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starlight-library · 12 days ago

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Fallin' in love | FC43 (SM!AU)

pairing: norris!reader x fc34

summary: a glimpse into the relationship between williams newest rookie and lando's younger sister during the best time of the year

warning: nothing

fc: n/a!

a/n: please take this in honor of spooky season. oh i also made a ko-fi if you want to support me!

ynorris posted

liked by francolapinto, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 938k others

yourusername 👹🎃👹🎃👹🎃

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user1 CUTE CUTE CUUUUUTE

user2 ugh yes love a good pumpkin patch!!

user3 the lights. the pumpkin. the vibes. 🥺

landonorris bring me back a pumpkin!!

↳ ynorris ugh, fine i guess ↳ landonorris thank you. at least someone loves me ↳ carlossainz55 we are right here ↳ oscarpiastri yeah, babe wtf.

user4 i just know this photo dump bout to go HARD

user5 WHAT ARE THE HALLOWEEN COSTUMES??? 🗣️🗣️🗣️

francolapinto ah yes, right before disaster strikes

↳ landonorris yeah like how she should've left your ass ❤️ ↳ ynorris LANDO ↳ francolapinto no no i agree. ↳ ynorris babe ↳ landonorris see! for once we agree! ↳ francolapinto but amor, if you had left me it would've meant that your dear brother and i would have more time to bond ↳ ynorris omg you're so right babe ↳ landonorris I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS??

francolapinto posted

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francolapinto 0/10. would not recommend. horrible experience.

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user6 ZOMBIE FARMS??? nah im good

user7 wtf that looks like sm fun??

landonorris oh you made it out...

francolapinto barely, but i did it! 😌 landonorris gross. ynorris LANDO. landonorris i mean, yay... ynorris even took a jump scare for me, my hero 🥰

user8 the way i would've cried

user9 please tell me theres a video somewhere of this--PLEASE

carlossainz55 where was this so i know where NOT to go

↳ landonorris BABE PLS PLS PLS PLS ↳ oscarpiastri it looks kind of fun ↳ carlossaainz55 absolutely NOT ↳ ynorris pfttt i'll text you the address to avoid it ↳ carlossainz55 thank you.

ynorris franco had a great time, everyone he's lying

↳ francolapinto i did not have a great time

francolapinto tagged ynorris in a post

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francolapinto we always have a hauntingly good time together

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user10 god bless his looks because that was lando level horrible puns smhhhh

user11 boy PLEASE 😭😭😭

user12 someone get y/n to start proofreading all his captions im bEGGING

oscarpiastri boooooo

↳ francolapinto i made this while drunk please forgive me ↳ carlossainz55 that somehow makes it worse ↳ landonorris...it wasn't that bad ↳ ynorris 👀👀👀

user13 ooooh spooky 👻👻👻

user14 how lando wishes franco was ever since he started dating y/n 😭😭

landonorris where are your sunglasses?

↳ francolapinto lost them ↳ landonorris ...I guess i can lend you a pair. BUT I need them back ↳ francolapinto really?! ↳ landonorris don't let it get to your head ↳ ynorris thank you big bro ☺️ ↳ landonorris you're welcome

user15 LFGGGGGGG

ynorris tagged yourbestfriend & francolapinto in a post

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ynorris bar at 9 and club at 10

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user16 god to be going out tonight 😩

user17 I KNOW THAT GHOST GOT MOOOVES!!! 👻🪩

yourbestfriend SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

↳ ynorris EVERYBODY!!! ↳ yourbestfriend LFG!!!!

user18 Y/N and all her twins fr fr

user19 i just know they're playing bangers rn

carlossainz55 you didn't say you were going to a club!

↳ ynorris oh, i didn't?? ↳ carlossains55 NO ↳ ynorris oh...whoops? 😬 ↳ carlossainz55 YN!! ↳ ynorris gotta go!

landonorris ANSWER MY DAMN MESSAGES

↳ ynorris WHAAAAT ↳ landonorris DO YOU NEED A RIDE HOME?? ↳ ynorris NO. WE HAVE A RIDE ↳ landonorris YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL BOUT UBER ↳ francolapinto i'm giving her and the girls a ride home! i've been the guard dog all night!! ↳ landonorris ..thank you Franco. ↳ francolapinto you're welcome! ☺️

francolapinto tagged ynorris in a post

liked by ynorris, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and 1.5m others

francolapinto the spookiest day deserves an even spookier night with a double date

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc where was my invite?

↳ ynorris next time?? ↳ charles_leclerc RUDE!!!

oscarpiastri who took the ghost arm before me??

↳ ynorris not me ↳francolapinto i was fighting carlos for a blood bag ↳landonorris BABE IM SORRY THERE'S A SECOND ARM ↳ oscarpiastri the BETRAYAL!

carlossainz55 do we really have to watch this movie? can we not watch something else?

↳ ynorris stfu you scaredy cat ↳ carlossainz55 I AM NOT--

landonorris okay, i cave. y/n you did a great job at planning

↳ ynorris aw thanks!! 🥰 but this wasn't me ↳ landonorris what?? ↳ ynorris it was all franco. my wonderfully goofy boyfriend ↳ landonorris well--credit is due where credit is done ↳ ynorris and??? ↳ landonorris and...i guess he can stick around ↳ ynorris YES!!! ↳ oscarpiastri war is over ↳ carlossainz55 finally ↳ francolapinto WOOO!!!

francolapinto love you mi amor ❤️

↳ ynorris love you too ❤️

#starlight library presents;#fallin in love #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto smau #fc43 x reader #fc43 x you #fc43 imagine #fc43 sm au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #startlight library navigation

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aemondluvbot · 4 months ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part two

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i adore reading shy and timid heroines that are coaxed out of their shells. as such i adore writing them too. i'm also not incredibly well versed about the hotd universe. whatever i know is based only on the show, so it's possible there are errors. still, i hope you enjoy.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: reader is quite shy but not overly so. smut, intercourse (p in v), horrible “riding a dragon” puns

“you wish to ride a dragon?” prince aemond’s voice startles you enough for you the drop the pillow you’re holding.

it’s freshly fluffed, about to be placed on the bed you’d made so neatly just minutes ago. and now the pillow sits on it awkwardly while you stare at the prince like a scared little deer.

