#(one she immensely regrets and is embarrassed by)

[headfullof-ideas]

Fontaine and Ant meet their future partners in…very different ways

Fontaine and Nate meet during a festival at the coastal village he lives at, on an island not a days trip from the Aronnax’s base and where a number of the Nektons family friends also happen to live, leading to frequent visits.

Meanwhile, Ant and Kari meet at the college Kari’s dad works at, and where a number of the Nektons interns attend for school.

Their first meeting with one another is…about as chaotic as the pair of them are together, and not off to the same start as Fontaine and Nate’s was. And due to Kari’s dad being one of the (if less liked) scientists stationed at the Aronnax’s base that works for the WOA, and Kari spending her summers at the college he does his research at, they have a fair number more interactions than either of them want at first.

[diorcities]

snooze

jisung x you genre smut content friends with benefits, mention of mingi (hope you get why), cunnilingus, riding, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, wc 4k ── you always leave him and he plans to make you stay.

ever since you kissed him, he can’t get you out of his mind.

it had been useless, had it?

it didn't take long for jisung to figure it out. he knows perfectly well that he gets attached quickly, his friends always tease him about it.

much there was say jisung was very chill. he was fine with evasive looks just like fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. the short greetings at gatherings as well as soft sounds muffled against his lips.

jisung couldn't make his head to begin to describe you, and the closest he's come is a little charm at night.

he's been lost because of it. only you can make him fall in love, only if you say yes.

“oh, my god. you can't be serious.” nayeon, dressed like a cheetah, shouts making her way through the tide of people to you, her gaze lost behind you.

and it is both your gift and your curse to know what has her upset without having to look. a boy with fangs and light brown hair with blonde highlights dancing and making out a girl prettier than the previous one and uglier than the next he'll met. “it can't be that he got over you so quickly,” she says while glaring. and despite feeling upset just like your best friend, you can't help but feel this immense lack of something. because while mingi kisses her, he doesn't stop looking at you.

it's been a while since you two broke up. the normal thing would be to keep going, yet you're still in the same place, just without the same feelings except regret. “it's alright,” you hear yourself say, only it's not.

if it makes him feel good to kiss girls in front of you, then it's fine. either way, you're the worst traitor.

it was a bad idea to have come, but you're used to always making a mistake. big ones are just as much a part of you as are your bad decisions. “i'll go smoke a little. listen, if you see ghostface, tell him he owes me money.”

she winks at you, “sure thing, angel.”

you move out of his sight and it feels ridiculous to see himself following your trail with his eyes until you move outside. when he feels that you've ignored him for too long, he's the first to offer truce.

“you look like a dream.” he's been drinking for a while, so he knows he'd never, ever dare to talk to you. but he knows that a couple of beers and the bad influence of his friends must not mix up.

“why?” he wasn't sure if he preferred your obnoxious demeanor or your condescending eyes meeting him. “have you dreamed of me?”

he looks stupid, and you smile wide when a blush tint his cheeks. because yes, he has. despite all the grace and angelic energy that your eyes transmit, jisung is embarrassed that every time he thinks of you the first thing that appears in his dirty mind is those wet eyes trying to stay open while looking at him from under his body. legs wrapped loose around his waist and parted lips inciting him to taste them.

he swallows hard and without meaning to, his eyes feel like two wells. his mouth is dry or maybe he's craved your lips a bit too much. a tingling runs through his fingers and his fingertips buzz. you have no idea how much he wants you, or maybe you do, because you smile wider.

all your grace takes form in dreamy eyes before you kiss him. and kiss him. and kiss him. his emotions get tangled followed by your responsive heart. he can't beat it, the feelings.

it's killing him, and it would hurt him more to admit that he's used all his manipulative tactics; lies and deceit, pretty words, empty promises. but then he looks at you with his pretty pleading love-me eyes and you can't handle it anymore. he kisses the inside of your wrist as he looks at you from below and you almost hesitate.

because that's his curse, or perhaps it is yours. you always leave. you're an angel faced like yet you're full of haunting. with your condescending gaze, virtuous lips stretched in a smile; shiny eyes filled contempt, as if you regretted something that you both tried so hard to ignore so as not to feel guilty. when the truth is, jisung could hardly think of anything other than you.

and he plans to make you stay.

his hand intertwines with yours, and there it is again. a monstrous hesitation. every time this drags on, the more guilty you feel; for thinking of him when you were together.

jisung's kisses drift you to the surface. “is it because of him?” he pronounces, and you've been an idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice at some point. “mingi?” he asks, drawing your hand to his chest, and the gesture causes the devious swarm to disperse as you swallow.

you shake your head, and unexpectedly you chuckle lightly, “no.”

there's no one bound to you. you're not tethered to him anymore, yet it felt like you were betraying him. it seemed like you've made a big mistake a long time ago and now this monstrous thought of whether he will ever forgive you does not cease to haunt you.

you've never been good at keeping your emotions at bay, so guilt eclipses other feelings, it overshadows your heart, beating to the rhythm of his pulse under your palm, slowly moving towards his jawline.

these rendezvous were not going to end well, and even so... you always came back. to him. he smells fresh and manly. he smells familiar.

he likes to eat you out first. it is almost inevitable to do so, as if something were missing. as if he were obsessed. and yet he takes his tortuous time and start kissing your stomach, the soft taut skin of your hip bone, where his hands tuck underneath to place them over his shoulders. “think only of me.”

your full legs bury his head and your femininity is received by caresses. tongue roaming along your core, plump lips sucking you. the right angle makes you sigh, “yes.” your mouth opens in awe and your eyes flutter shut feeling that tingling forming in your guts. just where his hands hold you so you don't move. “yes...” he glances at you the moment he use his tongue to put pressure on the sweet bulge to see you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head back.

he hums, and your whole body shivers feeling the cocky smile on his lips around you, full of spit and arousal covering his face for constantly hitting his nose in your sweet spot. you dissolve into nothing, your blood becomes washy, and you arch violently as he ventures his tongue down your folds into your needy entrance. “a-ahg.”

something hot runs down your belly and explodes into pleasant waves when it tightens your grip and pulls you closer, diving deep to taste your silkiness, hissing when feels too good. “mmm... god.” your teeth grind and your eyes squeeze at the sound his mouth makes every time he rocks his tongue along your sensitive clit, roaming his lips and sucking you rhythmically.

“fuck, you taste divine.” his hot breath brushes against your femininity and the purr of his deep tone causes you to buzz synchronously, the core of your belly sinking and legs trembling at his voice. “so sweet, my girl.”

he shakes his head as he smiles against you, and you're losing your mind at the view of his pretty face enraptured in the aroma of your intimacy. eyes closed while he sucks you good and holds your legs apart from bellow your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

you twitch in delight and his eyes darken having you on full display, grabbing his hair and guiding his motion where you most need him. “oh, yes. there... there.” your back arches unconsciously as your shaking voice tells him where to lick, where to nibble, where to caress. “feels good, ji.”

you're so wet you can hear it every time he rubs your clit dexterously with tongue and teeth, your mind filling with a hazy sensation you can't help but tremble hard, “s-good,” you cry feeling sensitivity numb your hurting nipples once he cups them on his big hands. too much to keep quiet. too much to hold it all in. your shaky moans fill the room when a sharp sensation sink your belly and whip your breath away.

jisung hums thoughtfully in glee when you start pulsing around nothing. unshed tears fills your eyes as you succumb to pain from the pleasure that runs through you from head to toe, buzzing in your bloodstream and making you whine for a bit of friction.

you squirm and arch when he pulls away. and you gasp despite watching him take off his belt from his jeans while his eyes don't leave your pussy, throbbing for him.

he's left you so aroused it hurts, wet and willing, your eyes don't leave him while his are fixed on your ruined pussy, missing his mouth full of your silky excitement. jisung licks his lips in trance, undoing zipper to let out his painful, throbbing erection under his underwear. “want to take it?”

your mouth begins to tingle wildly and an impulse forces you to moan a yes. “all?” your eyes darken and it's almost immediately that your hands draw him to you when he leans just a little, as if he wants to play now to see who needs whom, as if not knowing perfectly well that it has always been you.

from the first time you met.

and deep inside him, having you under him guiding him inside of you, he thought it would give him some satisfaction, but the guilt spreads. of course he was terrified of how he felt about you, maybe you were too? were you terrified of what you might feel for him? what did you already feel?

“oh, fuck.” no matter how many times he buries himself in you, it always has the same effect; it always makes him want more. “you feel so good, fuck,” he breathes and takes a moment to feel you, all around him, squeezing him right.

your body feels light when he thrusts you twice, his breath hitting your cheek when he groans, “i can make you forget about him.” and makes your legs fail.

he feels so nicely thick. the mere friction of his cock inside makes a tremor run down your legs and an explosion of sensations in your lower belly, growing when he starts to penetrate you.

he holds over your stomach, he doesn't take it out completely before he puts it back in, the rhythm making you both sobble with pleasure. it's almost tortuous the way it's not enough, to having him fully, fingers massaging your swollen femininity as he hammers your pelvis with yours, sounding deliciously good.

you fall long after you need each other, ardently. despite being intertwined, despite being skin to skin, he's so far away from you, yet so close you can reach his chest, his sturdy forearm. you can reach his lips.

everything condenses, and you seem to be holding your breath. your stomach tenses and something furious flutters in your belly. rises hot through your bloodstream and you find it desperately luring closer to you, moaning “i'm close.”

the motion of his pounding change and become more violent and faster. “oh, god,” you whimper, feeling yourself collapsing. hands pushing on his stomach before he holds both wrists with one of his.

“be a nice girl for me.”

“ji, please.”

your head lolls back as you feel his cock pounding into you roughly. sharp thrusts eliciting sounds out of you. his big hands cupping your breasts as they bounce rhythmically every time he rocks his dick deep, not being able to fully put it out before coming back in. “fuck, you sound so good, angel. fuck.” he's blushed, mouth is part open and tongue slightly sticking out, in a deep state of ecstasy feeling you around him. “f-fuck.” he takes your leg and passes it over his shoulder, and you see the torturous grimace he makes when a shudder strike you so hard that you cry.

your hand covers your mouth when everything comes down. suddenly everything is overwhelming, rousing. your eyes see through your eyelashes to jisung staring at you, so deep in the intoxicating sensation of being full of you, and you being full of him too, you feel it.

you almost see the resemblance. in the brown hair, in the shape of their mouth kissing you. the way they tend to hold you the same way, frowning at you with saddened eyes from being close, drunk in you, but somehow greeny; as if he still possesses innocence to give you if you ask for it.

the feeling they're both in love with you.

yet so different. from the way they both end and begin, despite everything. if you close your eyes, you barely notice the similarity. if you close your eyes, you let yourself go and just feel.

bodies intertwined. mixed sighs. needy kisses. faster and faster, accelerating the pace of his thrusts, sinking hos fingers deeper into your skin until leaving his fingerprints tattooed, sinking into his neck when you feel the expected tingling of being close to the edge, undoing your inside and freeing a thousand wild sensations.

his cock is sweetly pressed into the swelling of your core when he starts to rub your clit with his eyes glued in your features contracting in a shattering pleasure. feeling all your body tensing and your teeth grinding into each other before the big o that explode your senses into a thousand pieces. dissolving around him in spasms that release waves and waves of liquid pleasure that wet his crotch and make him lose his mind.

you're still throbbing when he moans in your mouth as he kisses you, lips colliding with tiredness as you feel him move in and out, pacing the rhythm. your breath trembles from being so sensitive, yet you willingly spread your legs for him to bury deeper. “don't stop.”

your eyes water when he starts sucking your tit while roaming your sides. skin bristling as your fingers draw a line from his arm to the nape of his neck, combing his hair as he begins to penetrate you again. his hoarse voice making you shudder when you hear him moaning against your chest, fogging your skin.

“making me feel so good, angel.” your mouth parts open as he passes an arm under you and arches you toward him, tucking one of your breasts between his lips, using the new grip to make you go down full to his cock, sinking his teeth in the sweet skin of your tits.

he fucks you raw and your blood runs hot. moving you with ease to rest on your side as he align his cock and slide into your pillowy walls drenched in arousal, making you bite the pillow when he hits a different angle.

your intimacy burns sweetly, feeling the enticing sensation of his thickness filling you up every time he pounds into you with rough thrusts. his pelvis collide forcefully against the full skin of your thigh over his leg that your eyes cloud with tears of raw pleasure, buzzing inside.

the constant pounding of his length coated in your slick producing a squelching sound doesn't leave your mind as you come closer and closer to the edge. drowning out a hoarse groan as his warm hand lands on your belly and climbs up your chest to squeeze your breast before interlocking your fingers with his; then you remember the reason, and it makes you go numb from head to toe.

he feels the burning need to hold your hand when he's close.

your skin looks scarlet from the spanking caused by the hand that now holds you tightly while he accelerates the thrusts, getting audibly desperate. his breathing accompanies the sounds that slip from his open mouth as he tries to keep up, deep moans and elongated words leave his lips before he bites it once he sees you guiding his fingers down your clit as you touch yourself. your eyes fluttering and emitting a moan so exquisite that jisung explodes in spasms.

a sharp sensation expands through your body when he lets out the best sound you've ever heard, starting throbbing along with his cock just before he pulls out late and spills his seed on your entrance. you bite your lip feeling the warm cum between your fingers as you massage your sore core.

it's late at midnight when you pass your leg over his chest and gaze at him with crimson cheeks as he stare at the mess. and although his features seem tender to you, his eyes are darkened with pure perversity when he leans over you and make you go on top now.

“wanna stay a little longer?” he smiles lazily as he reaches for a condom, knowing he can't be trusted now. however, it's perhaps the evil and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that tell you that he already had it in mind.

do you seem like a dream now? something as tangible as it is real. or has it all been in his head, like all the times before?

his eyes half-closed with glee lethargy follow the path your lips do when going dangerously down to stimulate his cock with your mouth, and you finally fall into realization. “if you beg...”

between the two brothers, you should've dated jisung instead.

[iichfilwypj]

hugs over books | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x demigod! reader ღ warnings: percy is a bit insecure here! but don't worry, he gets comfort! ღ wc: 900

When she entered his boyfriend's cabin, she found him reading.

Percy Jackson was reading.

Percy dyslexia Jackson was reading.

Percy i read serial as cereal Jackson was reading. 

She was surprised, but even more excited.

“Percy!” She quickly made her way to his bed, where he lay sprawled on his back with the book in his hands. Setting it aside, he opened his arms wide and closed his eyes, ready for her to jump on him the way she always did after practice. 

And yes, she did jump on him, but there was no affectionate hug like he expected; her hands immediately reached for the book. She grabbed it with curiosity, turning it over to read the cover. 

“The Odyssey, illustrated edition”. 

Oh! She should have seen that coming.

Staring at the playful cover, she bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing. Hurting his feelings was the last thing she wanted, especially given how hard he’d been trying to work through his dyslexia –yeah, right.

She flipped to a random page, and the sight of Telemachus, drawn like a wide-eyed cartoon, made it impossible to keep a straight face. As she kept flipping through the book, her laughter grew uncontrollable, echoing around the room while Percy observed her with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Are you serious?” he let out a sharp laugh, feeling immensely insulted. She always tells me to read more and this is the treatment I get? AND no hug? Wow, just wow. With another fake chuckle, he nudged her away and propped himself up.

Offended, he watched as she continued to laugh, showing him a ridiculous –and funny– image of Penelope as she toppled backward.

It was his turn to burst into laughter when her body banged against the wall and fell behind the bed, the sound ringing throughout the blue cabin “Ha! Karma!” 

Rubbing her head –likely already bruising– she began to speak from the floor. “I can’t believe you’re actually reading this!” the words came out before she could see what was wrong there. “If you had just asked, I would have read the original novel to you.”

His laughter faded into a soft pout, the same one he used when he was trying to appear pitiful; or when he was feeling self conscious, like in this case. The cabin grew quiet, the blue walls enveloping them, amplifying the feeling of discomfort that lingered between them.

She started to regret her reaction "Did I make you feel embarrassed? I’m so, so sorry, I didn't mean to. I swear, I would never-” she hurried to say, her voice laced with concern.

“Hey, stop.” he held up a hand, his smile returning. “You could never hurt my feelings.”

But as the words left his mouth, he felt a familiar pang in his chest. He wished he could be a normal boyfriend who read to her at night and wrote letters she could easily understand. 

He took a deep breath and extended his hand to help her rise from the floor, settling her in front of him on the bed. His hands secured her at the waist. “I just wish I could get rid of my dyslexia��� he admitted softly. “I’d love to read to you instead.”

The silence lingered a moment longer. He could see the empathy in her eyes, her expression a mixture of understanding and support. It made him feel warm, but also reminded him of what he wished he could offer her.

“Oh. I get it.” she grasped one of his hands with hers, lifting it to her lips and planting gentle kisses on it. “But I love reading to you! How about we read together? I could go borrow the novel from Beth, and we can cozy up and read side by side. If anything confuses you, just ask me.” 

Percy looked at her with warmth in his eyes. Her offer hung in the air, and for a moment, he felt the weight of his insecurities lighten.

Sure, it wasn’t quite the same; but her willingness to help truly meant a lot to him, and it was enough. “Yeah, love, that would be nice.”

“Great” she released his grip, and he lay back on the bed, arms stretched wide again.

This time, she tumbled softly onto him, wrapping the boy in a comforting hug. He surrendered to the moment, feeling at ease beneath his girlfriend's weight.

She angled her head to plant a kiss on his neck before reaching for the forgotten book again. “Wait, I need to see more of these illustrations. They’re so bad!”

“Just so you know, my mom got me this. I’m definitely going to tell her your opinions on it” he remarked in a teasing tone.

She lifted herself slightly, supporting her weight on her elbows on both sides of his head, her expression shifting to one of alarm.

“Perseus Jackson, you better not!” she made a move to stand, but he snatched the book from her hands and tossed it far from the bed, landing in an unknown spot.

Laughing loudly, he pulled her back against him, enveloping her in a warm and tight embrace and leaving kisses all over her face. 

She just let it happen. Maybe he couldn’t read to her, but he knew how to hold her close.

hellooo!!!!!! i was thinking about helena of sparta and felt a bit sad so i wrote this even though it has nothing to do with her (but this is angst to me, okay?) love u all <333

[sixosix]

UR EVENT IS SO CUTE !! n u already know who im requesting for whehwhw

shinsou, chemistry textbook (sorry), fluff

CONGRATS AGAIN u deserve 5k more 💗💗💗

a/n hi kei THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YUO and i knew this was coming, i could smell it miles away. the moment you sent an ask i was already bracing myself for the word hitoshi...

notes 1.2k words, WARNING CURSING,  everything is normal and hitoshi is peacefully  in 1-A au, bit of crack i fear, but fluff nonetheless

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

It was study night.

Unsurprisingly, Midoriya was the first to sit on the couch, textbook and pen in hand. No one could ever dream of beating Midoriya Izuku—not even Iida or Yaoyorozu, who was pretty normal about intense studying habits. Everyone else followed after him, and soon enough, the common room began to get crowded. Bakugou was fuming, with sparks coming from his palms as he yelled at his friends, were you even listening to class?! while Mina and Sero howled with laughter, Kirishima and Kaminari were trying their best, and Midoriya was waving his hands, spluttering, calm down, Kacchan! You’re disturbing the others! Promptly followed by a drawn out: HAAA? It was a miracle they even got Bakugou Katsuki to tutor them.

And it was fun. It was lively, and you felt at home, but someone was missing, and you noticed his absence right away.

You hesitated. Shinsou was fairly new in the class—and although he adjusted well considering the class welcomed him with open arms, he was still a little distanced. You wanted to close the distance. Hitoshi seemed like a nice guy, just a little shy. (“You just think he’s cute, don’t you?” Imaginary Uraraka whispered in your ear, all leery and uncomfortably hitting too close.)

You slipped away from the class, and you were really hoping you were as stealthy as you thought, but Uraraka’s eyes seemed to have snapped to yours like she was starring in a horror movie. You froze.

