think he is - or, maybe, that he wants people to think he is. It’s like that stare: it’s a way of keeping you at arm’s length. It’s the same as the puppy dog eyes he pulls out when he’s trying to get something he wants. You’re a good agent - you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t - and you can’t resist the allure of cracking a puzzling case. Especially if it’s the colleague currently sitting sullenly at his desk, plume of cigarette smoke rising above his head, while he rifles through surveillance photographs.

The embassy is much quieter now, the day before Christmas Eve, and the usual background noise of phones and chatter has been replaced by the sound of your typewriter, the scratch of Javi’s Parker ballpoint pen against a yellow legal pad, and his occasional frustrated grunt or exhalation. 

He hasn’t said a word about the bright green sweater decorated with a glittery Christmas tree that you’ve worn to work, though you’ve noticed him sneaking occasional glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Eventually you decide to call his bluff.

“I think you’re jealous of this sweatshirt, Javi. Let me know your size and I can get you one for next year.”

He looks over at you and shakes his head with irritation. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” But you swear you detect a little smile flashing across his lips.

On Christmas Eve, you don your brightest holiday sweater and pack a tin of homemade sugar cookies into your work bag. It promises to be quiet - most Colombians will be with family, preparing to attend midnight Mass and come together for dinner afterwards. You aren’t even sure if Javi will be in the office. 

He’s there, of course, already leafing through files with his feet up on the desk when you arrive. He does a little salute in acknowledgement - more of a hello than you think you’ve ever got from him, you muse.

He looks up again at the sound of your cookie tin hitting your desk, and mutters something under his breath. 

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said, that better not contain popcorn for making garlands.”

You grin, take the lid off the tin, and cross to his desk to show him the cookies. “I didn’t think you’d be much good at that, so I made cookies instead.”

Javi cannot disguise the interest in his eyes as his gaze moves from the cookies to your face. 

“I don’t like eggnog.”

You shrug. “Don’t have eggnog, so we’re good. There’s coffee. Or, as I suspect, there’s that bottle of whiskey you’ve got in your desk drawer?”

You raise your other hand. Javi groans when he realises you’re holding two holiday-themed mugs, dangling expectantly, but he’s clearly fighting a laugh as he bends down and opens his desk drawer to retrieve a bottle of Johnnie Walker.

“Fuck it.”

It seems that sugar cookies, Scotch, and an empty office are the key to cracking the mystery that is Javier Peña. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, stretching back in his chair with his feet up as you sit on the edge of his desk.

The alcohol has emboldened you a little. “I don’t buy it.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t buy what?”

“You not having any holiday spirit. I think you just don’t want to let it show.”

“Fuck, not this again.” He’s smiling, though, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He exhales and sips his drink. 

“Holidays were my mom’s thing. Never felt the same after she passed.” 

“I’m sorry, Javi, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

He brushes away your apology with a wave of his hand. “No need to say sorry. They’re not bad memories. That’s the fuckin’ problem, they’re all too good.” He chuckles to himself, as if he’s reliving Christmases past. “She loved it, all of it. The food, the lights, the music. Dancing with my pop on Christmas Eve with the record player on - fuckin’ embarrassing, when you’re a kid.”

He laughs at the memory and you can’t help but join in, saying nothing in case he’ll close himself off again.

“She had this little ornament that was like a snowglobe, or something, with a little plastic snowman inside, and she used to shake it every day and watch all the fake snow falling. Don’t get a lot of snow in Laredo, so it must have seemed…exotic.”

“Never had a white Christmas?”

He shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. “Not that I recall. Just one day in February when I was, what - fourteen? Fifteen? And I came home from school and she was standing in the yard, staring up into the sky and watching those snowflakes fall like a little kid.”

You let the memory linger for a couple of moments, before silently reaching for the cookie tin and offering it to him.

After another hour or so of work - albeit at a decidedly relaxed pace - you dig out your final Christmas Eve surprise: a portable cassette player, and a mix tape you’ve made of your favourite holiday songs. As the opening bars of “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes ring out, Javi sighs and stares at you.

“That better not have any Bing fuckin’ Crosby on it. Or Sinatra.”

You chuckle as you bob your head in time to the music, swaying in your office chair. “Don’t worry, Javi, I wouldn’t force that on you. Who knows, we might even have the same taste in holiday tunes?”

He grins and shakes his head, but you smile with satisfaction when you notice his foot starting to keep time. 

No holiday spirit, my ass.

The next track is your favourite: “Christmas Wrapping”, by the Waitresses. You stand up from the desk and dance your way over to the filing cabinets, shimmying a little as you put away some completed paperwork and looking over your shoulder just in time to catch Javi nodding along to the music.

He looks up as you extend your hand towards him. 

“I know you want to, Javi. I could see that Rio Grande boot tapping from across the room.”

He stands up. He extinguishes his cigarette. He stares at you like you’ve come from another planet.

And then he takes your hand and starts to dance with you, right there in the middle of the office: his moves a little reserved and awkward at first, but his body language becoming more open, more relaxed, as the song progresses. 

By the time Patty Donahue is recounting how she’s turned down all of her Christmas Eve invitations, Javi’s broad hands are around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, both giggling at the bizarre holiday party you’ve created for yourselves. He suddenly twirls you around and you throw your head back and laugh out loud.

He pulls you back in as the song reaches the final, repeated chorus. You lean in and whisper in his ear.

“I knew you weren’t a grinch, Javier Peña.”

His laugh is low and warm, resonating through his broad chest, and it sends a spark through you as your eyes meet.

He tastes of whiskey and tobacco, of sugar cookies and coffee, and he holds you close as you deepen the kiss and move backwards towards your desk. Your last few manila folders of paperwork hit the floor as he eases you up onto the edge of the table, your hands already starting to unbutton his shirt as his long, thick fingers work their way under your sweater and find the soft, sensitive skin of your breasts. 

You sit up a little so you can take the sweatshirt off, hastily discarding it before reaching for Javi’s belt buckle. 

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur as he undoes your jeans and encourages you to raise your hips just enough to pull them down.

“You don’t want to?” he asks, breath warm and heavy against your neck.

“I want to.”

“Good,” and he moves his mouth to your nipple as you whine with pleasure. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

You’re gone when he wakes up the next morning, the sheets on your side of the bed already turning cold in the grey light of a Christmas morning. He sits up and reaches for his cigarettes before dialling your number.

No answer. 

He had planned to go into the office one way or another. No point hanging around at home on his own when he could be getting some work done, right?

And maybe you’d be there, too.

The embassy is completely silent as Javi makes his way to the office, flicking on the lights and realising that all the evidence of yesterday’s festivities has been cleared away. Your desk is neat and tidy as ever.

It’s like nothing happened. 

There is one change, though: a little red gift box on Javi’s desk, topped with a bright green bow. The tag reads simply:

Merry Christmas, Agent Peña.

He raises an eyebrow and opens the box, reaching in to retrieve the gift within.

The fake snow glitters inside the cheap, plastic snowglobe as he holds it up to the light. 

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 9

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,699

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 | Read Chapter 5 | Read Chapter 6

Read Chapter 7 | Read Chapter 8

Read on Ao3

Gwaine’s mind is a mess of hurt, anger and sorrow, each blow to the training dummy serving as an outlet for his intense emotions.

“You alright Gwaine?” Percival asks as he looks on with a teasing grin. “Did the dummy insult you in some way?”