“my prince…” you manage a faint squeak, “i was—”

“telling the other maids how you’d be a stellar dragon rider, i heard,” the prince’s mouth curls into a little smirk you’ve come to know well from stolen glances. you stare at his feet, too afraid to meet his eyes. well, eye.

“i didn’t mean…” you fidget with the hem of your frayed dress, wondering what the punishment would be. lashings? cleaning pigsties for a week? a month?

“but you said it.” aemond’s voice still has that tone to it that you can’t quite decipher. and so you stand frozen while he looks at you from across the room. “tell me, my lady—”

“i’m no lady,” you pipe up, shutting up instantly when you realise you’ve interrupted a prince. the prince. “forgive me, my prince, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i…i…”

“you’re no lady,” he hums, as if you aren’t standing there shaking like a leaf, “what shall i call you then, little sparrow?”

his voice is soft like it always is—never boisterous like the king’s or stern like the dowager queen’s. it’s quiet and lilting and compelling. as much as you don’t want to meet his gaze, you find yourself doing exactly that.

“on second thought,” he crosses his arms behind his back, taking graceful steps towards you like he’s gliding on the floor, “sparrow…has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“it does, my prince,” you smile to yourself quietly, “if you like it then i like it.”

for anyone else it would have been a lie. for king aegon, it certainly would have been a lie. but for the prince…when he says it, it’s like the name belongs to you. so much so that for a moment you forget where this conversation first started. until you find prince aemond standing directly in front of you, towering over you that is.

“so tell me, little sparrow,” he says again, voice so soft it skitters down your bones and makes you shiver in the middle of a long, hot summer, “you wish to ride a dragon?”

“the truth?” you ask, feeling a little braver than before.

“i’ll have nothing but that.”

for a moment you chew on your lip, a nervous habit taken up in lieu of biting your dirty, already worn fingernails. aemond’s gaze snags on it, though, and quickly you let go, begging your body to be a little more brave and keep meeting his eyes. it’s not everyday you get to see so much of him. in fact, it’s the first time you’ve gotten to see so much of him.

“they fascinate me, your dragons,” you begin, “sunfyre, mostly.”

“my brother’s dragon,” the prince raises an eyebrow, looking at you with much more curiosity than before. “not vhagar?”

“she scares me, to be honest…” you admit, flushing a little when the prince’s smirk turns into a full blown smile. the smile stays for just a fleeting moment, enough for you to store it in your memories like a stolen sweet.

“she does that, yes,” he chuckles. it’s barely audible and yet pride blooms in your chest for having coaxed that sound out of him.

“i…” you look around a little awkwardly, at the mess in the room that’s yet to be cleaned. it’s not that you don’t want to stand here and talk to him, if anything, that’s the one thing you want the most. to stand here and talk to him about his dragons, and have him tell you about them. have him tell you about himself too…

but if you don’t do your tasks on time then there’s consequences to face. consequences the prince won’t save you from. and so you give aemond a guilty smile.

you must go and you must go now.

“of course,” aemond bows a little, stepping aside to make way for you.

quickly, you fix the pillow to where it was originally supposed to be and gather the old linens in your arms. then you curtsey as fast as you can and leave.

you leave and are almost our the door before aemond’s voice freezes you mid-step.

“if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.”

the day passes, and all you manage to do is think about aemond. you think about him as you wash the linens and hang them to dry, you think about him while you help the kitchen maids with the pots and wipe the floors of the keep.

you think about him as you eat and gossip away with your friends.

you don’t tell them though… all they know is that you were the one to clean his room in the morning and gather his linens. nothing more.

they will never know anything more.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

that… is for you and you alone.

you do get teased a little for your absent-minded smiles and your lack of attention to their gossip. you get teased and asked if any of the stable boys have caught your fancy. stable boys…nothing more. not a soldier or a knight or a lord. certainly not a prince.

and yet when night falls you find yourself idling in the hallways that lead to his quarters.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

“does the prince need hot water?” you ask one of the maids, “for…for his bath…”

she looks at you in confusion. “malina’s already taken it,” she says, “minutes ago.”

and so you drop the apple in your hands and hurry outside towards the prince’s room. malina is old, she can’t have gone that far can she? just like you predicted, she’s there when you turn around the corner, carefully balancing the hot water in her hands while a few other girls carry similar pots. you quickly cross the gap and call out for her.

“let me,” you offer, arms outstretched, “you can go rest, malina. i’m done for the day, i can take this.”

she smiles at you gratefully while grumbling about old knees and hands you the pot. and so you set on your way, hiding a quiet smile and ducking your head when one of the guards gives you a strange look.

the prince’s bedroom is awash in the glow of candlelight. for a moment, the excitement in your belly turns to disappointment. he isn’t here… of course he isn’t, he’s important and busy and has more things to do than sit in his bedroom all day thinking about you like you’ve thought about him.

“you’re back, little sparrow,” the softness of his voice send flutters in your stomach. the other girls look towards each other, quiet looks passing between them. you know this would take precisely half a minute to spread around the keep. and yet it does not bother you one bit.

“my prince, we’ve got water for your bath.”

“ah,” he nods and gestures vaguely towards the bathing chamber.

one by one all of you enter, emptying the buckets in the brass tub until it’s full of steaming water and soaps and oils. one by one the others start leaving, their job done…

the towels are on the counter, the candles are burning, the tub is filled—there’s nothing more to be done. you know he usually prefers to be alone. and yet you linger.

you linger until aemond targaryen enters the bathing chamber, naked as the day he was born.

and then you turn around fast enough to bump into the wall.