“Where are you going?” Uraraka asked sweetly. You regretted telling her about your crush every time shit like this happened.

“I forgot my pen,” you said, then dashed off before Iida or Midoriya could offer theirs.

Your room was on the same floor as Shinsou’s—the fourth floor, by the far corner; his was beside Bakugou’s, while yours was beside Mina’s. Your rooms were technically—almost—across from each other.

But as you reached the fourth floor, you hesitated. Would it seem creepy if you went to fetch him? You didn’t want to come off as eager, but you also didn’t want to act disinterested. Augh. This was too complicated. Having a crush was too complicated.

Running on frustration, you took this as an opportunity to man the fuck up and knock on his door. Knock, knock. You instantly flamed in embarrassment.

There was a bit of clanging from inside, as if not expecting anyone to have checked up on him—which was a reasonable deduction. You might have been pushing too hard.

The door slowly inched open and revealed Shinsou, with his brows furrowed and lips pulled downward before it morphed into surprise as you waved sheepishly.

“Y/N,” he said, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he knew your name—everyone introduced themselves to him, and he isn’t super fresh to your faces—but that didn’t make it any easier to hear your name in his… gorgeously low voice.

“Hey,” you said, then felt immensely pathetic. Seriously? Hey? In response to that? The only appropriate response was to swoon and faint on his chest. “I—uh, we were wondering if you wanted to join study night, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh.” He blinked, then looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I know about that. Uh, I was looking for my textbook. I couldn’t find it…”

“Ohh,” you said, like the perfect conversationalist you were. “I can let you borrow mine. If you want, I mean.”

And in classic Y/N fashion, you began to think. What if you missed something? What if looking for his textbook was his excuse not to join? What if you inadvertently pressured him into joining?

“Ah, really?” And then Shinsou smiled, and angels started singing. It was only a quirk on one side, but it was there. It was there, and it was goddamn beautiful. “Thanks.”

“N-No problem,” you said weakly, a deflated balloon.

You moved backward like you were hypnotized as Shinsou stepped forward and shut the door behind him. He was tall, but something else about his presence seemed bigger about him. You silently thanked Eraserhead for training Shinsou.

Shinsou scratched the back of his nape and asked, “Should we go, then?”

Like a moth drawn to a flame.

When the elevator dinged, the class turned and greeted you and Shinsou, even when you were already there before. Uraraka was quick as ever; she was grinning wide like a mother too excited to encourage her children to interact with their peers. You glared at her when Shinsou’s eyes curiously slipped to where you were staring. Then everyone turned back to mind their business; whether it was mercy on your humiliation or politeness for Shinsou’s shyness, you were just grateful.

But there was a problem.

Shinsou realized it at the same time as you, too. There was no space left where the class had gathered: the long row of tables and chairs. You could’ve sworn you had a seat beside Todoroki Shouto, but it was not there anymore.

Shinsou craned his neck and gestured at a suspiciously empty green loveseat by the corner. “We should just sit over there?”

“Yes,” you said, hoping that you didn’t sound too delighted. “Yes, uh, you’re right. Which textbook were you looking for?”

“My Chemistry one was missing.” Oh, Chemistry, for once a blessing to your life.

With a skip in your step, you walked to the table and returned to where Shinsou was waiting patiently. This was wonderful. You were on cloud nine. You sat beside Shinsou, with a bit of distance out of respect, but distance didn’t matter when it was just you and him in this corner.

“Thank you,” Shinsou murmured—ohhh, he murmured; how is it possible for a teenage boy to have his voice get that low?—and settled in his seat, fingers thumbing your textbook open. He still looked a little tense, but you were really hoping it was not because of you.

“No problem,” you said, beaming up at him. You pulled out your English textbook because you didn’t want to seem lazy in front of him. “If you have questions about the quiz, you can ask me!”

Shinsou cocked a brow and tilted his head. “You understand this?”

He gestured at the equations printed by the far end of the pages. In truth, it made your head hurt and your eyes water just looking at the equation that most likely had the same length as a paragraph, but you knew nothing. If drawing Lewis Structures until your hand is cramped and you went cross-eyed and determining the molecular structure of liquids was your only ticket to talking with Shinsou, then—well… Chemistry was your favorite, now.

“Sure,” you said.

“I’ll be in your care, then,” Shinsou said lowly.

Ahh, so charming. You hoped your eyes weren’t in the shape of hearts.

While 1-A studied relentlessly—and violently, thanks to Bakugou—you and Shinsou were tucked in the corner, murmuring to each other about Thermodynamics and shit. He was a fast learner and cracked jokes at the right time. It felt like you had known him forever.

At some point, Shinsou drifted off and started talking about cats. You didn’t know how, either, but the lull of his voice made you hardly care. Then, at some point, your head ended up on Shinsou’s broad shoulder as you slept. You wouldn’t have seen it because you were off in dreamland and most likely dreaming about Shinsou, but Shinsou had smiled fondly and stayed there. He wondered if it would be too obvious if he borrowed another textbook tomorrow.

[stevebabey]

you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

-

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

-

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

[inuyashaluver]

edits - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your wife catches you watching edits of her when she’s asleep

warnings: suggestive, swearing

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your wife, leah grew up together. you went from childhood friends, meeting at the arsenal youth groups to lovers in a short amount of time, starting your romantic relationship at just 16 and her 17. you both got called up for the lioness senior team and continued both of your die hard arsenal lifestyle by playing in the club together.

you both have an immense amount of love and passion for each other. you both knew each other like the back of your hands, always there for one another emotionally and physically.

both of you were together all the time, seeing each other everyday, people truly wondered how you both didn’t get sick of each other. you and leah loved nothing more than to just be together, even if it was doing nothing.

it was national camp, meaning you and leah along with the lionesses were travelling around the world. training was gruelling, everyone was absolutely exhausted, this included your wife, the captain.

you had made it back to the hotel room, leah fast asleep next to you. she lay on her stomach with her arm resting on your waist. you were lying on your side, facing her and smiling watching her lightly breathe out, her nose slightly twitching.

you couldn’t believe that the girl you had a crush on all your life was yours. you ran a hand through her soft hair, she lightly woke up to move and rest her head on your chest, you now flat on your back. she continued to rise and fall on your chest while you played with her hair.

now that you knew she was out cold, it was time to engage in your favourite bedtime activity. it was time to watch your wife’s edits on tiktok.

you had a dedicated folder called ‘literal wife’ to store all of your favourite edits of your favourite girl. it had over 1000 videos.

you looked down at her and pulled out your phone opening tiktok. you search up ‘leah williamson edits’ on tiktok and couldn’t help but grin excitedly. had you seen most of these? yes. have you saved all of them? yes. do you see her everyday? yes - no regrets, you thought.

every new edit you saw, you liked and saved. you didn’t have a burner account, you didn’t care that people saw you fangirling over your wife. you frequently commented on people’s edits, thanking them for their services.

while watching the edits, you giggled and smiled. covering your mouth so you didn’t wake up the girl on your chest with you watching videos of her.

you stumble upon a new edit you had never seen before, you watch it through once and drop your phone next to you. you put your hands over your face and groaned. you were completely flushed, this girl had such a huge effect on you and you were literally married to her and took her last name.

the noise woke leah up, the audio continues to play in the background. she hovers over you and takes in your appearance. you’re lying down with your face covered, your body hot.

“are you alright, baby? what’s wrong?” she speaks softly, voice imbued with sleep.

you shook your head, still covering your face. leah is really concerned, the audio in the back was distracting her from deciphering what was wrong with you so she flips your phone to turn it off.

that’s when she sees it, you’re repeatedly watching fan edits of her, and you’ve saved it. she pauses, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. she moves to straddle your waist, pausing the video.

she grabs your hands from your face and pinning them to your sides. your face was so red, you were embarrassed that she caught you doing this while she’s literally on top of you.

“my girl, you’re my little number one fan, aren’t you?”

you move your gaze from her gorgeous face, looking anywhere but at her.

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby” she grabs your chin and directs your eyes to her. you move your hands to lightly rest on her hips, still bright red.

“what’re you doing, love?” she shakes her head at you, still grinning at you cockily.

“nothing” you reply so quick, she laughs.

“there’s no point in hiding it, baby, I saw your phone.” she starts, “nothing to be ashamed of, baby” she coos

“how much did you see, williamson” you question,

“I saw you watching a little edit of me, mrs williamson, why have you got more up your sleeve?”

“psh, no, in your dreams!” you exclaim

leah took one look at you and knew you were lying. she darts forward and grabs your phone. you try to grab it off her but she pushes you into the bed with her hips, holding the phone above your head. there was no point now. she was extremely strong.

“oh my god” her eyes widened, “you’re joking!” her jaw hung open a little. your ‘literal wife’ folder was the only collection you had made on tiktok. it had so many videos, leah could not believe what she was seeing.

“baby” she breathes out, she looks at you with so much love at this moment, you had to cover your face again. she threw her head back in giggles, “stop it lee, I’m embarrassed” you muffled from behind your hands.

“if I could marry you again, right here right now I would” you peek at her through your hands,

“I’m so flattered right now, I don’t know what to say” leah was so shocked, one about how many videos you had saved and two how much she found this attractive.

you giggle at her, “really?” she nods her head frantically and you smile up at her. she moves down to place a searing kiss on your lips, whining into your mouth and moving her hands under your (her) shirt, grazing your warm skin. you move your hands in her hair again. both of you were frantic in the kiss, wanting to express all your emotions through actions.

she prodded her tongue at your bottom lip and you grant her access. your tongues now moving with each other completely in sync. everything so fluid, you both knew each other too well. the kiss progressed in a night of you and leah showing your appreciation for each other.

she collapses next to you. both of you completely breathless, she holds your hand tightly. “I love that we’re married and you fangirl over me while I’m asleep, want me to sign your boob or something?” she presses a kiss to the back of your hand. you giggle at her, “do you want to know a secret, williamson?”

“tell me, baby girl” she looks over at you. you slightly sit up, propped up on your elbow. both of you had extremely wide pupils and swollen lips.

“I watch them every night and every time we’re apart” you whisper at her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

she groans. “you’ve got a lot of nerve, williamson, telling me that and expecting me to be okay after it”

“says you, williamson! maybe if you weren’t so hot, I wouldn’t have to do this, would I?”

“but you do” she winks,

“yeah, I do” you scrunch your nose at her, placing a sweet kiss on her lips.

the next night, you fell asleep first. leah did an absolute number on you last night, you were exhausted, training doing no you no favours. she smiled watching you sleeping on top of her. your roles reversed from the previous night. she traced shapes on your back as you cuddled into her chest.

she was bored. you had gone to bed so early and now she had nothing to do. suddenly an idea flashes in her head. edits. she quickly took out her phone and searched up ‘(y/n) williamson edits’, smiling uncontrollably. she completely understands your obsession. saving thousands to her own new little folder named ‘my wifey’.

this girl was you exactly, giggling and smiling at edits of you on her phone. you woke up at the sound, leah froze and looked down at you. you slightly move off her to look at her phone.

“well, well, well, mrs williamson, look who’s obsessed now.”

“baby, I won’t even lie, you’re so fucking hot I think I’m losing my mind. how the fuck did I pull you?” she groaned.

you sat up immediately, straddling her. déjà vu for both of you.

“are you fucking joking? how did I pull you? have you seen yourself? god! you could run me over with a car and I’d say thank you” she laughs, loudly, you look at her offended, how could she doubt herself to you.

“as much as we could argue about how we pulled each other, please let me show you my favourite edits of you” she pleaded, shamelessly smiling at you.

“only if I can show you mine”

“it’s a deal, williamson”

the night consisted of you showing each other your favourite edits of each other. fangirling over each other. later on, you search up ‘(y/n) and leah williamson’ watching edits of both of you and your long term relationship. both of you sharing laughs, tears and many, many kisses.

let’s just say, edits bring out the worst in both of you. the team making fun of you for your matching hickes. you’ll both need a lot of concealer.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by alessiarusso99 and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: my girl has folders dedicated to me, I win @/yourname

view all comments

yourname: baby, you have one too sooooo I also win

↳ leahwilliamsonn: we want people to know, we love your edits of us and watch them. frequently.

↳ yourname: very. frequently. we thank you all for your services

↳ leahwilliamsonn: sincerely, the williamsons

[inou-ie]

Pairing: Tingyun x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, masturbation, heat cycle, strap-on, crying during sex.

Author's notes: I'm sorry for the anon who requested this, it took so long.

MDNI

Your eyes snap open when you feel heavy weight bearing down upon your body, you feel so sore and it's getting hard to breathe.

"Ah.. you're awake..." Your eyes widen at the sight of Tingyun naked while clinging onto your body tightly her fingers thrusting in and out of her own pussy, despite the pain coursing through your body due to waking up in such an uncomfortable position, you couldn't summon the strength to push her away, especially when she looks so vulnerable.

Tingyun spoke breathlessly, her face flushed with embarrassment and her breaths ragged. "I'm... sorry if I woke you," she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of regret. "Please... don't move away."

You nod in response, staying still like she asked you to while Tingyun keeps fingering and grinding her cunt against your now wet thigh while moaning into your ear. You can feel her hot breath tickling you.

"Please.. please help me.." Tingyun spoke again, but this time with her eyes full of tears.. she looks like in pain, it made your heart ache.

You couldn't help but feel the immense pain and suffering in Tingyun's voice. Despite your initial hesitation, you knew that she needed help—and not just any kind of help. She was in heat, a state where foxes experience an overwhelming sexual desire.

"Lie down, I'll take care of you..." You gave her a reassuring smile before taking a deep breath, you held her close, ignoring the fear that gripped your heart. Gently pushing her down the bed, spreading her legs open to reveal her soaked pussy, already dripping with anticipation for your touch. With one swift movement, you inserted two fingers into her tight, warm hole, filling her up completely.

"Like that... please, please don't stop..." Tingyun's body jolted at the intrusion, both from surprise and pleasure. Moans escaped her lips as you began to thrust your fingers in and out of her depths, finding her g-spot each time and rubbing it softly. Her musky scent filled the air around you, becoming almost overpowering as her arousal intensified.

Tingyun's body trembled under your touch, her whimpers and moans intermingling with her tears. She clutched at your shirt, nails digging into the fabric as she tried to hold onto something in the midst of the storm raging within her.

"It burns... I can't take it. Please do more!" Tingyun begged while whimpering like a helpless puppy. Her hips buckled forward, offering herself up completely to you. Her pussy gripped your fingers tightly, milking them for every drop of pleasure they could give her. Your free hand moved down to cup her breast, squeezing it gently before sliding between her legs to rub against her swollen clit.

"Good girl... just let go, I won't stop until you're satisfied." You spoke softly, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. The tension built inside Tingyun until it felt like she would explode from the pressure alone. Finally, with a loud cry that seemed to echo through the room, she came undone—her walls contracting around your fingers, her hot cum spurting out over your hand and wrist. It was messy but so beautiful that you couldn't help but be caught up in the moment yourself.

Tingyun's orgasm was so powerful that it seemed to go on forever. Her inner walls clamped down tightly around your fingers, refusing to let you pull away from the incredible sensation.

"Please...," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the pulsing rhythm of her climax. "I need more." Tingyun wrapped her arms around you tightly as she sobbed, her tail wrapping around your arm. It was so cute but you also felt bad that she was in pain.

You understood that Tingyun needed more than just your fingers so you planted a soft kiss on her cheek before speaking. "Let me get ready. Wait for me, okay? I'll give you more." Tingyun gave you a nod as she reluctantly let go of your body.

After getting yourself ready, coming back with the biggest strap you have.. you found Tingyun touching herself while burying her face into your pillow, taking in your scent while mumbling your name repeatedly. Poor foxian, she must be needing you so bad...

When Tingyun noticed your presence, she immediately positioned herself. Spreading her legs wide as she tears up. "You're back...! please... I need you inside me." she opened her arms, begging you to come closer, which you did.

Stepping closer still, you positioned yourself between her parted thighs and slowly pushed forward into the waiting heat of her pussy. She arched her back off the bed slightly, taking more of your length inside her than before as she tried to alleviate some of the pressure building up within.

Her cunt gripped tightly around your strap, milking it for every last drop of pleasure it could give her. Your free hand found its way down to cup one of her perky breasts, pinching a nipple softly making Tingyun gasp and moan.

Her face lit up with pure joy as you began to pound into her, filling the room with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Her moans and cries of pleasure echoed around you.

"It's so good..." Tingyun whispers in between her moans, wrapping her arms around your neck to run her fingers through your hair while her legs locked around you, pulling you closer still.

"It is.." You whispered back before leaning down to give her a deep and passionate kiss. Tingyun loved it when you kiss her while moving inside, after all. Her nails dug into your back lightly, drawing small lines of blood that only served to heighten both of your arousals even further. As Tingyun approached another orgasm, her breath hitched in her throat, each moan sounding almost like a sob from how intense it was for her.

"More... it burns inside me... please..." Tingyun sobbed as she held onto you as tight as she can while her body shook from the intense orgasm. Her voice was filled with pleading desperation as she begged for more, her body trembling violently beneath yours.

Her fingers dug into your shoulders painfully as she tried to hold on tight enough not to lose herself in this moment. Her hips buckled forward, meeting every thrust of yours.

As you continue to move in and out of her, you watched as Tingyun's face contorts with pleasure. She kept begging for you not to stop even as she already came over and over again. Her tail wrapped tightly around your thigh while her limbs are around your body tightly, making it hard to move.

You wiped her tears away gently before kissing her forehead, the small gesture made Tingyun grip your strap inside even tighter, she must love you a lot...

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room once more, creating a rhythm that seemed to echo endlessly. The bed was already soaked with Tingyun's cum—a testament to just how many times you had brought her to orgasm.

You took her in every position imaginable: doggy style, missionary, cowgirl... each one sending another wave of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies. Her cries and moans filled the air, muffled slightly by the pillows she bit down on in an attempt to stifle some of the noise.

As dawn started to break through the curtains, signaling the start of a new day, the waves of pleasure finally subsided and left Tingyun weak-kneed but satisfied, you leaned down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Are you okay?" you whispered softly against her skin.

She nodded, still catching her breath after such an intense experience. "Yes... thank you." Tingyun replied softly as she hugs your body, burying her face in your chest while nibbling on your breast, trying her best to stay awake just to show you her gratitude for helping her through her heat. After some more minutes of cuddling and praising Tingyun, she finally drifted off to sleep with a satisfied smile.

[wardenparker]

First Christmas

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of sex toys/gagging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cuddling, fluff, picturesque family stuff everywhere. Summary: A whirlwind relationship has led you to marrying Marcus before a lot of traditional landmarks in the dating realm. Now it's time to meet the Pikes, and you'll be doing it on their absolute favorite holiday. Notes: Please enjoy some seasonal fluff! While Marcus and the Pikes are obviously depicted as celebrating Christmas (duh, that's the plot) there aren't any references to the family being Christian, or to reader's religious identity. This is just some good old fashioned all-American Marcus fluff for the holiday 🧡🎄❄

“I talked to my Mom this morning.” Marcus shucks his jacket, buoyed by his news, although he’s had every reason to grin when he’s coming home to you every night. “And I managed to book the last two tickets. Had to get first class, but I used miles, so it wasn’t that bad.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your lips before he turns to hang his coat on the rack. “Figure we fly out a couple of days before Christmas and we can fly home the day after. We only end up needing to take a day or two maximum out of work that way. What do you think?”

“What do I think about three days with your entire extended family when it will be the very first time I’m meeting them all?” Marrying Marcus had been a whirlwind, and while you’re immensely happy together and have no regrets for the situation— it is a little intimidating. Marcus is incredibly close to his family and you are the exact opposite. “Honestly, babe? I’m intimidated. But I’m all in. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure they like me.”

“It’ll be great. They will love you.” Of course there had been a million and one questions when Marcus had called with the news that he was married. That he couldn’t wait to plan a wedding, and that you and he had just decided to go to the court house. “Get the embarrassing stories and baby pics out of the way before the rest of the family descends on the house.”