Gwaine scowls in reply as Arthur announces that it is time to swap to sparring. He pairs Percival with Leon, and Gwaine with Elyan. They begin trading blows, changing between offence and defence, blocking, parrying and striking. Gwaine’s style is particularly aggressive, giving Elyan hardly a chance to defend himself, let alone strike any blows, before Arthur calls an end to the bout.

“Bloody hell, Gwaine, are you actually trying to kill me?” Elyan pants, eyes wide.

“Apologies, my friend,” Gwaine replies, patting Elyan on the shoulder gruffly. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,”

Gwaine crosses the training field to return his sword to the rack, where Merlin appears next to him, a training dummy under one arm.

“Are you alright?” He asks, frowning concernedly at his friend.

“Yeah,” Gwaine answers automatically, forcing a smile. He glances at Merlin, who’s grimacing back at him, clearly not convinced. Gwaine drops the smile. “No, not really. Have you got a moment to talk after this, in my chambers?”

“Of course,” Merlin nods. “Once I pack all this away, I’ll be there,”

~

Gwaine paces the length of his chambers, deep in thought and face set in a frown, until there’s a knock at his chamber door.

“Enter,” He says.

The door swings open and Merlin steps inside, latching it behind him as he looks at his friend with concern. Gwaine gestures to a small table behind him, and he and Merlin both sit down.

“It’s (Y/N),” Gwaine begins. “I’ve finally managed to speak with her. It’s bad, Merlin,” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It seems my sister has been running her mouth, spreading nasty rumours about me, and (Y/N) came to hear of them. She’s been led to believe that I’m some kind of skirt-chaser and that I don’t care for her at all,”

“Did you tell her it’s not true?” Merlin asks.

“Of course I did. I told her that she can’t believe a word my sister says, but I don’t know if she believed me. I was too angry to say any more so I left,”

Merlin frowns, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know… I thought maybe I should give her some space to think things over. Then she can decide what she wants to do… whether she wants to speak to me again,” Gwaine turns his head away, hair falling in front of his face, hiding the emotion beginning to show itself.

“So, you’re going to wait for her to come to you?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine shrugs.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Merlin says. “(Y/N) seems like the kind of person who might find that difficult, especially since I’m sure she’s feeling pretty terrible right now. She might wait for you to make the next move. Then you’ll both be sitting around, waiting for the other, torturing yourselves in the process,” He shakes his head. “No, you both need to talk this out, and the sooner, the better,”

“I don’t know, Merlin. I don’t want to harass her. She might not want to talk,”

Merlin’s chair scrapes back as he stands. “I’ll go and talk to her,”

“No,” Gwaine stands so swiftly that his chair falls back with a loud thud. “I don’t want her to think I’m sending someone else to fight my battles,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear that you haven’t sent me. I’m a concerned friend, that’s all,”

Merlin smiles reassuringly before exiting Gwaine’s chambers.

~

You begin applying gold trim to the king’s doublet, the garment having reached your favourite stage of creation (besides the finished result), which is when it actually starts to look like something. If only you could feel the satisfaction that you usually would at this stage, but your mind is clouded and unfocused. No matter what task you set yourself to, always in the back of your mind is guilt and heartache.

You take a step back to inspect your work when there’s a knock at your chamber door. Your stomach drops. It must be Gwaine. You’re not ready to speak with him yet. Even though a full day has passed, you haven’t thought up anything you could possibly say to him. But now’s the moment, whether you’re ready or not, you have to answer that door.

You cross your chambers and open to door, surprised to find Merlin looking back at you.

“I waited this time,” He says with a lopsided grin.

“Indeed,” You reply. “The king’s doublet is not yet complete. I’m just working on it now,”

“Hmm?” Merlin raises his brows. “Oh, I’m not here about that,”

“Alright… why are you here?”

You open the door wider to admit him and he steps inside, a thumb and finger on his chin, brow furrowed in thought.

You cross the room to the dining table. “Would you like to sit?”

You gesture to the chair opposite you and Merlin nods. You take a seat as he does, clasping his hands in front of him.

He clears his throat. “You know, Gwaine is a good friend of mine,”

You avert your eyes guiltily, steeling yourself for a tongue-lashing.

“He told me what happened,” Merlin continues. “But he is afraid to speak with you again, in case you don’t wish to speak to him, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to come here and ask you to please speak to him as soon as you can,”

“Does he not hate me?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “He’s just hurting. He’s extremely upset with his sister and… I think he’s afraid he’s lost you,”

Tears prick your eyes and you reach into your pocket to retrieve a handkerchief, dabbing the moisture away.

“I’ve spent the last day trying to think of what to say to him, but I just can’t find the words. All I can think of is how dreadful I feel,”

“In situations like these, it’s impossible to think of the perfect thing to say, because there isn’t one,” Merlin’s blue eyes look earnestly into yours. “You just need to speak from your heart. When you see him, you’ll know what to say,”

You sigh, fiddling with the handkerchief in your lap. “I don’t know about that,”

“Well, I know this,” Merlin straightens. “Gwaine is a good man, one of the very best. There was a time when Gaius was framed and accused of treason. Everyone believed he was guilty, but I knew he would never betray Arthur. I was angry and I was afraid, and I felt that I had no one to turn to. I returned to my chambers one night and there was Gwaine, waiting for me. He wanted to see if I was alright, and when I told him that Gaius had not fled to avoid punishment, but was kidnapped, he believed me. He came with me, no questions asked, to find Gaius and to save him. Gwaine found Gaius and brought him home,” Merlin’s eyes glisten with the emotion of the memory. “He is a true and loyal friend. I’m afraid I overlooked that for too long. Don’t make the same mistake as I did. He has been, and will be, true to you as well,”

You nod sombrely as hot tears fall down your cheeks and into your lap. “I can tell you speak from the heart, Merlin,” Your voice wavers as you force out the words before standing and walking to the nearest window, looking out at the sky. “Do the knights have training this evening?”

“Of course,” Merlin replies.

“Then I shall speak with Gwaine after that,”

“Excellent,” Merlin stands with a smile. “Speaking of training, I need to make sure Arthur’s armour is in order,”

You leave your spot at the window and approach Merlin.

“Thank you for coming to speak with me. You’ve given me courage,”

“You’ve found that courage yourself,” Merlin smiles. “Good luck for this evening,”

~

You spend the next few hours continuing work on the king’s doublet, then swap to Gwen’s gown. The plan is for them both to be completed at the same time so they can be revealed together. Your body feels tight as you work, full of nervous tension for your upcoming conversation with Gwaine. While there is no certainty about how it will go, there is at least a small sense of relief in knowing that he is open to talking. You had worried that you’d hurt him too badly.

You sew until the sunlight filters through your window in that particular way, and you know that the time has come. You briefly check your appearance in the glass, tucking away any fly-aways and smoothing your skirts, before heading out.

You arrive in the wing of the castle containing the knights�� personal chambers and realise that you’re unsure which room belongs to Gwaine. You overheard his and Erika’s voices from one of the rooms those weeks ago, but weren’t close enough to discern exactly where they came from. You decide to just try one of the doors, and if another knight answers, you can simply ask for direction to Gwaine’s chambers. You knock on the door closest to you. Receiving no response, you move onto the next door, but also receive no reply. Your make your way down the passage, knocking on each door, until you’ve tried all, and do not receive a single answer.

You pace for a few moments, flustered. You’d worked up the courage to do this, your stomach twisting itself into knots in anticipation, and now… nothing. Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you think what to do next, when the idea strikes you to find Merlin and ask him if he knows where the knights may be.

You arrive at Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, knocking on the door firmly.