“you startle easily, little sparrow,” aemond laughs. “never seen a naked man before?”

you have… that’s not the problem. you’ve just never seen a naked man as…well-endowed as him. your back still to him and your heart in your chest, you nod. there’s a slight splash as he settles into the tub. some of the spilled water licks the soles of your feet. finally, timidly, you turn.

at least under the cloudy water he’s not so naked anymore. although his (now wet) chest certainly does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“tell me,” aemond says, “did you think about dragons all day?”

well…

“maybe,” you hedge, “a little.” and it’s not a lie. you did think of vhagar for a little, and sure it was only to think about aemond riding her into the skies, but she was there in your thoughts. briefly.

“and what do you know about them?”

from most people it would have been a condescending question, one to point out your intellectual capabilities or the lack thereof. from aemond it’s simply curiosity.

“i know they’re gods. i know they’re old and powerful and only someone with valyrian blood can claim one. i know targaryen babes get a dragon’s egg for their cradle.” you answer rather proudly.

“very good,” aemond nods. “come here. sit.”

you look to where he’s pointing, at a little step stool in the corner. and then you see where his eyes are pointing, at a spot right by the tub.

“do you read?” aemond asks as soon as you’ve settle by the tub. you blush, a little embarrassed.

“i can’t…”

“no worries,” his voice turns gentle, “i was going to give you a book about vhagar’s riders. now i will just have to tell you about her myself.”

that startles you a little. surprised, you look at him again, really look at him—at his face that’s soft in the candlelight and his one eye that twinkles with mischief. you look at the leather patch covering the other, at the scar that runs around it.

“can i ask why, my prince…”

“well,” aemond moves a little, sitting up straighter so a little more of his chest is now visible to you. the water cascades down pale skin, the candlelight creates hypnotising patterns that are pretty enough that you almost reach out and touch.

touch the water and the light and the skin. touch him.

but that’s a silly thought for silly girls.

quickly you ball your hand into a fist and look at him again only to find him smirking.

“as i was saying,” aemond says a little pointedly, “you can’t be scared of her if you wish to ride her someday now, can you?”

your heart thuds so loudly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. perhaps the entire red keep can hear it, perhaps king’s landing.

“i can’t ride her, she’s yours and… and she’ll kill me if i… she’ll burn me alive if i even go near her! and that’s if the guards don’t take my head first—”

“hush, little sparrow,” aemond moves fast enough that you have barely any time to stop rambling before he’s out of the tub and kneeling in front of you, his finger on your lips. not that you need it really, the situation is entirely enough to stun you into silence.

you gape at the prince, at his beautiful, wet body that looks like it’s gleaming golden in the candlelight. you gape at him kneeling on his knees for you. a nobody.

“will you stay quiet or will i have to make you?” he asks, his tone a little coy.

heat coils in your belly, “would you like to, my prince?”

and that’s more bold than you’ve ever been in your entire life. but now that you’re here and desperate and wanting so so much, you can’t really let shyness snatch it away. and so you straighten up a little, letting your eyes roam freely on his body.

there are scars on his skin, of course there are, but even they look beautiful. then there’s the muscle honed by hours of sword training. his beautiful silver hair is damp from the water and gleaming like molten metal. you reach out and touch—just one strand that’s managed to stick to his cheek.

aemond groans.

leaving would be wise… leaving right this second would be even wiser, and yet when aemond tugs on your wrist and pulls you closer, it’s you who kisses him first. it’s heady, dizzying, intoxicating. he tastes like night air and burns like fire.

you feel quite the same.

your frayed old dress is quick to go as soon as he pulls you up—discarded by the tub casually. it gets half caught up on the edge but neither of you notice, too lost in the kiss. to caught up in the feel of the other’s body.

you know he knows this room like the back of his hand. you don't need to. you can trust him at least in this regard—to lead you to his bed and fuck you any way he wants.

“little sparrow,” he half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession, and it turns you on even more, makes your blood sing.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the last layer of clothes on you. still, the prince takes a moment to watch your hair come loose from your bun and cascade down your shoulders, his lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide.

you watch him. simply because he looks beautiful.

“like what you see?” aemond teases and and you flush.

it’s certainly a sight—the two of you standing opposite each other, entirely naked and about to devour each other.

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on your body, lingering in all the places that make you feel like the only woman on he’s ever been with. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits.

“come here,” aemond says, beckons more like. and so you do—walking with a deliberate sway to your hips that his eyes train on until you’re standing right in front of him. knees touching his.

“beautiful,” he says, looking up at you in awe.

you’re not entirely sure it’s true. you’re no lady in the court or a pretty foreign beauty. you’re no beautiful woman of the night, but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by your beauty (even though it’s likely the lust that’s hazing their thoughts).

and yet he makes you feel like his own little midnight sun—bright, unique, central to his universe.

you from before would have never though such stupid thoughts.

and now you let him pull you onto his lap.

you kiss him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling your hips against his, grinding on his thigh. it’s a deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between your legs.

“please, my prince” you breathe, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping your waist to keep you in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to your breasts. his tongue flicks around your nipple, drawing out a gasp and making you arch your back. you want more, so much more.

aemond seems to sense the need.

in one fluid movement, he’s on his back, and you on top. his cock brushes against your clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating his face only just so that you can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—you can’t resist stealing another kiss.

can’t resist tangling your hands in his silver hair and tracing a finger down his cheekbones, his jaw. he hisses with every movement, hard and throbbing beneath you.

“are you ready for me, little sparrow?,” he moans, lowering you on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against your ass now—ready is what you are… ready and aching, eager to feel him.

“p-please, my prince…”

aemond tuts. “say my name…”

your heart speeds up a little in your chest. it’s one thing to be sleeping with the prince, it’s another to forget your manners entirely and address him like he’s your equal.