“Cramming into that twin bed in your Mom’s house is going to be fun,” you tease, a slight snort following your grin as you start taking leftovers out of the fridge to warm up for dinner. Last night’s Chinese take out order was more than a little over the top.

“Just means we get to snuggle really close.” He hums, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle as he presses close. The honeymoon phase hasn’t even begun to fade, and he hopes it never does. “But I think she did trade it for a queen.”

“We’ll still cuddle.” That’s a promise, and you lean back against his chest with a comforted hum that’s so blissful you just let your eyes fall shut and enjoy it. “Though it might be good if she did trade up. A new bed will squeak a hell of a lot less than an old one.”

His cock twitches, but he’s pretty sure that was the entire point of your comment. You love to see how easily you turn him on. “But then we still have to keep you quiet, baby.” He ducks his head and nips at your neck. “Can’t be screaming my name for the entire house to hear.”

Turning your head, you bat your eyelashes at him innocently and make your eyes extra wide. “Should we pack my gag, then?”

“Fuck.” He hisses quietly, twitching against your ass again. “You want to be gagged and fucked hard in my childhood bedroom?” He rasps out.

“Only if there’s really embarrassing posters on the walls.” The evil little teasing giggle that bubbles out of you comes with a full-on grind of your ass against his rapidly hardening cock. It’s not hard to rile each other up, but it is so much fun.

“Want me to show you how hard I would fuck you?” His hands slide under your shirt and cup your tits through the bra you loath and he loves to take off of you.

“Hmmm.” Even pretending to think about it makes you grin harder and you turn around in his arms to wrap your arms around his neck. “The egg rolls take five minutes to warm up in the oven. Think we can get off that fast?”

“You doubt my abilities?” He pouts at you playfully, even as he moves to start unbuttoning your pants. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

“Maybe I just know giving you a challenge always gets results.” Your hands move to his belt as he starts to pull your own pants open.

“Brat.” His grin is infectious as he pushes your pants and panties down over your hips.

“Yeah, and you love it.” You shove the tray in the oven and practically smack the timer in your haste to set it, ready to hop up on the kitchen counter in the idyllic little house you share with your husband and let him fuck the life out of you.

His chuckle is warm and his hands don’t pause as he slides his hand between your thighs to touch you as his other works his belt buckle. “I do love it.” He admits easily.

Whatever clever comeback you have dies on your lips, too focused on your husband’s large hand and quick fingers at the apex of your thighs to do anything but quickly kick off your pants and panties so you can slide back onto the kitchen counter with your legs open.

“Fuck, I love the way you are so eager.” Marcus is always just as eager, but he doesn’t focus on his wants. Having you in front of him demands that you be pleasured and that’s what he’s going to do.

“For you? Always.” It’s been this way between you since the beginning. Since the day he waltzed into your undercover operation posing as your husband who could forge any painting. The spark was immediate and mutual, and soon the lines between role and real life were blurring for both of you. Now, of course, things are less complicated. But the want is no less real.

Marcus hums, leaning in to kiss along your neck like he had quickly discovered you love. Lips and teeth working together to make you moan while his fingers slide inside you.

“Baby.” Managing to moan anything coherent while he’s touching you is a miracle, but you gasp out when he starts to crook his fingers inside the tight walls of your pussy. “Need you, baby. Need you to fill me up.”

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He promises, grinning at the way your jaw is slack when he pulls back to look at you, “just as soon as you cream all over my fingers, baby.”

A whine seems to seep out of your throat unbidden and you glance over at the kitchen timer as your hips rock against his hand. “Four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” you warn with a grin.

“So we have time to have a drink.” He chuckles as he increases the tempo of his fingers as he works them in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby.” Marcus knows exactly how to work you into a frenzy with seemingly zero effort, and he delights in putting that ability on display just as much as he loves taking you apart extra slowly to make you beg. The man is devastatingly talented and you are the happy beneficiary of all that laser focus.

“That’s what I’m gonna do.” He teases. “Fuck you. Been thinking about it all day while working on paperwork.”

Being on your best behaviour at work does mean that you haven’t had him fuck you on his desk yet, but you’ve been craving it. The kitchen counter will have to serve as a substitute for just a little longer, it seems. “Yeah?” You pant, feeling yourself get closer and closer under his expert touch. “Bet you had to stay hidden behind that desk all day so no one would see how hard I make you.”

“Soooo fucking hard.” He agrees, reaching up and squeezing your tit through your shirt and bra. “Just have to think about how I woke you up sliding inside you this morning.”

“Best way to wake up.” Your head falls back, thumping against the kitchen cabinet but you barely notice.

“And I love to see your eyes turn glassy before you even wipe the sleep away.” Marcus curls his fingers up and leans in to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me baby.”

It should be impossible for him to command it like that and yet as soon as the words are out of his mouth you are gasping in pleasure and feeling the coil at the base of your spine pull tight right before the stars explode behind your eyes. Marcus groans as he watches your eyes flutter closed, your head tilting back against the cabinet and your sweet little pussy just soaking his fingers with the slickest, hottest cum he’s ever had the pleasure of feeling. “That’s it, baby, shake for me.”

“So fucking good.” Drawing in that first deep breath after cumming is always like the first breath of fresh air in the morning. As soon as the heaviness lifts from your limbs you’re surging forward to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his cock to draw him in closer and beg silently for him to fuck you.

It’s Marcus’s turn to groan and his hips rock forward, chasing your grip as you pump his cock. “Fuck baby, need you so bad.” He moans into your mouth and shuffles closer, his fingers digging into your hips to drag you closer to the edge of the counter.

No one could ever doubt the passion in your marriage, that is for damn sure, and you lean back on the counter so Marcus can line himself up at your entrance – moaning softly when he starts to push inside. "Fuck I love you so much."

“I love you too.” An undercover op that had meant to be a means to getting Teresa Lisbon – now Jane – off his mind, had ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him. You are the best thing that ever happened. “So fucking much.” He pushes until he’s buried to the hilt and immediately pulling back to rock into you again.

When the two of you are worked up like this it never takes long. For a couple who routinely fuck an average of twice a day, anyone would think that it would be taking longer by now. It's not like you're pent up after a week of not seeing each other or anything. In fact, you see each other constantly ��  always doing your best to even line up your lunch breaks whenever you possibly can. No, it's just passion. Plain and simple. Top of FormHe has zero problem slapping his thighs against the counter as he works into you. Panting out your name breathlessly as you clench down on him. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, baby.” With one arm twined around his shoulders and the other holding blindly to the counter, your legs have wrapped around Marcus’s trim waist to encourage every thrust. “Feels so fucking amazing.”

“You—your pussy.” He grunts out, biting his lip and then rocking his hips forward with a particularly harsh thrust.

“It’s all yours.” And with as fiercely as his hips slam into yours, it’s a wonder that your pussy doesn’t ache more than she does. But the only aching you ever seem to feel is from wanting him as close as possible. Like right now.

Every push of his hips is complete bliss, groaning as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Even mumbled against his lips it’s so true that it makes your heart swell, and you tilt your hips so he can thrust a little deeper each time. He won’t last much longer and the timer must be almost up anyway. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up.”

“Rub your clit.” He orders. “Cum for me again. Want you to cum again.”

There is nothing you want more in the world right now than to obey, and in barely a Moment more the two of you are panting and moaning into each other’s kiss, careening toward the edge of pleasure. It’s like magic, the way your fingers immediately make your core seize up around him. That little bit of pressure ripping you over the edge and making you cry out his name.

He tumbles over the edge second later, your shaking legs wrapped tight around his waist and keep him deep inside you while he paints your walls with hot cum. It's the perfect way to unwind after a long day at the office, and you groan without restraint. The kisses you press all over his lips and jaw and neck are instantly giddy, the adrenaline rush of cumming taking over the second the crashing orgasm subsides. Marcus groans, tucking his head into your neck the second he can and chuckling as the timer for the oven starts to buzz. “Perfect timing.”

******

“This is it.” The Pike house is on the corner of two main streets in his Nebraska hometown, where the old Victorian rises up from the sidewalk like a proud pillar of the old community and you can perfectly see Marcus growing up here as a little boy. His wholesome, corn-fed, all-American childhood is perfectly framed here. “Right here.” The warmth in his voice is unmistakable, matching the grin that is on his face as he looks up at the house. “Home sweet home. Mom should be here, waiting to pounce on us.”

“You’re excited.” It’s sweet, and you know he’s missed his family something terrible. “Let’s go inside, baby. Time to introduce your wife to your mother.” His second wife, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. His divorce was years and years ago now, even though she is very much still part of the family.

“She’s going to love you.” The fact that he hasn’t had you two on the phone together is just a matter of scheduling but it will quickly be corrected. “Let’s go.” The engine is cut and he opens the driver door to the rental car that was crazy expensive but worth the autonomy of being able to take you around the town.

Like any son, Marcus doesn’t bother to knock at the door but pushes inside, calling out to his mother as soon as it is half open. The first thing that catches your eye is the line of photos down the staircase to your right, and you shift to look at them all right away. Marcus’s two siblings’ wedding photos. A collage frame of each family featuring their children at different ages. Marcus’s graduation photo from the Academy. And his parents’ wedding photo that is now some forty years old.

“Marc?” The voice rings out from the kitchen and there’s the general clanging of pots and pans as she hustles out the doorway, wiping her hands in the dishrag. “Oh Marc, you made it!”

Julia Pike is a tall and fairly slender woman with grays streaked heavily through her dirty blonde hair and laugh lines that speak to a lifetime of joy with her family. But more than all of those things, she is a hugger. Her arms envelope both you and Marcus as soon as you’re within reach and she hums so happily that anyone could be easily forgiven for confusing her with the family cat. “How was your flight, sweetie? The food was probably terrible, right? Airline food always is. Come in, come in! Leave your things here and I’ll get you some lunch.”

“Hey Mom,” his arms are just as tight around his mother as they are when he hugs you. “We didn’t even risk the airport food, so we are starving.” He pulls back and gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please tell me you are making my favorite?”

“Do you think I would just skip out on your first meal home in more than a year and not make you chowder?” She tuts as if she’s insulted and turned to you conspiratorially. “Of all the things in the world, it’s always been corn and potato chowder. Who knows where he picked that up from but the first time I put bacon in it he started begging for it constantly.”

“Because bacon is probably the only thing that beats pancakes.” Marcus leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. “And Mom makes the best corn and potato chowder you will ever have.” He promises you, letting go of her so he can wrap his arm around your waist. “Why don’t you two go into the kitchen and I’ll bring in the bags?”

“Thanks, honey.” It’s just a squeeze of his hand in yours before he slips back out the door, but you already feel more at ease. His mother is so incredibly sweet.

“Don’t worry a bit, I won’t bite.” Julia promises, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and giggling quietly as she guides you to the kitchen. “I’ll quickly fill you in on his most embarrassing stories.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to meet or talk before.” That’s really the first thing you want to say, knowing how much Marcus loves his family. “It’s all happened very fast, and we’re still wrapping up this case that our departments are working on together.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles indulgently. If she had been a lesser woman, she would have been upset or insulted by the quick wedding and no communication, but she was secure in her youngest child’s affection. “You’re in the honeymoon phase and who wants to talk to your mother-in-law when you can be cuddling your new spouse?”

"Unfortunately, work doesn't give us a lot of downtime. Even getting a few days off for Christmas was something of a coup d’état." Following her into the kitchen, you look around the well-appointed space and note buttery looking rolls sitting on a baking tray nearby and the whole place smells like absolute heaven. "I really can't thank you enough for having us here a few days early. He's been so excited to come home and see everyone again."

“I have so looked forward to meeting you.” She waves away your thanks. “The way Marcus has talked about you when we chat, I just knew that we would be good friends.”

"He is...completely remarkable." The warmth that rushes to your cheeks at that admission is immediate, but it's honest. You won't shrug it away or apologize for it. "I know our meeting was pretty unconventional, but it was like we knew each other instantly. He's really...he's my best friend, on top of everything else. So I've really been looking forward to meeting all of you. To see how he got to be the amazing man I married." It sounds cheesy, like you're sucking up or something, but it's all so true. And since you are every bit as sentimental as your husband, you don't mind saying it out loud.

“Marcus has always led with his heart.” Julia acknowledges and turns back towards the stove to start dishing up large bowls of the chowder. “It has sometimes led him to heartbreak,” she tells you, turning around with the first bowl. “But somehow I think he’s got it right.”

"I love him so much." And you won't hesitate to shout it from the rooftops, either, which has a smile spreading over his mother's face as she works. Immediately jumping in, you pick up the empty basket beside the tray of rolls and stack them inside. She's set the little kitchen table for the three of you to eat at, so that is where the basket will end up. "I already can't imagine how I ever kept my head on without him, and I can't imagine a single day of my future without him in it."

“The perfect thing about it, is that I think you mean it.” She tells you, handing you a bowl of chowder. “In fact, I would bet money on it. I have a feeling about these things.”

"You're the one he gets it from." Accepting the bowl and setting it down, you take the next from her as well and make sure everything is set out. The opening and closing of the front door says that Marcus has returned and that makes your smile brighten reflexively. "He has a reputation for it at work. His sixth sense."

“Of course he does. He’s a hard worker and he follows his feelings.” She shrugs slightly. “Sometimes it is faulty, but I blame that on the other people involved.”

"People largely follow patterns, but the human ability to be unpredictable really does throw a monkey wrench in case work sometimes," you acknowledge. Of course, it can also be what makes your job so interesting at times. When Marcus comes down the hall to the kitchen you can't help the way you beam, leaning back for a second so he can help his Mom with the last bowl and get a pitcher of something to drink from the refrigerator. "It smells amazing, Mrs. Pike." Until she's given you explicit permission, you're not presuming to call her by her first name. You've known too many friends who got on their mother-in-law's bad side off the bat for being considered too informal or disrespectful because they tried to be friendly.

“That is just the best compliment I’ve ever had.” Julia can’t help but melt slightly as she pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit down. “Now, I won’t insist that you call me ‘Mom’, but I also don’t want you to call me ‘Mrs. Pike’. That’s your name too now. So, please call me Julia?”

"Julia, then." Sitting down at the table with Marcus and his mother feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than you had worried it might be. But so far? So far, so good. "Although, since you mention it, having two Special Agent Pikes at work has been fairly entertaining. We keep accidentally getting each other's deliveries from the mailroom."

She laughs, well aware of the confusion and commotion it would cause. “You might have to start adding your first initial to your mail.” She snorts, shaking her head. “Or…do nothing and use the mail mix up as a good excuse to steal a kiss on the government’s time.”

"That's..." You glance at Marcus and you both grin unapologetically before everyone digs into their lunch. "What we've been doing so far. But once Marcus gets his promotion it won't be a worry anymore. His title will change and the mix-ups will be over."

“I still cannot believe that they have not moved you into the role you went to D.C. for.” Julia huffs, frowning fiercely. It seems like that is just wrong to her and it is. Her baby was supposed to be the head of his department by now, but something about delaying retirement on the outgoing head had pushed back Marcus taking over the role.

“Technically, they have,” you assure her, not wanting his mother to think that Marcus isn’t being fully respected at work. “He is running the task force that he was promised. The decision to move him up to head of the department came after he had already accepted the transfer, so it’s on a different timeline. But it’s all on track. The current department head just wanted to finish out the calendar year and he’ll retire at the end of the month. It’s just a matter of weeks now.”

“Well…that’s good, I suppose.” Like any mother she knows, she’s protective over her children and their lives, even when they’ve long left her nest. “And Marc tells me that you work in another department? How are you enjoying it?”

“I work in the white collar crimes division,” you nod, managing not to moan out loud at your first taste of the soup. No wonder this is Marcus’s favorite, it’s like a giant hug. “Mostly I work on fraud cases. Forgeries are my specialty. Which…is how Marcus and I met. I needed an art consultant on a case I was working on, and he’s the best of the best.”

"He is the best." She beams as only a mother can and grins. "Although, at one point, he wanted nothing more than the be a rock star with his band."

“I keep telling him he should start up again.” The grin you throw your husband is nearly victorious. You just know his mother is going to take your side. “A couple of guys in my department need a new bassist for their band and he would be perfect.”

"If he would enjoy it, I have his old bass in the attic." She supplies immediately. "There is no reason you shouldn't take it back with you. I know it's in good condition, I have to keep Kelly's oldest from sneaking it out of the house every time he comes over."

“What do you think, babe?” It’s entirely up to him, even if he never wants to join another band you still want him to have music in his life. “We can absolutely bring your bass home with us if you want to.”

"If you don't mind." His eyes slide towards his mother again, While it was his bass, it had been a last gift from his father and it was something that he could not take with him when he moved out for good. All of the kids had left the last gifts that he had given them in the house they had lived in with him. A kind of living memorial to a man who could never be replaced.

“It’s totally up to you, honey.” His mother promises. “Your brother has been hinting about his little girl being interested in Grandpa’s baseball gear when she’s old enough, so I think it’s time.”

He mulls it over, taking another spoonful of the chowder as he thinks. "I will take it home." He decides after a Moment. "It would be good to start playing again and one day—" His eyes slide warmly over to you. "Maybe it will be passed down to the next generation of Pike."

Julia raises one manicured eyebrow at that and gladly notes the way your expression turns a little dreamy at the idea. “I take it that topic has been bandied around a little at home?”

"We've talked about it." Marcus admits, setting down his spoon and picking up your hand. "We want to spend a little time together first, and figured that we would return to the conversation when I've settled into my new role." That’s what you agreed upon together, but Marcus won’t deny that if it happens sooner rather than later, he’ll be over the moon.

“I have to say.” The smile she aims at both of you is proud and bright. “It sounds like you’re enjoying being married, and that is half the battle in the beginning.”

"We are, Mom." Marcus agrees easily, squeezing your hand and looking over her with pure adoration in his warm brown eyes. "I had one hell of an example with you and Dad, and I think that we would make both of your proud."

******

Celebrating his long-overdue return to his hometown means that Marcus takes you to his favorite little family restaurant for dinner that night and by the time you’re falling into his bed, you’re both feeling relaxed and incredibly sleepy. Getting to see parts of his past is a window into his soul that you’ve never gotten before, and you curl around him in your pjs with a contended sigh.

Marcus has a habit of stroking your bare back until you fall asleep. Since you’re not sleeping nude tonight, his hand slides under your pajama shirt to touch you. “So what do you think?” He asks softly, wanting to know how you feel about his town where he spent his formative years.

“It’s the perfect little slice of Americana,” you tell him with a grin. “I can absolutely see you running around here as the happiest little kid in the world.”

“I had my teenage angst.” He admits with a chuckle, thinking back to how naive he had been about what was truly heartbreaking. “Like most kids do. Rebelled a little.”

"Grew your hair and became a little rock star?" The pictures of teenage Marcus with long curls and shredded t-shirts didn't last for a very long period of his teenage years, but they definitely seem to be among his most treasured memories.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.” He admits. “Almost got a tattoo. Although I’m lucky I didn’t have a scar when my nose ring came out.”

"I'm sooo bummed I missed that entire phase," you giggle into his side, having now seen a plethora of photos from Marcus's younger years. "I would've been all over you in high school."

“Yeah?” He hums, grinning into the darkness. “You would have been my little groupie?”

“Oh totally.” He sounds so utterly pleased that you giggle. “I would’ve been swooning at your feet.”

“I would have let you.” He admits, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “Given you a private performance.”

Another giggle becomes a snort, and you rest your chin on Marcus’s chest to look up at him. “Your mother might not have liked me so much as a sixteen-year-old groupie, but I woulda been stuck to you like glue.”

“She was actually pretty cool with boyfriends and girlfriends.” He tells you. “She would have just made sure we were being safe.”

“Mmkay,” you hum and laugh. “So it would have been finding refuge here after my parents forbade me from seeing you anymore. Got it.”

He hums. “I could still impress the parents with my manners.” He promises. “No forbidding going on.”

“I just would have snuck out to see you.” It’s a fun little game of pretend to play, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Nothing could keep me from you, babe. We’re stuck like glue.”

“We are stuck like glue.” He smiles at you, ecstatic about that fact, that he’s gotten it right. “Me and you babe.”