“Enter,” Gaius’ voice calls from within.

You unlatch the door and step inside. Gaius stands up from behind a desk and removes his glasses, placing them atop the pages of an open tome.

“How may I assist you, (Y/N)?” He asks with a friendly smile.

“I was just wanting to speak to Merlin,” You reply.

“I’m afraid Merlin is not here currently. Is there something I could help you with?”

You consider whether or not to be open with the physician, and ultimately decide that there is no reason for secrecy.

“I was meaning to speak with Sir Gwaine actually, but he wasn’t in his chambers. None of the knights were in fact, so I came here, hoping Merlin might know something,”

“Ah,” Gaius’ eyes brighten with understanding. “The knights were called away on an urgent mission with the king. Merlin has gone with them,”

“I see,” Your anxiety flares. “Do you know when they are expected to return?”

“It is hard to say,”

You nod. “Thank you, Gaius,”

He bows his head in response and you exit the physician’s chambers.

You begin heading back to your own chambers in a sort of daze. You were already anxious when you headed out to see Gwaine, but now, not only are you unable to speak with him, he’s off on an urgent mission, and surely urgent means dangerous? You need to know more, so you change direction and head for the royal chambers.

You receive and answer immediately after you knock, and let yourself inside. Gwen turns to greet you from in front of the antechamber’s window.

“(Y/N),” She smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Upon seeing your expression, her smile falters. “Is everything alright?”

“I went to speak with Gwaine,” you say, closing the gap between you and joining her by the window. “But he’s away,”

“Yes, Arthur and the knights have set out on an urgent mission,” Gwen replies.

“I heard such from Gaius. Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Villages on Camelot’s borders have been attacked,” Gwen speaks in a low voice, as if worried of being overheard. “Arthur wants to know whether it’s simply raiders, or whether it’s enemies crossing the border,” She turns to gaze out the window. “I shouldn’t say simply raiders. There’s nothing simple about them for the poor people whose homes are being targeted,”

“What happens if it’s raiders?”

“Arthur and his knights will defeat them,”

“And if it is enemies crossing the border?” You ask.

“Then it’s an act of war,” Gwen frowns.

“Then for the kingdom’s sake, I hope it’s raiders,”

“So do I,” Gwen turns back to you, her expression troubled. “Though I have seen first-hand the damage raiders can do. Those poor villagers,” She shakes her head, as if to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not,”

“Then will you dine with me tonight?”

“I would like that very much,” You answer truthfully. You would prefer not to be left with only your own thoughts tonight.

Gwen smiles before heading to the door, opening it and poking her head out to speak with the guards outside. She closes the door again and gestures for you to sit at the dining table and she takes the seat adjacent to you.

“I’ve arranged for two dinners to be brought up,” She says.

You thank her, but find yourself not knowing what else to say in the moment. You can’t seem to think of anything conversational. You strain to think of something, anything to talk about, when Gwen breaks the silence.

“I feel I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t bring this up. I knew there was something wrong when you conducted my fitting the other day, and Gwaine hasn’t been his usual cheerful self either. Has something happened between you?”

You certainly hadn’t planned on unburdening yourself tonight, but when Gwen looks at you, the question in her eyes as well as friendly concern, you reveal all, every wretched detail, your composure completely lost as she holds your hand in hers.

“And I went to try to fix things tonight,” You continue your story. “But now he’s gone on a dangerous mission and he doesn’t know how sorry I am,”

“You talk as if tonight was your only chance to speak with him. He’ll be back,” Gwen smiles reassuringly.

“I’m just so worried something terrible will happen while he’s away,” You sniff. “Do you not worry about the king?”

“I worry for Arthur every time he leaves on a mission,” Gwen says. “And Elyan too. But I also have faith, in Arthur and his knights. They’ve been through so much together and look out for one another like brothers,”

You nod along to Gwen’s words, trying to find in yourself the same faith that she has.

“How about this,” Gwen says. “We can dine together every night until they return. We’ll keep each other from worrying too much,”

“I like that idea,” You wipe your eyes. “Thank you, Gwen,”

The dinners arrive soon after and you periodically remind yourself to slow your eating, since the meal is so delicious.

“Perhaps I should spend more time on my own cooking,” You remark. “I only make very plain meals. But it hardly seems worth the effort to make something like this for just one person,”

“Perhaps you’ll soon invite someone over for dinner, and you can put in a little extra effort for the occasion,” Gwen replies suggestively.

You feel a warmth in your cheeks at the thought. How you long for things to go back to how they were before, to feel easy in Gwaine’s presence and to laugh with him again.

You and Gwen spend the rest of the night chatting about a number of topics, until drowsiness kicks in, the conversation lulls and you decide it’s time to go to bed. You head back to your chambers feeling much lighter than you did before. Your anxiety for Gwaine is still present, but you feel as if you can bear it a little better now.

[hydropotato]

So I've been playing Warframe for about 100 days.

I think that should be a pretty decent amount of time for me to get a feel for this game, and well? Yes, but actually no. This game is, for lack of clearer initial description, Amazing.

I first heard of Warframe ages ago from friends playing it. Didn't think much about it. Then I heard We All Lift Together, and added it to my Spotify playlist because it rocks. Didn't think much about the game at that point either. And then one day, I saw a group of my friends playing it and streaming on Discord. "Decree"? "Secrets lie deep within the undercroft; the paradox gives us a means to extract them"? Girl with a skirt on a floating skateboard, firing bubbles at enemies and it kills them?

I was sold. I thought this is bonkers, I gotta check that out. But there was more.

I can't begin to really describe my experience starting off. You get to pick from three frames (sorry, not Loki, the future is now old man), and then you get to pick some starter gear. Every option you forgo in favour of the other becomes available later on, but I didn't know that. I was just stealthily nailing baddies to walls with my Paris and clumping hoards together with Mag's Magnetise, trying to learn how to bullet jump. Days became weeks, and I was unlocking new planets like it was no big deal. Well, it was. I had to learn how to make my gear and abilities work together (like using Pull to group enemies at my feet and then whacking them with my Bo), how to avoid Sentients' spinning beam attacks, how to mod my gear so that I wouldn't die immediately. Now and then I'd stumble upon other random players in public lobbies; you'd get the Titanias, the Wukongs, the Mirages, all speeding to the finish line before I knew what was happening. At some point I thought to myself, I should really go for another Warframe just to explore my options. Citrine stood out to me (her rock fires rainbow beams, and she's a solid support that has good damage potential), and she wasn't too difficult to gain access to.

Then came the farming. Getting Citrine's components required you to do waves of a Mirror Defence mission up to multiples of 4. I still remember clearly the dismay upon reaching round 3 for the first time, only for my teammates to all extract. I tried to protect the crystals on my own, only for the second one to get destroyed at the very last second of wave 4. I was distraught. It took me much begging in different friend groups for friends to accompany me to the later rounds, to finally get all her parts. It was then that I discovered how powerful a frame like Frost or Gara could be, but Frost, despite being easier to get, just didn't stand out to me aesthetically. So my next goals were Gara and Garuda. But for now Citrine. And Citrine continues to be my main.

I don't really want to explain every single thing that happened, but I got Garuda, got Yareli, though omg she's so fun lemme get her signature weapon, spent days skating across Orb Vallis for that bubble gun,

At some point I got a Kuva Lich, accidentally made it rank 5, killed it on my own somehow, then got a Sister of Parvos (Sleeping in the Cold Below is such an awesome song by the way), finished The New War, cleared the Star Chart, and unlocked the Steel Path.