“i c-can’t,” you whimper, moving your hips in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“i’ll stop this if you won’t” aemond says it like a promise, and there’s no way you want to risk it. if there’s even a slight chance of him stopping and leaving you here like this, a mess at his mercy…

“a-aemond,” you whisper his name like it’s an unpredictable thing. his breath hitches in his chest. “aemond please…”

“good little sparrow…” his hands come to rest on your waist, lifting you up and gently guiding you down on his cock, filling you in inch by inch. you splay a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all you can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching you out. filling you to the hilt.

“so perfect,” he hisses. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you roll your hips on his pelvis; too eager and desperate and full of want. you can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of your thighs where he grips so possessively.

“so are you, m–aemond,” you breathe, already consumed by the feeling of his cock hitting you over and over, in just the right spot. his hand reaches down and between your legs then, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles until you’re screaming his name and practically soaking him with your slick.

aemond moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into you till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight.

you’re lost in the pleasure, but you traces the scars on his chest—the faint dusting of hair and freckles, little nicks and cuts and faint bruises. you trace every part of him like he belongs to you somehow. like you belong to him too…

you suppose you do… at least that much is true.

the pleasure builds and builds, your thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into you. he’s figured out your pattern—the rhythm that makes you tick and drives you crazy. and even when your thighs burn and tremble, you can’t seem to slow down.

all you want to do is soar up and up and up until…

aemond’s hand is between your legs again, flicking your clit so roughly that it makes you cry out. and that’s what drives you over the edge.

you moan his name again, chanting it like a blind devotee as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. you’re vaguely aware that you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that you can feel his cock twitching inside you, coating your walls with his release.

gasping, you throw your head back, letting the orgasm wash over you. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as you both come to a stop. no one says a word—not a single teasing word or praise—there are only your breaths, out of sync and loud.

you slump forward, resting your warm cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in your ear.

“is that how it feels…?” your voice is ragged from screaming his name yet dripping with coyness. “is that how it feels to ride a dragon, my prince?”

aemond laughs—a real booming laugh that makes his chest vibrate and makes the sound permeate your skin, makes it settle bone deep.

“i should say yes, shouldn’t i, little sparrow?” his fingers thread through your hair, much gentler now, lulling you to sleep almost. “do not worry about it. you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

#✧.* ⸺ valyria writes #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #smut #sparrow!reader

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umilily · 6 months ago

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pssst... in case anyone's interested, i did the thing.

debating setting up a recipe/cooking sideblog... <- has so much other projects to work on

#lily talks #yes the name is a horrible pun. deal with it.#(gotta stay on brand after all)#this is still very much a work in progess and only time will tell how much i'll post but i think it could be fun #in any case it'll be handy for me to look up things

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Communication is good. It's wonderful, even! But screaming matches? Especially ones that last this long, aren't healthy in the slightest. In fact, all they do is damage relationships. So, after convincing Barbra and Tim to go upstairs, promising that he'd be up in a few minutes with Dick, he went back to where Bruce and Dick were screaming at each other.

Nothing had been thrown yet. Small mercies.

God, Danny hated being a mediator. Why couldn't people just work out their problems by talking? It'd make his life so much easier. Was that so hard to do? Too much to ask? Apparently.

"And you-!" Bruce rounded on Danny the second he closed the door behind him. "You don't get to come into my house and-"

"Let me stop you right there, Mister Wayne." A few days into his running away, Danny discovered a new power. He can't control it, but sometimes, when he's angry or needs people to shut up, the inside of his throat goes cold and his eyes narrow. It's really cool, from Danny's perspective, and pun fully intended. Something about Mister Wayne had brought that power to the surface, and thank the gods for that because Danny really needs to be listened to right now. "I told you earlier that my name was not a fight you wanted to pick. I think I should reword that. I am not a person you want to pick a fight with."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, meeting Danny's glare with his own. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes, Mister Wayne, that was a threat. And you can hold me to it. I will win any and every fight you try to pick with me."

Dick kept glancing between the two. He had a bad feeling about these two interacting like this, but something was stopping him from getting them apart.

"I have your name and your face. It won't be too hard to get you arrested for several crimes."

"Framing a child, Mister Wayne? Good luck with that. I don't exist anymore. Besides, I can threaten the same thing about Batman, and that holds significantly more weight than anything you could do to my name."

"If you're not scared, then you'll give me your whole name."

"That was a horrible fish for information, Mister Wayne. You're slipping. You must be getting rusty in your old age."

"Danny-"

"Dick." Danny held his hand out to his - on paper - responsible adult, "C'mon, Tim and Barbra are waiting for us upstairs."

Danny lead Dick out of the room, Bruce staying behind and obviously glaring at the back of Danny's head. When the door shut, Dick sighed, every bit of tension he hadn't felt melting off of him. "Sorry about him."

Danny shook his head. "Don't apologise, Dick, you didn't do anything to spark that. However," he glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still holding his hand, "Screaming matches aren't going to fix anything between you two. I don't know if you even want a relationship with him, but he's right. We came into his house, so it's up to us to be polite. You may be his kid, but you are a guest in his home until you two can form some kind of positive relationship. The hostility between y'all right now? That demotes you to 'house guest' instead of 'visiting child'. Got it?"

"..yeah."

"Good. Now, Tim and Barbra are waiting upstairs; go find them."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to go apologise to Alfred."

"Alfred? Why?"

"Bruce may claim this as his house, but Alfred's the one who takes care of it. It's his haunt, so I'm gonna go apologise for almost starting a fight."

"Um, alright..?"

***

Dick found himself wandering into the room that had been given to Tim. It was bare bones and barely looked used, but that's where he found Tim and Babs. He sat next to her.

"Where's Danny?" Tim asked.

"I- He's gone to talk to Alfred for a minute."

"Oh? Why?"

"I don't..he wasn't really clear on that."

"Oh."