******

On Sunday morning, his siblings and their families descend on the house early. All the Pike kids are morning people, apparently, and even more so when mornings include Christmas movies. The clattering downstairs is what wakes you, and you huff a groan into your husband’s side when you realize he’s silently stroking your back in your sleep. “Early.” You mumble, knowing it’s later than the time you get up for work but early for vacation wake up time.

“I know.” He’s eager to get downstairs, but he’s also eager to stay by your side. “But I know Mom will have coffee and fruit strudels downstairs.”

“Tempting.” But it’s not nearly as tempting as morning kisses, and you shift up the bed to snag some.

Marcus hums, smiling against your lips as he holds you close. “Morning.” He whispers between soft and sweet kisses. Enjoying the intimacy of the moment with you before the chaos begins.

“Morning, my love.” There are few things better than these quiet morning moments, and you savor them when you can. Work days are far too busy for cuddling so weekends are precious and holidays? Even more so.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come.” He admits quietly. “They are crazy and loud, but they are my family and I love them.” He grins. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Being held against his chest and wrapped up in bed with him is your safe place, but the morning is calling with loud voices so you place a kiss over his heart and stretch. “So exactly how many of your million cousins are coming today?”

“All of them?” He poses it as question and then laughs. “I think after the news I was bringing my new wife leaked, everyone decided to turn it into a family reunion.”

“Ahhh.” That makes you nod in understanding. “So it’s a really good thing that I packed nice clothes for this trip. Got it.” You had prepared for it, expecting to be a little bit on display, but you know how excited he is to be home. It made you want to work extra hard to make a good impression on his family.

“Don’t worry, they will absolutely love you.” He promises. His hand slides down and he pats your ass. “We need to get up and get the day started though.”

“Come on, handsome.” You haul yourself up with a groan after one more kiss. “Let’s get dressed.”

He chuckles as he watches you grumpily get up. You never like to leave a bed without a few good groans and it’s positively endearing to him.

“My body knows it’s a holiday,” you grumble good naturedly, as if you don’t groan about getting up for about three or four sentences every morning regardless. “It’s protesting.”

“Of course it’s protesting.” He shakes his head, climbing out of the bed with far more enthusiasm and starting to make the bed. “You would sleep for twenty-three hours out of the day if you could.”

“Only since adulthood.” Getting ready together is a nice, soothing little ritual and you pull your clothes out of your suitcase with precision. “When I was younger I could just go, go, go. But now?” You shrug and offer him a smile. “Why wouldn’t I want to be in bed these days? You’re there, too.”

He grins and winks at you. “You know, I think I like your thinking.” He flirts shamelessly with you, enjoying how easy it is.

“My logic is unflappable.” You boast, grinning at him and giggling, mood lifted immensely just by his smile. “But we need to get dressed, sir. You have a football game to play, if I remember my Pike family traditions correctly.”

“That’s true. It’s always best to come to the table with black eyes and bloody noses.” He chuckles and strips off his sleep shirt to pull on a sweatshirt.

“How do you expect me to function properly with the mental image of you being rugged and athletic and then the real image of you shirtless? It’s just unfair.”

He hums, smirking at the pouting tone of your voice and he bites his lip. “You’ll have a good view from the kitchen window.”

“Kitchen window?” Even though you know that’s where you’ll be most of the time — what with his mother loving to cook and his sister Kelly running a restaurant in the nearest city with two of their cousins — you still make noises. “My ass is going to be on that porch with a mug of something warm for a front row view.”

He snorts and walks back over to kiss you before he changes from comfortable boxers to more secure boxer briefs. Less chance of his brother ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the groin again this year. “Don’t worry, I’m sure all of you will be out there at some point.”

"I will be sure to spearhead that viewing party." You promise him before patting his ass with a smirk. "I will be watching very disrespectfully."

"What will I get when I score a touchdown?" He waggles his brows at you suggestively.

"Something that is not family friendly." And that is an absolute promise. "Now come on, handsome. I have a whole lot of Pikes to meet."

"Damnit." Marcus hisses quietly, reaching down to readjust himself in those boxer briefs before he slides on his sweats. "Now I want to go back to bed."

"Love youuuu," you sing-song, sashaying back across the room to your stack of clothes.

******

Downstairs is the general chaos that Marcus had expected and he's halfway down the stairs when he hears his brother Alex shouting. "SHUT UP, stop talking about them! They're coming!"

It throws you into an unexpected fit of giggles, and you have to pause mid-stair to compose yourself before hitting the ground floor just behind Marcus. "Nothing bad, I hope?" You ask, coming around the corner to where the living room, hallway, and kitchen are overflowing with your husband's extended family.

Alex, an older, slightly more rugged version of his younger brother with their mother's nose, grins at you. "Oh, just taking bets on if you were making a baby or freaking out about meeting this nut house of family members." He admits shamelessly.

"I am that dreaded thing known as a Night Owl," you admit with your hand on your heart, as if you were admitting to some dreadful sin. "It takes me a couple of extra minutes to get going in the morning. Nothing nefarious, I am sorry to report."

"Ohhhhh nooooooo, Marc – say it isn't so?" Clutching his hand to his chest, he looks at his brother in horror. Always the comically dramatic one of the bunch, he plays it up for all he's worth considering that the entire family is focused on all of you right now. He grins and winks at you just in case you aren't aware that he's not serious. "Take her back! Take her back to the wife store!"

"No returns." With a smirk and a smothered laugh, you wave your ring in the air —  earning you some whoops and hollers from the assembled women of the Pike family. "Now I'm gonna get some tea, you boys play nice."

"Damn, she's way too good looking for your ugly ass." As soon as you sail by him, Alex grabs Marcus and pulls him in for a bone crushing hug that only brothers can give. "Fuck, it's good to see you."

"We all missed you." His sister Kelly is on the other side of him immediately, smacking Alex's arm away so she can hug their baby brother.

"Miss you too." He laughs, looking over her shoulder as he hugs his favorite sibling. "You, not Alex." He clarifies and grins when his older brother shoots him a bird.

"No one misses Alex," she laughs, sticking her tongue out at the oldest of the Pike siblings with glee. In typical middle child fashion, Kelly had become loud and active and attention-grabbing in her own right. All of which might have also been a survival tactic for having two very individual brothers. "You're good, Marc? Not working too hard? Mom said they still haven't given you your damn promotion."

"It's coming." He promises with a nod of his head. "Right now, I'm just riding out my time as a flunkie so I can spend more time with my gorgeous wife instead of balancing department budgets late into the night." He tells her with a grin as his eyes slide over the kitchen, hoping for a glance of you.

"Ugh," his sister groans, fully teasing. "He's still in the honeymoon period."

"Hope it never ends." Marcus rolls his eyes when he looks back at her, but he's not lying. He hopes your marriage is just as strong as his parents’. They were in love until the day his father passed and still his mother will happily say that he is the love of her life.

"Gross." Alex chimes in, grimacing at his brother for full effect. It doesn't matter that he and Kelly are both happily married to supportive spouses that they love with all their hearts. They have to tease Marcus.

"Yep." Marcus smirks at his older brother. "She gave me cooties." He warns childishly.

"It's supposed to be the other way around, ya know." Alex ruffles Marcus's short hair and needles his younger brother with glee. "You're supposed to give her cooties. Or did you not pay attention in sex ed?"

He takes the ruffling of his hair with only a small groan and chuckles as he dodges another swipe. "Oh, I paid attention." He promises. "I'm a Boy Scout, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alex rolls his eyes. "You never let us forget. Perfect youngest child with his perfect extracurriculars and now his perfect job." Though the older brother might gripe, they're all very proud of Marcus. It's just more fun to make fun.

"Don't forget, perfect wife." Marcus adds. As much shit as they give him, they were also his biggest support system when he was going through his divorce. They had kept him sane and he loves them for it.

"Do we call this 'the third time's the charm'?" Kelly asks, lightly teasing but so incredibly glad to see their little brother happy again. And happier, if this morning is any indication, than they've seen him with any partner before. "I'm gonna tell her all your most embarrassing stories while you guys are playing football. The ones that Mom doesn't know."

"I've already told her." He lies through his teeth, aware that he's not come close to telling you all his embarrassing stories, but he has to put on a brave front. Any and all fear will be utilized against him if he doesn't stand strong. Shrugging, he pretends to be unconcerned. "So go ahead."

"Gonna call your bluff, little brother," she announces before hustling off to find you in the kitchen.

"Shit." He hisses under his breath, dreading what stories she will spread. Alex chuckles and shakes his head. "You're in for it now, little brother."

The kitchen is a different sort of chaos on this Christmas Eve morning, but the sound of the kids watching A Muppet Christmas Carol in the living room is a welcome soundtrack to all the fuss. "It's their tradition," Julia is explaining to you, talking about the next generation of young cousins and their movie choice. "Their parents and some of the older siblings get in on the lawn football game, but they like to watch Christmas movies all morning until we're ready to break out the stuff to make gingerbread houses after lunch."

“Ohhhhh wifey.” Kelly trills as she floats into the kitchen, stopping by the fridge to pull out the bottles of Prosecco she had put in there when she arrived. “It is my duty as your sister-in-law – the best one – to ply you with alcohol and tell you embarrassing stories about my baby brother.” She grins as she holds up the bottle. “Now, OJ or cranberry juice?”

The laugh that bubbles out of you with Kelly's appearance is honest and light, and you finish your last sip of tea before attempting to speak. "It’s a little too early for alcohol for me, but makes yours with a little bit of both." The suggestion is full of absolute certainty and you add, "Trust me," when she tilts her head at you with curiosity. "One part OJ, one part cranberry, two parts bubbly. It's perfect. I’ll just have equal parts orange juice and cranberry juice for now. That’s also absolutely delicious."

“Alright…sounds pretty good. I’ll give it a try.” Her eyes slide over to Julia and she raises a brow. “Mom? Are you in?” She asks mischievously.

"You two have fun." Julia shakes her head, bowing out in favour of letting her middle child and the family's newest member have some one-on-one time. "I'm going to get lunch in the oven early, I think. So we can all relax a little."

“Of course.” Kelly rolls her eyes and looks at you with a grin. “You’ll love Mom’s lasagna. It’s a tradition.”

"I've heard nothing but amazing things." In fact, Marcus has been raving about his mother's cooking. "I hear it's on the menu at your restaurant, too? The famous family recipe."

Kelly nods and shrugs slightly as she snags two champagne flutes from the cabinet. “Still can’t make it as good as Mom can.” She admits shamelessly.

"That's Mom Magic," you hum, not quite admitting out loud that it's the type of magic you want to have one day.

“Also probably the secret ingredient that she’s not telling me about.” Kelly teases her Mom, knowing there’s no ingredient, but loving to rag on her.

"Patience," Julia tells her definitively as she starts to bustle around the kitchen again. "It's patience. And my kids all love instant gratification."

Kelly snorts as she pours the juices into the glasses. “Of course we do, Mom. Why do you think you have grandkids?”

"Could always use some more!" She sing-songs, glancing in your direction with a smirk before turning back to her task at hand.

“Mom, don’t scare her off by being greedy.” Kelly scolds her mother playfully. “If they want to give you more grandkids, they will do it on their schedule.” It’s important that you understand that they will tease and play but they will never be those obnoxious in-laws that demand you do things their way or give them what they want for your life. It was always what Marcus’s ex-fiancée had claimed, that they were too pushy, when they had just been asking questions about their future.

“It’s okay,” you assure both women, not scared off in the least. “We do want kids, just not quite yet. We’re enjoying the honeymoon period a little too much to want to change anything just yet.”

Even though you’re talking about her brother, Kelly grins and winks at you as she picks up her mimosa and hands you your juice. “Practice makes perfect, right?” She jokes.

It’s not even worth hiding your smirk or the mild embarrassment in your face, since she’s absolutely right. “Something like that,” you agree with burning hot cheeks.

“See? You’ll have more grandbabies in no time, Mom.” Kelly taps her glad to yours. “Welcome to the nut house.” She welcomes you. “We don’t bite…hard.”

If it was his friends instead of his family, you might tease that Marcus does bite hard, but his mother and sister don’t need to know about the tender marks on your inner thighs. “Thank you for having me,” you joke instead. “I’m very glad to join this particular nut house.”

“We are happy to have you.” Julia promises as she carefully covers the massive lasagna in multiple layers of aluminum foil. Not wanting the top to burn. Luckily, she had already put it together the day before so it’s ready to go.

******

You were warned about the football game. You really were. Marcus had tried to impress upon you how over-the-top he gets with his brother and brother-in-law and cousins. You had thought touch football on the front lawn was a sort of cute, insanely all-American tradition to have. Even in the snow it had sounded quaint. Now that they’re halfway through the game, though? You can see the people who really have fun with this tradition are the wives and girlfriends. The group of you are up on the porch with mugs of wassail either shouting encouragements or giggling to yourselves in appreciation of attractive men tackling each other (partially) for your amusement.

Even though it’s colder than hell, the men have nearly all removed their shirts. Panting and sweating as they try to their hardest to beat the shit out of each other for sport.

“I love football.” Alex’s wife chuckles when she comes up beside you and Kelly and hands you both iced gingerbread cookies.

“Pass interference!” Marcus shouts, shaking his head and huffing after his cousin shoved him out of the way. “That’s bullshit!”

“Forgot how to play dirty, Fed?” His cousin laughs it off, having discarded his Omaha Fire Department sweatshirt on the porch railing. “Fight back, Marcus!”

“Aren’t you the one who had to have a pack of peas on your nuts last year?” Marcus taunts back. “Thought you were gonna use those tiny peanuts to make a baby?”

“Twins on the way, baby!” The cousin – Ryan – cheers back, like somehow he was extra virile enough to cause twins, rather than it being entirely up to his wife’s anatomy.

“Alright, alright, focus up assholes.” Alex calls, bringing the two men back into the fold of the game. Good natured smack talk is all part of the fun, of course.

“He’s just mad he can’t throw.” Ryan shouts from the other side, grinning when Alex shoots him a bird. “Most interceptions of all the QBs.”

Shaking off the heckling with a laugh, Marcus waves at you and blows a kiss up to the porch as he jogs by to retake his position. “So you’re Marcus’s new…fiancée?”

You hear the question from elsewhere on the porch and you turn to face the speaker. “Wife.” It’s his cousin Ryan’s pregnant wife, of course, and you steel yourself with a forced smile. Marcus’s cousin Ryan had married his ex-wife years after the divorce. Honestly you can’t quite figure out how the whole family seems okay with it, but they are. “I’m his wife.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen and her hand stops rubbing her rounded stomach. “That’s— I hadn’t heard! Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” She actually seems to mean it instead of having some underlying sarcasm, and that soothes you right away. “It was recent. I guess word is still getting around.”

“I’m sure Julia wanted to make a big toast tonight.” She bites her lip and sighs. “I’m Vanessa. I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“Honestly?” A small laugh bubbles out of you, surprising you both. “I ought to thank you. If you hadn’t divorced him, then I could never have married him.”

Staring at you for a second, she grins back at you. “You’re welcome, then. Part of the cousin-in-law package.” She snorts. “Free of charge, of course.”

While you don’t think Marcus ever would have lied to you about what happened, it seemed a little too straight forward to you. Like maybe he was leaving something out to spare feelings, which is definitely something your sweet and generally gentle husband would do. “I hope it really was as painless as Marcus says.”

“Oh, Marcus was – is – amazing.” Vanessa insists immediately, having enough affection for Marcus that she is still willing and able to come to his defense. “We met freshman year of college, decided it was love, and didn’t have a clue what love really was.” She shakes her head. “We adore each other, just— as friends and not partners.”

“I admit, I couldn’t really understand why the whole family seemed totally fine with everything.” Deciding to be honest, you just shrug and take a sip of wassail. “But it only takes thirty seconds to realize that there’s no ill will, and that’s…it’s a big comfort.”

“I met Ryan when I was working on my masters.” Vanessa admits with a sheepish grin. “He had been in the military and deployed when I was with Marcus. I didn’t even know until we were talking about meeting the folks.”

“It would have been a very awkward surprise.” Being able to laugh together is a relief, one that you’re not going to take for granted at all. “I’m glad to see that everyone has ended up happy. That’s so rarely the way, and it’s a shame.”

“It is a shame and I hated that Marcus was having a rough go for a while.” She frowns fiercely and shakes her head. “I don’t know what that Lisbon lady was thinking but she could have done so much better breaking things off with him.”

“She doesn’t have the greatest reputation around the office.” You admit, though the whispers have gotten to you through backways, and only since you started seeing Marcus so you’re sure you only hear the bad stuff. “Either way, everyone is happy. That’s what matters.”

Vanessa nods after a moment, her frown turning into a smile. “I understand if you find it odd, or don’t like me on the principle that I’ve slept with your husband, but I hope we can be friends.”

"It doesn't make any sense to be upset with you over something that happened years before Marcus and I ever even met." Putting your hand out to her, the offer of a handshake is your formal show of a truce. No hard feelings. Not from your end. "I'm happy to be friends."

“Well, that went better than I ever hoped.” Amy admits, coming out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Prosecco. “Top off on mimosas, anyone? The juice content is getting a little high.”

A few people around the porch take her up on the offer, but you politely shake your head and decide to stick with wassail. The game seems to be wrapping up as well, which means it will soon be time to do the traditional Pike family Christmas Eve gift exchange before dinner. At some point Marcus's mother had read about the Icelandic tradition of receiving a book to read on Christmas Eve and loved it so much that it has become tradition.

“Whoever gets ’Beautiful Secret’….” Vanessa hums, waggling her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”

"Welcome to the real tradition," Kelly jokes, looping her arm through yours as the group from the porch starts to pour back into the house in advance of the football players. "Most of the books exchanged between the adult members of the family are a little...saucy."

“Mom pretends she doesn’t know any of them.” Amy snorts, grinning knowingly. “But that woman has a stash of trashy romance novels from the seventies in the attics and somehow, those boxes are multiplying.”

"Marcus clued me in," you promise, following your two sisters-in-law inside. "I brought my best offering, I promise." The choice you made was very specific, and really has one recipient in mind. Even thinking about it just makes you nervous for what’s to come.

“Of course he did.” There’s a grin tossed your way. “Marcus was the one who was always reading Mom’s books when she wasn’t looking.”

"I'm not even mad about it." A laugh bubbles out of you that you don't bother to stifle, and you shrug. "It's purely educational for him, I swear."

“Ugh, I don’t want to know about my brother’s bedroom habits.” His sister shudders playfully before she points her finger at you. “As long as he’s taking care of you.”

“Oh, I promise.” He’s more than taking care of you. Marcus treats you like a queen. But Kelly doesn’t want to know that so you just smile and let the happy, hazy expression on your face do the talking for you.

“Ohhhhhhh.” All the women in the kitchen making a knowing noise and grin at you. “That answers that.”

“Answers what?” The oldest Pike sibling is the one to lead the charge into the kitchen and Alex makes his way over to his wife to kiss her before going for a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator.

“If your brother is taking care of his responsibilities.” The kiss is accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“I thought you couldn’t talk about the case yet?” Alex looks back at Marcus, who comes into the kitchen behind him.

Marcus frowns in confusion and props his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. “Huh?”

“Not that,” you laugh, reaching to give your sweaty husband a hug. “We were just talking about the book exchange and got a little off-topic.”

“Oh?” He eyes his sister and sister-in-law with playful suspicion. “Don’t believe a word they say.” He jokes.

“Sure, honey.” You snicker lightly. “But they should believe me.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, leaning in and dropping a soft kiss on your lips with a grin. “Federal agents are held up to a high standard.”

“Yes, we absolutely are.” It earns him another kiss, and those familiar butterflies in your belly that have been so active lately swell up again at just how much you love him.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Marcus tells you. “Kicking ass made me sweaty.” He grins again.

“Hurry back.” Partly because you miss having him at your side, but also because it’s almost time for the book exchange, and you’re just as excited as you after nervous for that.

Marcus winks. “Of course, sweetheart. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Then we’ll start the book exchange in ten minutes.” His mother decides. And the kids can go first, just in case he takes a few extra minutes.”