I haven't even mentioned The Duviri Paradox, which is what I was referencing at the start of this post. That gamemode is so fun, even if all the premade builds for gear and frames are frankly dogwater that only works if

a. You're running normal mode, or

b. You're playing Rhino so it doesn't matter how he's modded, you just don't die and buff everyone

So yeah. This game rocks. It's massive, it's free to play (you can get the paid-for currency by selling stuff to other players if you want to spend platinum), and it's really worth getting into. No daily obligations, the game just waits for you. That, and there's plenty of time gates, so I felt motivated to take breaks, naps, and just relax. Even the dailies on the Nightwave (a battlepass but 100% free) have this system where once you complete the existing ones, any quests you missed from previous days/weeks reappear for you to complete (marked with the word 'Recovered). I could max out the Nightwave despite having started Warframe halfway into it.

Now, I do have some issues with it, though. Host Migration is probably the most annoying of issues, and I genuinely think that the game should just leave you at the previous host's instance, regardless of ping. Sure, if you were lagging you still will be lagging when they leave, but it'll be uninterrupted, you won't lose all your active abilities, I dunno. I just think it would work more smoothly.

Also.

Can they please rework Wukong? He appears in every mission. It's tiring. Give him a higher skill floor or something. Maybe make him targetable in cloudwalker, I dunno. This game is too much of a sandbox for players to be funnelling into one meta. We gotta encourage people to be more creative.

Also, make Arbitration drones enter the rift when they float into Cataclysm. They're the only thing that annoys me as Limbo in Arbies. Please and thank you.

[jessicajonesbae]

AKA cuffs suit you

warnings: *** indicates where smut starts; before then everything is fluff. Please do not read past the stars if you’re a minor!!

summary: Jess got arrested after a bar brawl and you’re her lawyer/ girlfriend who’s always bailing her out of trouble but you secretly love it 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

word count: nearly 4k I went a bit overboard 😧

Jess had once again been arrested, as her lawyer (and out of your love for her) you made your way to the station where she was being held. You walked through the bustling precinct and towards arguing- Jess and the detective.

'My client is entailed to legal representation. Why have you begun questioning her before I arrived?' You asked the detective firmly. 'We have reasonable evidence that your client was part of a bar fight last night.' Well, that adds up, it is Jess after all.

'The evidence being..?' you enquired. The detective brought photos out of a yellow folder and placed them into the table, you sat down next to Jessica. 'Are the cuffs really necessary?' you glared at the detective. Jess rubbed her wrists with her hands to exaggerate the pain they were giving her. Your eyes looked down at her fingers, god you loved her hands, they were so soft and felt so good against you... Jess smirked as she noticed your eyeline.

The pictures were of Jess in a bar punching a guy. Okay not great; you crossed your legs and Jess subtly glanced at your tight fitted trousers (or skirt!) shifting in her seat slightly. She whispered a small 'shit' under her breath.

'I'd like a word with my client.' You told the detective, 'alone.' You spoke. The detective shuffled around and left the room.

'Jess what the fuck!! why is there a picture of you punching a guy in the bar we went to last night?' You whisper-shouted to her. 'He was a homophobic dick.' She said with no remorse for the man. You glared at her implying to elaborate; she sighed, 'When you left last night to go back to your apartment because you had that big meeting this morning- you look great by the way-' she smirked and shifted in her seat, 'that asshole came up and begun to shout slurs in my face, which I'm used to you know' you nodded in sympathy, 'then he said something about you which I will not repeat and well I punched him once or twice.'

You touched her leg in comfort 'I'm sorry that happened to you babe, you don't deserve that nobody does; I'm glad you stuck up for yourself, but as your lawyer you may be looking at an assault charge unless you have proof of your previous conversation, then we can push for self defence against discrimination.'

Jess' face perked up, you looked at her puzzled. 'Lucky for you, well me, I recorded the whole thing on my phone' she said with such eagerness. A smile tugged at your lips, 'That's my girl.' You praised. 'Did you have to wear that suit?' Jess asked solemnly, 'Why don't you like it?' You asked with a sarcastic tone- you knew it was her favourite. 'You know how it makes me feel.' She said trying to sound stern. 'Aw baby, don't worry once we get out of here you can have the honour of taking it off.' You smirked, 'although seeing you in cuffs is more of a turn on than I thought it'd be.' You whispered to her.

Jess pouted 'I wish I could kiss you so fucking hard right now.' She stated looking at your lips. You were about to reply when the detective walked back in, you composed yourself: 'I have evidence that my client was defending herself.' you told the detective. 'I'll need to see this right away.'

'It's on her phone.' You elaborated, Jess tugged at her cuffs and tilted her head to her jacket hung on the back of her chair which had her phone in. The detective uncuffed her and she went to get her phone when you kicked her leg. Jess mumbled a small 'thanks.' She may have been arrested but she hasn't lost her manners.

Jess showed the detective the audio recording of her conversation with the man and you were disgusted by how he spoke to the woman you care about most. The detective soon let Jessica go and dropped all charges against her. They asked for a copy of the audio recording so that they could use it as evidence against the man.

Once you and Jess had walked a few blocks away from the station she moved her hand to hold yours as you walked down the street back to her apartment. You smiled at her and kissed her cheek, not once did the butterflies subside while holding your girlfriend's hand on the walk back.

You arrived at Jess' apartment, it wasn't very tidy- as usual- but she had made some effort ever since you two got together to keep her apartment cleaner. 'Are you hungry babe?' you enquired. Jess shrugged in response. You laughed lightly and went over to her pulling her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, 'Come on baby you've got to eat' you told her. 'Mm sleepy' Jess said in a small voice whilst transferring her weight into your arms more. You took all her weight and dragged her towards her bedroom laying her gently onto her bed.

Jess laid flat into her back and pulled you along with her, both of you simultaneously giggling. 'You want cuddles huh?' you asked in a semi-mocking tone. Jess pouted, she rarely showed her vulnerable side (only to you). 'cuddles and..' Jess trailed on.

'And..?' you followed.

***

Jess' reply was to trail her cold hands under your shirt untucking it from your bottoms. Your breath hitched as you realised what your girlfriend was implying. 'not so sleepy now are you?' you teased. 'shut up and fuck me' Jess huffed in response as she all too eagerly lunged to kiss your tender lips.

Her lips were addicting, never once did the thought of pulling away to breathe occur to you. Jess tasted so amazing, every time you tasted her you wanted more. Jess slipped her tongue into your mouth exploring you even though she had a plethora of times before. You both moaned as you pulled Jess closer by her shirt; you positioned yourself to straddle her.

Your hands wondered across Jess' body, teasing her collarbones and neck. At long last you pulled away- now straddling her in your tight fit suit looking down towards your girlfriend who was pouting at the loss of contact of your lips on hers. You smirked and pulled her white top up past her boobs, finally exposing the black bra keeping them in place. Your bottom lip tucked between your teeth; you loved it when she wore black underwear and a white top. You were pulled out of your stupor by the impatient buckle of Jess’ hips from under you and the huff that left her mouth.

Jess placed her hands onto your ass, giving it a squeeze pulling your attention away from her perfect boobs 'Fuck me baby please, I need you. Inside me.' Jess begged. Fuck. You loved when she became submissive to you, all that strength and yet she wanted you to take control of her.