The three lapsed into a silence that hovered somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable. Tim was on his bed, messing with something on his phone, smiling occasionally or chuckling softly. Dick and Barbra sat together on the couch against the wall between the two windows. None of them spoke for a while.

It was a lon twenty minutes of sitting, doing nothing. Sometimes one of them shifted, but no conversation was made.

The door opened. "Wow. Did I end up in a graveyard or something? Y'all're quieter than the dead." The three flinched back as if struck. "Sorry, that was in poor taste." He closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Tim's bed. "Seriously, though, why're y'all so quiet?"

"Waiting for you," Tim answered, "What'd you talk to Alfred about?"

Danny waved his hand in the air as if to physically dispel the words. "Nothing you need to worry about. Good news, though, I have a standing invitation to the Manor, so.."

"Is that a good idea?" Barbra asked, "You and B, well...You didn't really.."

"Yeah," he smiled, "Alfred's given me permission, and that's all I need. I won't be going with you guys to the Bat Cave, though."

"What?" Tim's voice pitched up a bit, "Why?"

"That's Mister Wayne's haunt. Because he doesn't like me, I'm not gonna risk even thinking about going down there."

"But you'll come and go from his house?"

"Yes."

"Weird."

"I don't make the rules, Timmy." Tim snorted softly. Barbra smiled.

"I hate to be the one to bring the mood down again," Dick said, "But why were you wanting to go to the Cave?"

"I just said I wasn't."

"Yeah, but why would you ever need to go down there?"

At this, Danny looked a bit sheepish, turning to look away from the others and rubbing the back of his neck. "Alfred said we're staying the night."

"What!" Dick shot up from his seat.

"Are you coming on patrol with us?" Barbra asked Dick, her eyes expectant.

Tim grinned. "That'd be so cool! You two should totally join us!"

Dick shook his head. "I really-" He cut himself off, making the mistake of looking Barbra and Tim in the eye. He sighed. "Alright, I'll join you guys for the night. But I don't answer to Bruce."

"Yay!"

"Wouldn't expect ya to."

"What about you, Danny?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't do the whole vigilante thing anymore."

"'Anymore'?" Babs raised her eyebrow, "That's a story I wanna hear."

He blushed. "It's really not,"

"You'll be on comms, though, right?" Tim wondered.

"I, um.... Sure. I'll join you guys on comms."

"Yes!"

"But I'm still not going into the Bat Cave."

Part 13 Part 15

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spicycinnabun · 8 months ago

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pt. 1 2 3 4 6 7 💐

Eddie turned around, finding none other than the flower nazi. His nametag actually said Steve.

He had a leaf stuck in his hair, and his nose was abnormally rosy. Going by that and his nasal tone, he clearly had a cold. He sneezed, then looked annoyed at himself for doing so. “Ugh, sorry,” he apologized.

He was fucking adorable. It made Eddie smile. “Don’t be. I don’t really need help.” Not with flowers, anyway, just with everything else about his life. “I’m only browsing.”

It was a weird response, he realized. A guy like him, who looked like he belonged anywhere else, loitering in a shop like this. Just browsing. Right. Steve probably thought he was a creep.

Steve was surprised to hear that the man wasn’t looking for anything. Last time, he had bought something, so Steve had assumed he was a returning customer. He had been staring at the wedding arrangement, so maybe he was trying to figure out if Harrington Floral was the best place to get them from.

��That’s some talent you’ve got,” Eddie added, pointing to the display.

Steve felt himself flush. “Thanks,” he said softly, ducking his head bashfully. It wasn’t usually guys who were doling out compliments on the displays. Typically, they just asked for his advice on what they should buy for their significant others.

The redness that bloomed on Steve’s cheeks was just plain delightful. It could have been due to his illness, but Eddie was pretty sure it was a reaction to his compliment. His smile widened. “You made it, right?”

“Yes, I did. I make all the displays.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, missing the leaf by a mere centimeter. “I think I saw you last month when I was building one in the window over there. Are you sure you’re not interested in anything?”

Instead of answering, Eddie reached out and plucked the leaf out of Steve’s hair. “Sorry, you had a little bud-dy trying to catch a ride there. Was distracting the hell out of me.” Eddie showed him the small, curvy leaf.

Steve laughed, which made him cough a little. After clearing his throat, he got back to business. Steve was all about closing a sale, so he pushed a little. “Are you or someone you know getting married? I can, uh…” he thought quickly, “give you a free bouquet as a testimony to how well our flowers will hold up. I was just pruning the roses before you came in. What do you think about a bouquet of them?”

Steve remembered Eddie. And he’d laughed at Eddie’s horrible pun. But Eddie was caught off guard by the questions and the offering. Steve was observant. “I can’t let you do that,” he said. “My uncle is getting married. Hopefully. He hasn’t popped the question yet.”

It would be kind of terrible of him to accept free flowers if it didn’t work out and they never ordered any.

“That’s exciting,” Steve responded.

Genuinely, he felt like it was. Steve loved love. Working in a flower shop would be hard if he was bitter about being single. Also, the fact that someone else around his age wasn’t getting married made him feel a bit better about his own love life. Lately, it seemed like all his friends were getting hitched.

Eddie twirled a piece of hair around his finger, contemplating. He pocketed the little leaf. “I’m meeting the bride-to-be tonight. I suppose making a nice first impression wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He could give the flowers to Wayne to present to Kathleen when she came over. “How much for half a dozen?”

That was probably all he could afford, but he would be paying.

Eddie wasn’t selling as much anymore. Just weed, no powders or pills. Not since he’d discovered that one of his regulars had recently overdosed on Molly. He was at least partially responsible for that. He should have questioned the steadily increasing amount the guy was buying, but he had only been thinking about the money.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.” Steve had no intention of taking any money for the bouquet.

He walked around the store and started building it. Steve picked out four roses in red and pink, then added two pastel-dyed Asiatic lilies and sprinkled in a few strands of baby’s breath.