“And so they are reading.” Vanessa snorts. “Less likely to pay attention to our books.”

“Probably better for everyone,” you agree, offering a smile and a knowing laugh.

******

Marcus is true to his word, bouncing down the stairs with wet hair and fresh clothes nine minutes later. The spicy, musky cologne he’s wearing is one that you picked for him and he loves it. “I’m back. So stop talking about me.”

“It’s only good things, babe.” When he plops down beside you in the living room window seat, he has a wrapped gift in his hand that looks like the size of a standard novel and it makes the thick volume in your lap feel even heavier. No turning back now…you remind yourself silently.

Mistaking your slightly tighter grip on the book as nerves, Marcus reaches over and takes your hand. “They love you, babe.” He whispers confidently. “My brother was already telling me he likes you more than he likes me.” It was a joke, but it makes him happy that you are so easily accepted into the fold.

“Alex seems easily swayed,” you tease, leaning into Marcus’s side. “All I had to do was promise to listen to all of his favorite embarrassing stories about you.”

“Thanks, creep.” Marcus scowls at Alex, pretending to be mad while his brother hams it up. “Anytime man!”

“Alright, alright.” Julia comes back into the living room with her own parcel in her hands. “Kiddos first. Everybody circle up!” The grandkids and cousins scramble to comply, all sitting around together knee to knee after strategically choosing who to sit next to like their lives depend on it. When Grandma Julia gives the word, everyone passes the book in their hands to the person to their left.

“Now. Exchange the book with the person across from you.” Julia grins as the shuffle starts.The kids eagerly comply, giggling gleefully, and then again when Julia tells them to pass their books two people to the right this time. Around and around, the books pass, each kid squealing when the brightly colored package they want gets closer. “Alright just two more moves.” She warns. The books get passed across the circle diagonally and then once more three people to the left before Julia says to go ahead and open their gifts, and then she turns to the adults with a grin. “Ours is less complicated,” she promises. She likes to get the kids riled up but the adults are always already so tired that she just turns on a Christmas song and announces that the game is ‘musical books’. “Just pass it to the right until I tell you to stop or the song ends.” White Christmas begins to play and you anxiously hand your wrapped book over to Marcus as they begin to go around the circle.

Marcus grins as the groaning from the adults starts. The jokes and the laughter as they try to shove the books into the person next them as fast as they can. “It’s fun!” He promises you.

It is fun. Or it would be, if you weren’t praying that his mother remembered her end of the deal that you made last night after Marcus had shooed you both out of the kitchen to wash up after dinner. You had admitted that your book gift was specifically for your husband and she had assured you that she would make sure it ended up in his hands. You just hope she sticks to that.

“Okaaaaaaaay.” Julia is watching the book like a hawk. Making sure that it’s close. “Aaaand…stop!” She orders.

Your heart leaps when the large book ends up in Marcus’s hands, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Everybody open up!” Kelly laughs excitedly, but you can’t. Frozen in your seat beside your husband, you watch as he peels the carefully folded and taped wrapping paper to expose the bright yellow cover of the book you selected for him. At this point you’re just holding your breath, not realizing the entire room is watching you.

Marcus reads the book’s title and frowns for a moment. This was your gift. “I— babe?” He sputters, looking up at you with the most hopeful expression on his face.

“Open it,” you murmur softly, already starting to tear up at the light in his eyes.

“But you said—” he doesn’t want to admit how he had wished you had said you were ready when you kept saying it wasn’t the right time, but he wasn’t going to push you. “Okay.” Opening the book, he finally looks away from you.

The dated sonogram is staring him in the face when he pulls open the cover of We’re Pregnant! The First Time Dad’s Pregnancy Handbook accompanied by a handwritten note in the deep blue ink of your favourite pen.

“Meeting you was a surprise, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. Marrying you came like wildfire, and now being parents is our next great adventure. The tiniest Agent Pike is expected in July.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus chokes out, barely able to breathe as he stares at the tiny little nugget on the picture. “Babe…we’re gonna be parents.” It hits him and the book is dropped into his lap as he surges forward to kiss you.

The entire crowd of Marcus’s family around you have exploded into a ruckus of gasps and shouts and cheering, but your world has narrowed down only to him. You’ve been sitting on this secret for two while weeks and barely managed to contain your own excitement. Sure, you had said you wanted to wait. To enjoy being married first. But that baby was having none of it. It bypassed your birth control like a champ, and from the moment your doctor told you it wasn’t stress or a seasonal flu running you down, you’ve been ecstatic.

“Baby, baby.” Marcus can’t help but giggle and grin against your lips as he kisses you over and over again. “I love you. So much. I can’t—”

“Breathe, baby.” And yet you can’t help giggling, breathless right along with him. “Can’t have you hyperventilating on me. We’re gonna have to get through a whole lot in the next seven months.”

“I— I thought you wanted to wait.” He shakes his head, trying to understand when this happened, how. Even if he logistically knows how.

“I thought I wanted to wait, too.” You shrug, though, laughing through giddy tears. “But I’m so excited, honey. I can’t believe I actually managed to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus pulls you close, everyone around him fading to the background as he focuses on you. “I can’t believe you did either.” He admits, unable to stop beaming at you. “This is— you can’t ever top this Christmas present.” He decides with a laugh.

“Nope. Never.” Wrapped up in him is exactly where you want to be, but first you wipe the tears from under his eyes and press kisses to his cheeks. “But I have no problem with our first Christmas being our best.”

“I love you so much.” Marcus can’t even stop himself from caressing your stomach, in awe of the knowledge there’s your baby inside.

“I love you, too.” You’ve already lost track of how many times you’ve had your hand on your unchanged stomach since you found out about the baby, and you know that that’s only going to increase now that you can do it together. “And I love this little peanut so damn much.”

“You’re gonna be a Mom.” He chuckles. “And I’m gonna be a Dad.” He’s always wanted to be the father that his own was. Continuing the legacy of Pike dads.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Murmured against his lips, you kiss him one more time before his whole family descends on you with shrieked glee and hugs and a deluge of congratulations. Your first Christmas with the Pikes will probably never be topped, but that’s okay. It’s the perfect next step in your perfectly imperfect life.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

[seniaasaysstuff]

BRAT; Ryomen Sukuna x fem!Itadori Reader. (Soulmate au)

This is a sukuna x fem itadori reader wip. I thought a soulmate au with sukuna possessing you would be an interesting idea haha. It has some cracky undertones.

Yuji is your twin brother but you ate the cursed finger instead.

Would you like to read more of it? Let me know!

Sukuna had been waiting his entire life for you, his soulmate. From the time he learned about soulmates, he was obsessed with the idea of meeting you.

He didn’t quite understand what the words on his wrist meant but he adored him. “Holy fuck you’re hot.” were illuminated on his wrist. He reasoned that maybe it was some other language. He always ran his fingers on the words, tracing them gently whenever he felt sad or angry. It was his only solace in this cruel world.

He didn’t care about the abuse he received from his parents nor did he care about how the villagers treated him.

You were the only thing on his mind. His mind was always wandering around thinking of you. He wondered about what you looked like, how you were doing, if you thought about him as much as he did.

He wished you would just come and save him from the hellish life he was living. He was at a point in his life where he was weak and he wasn’t able to do anything to protect himself.

He trained everyday on his techniques, worked on building muscles and just becoming strong. He got strong and eventually became the strongest sorcerer alive so that he could protect you.

He waited and waited and waited for you to show up one day. But you never showed up. Sukuna felt gutted. He was so filled with grief and sadness that he went mad.

He slaughtered numerous people. It didn’t matter who it was, men or women he killed them all. He didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. He just wanted to meet you.

A time came when he had to be killed. His only regret was that he never got to meet you. His fingers became a cursed object and were sealed away.

In the 21 century, there you were. Itadori y/n, Yuji Itadori’s twin sister.

You were a bubbly child, always happy and just rambling all the time. It didn’t matter who it was, the moment someone talked to you? You went off on tangents about anything and everything. You had never-ending topics and facts and the urge to never shut up.

Your twin, Yuji, was constantly annoyed with your incessant talking but it was also one of the things that he loved about you.

When you found out about soulmates you were amazed by the notion of it. Someone that was going to love you no matter what.

The words written on your wrist were embarrassing and in some ways endearing to you.

The words “I finally found you huh? My brat.” adorned on your wrist. You figured your soulmate was quite a grumpy person that was like an old soul.

You daydreamed about your soulmate all the time. You wondered about what he was like. You eagerly wished to meet him.

————————————————————————

You and Yuji were on your way to the hospital. You both had brought a beautiful bouquet for your Grandpa Saitou. To others he may seem like a rude old man, he literally was but he was so much more than that. He was like your father. He had single-handedly raised you and yuji and loved you both immensely.

You walked inside the hospital room and rushed up to your grandpa Saitou and hugged him. “Grandpa! I missed you.”

Now Grandpa had a soft spot for you. You reminded him of his son, Itadori Jin. Over the years he had fondly spoken about the similarities between you.

“I joined a club with Yuji today!” “Oh really? Tell me all about it.” your grandpa replied with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He was the only one alongside Yuji who loved hearing you talk.

“Yuji? Why am I hearing just now that you joined the occult club?” Grandpa now turned towards Yuji who was placing the flowers in the vase.

“Uh, you know how she is. I am not going to leave her alone.” Yuji shrugged. “This is why I love you yuji!” you fake cried. “Shut up.” He blushed. Grandpa cleared his throat.

“Yuji, you're a strong kid, take care of others, especially her.” Grandpa now turned over and looked at you. “You're the sweetest child and I am proud that I raised you both.”

“Grandpa-why are you saying this?” you stuttered.

“Both of you protect each other no matter what.” Grandpa Saitou spoke and turned over. That was the moment you knew he was dead.

“Grandpa? Grandpa?” Yuji called out.

“Yuji? Is- he de-ad?” your lip quivered. Yuji did not respond, it made you sob. Your legs felt weak and you dropped to the floor. Hot tears were streaming down your face.

Yuji scooped you in his arms and led you out of the hospital room. He sat you down on one of the chairs and let you cry on his shoulder. Yuji also had tears in his eyes, he didn't expect this. Neither of you did.

You were approached by an emo-looking boy with spiky hair. "Yuji Itadori, correct?" The person asked. “You're my soulmate?” Yuji asked, looking dumbfounded.

“This is crazy,” You mumbled. “I’m Fushiguro Megumi. It's nice to finally meet you. I’m from Jujutsu high school. Sorry, but there's no time." He said.

"The cursed object you have is extremely dangerous. Hand it over right away." Megumi spoke. “I don't want you to get hurt,” he added.

"Cursed object?" Itadori asked, confused. You moved to a more secluded area. "This, you have it right?" He asked as he pulled out his phone with a picture of the cursed object.

“Hm?" Itadori looked closer. “Yuji, isn't that the ugly-looking finger?” you questioned.

"Oh yeah! I found it. I don't mind giving it back, but my fellow club members have taken a liking to it." He spoke. "I’d at least like an explanation."

"The majority are the result of negative energy that flows out of people..." Megumi started. “And it's a very dangerous object. I can't risk you getting hurt or other people getting killed.'' Megumi spoke.

“I said that I don't mind it, you can have it.” Yuji handed him the box.“It’s empty? I was just following the taint clinging to the box?” Megumi mumbled.

“Yuji? Where is the finger?” He asked. “It's with our senpais. Actually, they were thinking of removing the talisman tonight.'' Megumi backed away.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked. “Bad? It's worse than bad, they're going to get killed.”

~time skip~

"I just need some cursed energy, right?" you rustled through your pocket and pulled out the finger, and ate it.

“You dumbass. Are you trying to kill yourself?” Yuji yelled at you. “Well if it saves you then i’ll do everything in my power.” you smiled at yuji.

Your entire body convulsed and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You could faintly hear yuji and his soulmate scream for you as you collapsed on the cold floor.

You woke up in a weird dark place that awfully looked like a shrine? And someone was sitting on the throne made up of bones.

You squinted your eyes, “Holy fuck you're hot.” You blurted out then squeaked.

The man chuckled, his voice sounded deep and velvety. “I finally found you huh? My brat.”

“YOU?!!” you shouted.

And just like that, you found your soulmate.

He snapped his fingers and you landed on his lap. “Wow, today is like a trainwreck,” you mumbled.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Well first my grandpa died then my brother found his soulmate and then we heard that our senpais could die because of the old crusty finger so then I ate it and well then I passed out and then I found you?” you animatedly spoke. “Well where did you come from tho?” you asked.

He chuckled again. “I quote ‘The old crusty finger’ That was my finger from my old body that got sealed away.”

“Wait- does that mean you're inside of me?” You asked, feeling confused about the whole situation.

“That sounded so bad.” Sukuna groaned. “But yes I’m quite literally inside your body.”

“How does that even work? And how haven’t you shriveled up like a prune yet? Like you’re so old?” You were very confused.

“I have a good skincare routine.” Sukuna sniffed. You laughed.

“You know I imagined my soulmate to be a grumpy man with an old soul but you turned out to be a grumpy old man with an even older soul.” You giggled.

“I'm not that old, okay?” He grumbled. “How old are you again?” You questioned.

“I stopped counting after 300.” You burst into a fit of giggles.

“Does that mean you're a gilf? Like you're so old.” “Well, I tried to keep myself alive for you and what does gilf mean?” He inquired in confusion.

“Grandpa I’d like to fuck.” You snorted.

He groaned, “That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard. I’ve never had children so how can I be a grandpa?”

“Well, you have that aura.” You spoke, trying to muffle your laugh. “You cheeky brat.” Sukuna huffed.

[achaoticalien]

A Court of Deceit and Decay

Chapter Two- Nesta Archeron

“I will not go.” Nesta, even dragged across the Hewn City’s cold floors, did not regret her decision. The words spat in Rhysand’s face, a sneer on her own. He had simply turned to Morrigan and said, “Perhaps, Mor, we will go with your idea.”

After Nesta’s clear defiance, Feyre had simply cast her eyes down, shame and disgust wrinkled on her youthful face. Nesta had felt her gut sink into the lowest pits of her core, not even for how Morrigan barely hid her grin of pleasure at getting to order Cassian and Azriel to prepare to take Nesta to the Hewn City. But at Feyre’s face. How she didn’t have an ounce of so much as concern on her face. All of it, every inch of it, was just about how Nesta had embarrassed her. 

It filled her to the brim with such hot, heavy hatred, she didn’t even pull away when she felt large hands grip her arms and take her away. As Morrigan prepared to call for a gathering in the Hewn City. A public shaming. 

As she had been forcibly winnowed to the gates of the Hewn City. Cold frigid air whipping in her face from the outside. She turned to Morrigan, dressed in red and decorated with gold, she had a wild grin on her pretty face when she turned to Nesta. Giddy at the idea of getting too exact revenge for Nesta’s commentary on her dress, the Archeron sister supposed. 

“You enjoy this.” Nesta commented, voice as blank and numb as she felt. After the months of harassment from the entirety of the Inner Circle, she could honestly say, this was something she wasn’t surprised by. 

Morrigan smoothed over her expression with one of pity and sadness. Directing her eyes to Feyre, who looked back, Morrigan turned up the teary doe eyes, and the High Lady nodded, turning a sharp gaze to Nesta. For daring to upset her friend. 

Morrigan then leaned in, the perfect display of the humble, sympathetic ambassador. 

“Immensely.” She whispered, before standing straight up again, heels clicking as they entered the Hewn City. Masks on, the play began. 

She walked as best she could with much larger males pulling her along. She tripped and fell, they kept dragging her as per orders, Cassian let out a low scoff. Only Azriel turned an eye to her, lessening his grip, but turning away when she met his gaze. 

The Hewn City doors flung open with a bang, and she was brought before the throne. 

She hung her head, letting the numbness wash over her as her heartbeat picked up being in front of so many people. She hoped this would be over quickly. 

Nesta hoped she would feel nothing as she was thrown to her knees. 

But she did. It made her eyes snap up, like something in between her ribs had fluttered, had struck the nerve and caused electricity to snap up the side of her body. Quickly her eyes darted around. 

Then they landed on a moving shadow. 

Staring out from amongst the darkness of the corners, a pair of amber eyes gazed down on her. Widened, in the dim lighting, Nesta could make out an open mouth. Dressed in Night Court black, however golden jewellery rather than silver adored his ears and fingers. 

Eris, she thought. The male Azriel had choked for insulting Morrigan. 

Thinking back on that night, a tilt to her lips nearly escaped. 

She stared at him, at him and no one else. And he stared at her. Nothing else registered in her head. 

“After deeming yourself unworthy of serving amongst the Court, you are to stay within the restraints of the Hewn City. The Court of Nightmares will decide your place down here Until your High Lady has deemed you worthy of returning to the land above, you will serve as whatever you are appointed to.”

Nesta barely heard her own sentence, as the taste of ash and heat spread over her skin. A fire that spiked up in her gut. Bruising grips held her frail arms once more and she was being dragged out. 

The jeers suddenly hit her, they stabbed into her skin, into her body, like they were scarring her. It all felt real, like she had been snapped from a dream. As something seemed to tingle in the air, a trail that led back to a pair of flaming amber eyes. 

She managed to move her head as she began to pass the doors. And saw him there, their eyes locked once more, and something sparked, like wood catching alight. 

Nesta smelt smoke. 

Cassian and Azriel dropped her in a room, in a house she did not know.  A part of the cavernous tunnels. It looked like an office, hidden in the cracks of the Hewn City. 

Against her will, water peeked in her vision. She blinked them away as her vision became blurry. Looking up she saw Cassian, baring her fangs, she forced herself to her feet and dusted herself off. 

Cassian opened his mouth like he might try to say something, but ultimately, he just turned to Azriel and said, “Come on, Az, we have important work to do.”

It was to brush her aside. 

Important work, that isn’t you. He meant. 

Azriel nodded once, Cassian went out the door first, fists clenched but saying nothing else as his hulking frame disappeared into the darkness. 

Azriel, his hand caught the threshold, he sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder, “You…

Nesta folded her arms neatly in front of her, as she tilted her head and watched him. 

“You could have just agreed.” He hissed, before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Nesta stared at the oak door, the hinges, the handle. She looked around. It was a large office. With a few chairs before a desk at the far side, walls lined with books of old, many of which were most likely older than her father. Possibly older than Rhysand. 

Would have been older than her father, she clarified in her own mind. 

She hummed. Taking in a breath, then another, then another shaking one. 

Nesta swallowed hard, she patted herself down. Trying to find something, anything, a distraction of any kind at all. 

The Archeron sister turned and saw a mirror. It was large and oval shaped, with a golden edging, real gold, pure and likely mined from before Rhysand was High lord. But Nesta did not focus on that. 

She stared at herself, at her dirty image. At the tattered cloak she wore, the thinness of her frame, the deep dark circles under her eyes, the oily slightly matted hair. And the points of her ears. 

She looked like back when they were in that cottage. Back in that weak body, back in those dirty clothes, back in that place that made sleeping, breathing, eating, thinking harder than it ever needed to be. 

Tears welled in her eyes. 

She became someone after that, when they were sent money, when they were given back their life originally taken from their father’s poor decisions. People knew her name, she was going to travel. She was going to finally see what a woman with money and a good name could do in this world. 

Now look at her, she lost everything again, and then some. 

Nesta shook. Tremors rippled through her body as tears on end poured from her eyes. She hugged herself as she fell hung over herself, falling to her knees. She cried and cried, putting a hand over her mouth as her wails became too loud to not be heard by outsiders. She sucked in harsh, short breaths that hurt her lungs and throat. A headache pounded, she felt herself go so weak. 

Everything was taken from her, stripped and destroyed. Her body was violated, broken, twisted and assaulted. Forced into something else. Tongue, teeth, eyes, all shredded, until there was nothing left to take. 

Those nights in taverns, out in clubs, it was high that reminded her of living. Reminded her body it was no longer destroyed, just different. 

But it embarrassed them. 

Nesta hugged herself tighter as her eyes squeezed closed, unable to stop herself from falling apart on the floor. 