You went to push a strand of hair away from her face, she breathed in quickly, 'You know, seeing you in those cuffs ..' you started, 'really made me want to tie you up in bed.' you smirked- Jess mirrored your smirk. 'Tie me up, use me, do anything to me baby I'd let you, you know that.' Jess rambled. 'But first..' Jess started, 'as hot as you look in this suit, let me take it off.' She licked her lips.

Jess swiftly ripped your shirt open, you rolled your eyes at her antics. She begun to unbutton your bottoms: taking her time, teasing you like you teased her. 'Jess' you warned as you moved your hands around her neck- not squeezing just there as a warning.

You watched her chest rise in response, she quickly undid your bottoms and pulled them off, leaving you in a red lace set (just for her). 'Fuck' she whispered. 'Aw baby do you like seeing mommy like this?' you asked in a mocking tone.

Jess blushed in response, rarely did she blush, yet you never failed to make her do so. She felt her cunt release, pulsing at your voice and the way you looked so damn amazing straddling her.

You went to tie your hair up into a ponytail, never failing to maintain eye contact with Jess. 'Here's the deal baby: if you let me use you, ride your toned stomach here' you rubbed your fingertips lightly over her abdomen watching her tense, 'and make me cum, maybe i'll return the favour.' you proposed. Jess nodded eagerly. You bent down towards her ear 'I need to hear you baby.' You told her. she stuttered out a yes, clearly your voice had more of an effect on her than she thought.

You got up suddenly, Jess mumbled a profanity of protests wondering where on earth you would be going. You returned swiftly with some soft rope in your hands. If Jess wasn't soaked already, she sure was now. She immediately caught onto your idea: tying her up. You removed her shirt and then returned to your place- straddling her stomach; you leant over her to tie the rope to her bedposts, giving her a perfect view of your boobs. Jess could not resist, she began to grope and lick them, you smirked in response knowing she has no self-restraint when it comes to boobs- especially yours.

You stroked her hair to catch her attention that you'd secured the rope to the bed, all you needed to do was secure her. 'Hi pretty girl' you smiled in a sweet voice 'are you sure you want me tie you up baby?' you asked Jess. Her arousal pooled even more when you asked for her consent. 'Yes, fuck please do it.' you smirked and brought her wrists into your hands and gave them each a multitude of kisses before you tied the rope around them.

Jess was still in her jeans, as uncomfortable as it was for her- it gave her some friction. She'd gently rock against the seam of her jeans through her pants trying to give herself some relief. You of course knew that she had been doing that all throughout your teasing, and you'd let her. But now, you wanted to really test her.

You reposition yourself to pull down her jeans, revealing the rather large wet patch she had left following your previous activities. She huffed knowing you would make fun of her; but instead you ran your fingers over her pants, giving her the slightest bit of relief. She pushed her cunt further towards your soft fingertips but before she could get any real feeling you pulled away smirking. 'Aw baby what's got you so worked up huh?' you teased. 'Shit babe please touch me, just please.' she whined, slightly tugging at the ropes already. Jess knew her strength but purposely didn’t tug on them at full force, just enough to show you how impatient she was; she wanted to make you proud and stay tied up.

You moved your fingertips up the side of her torso towards her boobs, gently squeezing them. 'No whining or I won't touch you baby.' She knew your rules and always wanted to test you. 'Sorry mommy' she replied ever so submissively.

'Pants on or off?' you asked Jess, referring to her underwear. As much as they were giving her some relief, she knew if she even tried to give herself some friction you would leave her on the verge of cumming. 'Off please' she replied in a sorrowful tone. You pulled them down her thighs off onto the floor alongside her jeans. You were met with her wet, dripping pussy that was throbbing for you to touch her. You couldn't prevent yourself from collecting some of her juices and tasting them. You hummed in contempt as you tasted your beautiful girlfriend.

Jess watched you closely, she began to blush and feel slightly embarrassed. You immediately noticed her countenance change slightly: 'Oh baby don't be embarrassed, you're so perfect, and so fucking hot tied up for me, don't be ashamed' you told her gently caressing her cheek. Jess smiled and leant into your hand kissing it.

'Can you um ride me now?' Jess asked in a small tone. You smirked 'of course baby'. You moved to straddle her stomach once more. Jess tugged at her ropes 'What's wrong babe?' you asked. 'Your pants.' she said simply. You tilted your head implying for her to elaborate. 'Want them off, want to feel your juices spread onto me.' Shit. That was the hottest thing Jess had ever told you.

Without any hesitation you took off your red pants and positioned yourself onto your girlfriend's stomach once again. She tensed her abdomen almost immediately, sending a pulse through your cunt. You groaned as you slowly started to grind against Jess. She felt your arousal pool out of you as you continuously almost brutally used her to get off. She moaned at the feeling of your pussy throbbing against her, constantly moaning out a few 'mommy's' and begs.

You moved your hands to tease her breast through her bra. You knew how much more stimulating it was to touch Jess' nipples through the lace of her bra than it was when they're exposed. Watching her nipples harden beneath your touch, as well as listening to her breaths get faster as she felt your cum start to drip out of you involuntarily, brought you closer to your release.

You grinded harder onto her, using her to reach your own high. A groan left your throat as you got closer but not close enough. 'For fucks sake' you said in frustration. You got up briefly, Jess begun to ask what you were doing, and before she knew it your cunt was against her right thigh, grinding harder than ever. She immediately knew what you were doing- as much as her stomach was stimulating, her thigh was so muscular and just fit perfectly up against your cunt to make you cum. Jess tensed her leg, eliciting moans from you. Jess continuously pulled at the ropes, now regretting her choice as all she wanted to do was touch you.

'Fuck baby you feel so good' you praised. 'Mommy I need you, need your cum over me' Jess rambled. 'I'm so close baby.' you told her. You could feel the coil tightening in your lower belly, cum constantly dripping out of you but you still hadn't reached your release.

This was when Jess would usually help you out, she'd put her fingers deep into you, curling them up onto your spongy spot that felt so good. 'Aw baby you’re all tied up tonight, I guess I'll have to help myself out.' you groaned out. Your hand made its way to your soaking cunt, you pushed two fingers in so smoothly- curling them as you did so. Jess watched you with wide eyes groaning at you as you moaned out her name.

'Fuck baby, almost there.' your fingers mercilessly pushed into and out of you as you chased for your high. With a few curling and scissoring of your fingers, you walls tightened and the coil in you finally snapped. Cum oozed out of you onto Jess' thigh and the sheets below her; she moaned at the feeling throwing her head back against the pillows.

After catching your breath, you moved off of your girlfriend's thigh while she tried to gather herself too. The feeling of your tongue licking up your cum on her thigh brought her attention back to you. She squirmed and twitched under you, feeling so stimulated and not relieved at all. Her cunt throbbed begging to be touched.

'Mommy?' she asked in a small voice. 'Yes my pretty girl' you replied. Jess looked at you pouting, you knew exactly what she wanted but you wanted to hear her ask for it. You positioned yourself so you had full view of her ever so messy cunt, the sheets below it drenched in her arousal after watching you get off on her.

You began to tease her clit, circling it with your fingertips- never once looking away from Jess' face. You watched as her face contorted in pleasure; 'Baby' you cooed getting her attention, 'What would you like me to do?' you asked her. She blushed at your question, shying away from wanting to ask.

Your circling became slower, teasing her reply out of her: 'Pl-please can you fuck me now mommy, I've been a good girl for you.' Jess spoke out. You smiled at her response, 'Well done baby' you praised, you inserted only one of your fingers into her dripping pussy; it sucked your finger in immediately from the shear arousal Jess had.