When he was finished, he went to the counter to put them down. He grabbed the twine and unrolled some tissue paper. “I’m sure there won’t be any more customers tonight. I’m kind of in charge, so I can totally give you these for free. Because I want to.”

Eddie pressed his lips together briefly, walking over and planting his forearms on the counter. He wasn’t some charity case. He didn’t like having debts, either. Maybe Steve had seen the type of clothes he wore and automatically assumed Eddie was trailer park trash who couldn’t afford it.

But Steve was smiling at him, looking sweet as a goddamn sugar cookie, and Eddie relaxed, rejecting the thought. That just didn’t seem right.

(Though why Steve wanted to give anyone, let alone Eddie, free flowers was a mystery.)

“You’re the boss, huh?” Eddie said. Steve looked young to own the shop, but maybe he was one of the Harringtons.

The name rang a bell. Steve Harrington. Dustin used to talk about a Steve during D&D. Gushed more than talked, really. Was he the same one?

“Technically, it’s my mom’s shop, but I’ve been running it for a while now,” Steve said. He couldn’t take all the credit.

Eddie gently drummed the counter, rings click-clacking as he watched those nimble fingers cut, tie, and wrap. His mom’s store. Well, wasn’t that precious.

Steve gave the bouquet one last critical look and a fluff with his fingers before handing it over. “With these, I think you’ll make the best impression. Maybe your uncle will even pop the question tonight!” Steve was excited for the groom to be even though he didn’t know him.

Eddie accepted the bouquet and looked down at it. “Thank you. It’s stunning.” Kind of like you.

He didn’t say that last part out loud, though he thought it hard enough that he’d probably projected it into Steve’s head.

Steve felt his face heat again. He didn’t know why he was reacting this way to the compliments. When women complimented his arrangements, he barely blinked.

Eddie brought the bouquet to his nose to smell its perfume. It brought another smile to his face before he lowered it. If Kathleen didn’t end up liking them, she was crazy.

Steve watched Eddie, grinning. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze flickered up. He lowered the bouquet. Why were they both smiling like fucking idiots? “Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. Let me get you a card—you know, in case your uncle does propose and will need flowers from somewhere.” Steve grabbed one of the embellished business cards from the stack beside the register.

Eddie reached out to take it, and Steve sneezed again just as their fingers brushed. It was a big sneeze that made his face screw up and nearly blew him backward. Luckily, he managed to cover his nose before he bombed Eddie. Eddie tried not to laugh at his irritated expression and soft whine as he sniffled.

Eddie pocketed the card and tugged his handkerchief out at the same time. “Here,” he offered kindly, holding it out to Steve.

It was his favorite hanky, his pirate one with the skull and bones, but it was the least he could do.

Without thinking much about it, Steve took it and blew his nose. He let out a soft sigh, feeling a little better. Then he realized what he’d done. “Sorry…this is kinda gross now. Do you want it back?”

“Oh no—no, that’s yours now,” Eddie said hastily. “I insist. Consider it a token of my gratitude.” He lowered himself in a teasing bow. “Farewell, Steve, fine sir.”

So, so fine. Even with all the snot.

Eddie backed out of the store, still bent over for extra theatricality. When he straightened up, Steve looked confused but was red in the cheeks again. Score.

On the ride home, Eddie almost missed a turn because he kept glancing at the bouquet.

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie au #florist au #florist!steve harrington #🌹🌹🌹🌹

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months ago

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Not In Front of the Fish...

Jake Jensen x roommate!Reader follow up to Watch the Fish (see previous or JJ Masterlist)

Summary: You've caught Jake doing something he shouldn't, but there's no reason you can't string him along...and along...and along until the line snaps.

Warnings for smut (many references to masturbation, protected sex), horrible puns (yes, hello, I'm Ro, welcome!), heavy innuendo, trolling this poor boi as hard as humanly possible, taking the lord's name in so much vain, kinda *aggressive* foreplay, aftercare, fluff, and whipped!Jake (deserves a warning because I sure as sh*t wasn't prepared 🫠).

Blame @bigtreefest...or thank Essie, ya know, whatevs! No beta, we die drowning in the fish tank. MINORS DNI. And yes, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, the glasses stay on 🤭 Y'all may not realize this but I myself am an ultra-awkward nerd, so I identify with Jake's struggle and yet would absolutely, endlessly tease this mothaf**ka.

"Hey, Jakey. Whatcha doing?"

Well, thank fuck he's not still hard standing there with his metaphorical dick out, the last image from your laptop's screen seared into his eyeballs of some woman taking a load in her open mouth.

"Need me--" you steadily lick vanilla ice cream off a spoon, some caught at the corner of your wide open lips "--for anything?"

He stares. He stares so intently he almost falls over. Apparently, he's leaned into his staring.

"My help, perhaps?"

Your tongue rolls across the edge of the refilled spoon.

He thinks maybe he'll cry if you keep this up, but for the love of Christ, please keep this up.

"No," he squeaks. "Just..." Must you be wearing short-shorts? Is it essential that your tank top dip so low? "...saying 'hi.'"

His hand flings out in a wave, five fingers managing to point in eight different directions because he can't commit to any sort of normal human movement.

"So... Hi."

Some ice cream drips off the spoon down your chin and to your chest.

Jake is not here right now. Jake has died.

"Sure." You wipe up your mess and keep eating. "Sweet dreams, big guy. You look ready to hit the sack after a long...satisfying...shower." You let the spoon dangle from your mouth while brushing past him, which you have to do. You have to touch him because Jake can't fucking move for the life of him, and he swears to god you made your hand sweep across the front of his hip.

He jolts to follow the contact before overwriting his hind brain. His hand slaps the wall as he catches himself trying before collapsing into a begging puddle at your feet.

He should tell you. He'd rather die.

He should admit what he's done, admit what he wants to do, but when he stops pinching his eyes shut for strength, Jake turns to find you bent over in the doorway.