The door creaked as it swung open. 

Netsa flung herself back, scrambling to stand, scrubbing her face with her hands, she tried to hide her face. But then her eyes caught onto the intruder. 

Amber. It bore into her. 

Eris stood there, face caught in an array of emotions. The shock of seeing her catching him completely off guard. 

He blinked multiple times, quickly closing his mouth, and bowing his head, “Lady Nesta.”

[cityzenshark]

Family | Chapter 24 - Hearts and Sparks

Homepage | Book One: Family | Book Two: Unity | Book Three: Belonging

Synopsis: The townspeople of Witwicky help the Maltos in return for saving their town.

.

Robby is transferred to the ICU as his conditions worsens. The doctor finds his symptoms to be a combination of sepsis and something that seems to be energon poisoning but isn’t. After he leaves, Robby tearfully confesses to Dot how terrible he had been since moving to their new home and apologizes for putting the Terrans in danger and for lashing out at her. Dorothy hugs her son, crying herself, and forgives him. Robby wishes the cybersleeve to come off. Later, his old friends come to visit him, including Stevie. What Robby said to Stevie still hurts but Stevie hates to see him deathly ill even more. Robby apologizes to him, and the two old friends made up.

       At the town’s capitol building, Alex and Mo is invited by the town Elders to discuss if the town’s old legends are related to the Core, the Emberstone, and the cybersleeves so they might be able to help solve the family’s issues. Mo hesitates to tell, then the shaman reassures her by telling her about Witwicky’s Mountain Spirit and Her stonemen offspring. If the ‘stonemen’ had been previous Terrans, they are records of something similar to cybersleeves on their ancestors who had lived with them. Later, Alex and Mo exit the capitol building to find Mo’s friends and their families waiting for them with charity they had collected for the Malto’s.

“It’s the least we can do after you saved us from Grimlock. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t seen the Terrans before that evening.”

“...You’ve seen them before?”

“Yep! Since your first day of school here, actually.”

“What... Why didn’t any of you say anything?”

“You seem scared for them, Mo. We didn’t want to stress you out, so we decided to wait for you, Robby or Mr and Mrs Malto to say something.”

“The revelation could’ve been better...”

“Hey, Mo, it’s over and done. You and your family saved this town and now it’s time for us to help you.”

       Back home, the Terrans have separated counselling sessions with therapists.

Hashtag has hers by the waterfall. She talks about her trauma and worries how humanity would welcome after what she did in Philly city because – mind controlled or not — she’s still responsible for the damages. Nightshade has theirs at the edge of the cow paddock. They express how ashamed they feel from their lack of understanding to their siblings’ feelings even when the cyberlink was still intact yet hates it so much. Jawbreaker has his at Mrs Belle’s silo. He feels embarrassed to be afraid of his older Terran siblings and shares his guilt for triggering Grimlock’s PTSD. Thrash has his in the bunker. He expresses the burden he feels for not just being the big brother but also being the first of his kind in a world hurt by the senior Transformers-kind; how he wishes the Terrans to never be involved in fixing the Cybertronians’ mistakes.

Meanwhile Twitch has hers in the woods where she and Robby went Wak-Wak hunting. Twitch refuses to admit her wrongs as she tries to convince her therapist how her actions were right, while the latter is wrong and bad for disagreeing her. Her therapist shares his personal story where he let his anger get the better of him. His actions got an innocent bystander killed. While he was in the right that time, the bystander is a victim, and he will forever be responsible for their death. Twitch’s decision to help Bumblebee and Brawl herself was indeed right, but the price was not worth the city’s destruction or it being the world’s first impression on the Terrans. Worst, Hashtag’s innocence is now unbelievable for an unforeseeable future.

Realisation finally dawned on Twitch, followed by immense regret. She wails loudly. Alarmed by her cries, her Terran siblings rush to her. Twitch hugs Hashtag by her neck and sob “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, little sister!!” Though confused, Hashtag hugs her back and their brothers join in. The therapists give them some privacy, feeling relieved and glad for them.

.

.

.

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

New gen Harry Potter headcanons because I'm waiting for my laundry to dry and I'm bored:

Astoria malfoy is from Japan, so scorpius is wasian but still somehow comes out with that malfoy-blonde hair and blue eyes colour pallet, despite still having very Japanese features just like his mother

Carmen and Marco zabini are twins. Carmen is the older one, and she's a total no-nonsense baddie. Marco, on the other hand, is the very embodiment of a golden retriever boy.

Carmen does Marcos hair because he's horrible at taking care of it, and she learned how to braid at the age of 7.

Albus thinks he looks nothing like Harry, and he actually prides himself on being his father's complete opposite [he's actually the only potter kid that looks like an exact carbon copy of Harry]

The potters speak urdu at home, James Lily and Albus call Harry Baba and ginny muma. I'd like to think Harry- After graduating, probably had a phase where he was immensely involved in learning about his desi heritage. I feel like he probably even travelled to Pakistan a couple of times to reconnect with his culture. But I also feel like he felt more like a third culture kid sort of connection to it. The UK was still his home, and he didn't think that would ever change. He still tried, though. He learned the language and tried to teach it to his children so they wouldn't feel as alienated from their ethnicity as he probably did. Ginny learned urdu alongside him, partially because she just wanted to encourage him.

When scorpius was little he would often find himself talking to the portrait of his uncle regulus that his grandma had put up after the war. Uncle reggie , as he liked to be called, was scorpius' favourite old family memeber.

Harry always introduces Teddy as his oldest son.

Albus is exceptional at potions. He's also very talented in quidditch, the only thing is he doesn't really like playing.

James on the other hand is a total jock. I'm talking Oliver Wood level dedication to the craft of quidditch.

Lily luna is the embodiment of that scene from good omens season two of the little girl going "And I'm jemaimah! I made this pot!!"

Fred II likes to go by freddie, and him and James II are practically James and sirius 2.0. It drives McGonagall crazy.

Carmen and Marco make everyone believe they have twin telepathy as a prank one day, but now they have to keep up the bit because it's too late to drop it.

Scorpius has a pet ferret and he named it bunny. He was 6 and he thought it would be funny.

When scor was a kid he would colour in dracos dark mark with felt tip markers and scribble all over his arm and go "there now it's pretty". One day draco walked into a tattoo parlour with a scribbled mess on his arm and told the artist to make his sons art work permanent. Draco still has the mark but now its sporting all sorts squiggles and shapes in every colour imaginable. Scorpius thinks its embarrassing because that was definitely not one of his more finer works but draco finds comfort in the way his life's biggest regret becomes just a little more bareable because of Scorpius' childish innocence.

Draco is dad of the year. Harry on the other hand... is still trying to get there.

That's all thanks for coming to ny Ted talk

[bebe-writes-stuff]

I made a

Tokyo Rev prompt

Bluelock prompt

MHA prompt

-- Go read them!! JJK is next, obviously, like how could I even forget. I gotta compensate yall for the amount of trauma Gege is giving yall. MY MAN IS GONE, GEGE, I HATE YOU. -- Ima tell yall right now, this fanfic has absolutely no fucking relation to the current timeline of this tragic asf anime. okAy?-- Anyway this prompt,

For this story I wanted a specific theme and certain character development for Y/n, (I literally use what I learn from my English class to write these mfing stories...embarrassing)

At the beginning, Y/n, leads a reserved and quiet life not because she is shy but she just finds it better not to associate with other people. Because she possesses the ability to feel and perceive the true emotions of others. This ability makes her more of an observer than a talker, She can feel peoples Anger, Sadness, Fear, Anxiety, Guilt, Shame, Jealousy, Envy, Disgust, Frustration, Loneliness, Despair, Regret, Resentment, Insecurity, All of it. but because those people's emotions weren't long term and not intense, Y/n couldn't see curses (for now) but deep within her soul, she knew something evil was around. So one day, something tragic happens, I have decided what yet. But because this certain event caused very intense negative emotions that Y/n could feel, it was like a veil had been removed from her eyes and she started seeing curses. It was like a nightmare at first, the constant horrifying creatures she'd run into. but for some reason, they would never attack her, in fact they'd take off and run away any place she was near. which was strange because for a curse to be frightened something has to have an even greater cursed energy which is exactly the case with Y/n. She hasn't realized yet but every time Y/n felt someone's negative emotion, it transferred to her. As a result causing her to have an immense amount of cursed energy, it's so great that even jujutsu sorcerers and the higher up can sense it from miles away, without even understanding who or what this cursed energy was coming from they decided to execute it as soon as they get hold on it, the only issue was they couldn't place where this cursed energy was coming from. It was like a switch, sometimes it was so intense and sometimes there was absolutely no trace of it. but what the higher ups don't know, Gojo (daddy) has already traced y/ns location and sent a certain 3 students to supervise and watch her, but that doesn't go unnoticed by her which she's pretty quick to notice her pursuers and doesn't take long to confront them. also I still haven't decided a cursed technique for her...Womp Womp

--Oml idk if this made any sense, for some reason when I have an idea I can't write 100% of what I want, ughhhh, enjoy, and let me know if you guys want this fic--

[rufflesandbows]

In the Den of Dragons (Part II)

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

The preparation for your wifely duties begins. You take a fertility medicine that does nothing but sicken you to the thought of the future. As you navigate the quickly swarming rumors, you realize there isn't much in the way of regretting your actions from the night before. You should. But you don't.

Warnings: 18+ forced to drink medicine, kissing, grinding, fingering, thigh riding, intimacy issues Word Count: 3800 (Part 1)

In the morning, you were awoken by Barston’s own Maestor. The sun was barely coming through the window, the other girls stirring with confusion. You were exhausted from the struggle to fall asleep. All night your blood had been pumping hard, a pulsing low in your core demanding to be satiated. However living in a room with seven other girls, all of them eyeing you with worry and pity, made that an impossibility. 

The old man offered you a small clay bowl of black liquid that smelt of sour mint. The man had a thin line of a frown, his eyes drooping and uninterested in your confusion. 

“This is the decoction you’ll be taking every morning. It is best to be taken at the breaking of dawn, when still warm.” Hesitantly, you took the small bowl, looking down at the vile liquid. “It can be difficult to take down, but you must consume all of it.”

Wetting your lips, you held your breath before bringing it to your mouth. You tried to make quick work of it, downing it all in three lukewarm gulps. The sourness was as pleasant as curdled milk and it coated your mouth. A small bubble of air threatened to empty your entire stomach. With a hand over your mouth, you swallowed multiple times before it finally stayed down.

With tears in the corner of your eyes, you handed back the bowl. The Maestor said no more. Simply left as the job was done. Probably heading off to finish his sleep while you were now forced to start yours. A drowsy mind, a furiously bitter heart and a nauseated stomach. 

After having gotten dressed, a fellow maid, Gwen, came up to you with her big doe eyes aching in concern. She whispered so lightly you could barely hear her, “You don’t have to do this.”

For a moment, you thought she meant marry Barston. It had even felt nice to think so, a spark of hope that once you did catch her meaning, snapped into a wildfire that consumed you in an instant. Why would they be concerned with Barston when there was the issue of fleeing Aegon's bedchambers? However, if you took her offer, stayed in today, it would cement something had happened, something worth spreading rumors about. You had to go about your chores to discredit anything they had to speculate about. Somehow convince Aegon to do the same.

You put on a smile, “I have terribly embarrassed myself to him, but Aegon is more forgiving than he lets on. I do need to have a talk with him, so as to not worry him further.”

Gwen blinked in surprise but said nothing more as you turned and left for the kitchen commons, escaping all those watchful eyes at your back.

Eating was immensely difficult. The bubbling potion was taking all the room in your stomach, and the rest was hate that you were forced to take it at all. And would have to take it every day, every morning, until you squeezed out a proper heir. You scoffed to yourself. Could you even bring that child happiness? With a father like Barston putting them down at every turn the way he did you? 

If the man could just die, maybe. Give that child a better father. One that spoiled them endlessly.

You sighed shoving your dish away, downing the last bit of juice to rid yourself of that foul taste and fled your mind to start your first chore of the day; readying the Queen’s breakfast table. It took a good ten minutes and was quite a workout if you hadn’t learned how to stack trays. Running up and down stairs with several entrees in hand onto a cart at the top. 

The Queen Alicent, though you saw her everyday never talked to or acknowledge you. If she needed something, she’d make the request to Talya, who would relay the request to whoever she felt was best suited. Yet this morning, the air was tense the moment you walked into her room. The Queen and Talya were deafeningly quiet. They moved awkwardly as you quietly transferred the silver trays of food to her round table.

Queen Alicent patted down the dress Talya helped her in, and sat at her table, a pout on her lips so similar to Aegon’s. She unfolded her napkin and laid it on her lap. When she spoke your name, it was as hushed as a secret. “Did something happen last night?”

You resisted the urge to glare at Talya. Less than an hour and already it was at the Queen’s ears? She couldn't be bothered to talk to you first?

“Last night?” You said innocently, pretending to try and recall the events as you poured her a drink. “I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Why, did something happen, your Grace?”

For the first time since you came to the Red Keep, she looked directly at you. The look on her was indecipherable, just boring into you, waiting for you to tell her the truth. But you kept in your mind nothing happened, this day was like any other. In spite of how it very much wasn’t. You tilted your head, “Your Grace?”

Her eyes moved to Talya, and so did yours. When Talya bowed her head without a word, an arrogant swelling bloomed in your chest. You hoped she felt embarrassed going over your head like that. She put you in danger as a bid to be more favored to the Queen.

Queen Alicent dropped all attention to her plate, dismissing you both. “I suppose it was nothing. Just rumors.”

You could walk away, but you couldn’t let it sit in her mind. She might call you out as a liar, a liar to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if enough time brewed. “Rumors of what?”

She barely glanced at you. “Nothing to worry yourself. You may go.”

You took a timid step back, looking at her from under your lashes. “But if they involve me…”

The rest of the sentence hung in the air, the three of you all exchanging glances. It was Talya that spoke in the Queen’s sted. “There was a rumor that-” She hesitated, nervous now about delivering bad and quite frankly, treasonous information. “The prince Aegon had defiled you.”

You took back with shock. “Oh no! He did no such thing!” With a shy fiddling of your fingers, you sighed. “I see now. In truth, I’ve been… apprehensive about my sudden arranged marriage. It was stressing me throughout the day and when I went to deliver the Prince his nightly wine, I broke down a little. Expelling my fears rather unceremoniously and awkwardly onto him. The Prince certainly did his best to handle a hysterical woman.” You cringed and heated with embarrassment. It was technically the truth after all, though his feverishly hot body beneath yours danced in your mind. That whimper he gave echoing in your ears even now. “I was still overcome with emotion when I returned to the maids quarters. I am so very sorry for any misunderstandings, your Grace. I’ll accept any punishment on the besmirching of the princes good name-”

“Oh no-no, that won’t be necessary.” Her hands jumped up and took yours, easing you with a smile. “I’m only relieved nothing unfortunate befell you.”

You returned the smile, softening your gaze. “I am honored by your concern, but really, it was nothing. Just an embarrassment on my part. I intend to apologize to him when he wakes.”

She slipped from you, a great ease washing over her. You didn’t expect her to follow up with, “Who is your engagement with?”

Any lightness on your part faded as you spoke gently. “Lord Barston of Reedmarsh. Keeper of the Clay Fort.”

Alicent’s eyes fell wide, a pout returning to her. “Lord Barston is very…” He was known as many things. Old. Violent. Mad. Both of you could dance around and say he was a good business man with much profit for any of your sons to inherit, but no amount of wealth could make this match acceptable.

“I trust my fathers judgment.” You muttered, forcing a smile. With a bow, you excused yourself. “I should continue on to assist the Princess Helaena with her little ones.”

Talya nodded, allowing you to quickly leave the room before more could be discussed on the matter. It was still so difficult to keep composure at just the mention of the marriage. The reminder you had one day less than a month. 

In Helaena’s room, you allowed her to sleep in a little, quietly getting Jaehaerys and Jaehaera ready, directing them to speak softly. The princess often had a difficult time sleeping, small noises would keep her up. Though as much as anyone would offer, she always preferred her children in the room with her. 

When she began to stir, and for the first time, felt a sense of fear in her presence. Surely, Helaena wouldn't be upset if she knew what you did, as many women all over Kings Landing had done far worse. Or maybe she would. You were supposed to be the one she could trust. You grit your teeth, reminding yourself it would soon be another night forgotten and you wouldn't have to worry about it soon.

You took your time helping her get ready. Wasting time, really. Extending conversation and picking topics you knew the princess would speak endlessly on, as you nervously watched the other maidservants prepare her table and assist the children. Feeling the knot of your betrayal through every moment. Sitting with it as a self punishment.

You had to force yourself to leave. Push through the rising need to flee to far flung places. Across the Atrium, you came up to a different Kingsguard from Sir Erryk, the knight probably catching up on his rest from his overnight watch. There was a pleasant exchange of nods, him opening the door for you, “He is still resting.” 

You chuckled, hoping your nervousness didn’t seep through. “As I always find my lord prince.” 

When it shut behind, Aegon gave a long groan, something that caused your core to tighten. Something his voice had never caused you before. “Remind me that Lord Flannic has shit taste in wines.”

The room was as you left it, minus the decanter and cup empty at his bedside table. It was difficult to breathe, your mind replaying what happened. You instinctively covered your mouth as your gums tingled, the memory evidently a savory taste. Cautiously you stepped forward, a glimmer of hope he’d been too drunk to remember last night. “Not sitting too well with you, my lord?”

“Absolute piss water.” Aegon grumbled, his fingertips kneading into his forehead and temples. His shirt was notably missing from when you left him clothed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise yet a flush jumped through you, looking away as if you’d never seen him with only a thin bedsheet before. “I haven’t felt a hangover like this in ages.”

“Is there anything I can get you? Shall I fetch the Maestor?”

There was a long deliberating moan before it rose in interest. His eyes drifted open at you shyly standing in the sunlight. Aegon reached out, grabbing at your skirt and gave it a tug closer. “You can come to bed and kiss me until my headache subsides.”

You sighed, sitting beside him in defeat of his winning memory. “Aegon, it’s very important that you listen to what I’m about to say.”

He shook his head with a cheeky smile, trying to pull you down but the thought of getting closer made you panic. You’d lost all control of yourself last night. You couldn't let that happen again. “You can’t tell me you don’t want it, not after last night-”

“People think you violated me.”

He took back, as if completely surprised one might make such an assumption of him. Aegon scoffed into laughter, “If any violating happened last night it was from you. I was about to fall asleep when you jumped me.”

Your face heated with embarrassment. “Don’t say I jumped you. It makes me sound brutish.”

Aegon managed to push himself up, his hands falling on your waist as he teased you. The small touch of his hands stole your breath away. His eyes roaming you skipping your heart. “It was brutish. I quite liked it.” 

He moved in to kiss you but you pressed your fingertips to his lips. Soft, so soft under your touch. “I am telling everyone that I merely had an emotional breakdown.” Aegon moved back and rested against the headboard, his brow knit as you explained, “That I wept and whined about my arranged marriage, as young women do, and that it is all a misunderstanding. Do you understand? This has to be the tale we agree on or both of our reputations will be soiled.” His glare only deepened, his frown tightly pulled down. You pressed him sternly,  “Aegon.”

He rolled his eyes, pouting to the wall. “Sure, what ever you say.”

You weren’t blind. You knew the kind of man Aegon was and what he was capable of. You hadn't by any means forgiven him or lacked the anticipation of him just taking what he wanted from you. But your gaze fixated on him, the softness of his face, his signature pout, the bare expanse of his chest and the white bedsheet that pooled at his waist, as well as the hand that rose up so he could chew on his thumbnail. You couldn't get out of your head that first kiss, the bliss of it. The way he enveloped you completely within himself without hesitation despite your numerous rejections that wounded his pride every time. His desire for you used to go over your head, but it had been consistent all this time.

Would he be willing to do anything you said just to have you?

The silence in the room caught his attention, his eyes jumping to you out of curiosity. For a brief moment you coyly looked away, knowing you'd been caught. Wetting your lips, you asked simply, “Where did your clothes go? After I left, you had them on.”