'Oh baby look at you, dripping wet for mommy huh, does watching me use you turn you on?' you teased. You watched as Jess moaned at your voice pulsating around your singular finger. 'Mommy please more, need more' She whined.

'Oh baby you were doing so well' you sighed. you took out your finger as Jess whined even more. 'What was the rule about whining?' you asked. 'I'm sorry mommy, please just touch me please I need you so badly.' Jess begged out. 'Hm okay, as you asked to nicely' this time instead of inserting one finger you added two, stretching her out more, her walls instantly took you in, Jess tugged at the rope once more- despite her strength she held back knowing how much better it felt to be tied up.

You listened to Jess moaning out under you; you suddenly added a third finger, causing her back to arch in pleasure. 'mm mommy so good' she moaned. You began to feel wetter once more at the feeling of Jess' cunt tightening around you. 'Fuck baby, m'gonna stretch you out so good.' you rambled. Your girlfriend's walls tightened, you knew she was close; she was breathing rapidly still bound from touching you. 'Come on baby cum for me pretty girl.' you spoke, urging her to release onto you. You began to circle your thumb around her clit, juices squeezed out of her in response, you smirked to yourself knowing Jess was on the verge of releasing. With a couple more flicks of her clit, and curls of your fingers, Jess came all over you and the sheets bellow her. You continued to circle her clit and push your fingers into her, gently slowing down as she recovered from her high.

As Jess' breathing began to even out, you went to untie her- rubbing her wrists ensuring she wasn't hurt. You laid down beside her looking at her sweaty face.

You brushed hair out of her face 'Hi baby' you cooed as Jess looked into your eyes. 'Hi' she said hoarsely with a smile upon her face. You reached for some water on your bedside table and gave it to Jess to drink- not her first choice of drink but it'll do.

Once she took a few sips, she placed the glass down on her side and moved to lay in your arms. She laid face down into your chest- her favourite. You stoked her back and drew some shapes across it, as well as kissing her head.

'You're so beautiful.' you told your girlfriend. She looked up at you smiling 'Says you, you're a literal goddess.' you laughed at her reply, 'Mm maybe, but I don't compare to you.' before Jess could reply you brought her into a soft kiss; you gently kissed each other, not making any more of it as you were both rather tired.

'Bath time baby' you cooed, Jess groaned slightly, not wanting to leave the comfort of your arms. 'Come on babe we're both all sticky' you giggled, Jess reluctantly agreed.

You walked into her adjoining bathroom and rinsed the bath then started to fill it up, also adding some bubbles for comfort. You went back to persuade Jess to get on her wobbly feet, holding her hands as you guided her to the bathroom.

Jess stood in front of the mirror and you wrapped your arms around her waist and leaned your head on her shoulder kissing her cheek. She smiled and held onto your hands around her. 'Can I braid your hair?' you asked timidly. Jess smiled and replied 'Of course you can babe.'

You turned off the tap and added some cold so that it wasn't too hot; Jess got in first and you got in behind her. You reached for the hairbrush on the side and began to brush your girlfriend's raven hair. Jess' head leaned back allowing you to braid it.

The feeling of your fingertips brushing through her hair made Jess very sleepy, her eyes began to close and her breathing evened as she became more relaxed. You braided one dutch braid in her hair; once you tied the bobble you kissed her neck and wrapped your arms around your girlfriend.

After a few moments you reached for the bar of soap and washed down Jess’ body and then yourself. Soon enough the water began to get cold; you got up reaching for a towel and then helped Jess get out too, also wrapping her in a warm towel.

You briefly left the bathroom to get a hoodie and some pants each; upon return you helped Jess put her clothes on and then you put yours on. You managed to persuade Jess to brush her teeth, while you quickly changed the sheets on the bed, throwing the sticky ones into the corner.

Jess walked into the bedroom and you went to give her a hug and a peck on the lips ‘Minty!’ you chuckled. Jess got into bed and you went to brush your teeth quickly too. You soon joined your girlfriend in bed and cuddled her: Jess lay her head upon your chest once again and you wrapped your arms tightly around her.

‘Goodnight baby’ Jess mumbled into your chest pulling you closer. ‘Goodnight my pretty girl’ you quietly spoke in return.

[imsparky2002]

Ghoul Squad Reboot: FrankenRose

Rose Lavillant - Frankenstein

Age - 14

Species - Frankenstein’s Monster

Appearance - Short honey blonde hair in a pixie cut with white streaks (bangs that slightly cover her eyes to the right and a small cowlick on top), light green skin with her arms and legs stitched together, vivid sapphire blue eyes, black eyeliner, magenta lips, thin eyebrows, bolts on neck

Attire - White shirt, pink sweater vest, white lab coat, black skirt, pink shoes.

Personality - Bubbly, intelligent, naive (when it comes to social situations with those who are not monsters like her), energetic, curious, thoughtful, passionate, romantic

Likes - Cheering her friends and girlfriend up, science, making experiments with her parents, Juleka (more like romantically love), the color pink, lightning, perfume, discovering all the wonders of humanity, using her detachable limbs to help her around the house, works of romance, unicorns, shambling about and giving people a fright

Dislikes - Fire, mobs (especially the ones with torches and pitchforks), people stealing her body parts, being called a freak, having to hurt someone in self-defence

Created in a lab by her mad scientist parents, and given the ability to think and feel. They also made a deal with Lila's father (Satan) so that Rose could grow and age like a human girl.

Is able to detach and reattach her limbs and uses her mind to make them move around, helping her with chores.

You can always find her in the lab, making experiments and following in the footsteps of her parents. However, she can be a bit naive when it comes to social situations, at least the ones with humans.

She’s the heart of the group, a bubbly girl who loves learning everything she can about humanity. She also loves Juleka, and feels that the vampire always gives her a spark of happiness.

Terrified of fire, and avoids using any chemicals that are highly flammable.

Quotes

I don’t get why people are afraid of being struck by lightning, always gives me a rush of energy!

SCIENCE?! DID SOMEBODY MENTION SCIENCE?!

Graaahhh! Rosie smash! *Giggles* Got ya!

Hey, Nino? Wanna try out some new mixtures I cooked up in the lab?

You may be undead, but you spark my heart to life, Jules!

AAAH! FIRE BAD! FIRE REALLY REALLY BAD!

Rose will be frank and hopes you stick around for more! Make sure to lookout for new Ghoul Squad posts soon. @artzychic27 @msweebyness @nerdy-chocomallow

[forest-falcon]

R&R

Kayo spread a towel on a sun lounger. After a string of sinfully-dull boardroom meetings, it felt like a tonic to feel the sun on her skin.

She delved into her beach bag and felt for her book - her guilty pleasure. The plot line was definitely ammunition-worthy for her brothers to rib her with, but she had never attempted to hide it from them; at least, not in the conventional sense of the word. Obscuring things from view was an invitation for her brothers to go looking. Gordon, for one, had picked a couple of locks in an attempt to uncover what he thought would be some juicy ribbing material only to find a note reading: Nice try Fish Face!

Kayo smiled at the memory. Yes, hiding things in plain sight had, and would likely always be the way forward. She had grabbed this particular novel from the bookcase in the Comms room, right next to Virgil's easel. With John hoarding his reading material on Five, nobody ever thought to look in the most obvious place possible.

Relax. Relax, relax, relax…

The sound of the ocean, the lazy clouds, no brothers around to judge…so why couldn't she relax?

She forced herself to focus, but something…some feeling niggling deep in her gut told her to be on guard. If Gordon really did had a Squid Sense, then whatever her version was of that was-

"Help!"