"Hello, sweethearts," you coo to the fish, "what would you like to do this evening? Maybe watch another movie?"

You wiggle your butt and make this happy sort of popping noise that Jake can't unhear.

Fuck, is this a thing he's gonna have to deal with now? Listening to you watching porn? His mind instinctively scans your room for a glimpse of any toy you may have left out. He's dying, yeah, but dying to know what they look like, if he's bigger than whatever you bury inside you now.

"Jake," you repeat in a breathy way that has him swallowing his tongue. You've stood back up, holding a bowl with oozing white liquid that teeters close to the edge as it melts.

His dick could top that off in jiffy if you'd like.

He coughs. "Yeah, uh, what?"

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Fuck me, every muscle, bone, and braincell in his body screams at once.

All he manages is an anatomically-correct impression of a fish. No sound comes up from his desperate lungs. He flees to his room.

He hears you shut your door just as he shoves down the shorts he threw on and grabs a squirt of lotion from the bottle nearby.

Too many images speed through his brain all at once, cum and cream, sex and porn, your open mouth, your presented ass, that peek of cheek beneath soft fabric, the shadow along the seam where the material ran right through your folds--probably, at least, he's filling in gaps wherever he pleases--and the breathy sounds of 'Jakey' 'need me' 'help you' 'satisfying,' and 'anything.'

"Fuck me," he growls out in earnest, sparing no trick to get himself off as fast as possible. Maybe if he's quick he won't learn exactly how hot he finds all this. He already relies on you as the voice in his head.

It's like you're right there on the floor with him, cupping his balls and whispering in his ear.

So hard for me, huh? So heavy and in need of attention. Why did you wait to fuck your fist, Jakey? Had to hear me? Think of this dick filling me better than any toy...

He gasps and groans, shoving his face into the nearest side of mattress to muffle the carnal sound.

It puts his ear right next to his discarded headphones.

"Daddy was so rude just then, huh? I know. He's shy. He'll come see you tomorrow. He just needs to be all alone in his bed when he's tired. I know, I know. It makes mommy sad, too. She doesn't like to be all alone, but that's why I have you. Look at the camera and wish daddy goodnight..."

Oh, fuuuuuuuuck me, Jake wails into his sheets when he hears the sound of you blowing a kiss through the speakers.

Poor thing doesn't know you're torturing him on purpose, but at least he came...with his bare knees aching on the hardwood floor of his room and the nosepiece of his glasses digging into his eye sockets as he buries his shame in his bed.

You suggest he have the fish in his room for a while, like shared custody, but then he knows you would have access to listen to him via the livestream.

If he tells you you have to mute it every time, you'll know he might not have. If he refuses to keep the feed up or the camera functioning, you'll be suspicious of why. If he says fucking anything against your very thoughtful and adorable idea, it'll be a cold day in hell since he will endure all forms of torture just to see your elated smile as the tank is finally setup between his closet and his bed across the room from his desk.

The keystrokes from his work are too faint for the camera's microphone, and he proceeds to wear headphones for music, take calls outside, and never touch himself in his own room for weeks. Ok fine, two, he makes it two weeks.

Deprived of hearing you, which he grew rather dependent on, and needing to inconspicuously lengthen his showers, Jake is a mess.

Why didn't he record anything? Why would he??? He was supposed to get himself together like a man and either ask you out or get the fuck over it.

He even watches (but mostly listens to) porn through his headphones without touching himself in an attempt to fade the memory, but then you show up at his door, asking to visit with the 'kiddos' and checking with the Marauders if 'daddy' is treating them well.

He's not gonna make it, man.

You settle on his bed to read for a while because why the fuck would he say 'no' to you, and this is the part that does Jake in the most: his sheets smell like you after and turning in his desk chair to find you accidentally asleep in his bed just... He can't.

He's unwell thinking about how sweet you are, how fucking horrible he's being by fantasizing about you this way, how if he just had the balls to crawl over to kiss you, he'd--but he doesn't. He just gets worse.

He gets real messed up horny one evening when you're out at some fancy event with friends.

You leave wearing this dress that practically had him on his knees the way it molded to you and yet draped so smoothly in places. He thinks of his mouth molded to you that closely and his body laying so smoothly over yours.

Damn it. He has to do something. He goes into your room, and it's not that bad, he just picks up a t-shirt, that's all. He's not the world's worst perv or anything. It's not underwear, for god's sake, but on a fluke (because he has no idea how long he was in there) he climaxes at the sound of you yelling 'I'm home' from the kitchen and scrambles to the bathroom with his gym shorts wrapped around his thighs, hand still catching spurts of cum as he for sure doesn't calm down, with milliseconds to spare.

Thank fucking god you're slower to climb the stairs in heels.

He takes it back. He is the world's worst perv.

Your t-shirt mysteriously disappears until he can sneak it back into your laundry.

He runs out of floss and absently searches your drawer for--oh my god.

OH. MY GOD.

That...is a large, veiny dildo you have there. Oh fuck.

Jake slams the drawer shut without thinking.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just...just gotta put floss on the grocery list."

"Use some of mine," you call out casually.

"It's fine!" His voice was too high and he answered too fast, but if he's not mistaken, you have now invited him to poke around in your things.

He feels slightly less pervy...and a hell of a lot hornier.

It reaches a point where coming in the shower isn't enough.

He falls asleep ok but wakes restless and craving friction. There's want and then there's need, and Jake fucking needs this or he'll never rest.

He goes on as quietly as possible, thinking that getting up, going to the bathroom, and turning on the exhaust fan will make far more noise than humping his sheets and biting his pillow.

The fish tank glows as usual at the foot of his bed.

Look away, kids, Jake thinks and immediately doesn't know whether to be sick or laugh. Daddy is gonna fucking die like this.

He knows it's pathetic. The entire thing has been pathetic from start to finish, but he's just too tired and too het up to care.