As you had been analyzing him, he seemed to do the same to you. A long pause before breaking back into his flippant character. “You come into my room. You ravage me-” 

You took back bashfully, “Ravage is a bit strong.”

“And then you up and leave me aching.” He gestured between his legs. How his cock had been straining against his trousers. How thick and hard it was when pressed against your stomach. Jumping at your needy thrust. “What do you think I did? I relieved myself. And I don't care to be clothed while I do so.”

Slyly, you leaned forward, the tips of your fingers touching low on his soft stomach and gradually running up, “Did you think of me?”

When you reached his collar he shivered, but he was glaring at you. Chewing on his cheek, thinking if he wanted to humor you or not. Begrudgingly, Aegon admitted, “Yes.” with his compliance, your hand ran up higher, curling the side of his neck, the pad of your thumb running along his jawline. Aegon tilted his head, opening up to your touch as he asked, “Did you think of me?”

You gave an unfortunate hiss, eyes transfixed on his lips. “I room with seven other girls, so, my thoughts of what happened were all I had.”

He leaned forward and your breath caught, your fingers flexing, stiffening so they might grab him and force him to close the distance. As he spoke, you felt his words on your skin. “Are you saying you didn’t have much in the way of relief?”

Your gaze roamed him hungrily, your measured breath thudding with the quick-rabbit pace of your heartbeat. “Can’t say that I’ve fully recovered from last night as you have.”

Aegon lightly shook his head, his smile taking a sharp edge. “I haven’t recovered.”

You were aching, desire devouring all sense of fear, place and time. Swallowing thickly, you whispered, “I can’t stay here long. People are talking as is.”

It was clear you weren’t listening to your own advice anymore. There was this moment of disbelief on him, a stillness to fully grasp your eagerness. The sudden flip of a coin you've taken. It shocked you as well. You didn't know you were capable of such want and rebellion. This time when he leaned forward, you didn’t stop him. When he kissed you, you let out a long sigh of satisfaction. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you both pressed deeper. Aegon’s hands jumped up, roughly grabbing your sides and pressing you against his chest, your heart beating wildly against him. Oh you were glowing, burning up and feeling more alive then you ever had been as you embraced him.

You felt your legs become exposed as he fisted your skirts and brought them up before the sunlight. His hand on your bare thigh was hot, alternating between a demanding grip and soft caresses as he showered you in lazy wet kisses. You were utterly intoxicated, never before so stupid and drunk, and it was all on the touch and taste of another.

Even as his hand began to drift inward, rising up, all you could think was that it felt good. That you wanted him to keep finding these places that had you gasping for air.

When his fingers touched at the apex of your thighs, the lips damp and thrumming with need, you flinched in surprise. The only plan you made was to collaborate your story. As his fingers trailed tantalizingly along your seam, you realized this was only going to make everything worse. You shifted, grabbing his wrist, "Aegon, wait-"

Aegon hushed you, your world tilting as he laid you down on his mattress, comfortably lining up to your side. "Relax, sweet girl, let me take care of you."

The little endearment made you flush, not having expected it. Before you could give anymore protests, he suffocated you in his kiss. You swallowed thickly as his fingertips slipped between, a hot wave jumping through you, pooling and pressing at your hips, following the movement as it rose and fell.

So quickly you were being reduced to whimpers and sighs, your hips rocking in tune to chase him. Your reactions were painfully subdued knowing there was a guard on the other side of the door. Each slip of his fingers, finding the very pinpoint of your pleasure mounted you higher and higher out of your own mind, until your eyes rolled back and you couldn't catch your breath. As he buried his face into your neck, lavishing the delicate skin with licks and nips, you gripped onto him, your fingers digging in more and more.

A loud cry nearly broke from you it felt so good, but you clapped a hand over your mouth. A muffled chuckle emanated from him as little moans kept bubbling up anyway. His hips flexed, pushing up against your side and you could feel his cock grinding on your bare thigh locked between his legs, painfully hard with his arousal.

A growing want taunted you to reach out, grip him, push him through it. You wanted cum at the same time he did. Feel that ecstasy together. Timidly, you moved your hand down his back, resting on his waist, feeling the muscles working, rolling and bucking against you. Imagining how it would feel within you. His hand was spinning circles on your peak, your own wanton thrusts encouraging him. Each wave that hit through you hits harder with the next. Gods, you were so close.

With a trembling hand, you cupped his cheek and bade him to look at you. See those pretty amethyst eyes in yours. His messy silver hair framed his face, slack and dazed with pleasure. A tremble shook through him, his eyes dodging from yours as if you seeing him was overwhelming. Aegon pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes shutting tight as if to hide away, but you were past your threshold. You clung to him as blinding white ecstasy consumed you. Your gasps and sighs strangled as you carefully kept back the scream that so desperately wanted to be free.

When your muscles finally released, tingling and warm at every little nerve, he let up but didn't leave. Your lips felt numb, still breathing hard from all the exertion. Aegon relaxed on top of you, his head on your chest as he was still grinding into you, his cock hot with need. You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him as you slowly came down from your high, moved your thigh between his legs just slightly to taunt him.

A press came at your entrance, and you gave a small cry when your felt the rim being lightly stretched open, felt the invasion of fingers. Aegon sighed, warming your chest through your dress. “If you weren’t rushing me I could keep you like this for hours.” His fingers slid out, toyed in the wet gushing from you as the muscles clutched and eased. 

He toyed in you, slipping in until you gave a protesting hum and your legs shifted defensively at the dull ache of being opened too far. As he pulled out, Aegon would feel around your lower lips, swollen and slick with his work. He cupped your mound, coating his hand completely before using all that slick to grip himself, pumping with quick desperate strides.

Aegon threw his head back, chest bushing out as he took in a deep breath and gave a harsh sigh. Despite your climax, you felt an interested pulse between your legs. He was such a sight, one you didn't expect to enjoy so much. Your hands wandered him, biting your lip with a smile as he worked his whole back into it, rolling his hips on your thigh in long strokes while he chased his end.

You cupped his face as he began to tremble, his breaths coming in quick huffs. As your bottom lip slipped from your teeth, you lifted, took his, feeling all his desperate little moans and whimpers tickling on your tongue.

Spurts of hot liquid dropped and dribbled down your bare thigh, Aegon bucking wildly as you muffled his cries with your mouth. Perhaps you should have left after he made you cum because the heat in your core was stirring, whispering that you wanted more. That you could stay here all day. You were no more relieved than you had been when you entered his room.

"Glad you didn't run away this time." He huffed, looked down at you with a smile, “Hopefully you can still do your chores on shaky legs.” He gave you one last kiss, giving your dry thigh a few wet slaps. “You want more, you know where to find me.” 

Politely, he grabbed his bedsheet and wiped down your thigh where he'd made his climax. He then rolled away from you, checking the empty decanter for wine. "Did you bring more?"

With great effort, you sat up on your elbows, "Don't you want breakfast first?"

He shrugged, "I don't see why I can't have breakfast and wine at the same time."

You made a grimace but chuckled, scooting off the bed and trying to stand on indeed, shaky legs. Stumbling toward the door as your head was still dizzy, cleaning yourself up as best you could without a mirror. "I'll see what I can do for you, my Lord. But perhaps something slightly watered down, or that headache might creep upon you again."

He gave you a grumble as he stretched, not bothering to see you bow before you opened the door. Your gaze snapping up at the Kingsguard just outside. Critically looking for any awkwardness in him. He smiled down at you casually, still relaxed and unaware. 

You returned the grin, "Looks like the prince is ready a little early today. I'll be back in a bit with his meal."

(Part 3)(Part 4)

Let me know if you enjoyed the read! ♡ Tags: @chelsey01 @nina2697 @prettyblondguys @jollytoadtreeknight

[separatist-apologist]

Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 2: Where You Are, I Call Home | Read AO3 | Part 1

Nesta didn’t want to stay the night and as it turned out, neither did Elain. Nesta might have missed her sister sneaking out of the castle had she not been heading to the kitchen for tea, certain it was far too early to bother her. Elain hadn’t been able to meet Nesta’s eyes as she said she had things to finish and a deadline to meet, and Nesta didn’t push her. 

Though, she was curious as hell. 

And though she and Cassian had left things at a mostly decent place, Nesta was strangely embarrassed by the entire thing. It had been a moment of weakness, kissing him, and if she hadn’t just been bombarded by Tomas, she might have resisted him.

She felt immense shame Cassian had guessed what had happened with Tomas and more shame still that he wanted to avenge her. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need him. 

Elain and Nesta drove in utter silence. It was so unlike Elain not to fill the void, but everytime Nesta looked over at her younger sister, Elain was chewing on her bottom lip, her knuckles white from how tightly she gripped the steering wheel. And Nesta knew better—would have wanted the same silence had it been her lost in thought. Maybe Elain was regretting her choice to leave Graysen. Nesta could admit Feyre and Rhys seemed very in love, and their wedding had made her heart thud, had made her conscious of just how close Cassian was on that altar or how every time she dared to look at him, he was staring back with those burning eyes.

More brown than green.

Shut up, Nesta.

Elain dropped Nesta off at the train station, though she offered to take Nesta the entirety of the way. Nesta could see Elain wanted to get back—was already so far out of her way, and another three hours would be cause for Elain to spend the night before she could head back. So Nesta said no, pretended like Elain’s relief didn’t bother her, and finished her journey just in time to beat sunset.

She crawled into bed and tried very hard not to think of Cassian’s mouth, or his hands, or how he’d stopped her when she’d tried to find out what was under his kilt. 

She failed, of course. Nesta was wound up, had used her fingers instead of getting up to dig out a vibrator, while imagining it was Cassian’s mouth between her legs. She’d come, and though it was hardly satisfying, it did help her sleep. Nesta meant to sleep in. There was nothing on the schedule, and Cassian was a good three hours away from her. He’d be drinking with Rhys or Azriel—maybe flirting, maybe—

A pounding on the door pulled Nesta from sleep at seven am. She could hear it echoing through the castle, so loud she swore the walls shook. Nesta kicked off the blankets, still in a thin strapped, too clingy red night dress that cut just to her mid-thigh. Still foggy from sleep, it didn’t occur to Nesta that it wouldn’t be the police on the other end, come to warn her of some terrible tragedy.

Just a very, very irritated Cassian. She yanked open the door, eyes wide to find him with one hand raised. It fell the second he saw her, his lips parting as if to say oh.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest in both an attempt to hide her breasts and to convey her irritation. “You scared me half to death.”

He was staring at her face like he’d never seen her before. “Ye left, ye…yer hair.”

Nesta blinked. “Yes? What about my hair.”

“I’ve never seen ye wear it down,” he finally said, cocking his head to the side. Nesta swallowed, resisting the urge to touch it. Her hair was long, the tips touching the swell of her ass. Nesta’s mother had always cut her hair, brushing the strands with gentle fingers all the while cooing how lovely Nesta was.

My pretty girl.

Usually such words were reserved for Elain, but in those moments, Nesta had all her love and affection. After she died, Nesta had tried only once to go to some woman in London. She’d been fine, but when she called Nesta pretty, Nesta had started screaming at her to never say such things again, and afterward, refused to let anyone touch her hair. And while Feyre had kept her hair just beneath her shoulders, and Elain at her waist, Nesta would have let her hair fall to the floor before anyone ever took another pair of shears to it. 

“It’s a nuisance,” she said to Cassian, wishing he could just be normal and ogle her. 

“It’s lovely,” he breathed, taking a step toward her. Nesta slammed the door between them, stopped by his foot wedged between the frame to keep her from pushing her out.

“I thought we were done with this,” he said, some of his anger returning. That was better. She could work with that. 

“Why? Because you pushed me against a wall and kissed me–”

“Ye kissed me back,” he all but growled. Nesta scoffed, as if she hadn’t touched herself to that very mouth now twisted with anger.

“A moment of weakness,” she replied, holding his gaze. “It won’t be happening again.”

His brows shot up. “Oh? Is that so? Won’t be happening again, ye say?”

“Yes, Cassian.”

“Is this because I wanted tae take it slow? Ye’re mad—”

“No!” Nesta snapped, hating how her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That would have been a mistake. It’s all a mistake.”

“Ye know what I think?”

“I think you’re going to tell me, regardless of my opinion,” she said dryly, though in truth Nesta wanted him to push open that door and force his way in. Wanted him to shove her back against the wall and kiss her until she didn’t hear the sound of her own thoughts.

“I think ye talked yerself out of me. I think yer scared I’m like tae other bawbags—”

“I’m not scared of you,” she lied. His eyes flashed, a smile creeping up his face.

“Ye are. Ye don’t need tae be, but ye are. Why, mo chridhe?”

“You’re delusional,” she retorted, heart hammering in her throat. “You’ve convinced yourself there is something between us—”

“There is something between us,” he replied, smug and self-assured. “And ye ran off yesterday instead of talking tae me about it.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Cassian withdrew his shoe, stepping back into the Highland gloom. She knew what he expected—for her to slam the door in his face, to shut him back out. She wanted to want to do that…but the idea of closing Cassian out entirely made her stomach churn. So Nesta kept the door cracked, looking at him through the sliver, and Cassian remained where he was.

Watching. 

Waiting for her to slice him to ribbons—she could see the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself, slightly hunched as though he were physically preparing himself for a physical blow. Had she done that? Nesta swallowed.

“I’m not that kind of girl, Cassian. Alright? I just…let it go.”

“Ye are,” he murmured, his voice so impossibly soft. “Yer mine, Nes. Ye don’t have tae be that girl for anyone else—ye already are, tae me.”

“Cass—”

“I’m not going anywhere. Even if I have tae stage loud battles all day, every day just tae get ye to come out and shout at me.”

“I will,” she warned him. 

“I’ll hold ye tae it,” he replied, an easy smile gracing his features.

-*-

Nesta ought to have known she was way over her head the moment Cassian first kissed her. Certainly, by the time he’d come to her door to declare she was his. Nesta had always been good at lying to herself, and for a week, she managed to convince herself that he’d tired of her and her refusal and moved on. Sure, he kept coming back to the lawn with his canons and guns and tourists, yelling louder than before in a bid for her attention.

And yes, he was walking groceries up to her door each evening, clearly hoping she’d eventually invite him inside. Unaware she watched from a window overhead, willing herself to thank him but never actually doing it. 

Nesta could have done that forever, had she not had to go into town. It was, as usual, all Elain’s fault.

“What do you mean, masquerade ball?” Nesta hissed, the sun beating down on her neck as she made her way down the drive.

“I didn’t think I needed to explain,” came Elain’s snappish voice. What had gotten into her, Nesta wondered. Perhaps her tenant had finally chased away her sweetness. That, Nesta thought, wasn’t such a bad thing. 

“I’m not going—”

“You have to go,” came Elain’s no-nonsense tone. “People already say we ran away, that we’ve become spinsters—”

“Maybe they’re right. You go, tell them I’m…dead—”

“Nesta! Don’t make me do that. It’s one night. Bring anyone you like or no one at all. Feyre will be there with Rhysand and he’s still shiny enough to distract people from your non-existent love life—”

“And your broken engagement?” Nesta asked, trying to get a rise out of Elain. All she got was an exasperated sigh. 

“Exactly. People will stop gossiping about us so much if they see us looking healthy, and they get to talk to an actual duke, and you won’t have to come back until Christmas.”

“And you’ll be there?” Nesta confirmed.

“Of course. Where else would I be? I love parties, after all.” But there was a sour note to her words that Nesta couldn’t decipher. 

“Is everything fine?”

“Of course,” Elain, that liar, replied. As if Nesta, the queen of lying about her feelings, didn’t recognize what Elain was doing. “Make sure you’re there. If you need a dress, send me your measurements and I’ll have one shipped to you.”

And that was that. Elain ended the call before there could be any more questions and Nesta didn’t particularly care to push. Nesta made her way to Emeries, thinking of this end of the summer party her father was hosting. It was so transparent, so pathetically obvious he was trying to use Feyre’s new husband to enrich himself that Nesta nearly texted Elain she wouldn’t go before turning her phone off for a week. 

She didn’t trust Elain not to march across the country and drag her there herself, and that seemed humiliating. Nesta would go, just to see her sisters, drink on her fathers dime, and vanish before anyone had the chance to question her about how many cats she owned.

None.

Yet.

“Ye alright?” Emerie asked when Nesta pushed in, rising up from the chair behind the counter. 

“Just my ridiculous father and his ridiculous parties. My sister wants me to go–”

“What kind of party?”

“A masquerade,” Nesta replied glumly. “I don’t understand why people love them so much.”

“Romantic, I suppose,” Emerie said with shining eyes. “Yer going, then? Do ye need anything?”

“Not unless you know someone who can make me a floor length dress in a month and a half. In black,” Nesta added, cackling privately to herself. Everyone would be in warm colors—except her, the spinster.

The bogwitch. 

“Actually, I do,” Emerie said brightly. “I could, if ye like. My mum was a seamstress and I’m pretty good with a needle.”

“I’d love that,” Nesta replied. It was that easy to make Emerie happy, to set down roots in the form of friendship, and annoy her father, all at once. Which was all Nesta wanted, truly. She returned later that evening for a pint in the privacy of Emerie’s shop where Emerie gave Nesta a history of the gossip she normally provided, and convinced Nesta to stuff herself with cheese while taking her measurements. Nesta was used to the opposite—being told to fast for a solid day in order to seem thinner for the gown.

She much preferred Emerie’s way. 

The downside was, by the time they finished it was incredibly dark, not that the tourists had gotten the memo. Nesta didn’t want to tell Emerie she was afraid of the dark, nor did she want to walk up that hill. That left her with the Ensnaring Snake’s hidden passage, and the packed crowd inside. She kept her head down, trying—and failing—to not see Cassian. It was impossible not to notice him lounging in a chair like some conquering hero. 

Nesta made it all the way to the bar before she was stopped.

“Where’re ye going, lass?”

“I—”

“She’s with me, Angus,” Cassian’s smooth, if not unwelcome, voice replied. He slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her intimately close which earned a wolfish grin from the bartender.

“Aye, behave then,” was all Angus thought to say.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demanded, shoving his arm off her shoulder the moment they were in the back,

“Walking ye home,” he smiled, pulling open the door that cut through the hillside. “And putting ye in bed.”

“Alone,” Nesta replied, though some part of her very much wanted to see him in her bed. 

Is that a question? Because I’ll hold ye tell ye fall asleep, tae. Ye only have tae ask.”

“I’m never going to ask, Cassian,” she said, plunging into the darkness with a boldness she felt only because he was with her.

“Yes, I’m starting tae think so, tae.”

“So maybe you should move on,” Nesta said, inhaling the scent of musty air in an effort to escape the richness rolling off him.

“Impossible,” he replied, grabbing her hand as they began to walk over loose stone and dirt. “I don’t know how anyone gets over ye.” 

Nesta felt as though she couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on her, pressing her closer and closer to Cassian until she was gripping his hand so tightly she might have been hurting him. In the dark, unable to see him, Nesta could say all the things she didn’t dare when his eyes were on her. 

“No one feels that way about me. They never have. This will pass.”

“It won’t,” he replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Stop speaking for me. Ye don’t know how I—ye don’t see yerself right. Ye see what those bastards see, because they’re scared of ye.

I’m not, Nes. And ye cannae make me change my mind, either.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to be at my doorstep until we both die?”

“Ideally you’ll be letting me inside, but yes, that’s exactly how I imagine us.”

Nesta stumbled over the first step. “Imagine us?”

“Ye don’t?”

“I–”

“Don’t lie to me, Nes.”

“I can make it the rest of the—Cass—” 

Cassian pulled her against him, stopping mid-step to kiss her in the dark. Nesta raised her hand to slap him. She swore she did. His audacity knew no bounds, he was utterly ridiculous. Which was why, when her fingers found his skin, she plunged them into his soft hair and yanked him closer.

Cassian groaned, hauling her up easily, like she was little more than a sack of feathers. Eyes closed, Nesta used her hands to map him, forgetting where they were–though she had the sense he was somehow still walking. Not that it stopped him—Cassian was a man possessed, his tongue in her mouth, tasting her with near mindless enthusiasm. 