Kayo sprang to her feet just as Gordon came bounding out of the villa. His speed caused him to teeter on one foot as he cornered sharply to avoid falling into the pool.

“What's wron-”

“Kayo - yes! ...Ah sh*t!”

He grabbed both his sister’s arms to help slow himself before pivoting behind her, just as a furious Virgil appeared.

The gentle giant, seething, stalked towards the cowering aquanaut, who was now using Kayo as a human shield.

"What's going on?"

It was only at this moment that Kayo mentally registered that their older brother was dressed in no more than a robe for modesty. It billowed precariously behind him as he closed the distance between them, keeping one hand closed around the fabric at his waist for decency at all times.

“What did you do?” Kayo whipped around to face the prankster.

“I did nothing!” His protest was undone by his laughter.

“NOTHING?” Virgil’s baritone erupted.

“Call this nothing?” he spat, throwing a medley of garments on the ground.

Gordon continued to skirt around Kayo for protection, though the glee radiating off him was so potent it was almost tangible.

Kayo went to inspect the items of clothing.

Virgil made to grab at his brother, but the smaller Tracy was much more agile and dived just beyond reach. Gordon straightened but kept his arms up close to his chest in a precautionary, defensive stance.

At least he'd remembered something from the lessons she'd given him.

“These are all trousers and underwear?”

Kayo allowed the evidence to drop back to the floor. Her gaze switched to Virgil.

“How many?”

“All of them.” Virgil lurched for Gordon again; his physical size and strength almost knocking Kayo off balance.

“You sewed all of the leg holes of his garments closed?”

Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh. Her ribs ached with the effort. Gordon would be sans shield and would be so dead if she caved.

“In my defence, he had had a couple last night, so I was a good brother - I helped him to his room! And there was this sewing kit on the side, just sitting there! I mean, who has a sewing kit just lying around like that?” he gave an impish yet triumphant grin.

Virgil's eyes darkened a fraction more.

"Come on Virg, be a sport! I'm sure Brains will lend you a pair of his tighty whities!" Gordon snorted.

Kayo braced to hold Virgil back. His expression radiated enough explosive energy to power Two. It was like the fish wanted to become pâté.

“Hey. Hey! Let me handle this.”

She levelled Virgil with a stare which, thank whatever power, stalled the advancing tank. Kayo staggered a little as she adjusted her balance, no longer needing to counter his weight. God, Virg was a powerhouse.

Gordon peered around her side, giving a smug grin. Nobody dared question Kayo.

Kayo inwardly smirked, reading his thoughts.

It was true, nobody dared challenge her. But what the Squid hadn't accounted for is that no-one would expect her to counter mischief with more mischief.

In one deft movement, she flicked her hip, sending a completely unsuspecting Gordon careering into the pool.

“Once he’s out and dry, he can use my Karambit to unpick his handiwork. Should keep him out of trouble for a good while.”

"You own Karambits?"

Kayo offered another dangerous glare.

Virgil held up a hand in mock self defense.

"You know what? I don't need to know."

He squeezed her shoulder in appreciation.

A slap of water broke the moment.

"You should come join me, the water's lovely!" Gordon beckoned, swimming casual laps around the pool.

"Maybe find some pants first."

The engineer's temper ignited much in the way Grandma's attempt at pasta had the previous week.

Virgil cannon balled into the pool.

Gordon yelped.

Virgil swam.

Gordon swam faster.

Kayo sighed and thumbed a page of her book.

[writteninthesewalls28]

Love at first sight

A prequel to "Love forever and always"

A/n: This work is part of the "be my valentine challenge" by @bemyvalentinechallenge for the day 7 prompt.

Summary: Charlie is Taylor’s best friend. Her friend set her up to a date with Niall Horan, but she’s a little too nervous…

Warnings: not proof read, curse words

I sat in the little, cosy café in central London and waited for him to turn up.

Was this a bad idea?

Yes.

But, to my defence, it hadn´t even been my idea. My friend Taylor had the GREAT idea to introduce me to my all-time celebrity crush Niall Horan (yes, I am one of the directioners, try and change it) during the Grammy´s after party that Taylor previously had invited me to since she needed someone to come with her.

Well- what should I say? Her plan worked, luckily. We had the most awkward chat you can ever imagine (that´s at least my point of view, he said, it was the most interesting chat he ever had with someone during an after party, probably wasn´t such a high compliment though) and at the end, I held a little piece of paper with HIS telephone number in my hand.

Taylor went crazy about it. Of course she did, she always does as soon as something rather interesting happens in my life.

Fast forward, he invited me.

Today.

To this café.

And I never had been more nervous before.

I had a date.

And just deseperately hoped, my favorite skirt in college style and the oversized shirt were at least a little bit appropriet for this type of date.

But before my mind could think of any other problem, he walked through the door. And god, he looked good. The blue-yellow baseball jacket combined with the jeans looked perfect. Because he was perfect.

"Hey, you´re early!" he said when he approached me. "Good to see you again you look as beautiful as always." Niall added and had a soft smile on his face. I turned bright red and quickly said the same thing.

That´s what I hated most about first dates. The awkward small talk at the beginning. Literally the worst thing about getting to know someone. But surprisingly, it wasn´t even that awkward with him.

We talked about (his) music and (my hopefully soon own) books. But soon, both of us, as shy as we were, didn´t knew what else to say to the attractive person in front of us. I read so many articles about how it is totally not strange to just sit and not talk as soon as it´s with people you know for quite a long time, but honestly? I had to disagree with all of them. It just needed the right person, and it seemed like Niall was that person.

I think both of us felt completely comfortable not to say anything and to slowly drink the coffee both of us ordered.

---------------------------------------------

"TELL ME EVERYTHING" Taylor screamed in the phone.

What´s the first thing you do when you come home from a date that your friend basically set you up to? Call that friend, correct.

So, that´s obviously what I did, and as you can see, she was even more excited than I was to tell her how it went.

"Okay, okay. Chill!" I firstly said and recieved a quiet laugh from her. "It was… really great."

"WHAT DID YOU TALK ABOUT?" taylor and me both were rather out-going and extroverted, we both talked A LOT. So it was hard to explain to her that we basically talked about- well, nothing.

"Well… he told me a lot about his new album that he just released… I talked about my ideas for a book… that was it." As soon as I finished that sentence, I could practically see Taylor through the phone, how she´s sitting there in complete disbelief.

"You were gone for over 4 hours and didn’t talk?!" She was out of her mind and was gasping like she never did before. "You sure it went good?"

I smiled to myself. "What if I tell you I never had a better first date before?" More gasping from Taylor "You have no idea how great it is to just sit there and not have to talk."

And that was the truth. I felt so goddamn comfortable around this man, I couldn´t even believe it myself.

I wanted nothing more but see him again. I have no idea where this is going to end, but we´re off to a great start, aren´t we?

[rurpleplayssims]

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied, putting the Dragonborn in danger just to prove their blood” Kaidan said snidely to Delphine, anger rolling off him in waves.

Minerva stepped away from scene, not wanting to be part of the conversation. Whilst she too was irritated at Delphine and touched at Kaidan’s defence of her, Minerva was utterly exhausted. She desperately needed some sleep sooner rather than later.

It’d had only been the third time she’d absorbed a dragon soul, but it was hard to get comfortable with. It was easier than the first time it’d happened, but it took a lot of strain on her mind to absorb the soul. She hated how she could hear the dragon’s roars in her ears as she took its soul, like it was pleading with her to not devour it. For someone as kind-hearted as her, it was emotionally painful.