A few whines escape the insulation of his pillowcase. He misses the gentle patter of footsteps down the hall.

There's a soft knock followed by "Jake?"

God damn it. The one time he gives in, and he's already ruined it.

He tucks himself up into the band of his boxers which is not exactly subtle but can't be helped. Jake rolls out of his bed, finding his glasses in the dark to crack open the door with his body strategically behind it.

"Yeah, what's up?"

He can't make out a whole lot in the low light, but you don't say anything. Your arms are spread out to hang on either side of the frame, making your (again) very low-cut tank top his only focal point.

Well now he's sorta worried this has absolutely fuck-all to do with his problem. "Are you okay?"

"I...I thought..."

Your voice is soft and timid. It makes Jake want to wrap you in his arms, but he's still worried that you'll say you heard him and it's not okay and he's gross and this is all way, way out of line.

He holds his breath to better listen.

"I hoped you would have needed me by now."

What. Air rushes out of him like he's been tackled.

Sorry, WHAT?

"What?" the question finally falls out as he leans intensely again, shifting so the door doesn't slam in your face, his bare chest and lower half now visible as much as they can be. "You...what now??"

Your arms fall and you step forward. It looks to him like you move with trepidation, that your head is lowered in embarrassment, that somehow you're shy about your confession. Maybe you are, but only the tiniest amount compared to him.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Jake." You slap one hand to his chest with a crinkling noise, and he swiftly moves to take the wrapped condom. "Tell me if you don't want this," you continue, lowering your voice and hand until your thumb grazes the exposed head of his cock.

Lightning strikes and super-charges his need.

"But if you don't th--"

He'll be damned if you finish that thought. Jake scoops your jaw into one big hand, angling you just-so, barreling you both into his door as it swings into his closet with a wobbling bang. He's clumsy and his grip goes everywhere to bully you flush with his body yet not drop your timely offering.

His kisses are feverish and sloppy. By the feel of you groping at his back and shoulders, you're not mad about it. He fumbles with the wrapper behind your back. It takes his attention away for a few seconds.

"I prepped for you," you whisper hoarsely. "I'm ready."

Jake has no legs at that point and takes you with him in a heap to the floor. While stripping away his boxers, he realizes his naked ass is high in the air of his room.

All he can see in his mind is fish pressed against the glass, staring, judging. Gah, not here.

He maneuvers into your hold again and says, "hang on," crawling to the hall runner so the 'children' won't see. No, he can't make it any further because his length is snuggled between your fucking thighs and somehow the hallway is a fucking mile long to your room. No, he's not immune to your whines from where your head is tucked in the crease of his neck.

Here's fine.

As gracefully as he can, Jake collapses onto you, collecting the noises he missed so much directly from the source.

For being made of such little fabric, your shorts are in his way, and he's genuinely annoyed to have to lift from you again, even though it's necessary to discard them and necessary to get the now-open condom rolled along his aching cock.

His glasses are already smeared from haphazardly exploring your skin. If Jake couldn't see before, he's all but blind now. The only garment close enough to try and clean them is your tank top, but he ignores it because it's still dark. He needs to feel you more than anything else in the world.

Lightly, your fingertips flicker down his abs and lead him to close the gap between you.

Jake groans as he lines himself up and easily notches into your welcoming heat. As aroused as you are, he still edges himself deeper and deeper in barely-controlled strokes, grabbing the railing at his side for leverage and stability.

He grunts instead of articulating how magnificent you feel. He moans instead of voicing what an utter blessing it is to finally fuck you. He gasps with the rolls of your hips because you taking control while beneath him just...unravels him.

This was too long coming, and he wasn't prepared.

Jake's apology for being fast to finish perches at the tip of his tongue when you cut off his words and the last of circulation to his brain.

You shake and pant, mewling 'yes' and his name, while your body squeezes him like a vice. He's being pumped to completion without moving another muscle, and, good fucking god, he has to hang on, falling to his forearm, keeping his open mouth hovering over yours.

Jake thinks maybe he just drowned and got brought back to life.

Right there, in his face are your precariously covered tits, nipples rock hard and taunting him. He doesn't care what his dick's doing anymore; he wrenches a strap down your chest and lavishes your plush flesh with attention.

Too long coming and in no way prepared... Neither were you.

Your hands brace his head, fingers buried in his short hair as you wiggle and hump at his semi-stiff cock inside you. Jake hisses in over-stimulation but doesn't stop you. He swears he will never, ever stop you.

His attentions on your breasts slow but he can't seem to let you go for a long time, long after your legs fall away from him, limp and twitching.

A pair of goodbye pecks is his parting gift before Jake nuzzles up the column of your neck and takes what little breath you've regained, curling his arms around you as his tongue curls with yours.

When he adjusts again, he realizes how sore he's getting from kneeling on the floor, and sits up to help you, too.

"Let me get--I'll just--"

Jake can almost reach a towel inside the bathroom from this position with his long arms, but he's sure to warm up the tap and trash the condom before returning to gently wipe you. He may have made a quick pass at his lenses in there as well.

You look dazed and delightfully sated, basking in the streak of light from the bathroom, leaning on your palms like you're on a beach somewhere.

"Fuck, you're stunning," he says without thought.

He...lingers a while to clean you up, overtly mapping these bits of you he hasn't seen yet.

"What took you so long?"

Jake tosses the towel up into the sink behind him and manhandles you into his arms.

"I might've ruined everything." He starts to lower you into your bed, but you don't release your arms from around his neck. "You could've kicked me out."

He's not going to argue. He won't say 'no' to you.

"Come here, you dork. You can't keep me waiting anymore."

Jake climbs into the cramped, cozy space with you, mentally noting that a bigger bed is definitely on the shopping list.

A/N: I am strategically leaving out my thoughts on the next morning for now because I'm just too excited, eeeee!

[Next part: Feed The Fish]

#jake jensen smut #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen fic

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