She was learning already how much she was the kin of dragons and yet, had the power to destroy them...? Dragons appeared to be highly intelligent, maybe more so than humans, and yet she was being expected to kill every one of them?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to try and reason with such sentient beings instead, or was that naivety on her part?

Delphine’s tone of wonder had melted away into a venom-like snarl as she looked at her sworn shield “I had to be sure, to know if they were the one” she insisted. It sounded more to Minerva’s ears of a woman who’d become very paranoid over many years of hiding in plain sight.

“If that dragon had harmed a hair on her head, we would not having such a civil conversation right now” Kaidan threatened, his eyes blazing at the thought.

It had been a needlessly dangerous assignment just to get Delphine on side and he wasn’t sure if that was even a good idea or not. She’d mentioned the Thalmor Embassy and he really didn’t want Minerva going anywhere near those parasites, let alone sneaking into their headquarters in Skyrim.

“If that dragon had harmed a hair on her head, we wouldn’t be talking at all. You’re not very bright, are you?” she bit back, tauntingly.

“You know what?” Kaidan said with feeling. “I am tired of all your bitching…”

“And I’m tired of talking to someone with less valuable insight than a skeever. Unless you have something useful to contribute, I suggest you shut up.”

“Go fuck a skeever-“ he started to snarl.

Minerva snapped her head around and her voice pierced through the peacefulness of their surroundings “Stop it, the pair of you.”

Her tone commanded respect and had the echoes of the dragon soul she’d just absorbed so they were both suitably startled and abashed when they turned towards her.

With only one glance Kaidan saw how tired his friend was and took a step towards her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and he managed to catch her in time as she stumbled to the moss-covered ground. He knelt, holding her protectively and staring at her “Minerva!”

She wasn’t unconscious…yet.

She made a feeble attempt to pluck at his sleeve, but instead brushed her hand against his cheek as she tried to get up. Ignoring the familiar rush of affection in his heart, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards their horses where he’d already put up their tent just on the other side of Kynesgrove.

“Sleep now” he said as he walked, cradling her to his chest. She was so warm, and he saw how anguished her brow was. She’d mentioned in passing how much it hurt her mentally to kill a dragon and instinctively, he smoothed her forehead, brushing her bare hand across it. “We’ll talk about it when ye wake up.”

“Mmm not tired” she mumbled, eyes almost closed and yet she was still fighting it.

“Ye knew to sleep lass” he said gently. “I’ll take care of you, just rest…please.”

Almost as if the word was all she’d been waiting for, she started to go limp in his arms. He glanced downwards and saw the moment her eyes closed into sleep and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

Wasting no time, he strode through the trees, skirting around the village to make the way to their tent and ignoring Delphine and hoping she’d leave them alone.

“I see she’s in good hands.”

He almost groaned in disappointment that she was trailing him. He didn’t look back but continued onwards to his destination.

“Why are ye following me?” he asked her abruptly as the tent came into sight.

“I’m not sure” Delphine said honestly. Kaidan stopped in his tracks and turned, his eyebrows raised.

“She might be out for a few hours” he said, trying to not be too hostile towards a woman who’d just repeatedly insulted his intelligence. “It always takes a great strain on her to kill a dragon.”

He couldn’t stop the accusatory tone in his voice that told her he blamed Delphine for the exhaustion and stress that Minerva was now suffering from.

She had the grace to look somewhat apologetic as she glanced towards the woman in his arms. “I am sorry” Delphine said, though not as kindly as he’d have approved off. “But…I can’t think straight. This is all so much to take in and I can hardly believe I’ve found her, a real Dragonborn! My life has purpose again.”

“I hope you don’t mean to follow us around forever” he drawled as he made to undo the tent’s flap.

“She’s got a destiny to fulfil” Delphine snapped, sounding impatient.

Kaidan was tempted to shout at her but didn’t want to wake his companion. He waited until he opened the tent,

He took her inside and settled her into a bedroll after unequipping her sword, and removed her cloak, shoes, backpack and gloves. After making sure she was safe and still sound asleep, he left the tent and faced the former Blade. He crossed his arms as he stood in front of the tent’s opening, defensive.

“So, what’s the next step?” he asked. “Forcing her to do your bidding when she has no say in it?”

Delphine’s hackles raised again “She’s not yours boss around!”

“Neither is she yours!” he snapped back.

He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. He didn’t want to wake his charge up and he reminded himself of his vow to try to be a better person.

“I have sworn myself to be her shield, to die in place of her if needs be and protecting her includes preventing arseholes like you push her around like figures on a map. She’s not a pawn or a weapon, she’s human, just like you and me. She has feelings and a mind of her own.”

“Then it won’t be hard if she agrees with me” Delphine said, but with less bite. She didn’t want to admit that she was impressed by how serious Kaidan was in defending her.

“If she agrees, then whatever battles she fights, she’ll have me by her side” Kaidan said, as calmly as he could. “But in case it wasn’t already apparent Delphine, she had a life before she was the Dragonborn. She’d only found this out about herself in the past couple of months and it’s a monumental thing to have to deal with, let alone the pressure she puts on herself. I’ll be asking you to not be another weight on her shoulders.”

Delphine didn’t speak right away. She gave him a calculating look and after a long few minutes, she smiled and whatever warmth she had, she showed it then. “It seems like the Dragonborn has a good friend in you.”

“Yes, she does” Kaidan said, trying not to sound boastful. “But right now, she needs sleep and rest after the fight you made her go through. Like she said, we’ll be heading to Riverwood when we next head that way as she has other obligations other than saving the world.”

“They’re not as important as ridding the world of dragons though.”

Deep breaths, he told himself, trying with herculean effort not to start a fight with her again.

“That is a matter for Minerva to decide” he said after a few moments when he trusted himself to speak without anger. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to rest as well. We trekked here all through the night and unlike you, we don’t have an inn to run. So, I be suggesting you head back there and if you have need of us when you come up with a sensible plan, send word via the courier. The git always seems able to find us, not matter where we are.”

Delphine decided it was best not to press home her point, lest she test Kaidan’s patience too much. “I’ll be seeing you in Riverwood then” she agreed and picked up her rucksack.

She took a few steps away but stopped to turn around and say “I’m glad she has you Kaidan. There are many in this world who would do whatever needs to be done to use and abuse people like her.”

Kaidan nodded once, unsure if he was supposed to say anything in response.

“But what will you do when the things they want her to do are things you don’t want her to do?”

“As long as she’s happy then I don’t care” he said seriously.

Delphine smiled to herself, a knowing smile that irked him. It was like she’d heard far more in his words than he was aware of. He waited until he’d watched her walk away and down the hill before he retreated into the tent.

Minerva was still sleeping soundly, the rise and fall of her chest bringing great comfort to him. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his own tiredness. But instead, he sealed the tent flap and started making the fire in the middle of the tent, knowing that it might get cold whilst they slept. Every now and then he couldn’t help but sneak glances at her, to make sure that she wasn’t in distress or pain.

Once the fire was blazing, he put some more logs on that would take longer to burn. He then removed armour and boots so he was left clad in his breeches and shirt that he always wore underneath.

As he walked towards the bedroll beside Minerva, he had a vivid image in his mind of lying down right beside her and holding her to his chest. In her sleep, she’d clung to him, nuzzling her head in his chest and sighing contentedly.

The pang of longing that struck him in that moment surprised him. He blinked, mouth open in shock, staring at the woman who he’d just realised, had become the centre of his world.