“Like when ye call me Cass,” he groaned against her neck. How, she wondered, had they made it to the top of the stairs? Cassian was pushing open the iron door of the dungeon, still holding her in one arm though she knew he couldn’t continue on as he was. He’d have to set her down.

And he did, if only to grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her again. His teeth grazed against her bottom lip, hands cupping her face.

“Show me yer room,” he growled, eliciting a shiver from Nesta. They were still in the brutal dark, close enough she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Cass—”

He reached for the top of her dress and without preamble, ripped clean down the middle. Buttons flew in every direction, scattering loudly over the stone. Heat flooded between Nesta’s legs, her breath catching roughly in her throat. Neither of them moved, breathing softly as they waited for the other to make a move. 

He’d done it, though. Hadn’t he? Her dress was ruined and his hands were hovering between them, waiting for her to say something.

“You’re a fucking animal, Cassian,” she told him, unable to hide how breathless she was.

“And yer pussy is dripping, isn’t it?” he all but purred in response.

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

“Take me upstairs.”

Nesta grabbed him by his kilted waist, hauling him forward like she held a leash. Their teeth crashed together, inelegant and messy and yet she’d never been more turned on in her life.

“I’ll show ye a fucking animal, mo chirdhe,” he breathed, licking the column of her neck as he said it. Nesta shivered, and just because she wanted to prove she had some control, rubbed the heel of her hand against his straining erection. 

Cassian exhaled, biting the lobe of her ear. “Upstairs. Now.”

She thought it would be awkward to fumble their way through the dark, and worse still when the lights hit them. Cassian groaned softly when he saw her, breasts spilling over the ripped fabric of her dress. They collided again, this time his hands reaching for her, covering each breast easily. Callused fingers brushed her nipples, drawing what might have been an embarrassing moan had Cassian not ground himself against her.

“What’s under this?” she asked him, thinking maybe they ought to just fuck in the hall. Right up against the wall like they were no better than animals. Just like he’d promised. 

“Find out, Nes, please touch me.”

Cassian couldn’t have been shorter than six foot five and was built like a celtic warrior. Nesta, at five nine, had always felt dainty beside him—and in that moment, Nesta swore their positions reversed. He was looking up at her somehow, pleading for her to give him something.

Nesta slid her hand beneath the fabric of his plaid to find he was wearing nothing at all. 

She also found she’d been right about him. Everything about Cassian was large. Her fingers just barely curled around him, and that first pass told her he was not just thick, but long, too.

Cassian growled a string of words in Gaelic, spoken too quickly for her to make sense of. She didn’t care when he kissed her again, rolling his hips into her hand as she stroked. Nesta was careful to go slow, wanting to drag him out for as long as possible.

“Bed, Nes.” Cassian’s spoken order made her shiver. 

“I like touching you,” she whispered, kissing just beneath his ear. Cassian moaned in a huff, like it escaped him against his will. 

“Ye will just as soon as I have ye in bed,” he replied, hauling her up off her feet like he was so prone to do. Not over his shoulder, like usual, but in his arms like she was precious. Nesta ran her hand up his chest before directing him to the room they’d share tonight. 

And maybe again, after that, if she worked up the nerve. She could find a way to keep him with her, ensuring they wouldn’t be separated, which meant they could continue to have sex until she died.

Cassian kicked open her door and Nesta felt like she was the heroine in one of her novels. This was happening. It was nearly the way she imagined when she was alone, made better by the look on Cassian’s face. Tossing her to the bed, Cassian whipped off that black t-shirt before Nesta had managed to even catch her breath.

“That day at tae loch,” he breathed, removing his shoes and socks quickly, all the while watching her, “I nearly had ye in the dirt. Was so close tae begging ye I had tae walk away. Yer eyes, mo chirdhe…”

“What about them?” she asked, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for her legs, hidden in her dress. Given the top half had been ripped open, it hardly mattered when he began pulling it down. It left her only in a plain pair of underwear and nothing else. 

Cassian’s gaze flicked to her face. Running his palms up her thighs, he murmured, “I see yer eyes when I close mine. I used tae think ye were haunting me.”

“And now?” Her breath hitched when he kissed just below her knee.

“I know ye are now,” he replied, dragging his tongue up to the fabric still hugging her body. “There’ll be no getting rid of ye.”

She opened her mouth, unsure of what she was going to say. Cassian cut her off. “I don’t want tae be rid of ye, lass. I keep telling ye, but yer not listening. I think I need tae show ye.”

“Cass—” He kissed through her underwear, pouring warm air from his mouth against her aching pussy. 

“Tell me tae stop.”

“Don’t.”

Cassian groaned, resting his forehead on her leg for only a moment before pulling the last scraps of fabric off her body.

He whispered something in audible, something that sounded distinctly like a prayer. Nesta was squirming, felt so exposed beneath his gaze, his fingers. If he didn’t do something, she was going to explode. 

“Cass,” she said, trying it out for the first time. 

He shook his head, his expression so utterly and thoroughly wrecked. “Don’t beg. Not yet.”

“Not yet, what does that—” she choked on the rest of her words the moment his tongue slid up the center of her. His rumbling groan vibrated through her, settling in her chest. Nesta drew her legs up, planting her heels against the edge of the bed to spread herself wider and Cassian seized on the opportunity to explore. His tongue was everywhere, teasing and taunting as he dipped into her body before dragging back up to her clit. There was a distinct lack of elegance to the act, something selfish about the way he was going at her—as if this were as much for him as it was for her. 

Why had she denied them this for so long? Cassian’s mouth was bliss, pulling moan after moan from her until Nesta was grinding her pussy against his face, desperately chasing the gathering release that threatened to unmake her. Cassian gripped her ass, spreading her apart, kneading her skin as he drove her higher. Nesta didn’t want to be done, wanted to draw this out for as long as she could.

And she wanted to know what it would be like to have him inside her. Nesta reached between her legs, carding her fingers through his hair. Cassian moaned when she pulled while Nesta nearly screamed as one of his fingers invaded her body. She clenched tight around him, trying to breath through her nose, to calm herself down. 

“Cassian,” she pleaded, though for what, Nesta didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he was going to stop. He began to work that finger, and then a second, into her, pumping in and out as he licked and sucked at her clit. Gripping the sheets so tightly she pulled one from the corner, Nesta could do nothing but take this onslaught of pleasure. 

Nesta was grateful there was no one but them atop this hill. When she came, it was with a strangled scream that betrayed her. No one but Cassian bore witness to it, which was exactly how it ought to be. Nesta was on fire, was made of nothing but pure heat in that moment, drowning in pleasure so exquisite she could have died right there. 

Cassian kept going, discovering a secret only Nesta knew about herself. Given he was the first man who’d ever made her come, or who’d ever been interested in making her come, she supposed it made sense he’d figure it out. Cassian was still licking, his fingers curled in her body as he fucked her. Nesta had only barely come down when she was dragged right back up, shattering tight around him.

Cassian’s head snapped forward, lips glistening in the warm lamplight. “Did ye—”

“Come here, come here,” she said, wiggling further up the bed as she beckoned him. Cassian crawled after her, eyes wide and dark. 

“Have ye done this before?” he whispered, laying himself over her, still in his kilt. 

“No,” she finally admitted. 

“And…” he bit his bottom lip. “And has anyone taken it from ye—”

“No,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands. “No. Just you, Cass”

His eyes fluttered shut. 

“Only me,” he agreed, rising up on his knees to undo his kilt. She’d never realized it was merely one long, pleated piece of fabric until he unwound it from his hips. He was naked then, his cock resting over her still convulsing pussy. Feeling and seeing were two wholly different things. Nesta raised up on her elbows to look, to drink in how obscene they were, how thick and long he was. 

“I want this,” she told him, pushing aside her nerves. “I want you.”

“I’ll go slow,” he swallowed, taking himself in his hand. 

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Nesta replied, holding his gaze. He nodded, notching himself against her, only to rub the blunt head of his thick cock through the silken, wet mess still dripping from her pussy.

“Are ye always this wet for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, because there was no use lying to him. 

“Wasted time, mo chirdhe,” he grunted, pushing himself into her. Nesta gasped, digging her nails into his biceps. It didn’t hurt—but the stretch was uncomfortable. Cassian halted, eyes searching her face.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta managed, certain the discomfort was short lived. Even women liked sex, which meant she merely needed to get through this hurdle and then she’d be free to enjoy him the way she’d been imagining. “Please, don’t stop.”

It was the please that got to him, just like she knew it would. Cassian’s emotions were all over his face. He’d never been able to hide them, but now he might as well have been screaming what he felt to her. He wanted to make her happy—wanted to do whatever she said.

So he kept going, pushing himself into her while Nesta closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. To let go, just this once.

He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d stop if she told him to. He’d get dressed, he’d walk out the door right that second if Nesta changed her mind. It was that realization that allowed Nesta to let go, to invite him into her body until she’d adjusted to the feel of him. 

Cassian seated himself with a soft grunt and a jumble of swears in both English and Gaelic. 

“Is it how you imagined?” Nesta asked, betraying her own insecurities.

“Better,” he kissed, withdrawing only an inch. Nesta gasped when he pushed back in, delighted to know she’d been right. That stretch faded into pleasure, frazzling up her spine like a shock of electricity. 

“Do it again.”

“Don’t think I could stop,” he admitted, pumping his hips. He kept his eyes on her face, memorizing her reactions. As if this was the last time she’d invite him into her bed. Nesta didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she knew she wanted him here, just like his, for the foreseeable future. 

Forever. 

She clung tight to his tattooed shoulders, face buried in his neck. It was all going to be over soon, so Nesta indulged in the feel of his muscles shifting beneath his skin, drinking in each ragged groan, each whisper of her name. Cassian was becoming erratic, his careful movements rougher, almost punishing as he pounded himself into her. 

Nesta turned his face, her own building orgasm threatening to make a fool out of her. She wanted to say too much, to reveal all the messy, ugly parts of herself to him and see if he kept looking at her like that. She kissed him instead, chasing away her fears with the taste of him.

She came, not with a scream, but whispering his name into his mouth. It was pleasure unlike anything else.

Cassian was unlike anything else. He would be her ruination, and as Nesta drifted in the warm abyss, cradled in his arms, she thought there were far more terrible things than falling in love with this man. 

“Nesta,” he whined, thrusting deeper into her. “Tha gaol agam ort, Nesta—”

He came, clutching her so tight there was no escaping. 

Nesta was exactly where she wanted to be. 

-*-

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was his work ethic. She’d woken after that first night pleasantly sore, hoping to go again only to find the sounds of battle echoing up from the lawn. Her bed was empty, though Cassian’s presence lingered. He’d left his socks on her floor and a note on the side table. 

Lunch?

Dinner?

My whole life? 

-Cass

He’d given her his phone number, too. Nesta shot him a quick text, thinking ahead.

How about we start with dinner? 

After all, if he came over later in the evening, he was less likely to spend the night in the tavern with his friends, with the other women always fawning over him. He’d spend the night with her, and she’d get him all to herself. 

He didn’t respond until he was long gone from her lawn. One word was all it took to make Nesta’s heart pound.

Done.

And he came, with a bottle of cheap wine they drank on a balcony. It was here that Cassian told Nesta about his life, clearly hoping she’d reciprocate. He told her about his mother who’d died at the hands of his violent father, who’d left him in the care of relatives that didn’t particularly care much for him. It was how he’d met Rhys, a snotty boy at a stuck-up boarding school trying to live Cassian’s life for a few hours.

Cassian laughed when he told Nesta how he’d beaten the piss out of Rhys, stolen his wallet, and taken off with all the money inside. And how surprised he’d been when Rhys came back with a bruised eye and bloodied nose for his wallet the next night—and Cassian had liked him enough to give him the alcohol he'd been trying to smuggle back in. How they’d become friends, and Cassian felt like he had actual family for the first time in his life. A brother.

She wanted to tell him about her life, too. And what was there to say? That she felt overlooked and neglected as a girl? Buried under the pressure by responsibilities and expectations she’d never once actually taken on. That had been Elain, ultimately, who scooped up all their fathers wants and heaped them upon her shoulders with a smile. 

She felt ashamed to tell him her problems, even when Cassian turned those bright, hopeful eyes onto her. Lips curved in a smile, hand balancing on her knee. 

“Ye don’t have tae tell me anything,” he finally murmured, and she knew she was a coward for wanting to pretend he didn’t mean anything to her. Especially when she pulled him back into her bedroom and spent the night silently apologizing with her lips, and tongue, and teeth. 

It was like that every night. Cassian did most of the talking and Nesta listened, her head in his lap while he’d run his fingers through her hair. She learned that the laughing, likable man was a facade, a wall he put up so no one really saw him, much like her own. Cassian needed everyone to love him to prove he was worthy.

And in turn, she couldn’t allow anyone to love her in order to prove she was exactly as awful as she’d always suspected she was. Only, Cassian didn’t seem to think so. He kept coming back night after night, kept telling her all his secrets knowing full well Nesta could use all of it to break his heart. 

Nesta woke two weeks after her and Cassian had begun to the shrill ring of her cellphone. She’d been charging it again, if only to know when Cassian was making his way up to her—and to tell him good morning, not that she’d ever admit it. 

“What?” Nesta grumbled. It was early enough that Cassian was still there, one arm flung over her back, face pressed into a pillow. 

“You haven’t RSVP’d,” came Elain’s too cheerful voice.

“Elain, it’s six in the morning. Go back to bed.”

“Are you going? And who are you bringing?”

Cassian opened his eyes, mouthing, going where? She could invite him—and watch her father eviscerate him for being a bastard born no one. 

“I said I would. I’m going alone, and I’m not staying so don’t bother making up my room.”

There was a beat. “You’re not going to invite Cassian?”

Cassian had heard. “Don’t,” Nesta retorted. “I said I’d be there. Let it go.”

She hung up before Elain could press her. 

“Go where?” Cassian asked instantly. This was a test and she knew she was going to fail it. Knew the minute he dragged her back against him and pressed a kiss to her neck that she was going to fuck this all up.

“Back home. It’s nothing, Cass, really—”

“But I’m invited?”

“No.”

The easy smile on his face faltered. “Ah. Ye’d rather go alone?”

“I’d rather not go at all,” Nesta clarified, untangling herself from his grip to rise from bed. “I never want to go back and I certainly don’t want to subject you to my family—”

“I’ve met yer family.”

“No, you met Feyre and Elain. They don’t count.”

Cassian sat up, muscles gleaming gold in the early morning light. “So what, then, Nes? I’m just…I’m just the bloke yer fucking out in the country that yer London friends can’t know about?”

“What London friends, Cassian?” she snapped, pulling a robe around her body. “I have no friends back home. If I don’t go, no one would miss me—except Elain, which is why she won’t let this go.”

He watched, eyes tracking her around the room. “Are ye ashamed—”

“No,” she hissed before softening her tone. “No. I’m not ashamed, Cassian. I…”

Nesta curled her hands to fists, trying to find the exact right words that would placate him. 

“I can handle myself around that lot,” Cassian told her, and of course he could. He was best friends with a duke's son, after all. The problem was her. Nesta took a breath before walking back to the bed. She sat on the edge, looking over at him.

“I know you can. It’s me, Cass. It’s just…”

“Yer father?” he guessed. 

Nestas fingers twisted around each other violently, nostrils flaring as she tried to get her temper under control. “When mother got sick, he withdrew. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer. And all she wanted was him. She’d beg me to go get him, and I would and he’d tell me to tell her he was coming right up…but he never did. Sometimes I’d hear him walk to the door but he’d never come in. It was grief, but…”

Cassian ran his hands over the tops of her arms. 

“But ye were a wee girl, Nes.”

Nesta nodded her head, swallowing so he wouldn’t see her cry. Cassian crept forward, pulling her between his thighs so she could rest her back against the solid wall that comprised his muscled chest. She sighed.

“I can’t stand the thought of you going and standing before him, a better man than he could ever dream of being, and still being forced to endure his scrutiny. It’s one evening, Cassian. I’ll be back in the morning and I won’t have to go back for months.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Aye. If that’s what ye want.” It wasn’t. Nesta so badly wanted Cassian to come with her. She wanted to go everywhere with him. Nesta forced herself to twist, to smile and say, “You’d hate it, Cass. There is so much dancing–”

“Do ye dance?” he asked, eyes alight.

Nesta nodded. “Until my mom died. I had lessons, I—” She almost told him that she loved it. 

Cassian smiled, kissing her cheek. 

“It’s nice tae learn something about ye, Nes.”

“You’re not angry?”

He kissed her again, dragging her back to the mattress. “Mad at ye? Mo chirdhe, that’s not possible.”

-*- 

But maybe it was. Cassian had begun skipping their evenings together in favor of seeing his friends. He still came, but not as often, or far later than before. He said he was finishing up the end of the season, that it was always hectic in the last few weeks of August, but Nesta was afraid that Cassian was pulling away. 

Nesta had to leave without telling him goodbye in person like she’d hoped. Instead, Nesta texted him, feeling stupid for letting her guard down. For believing that he liked her just as much as she liked him. 

She couldn’t stop herself from texting him.

See you tomorrow?

Cassian was quick with a response.

Yes. Miss you. 

It was, she supposed, enough for now. Nesta made her way back to London, miserable and moody and wondering why she couldn’t just tell Cassian the truth.

I’m in love with you. 

It was too late to invite him, but not too late to tell him she missed him, too. Nesta waited until she was in the dress Emerie had made for her—beautiful, shimmering black with a plunging neckline that was going to absolutely make someone’s aging grandfather angry—to text him back.

I miss you. 

She had to slip her phone into her clutch. Nesta wasted an inordinate amount of time putting on makeup and pinning half her hair off her face before she finally called a cab and made her way across the city for the theater her father had rented out to host the absurd event. With a lacy black and red mask careful stuck to her eyes, Nesta made her way into the open atrium. Feyre was there and had clearly the same thought Nesta had, if the gauzy black and silver dress all but painted to her skin was any indication. A pretty silver mask clung to her skin, making her eyes seem like concentrated starlight. 

Beside her, Rhys’s unnerving blue eyes cut around the room with amusement, his hand firmly on Feyre’s bare shoulder as though she were his shield from the nearby people looking in his direction. Desperate, Nesta thought, to talk to him. He wore a kilt with a suit jacket, which felt perfectly normal given the limited information she had about him. 

“Oh, thank God you came,” Feyre breathed, making her way to Nesta while Rhys trailed just behind like a dark shadow. 

“Where is Elain?”

“Phone off—missing,” Feyre said, eyes narrowed. “After begging and pleading for me to be here, I think she skipped out.”

Nesta only laughed. “Not Elain. She’s probably caught in traffic.”

“With a dead cell phone?” Feyre demanded archly. 

“She’ll be here,” Nesta said, only because it felt impossible that Elain would go to so much trouble to ensure both Feyre and Nesta came knowing she had no intention of coming herself. “I’ll bet she’s already inside and you just missed her.”

“She’s not,” Feyre protested as Rhys swept an errant curl from her ear. 

“I’ll prove it,” Nesta said, gliding over the glossy marble floor toward the man who’d checked her. A line of guests waited to enter, all fascinated by the dark haired Rhys still casually touching his wife. 

“Has Elain Archeron checked in?” Nesta asked, ignoring everyone as though they were little more than dirt beneath her shoe. An exhausted man dressed in tails and a top hat, flipped through his sheets before nodding.

“See–”

“She’s not in there,” Feyre repeated, clearly annoyed. Behind her, Rhys nodded silently which only served to annoy Nesta. She hadn’t asked for his smug agreement. Elain was here. 

“Fine. Let’s go look, because it says she’s here.”

Feyre fell into step with Nesta, clearly wanting to be there when Nesta was proven wrong. Ordinarily that would annoy Nesta—the only person more stubborn, more obstinate, more competitive than her was her baby sister. They elbowed their way through the golden archway, half jogging down the sweeping steps to the open ballroom teeming with people. A massive chandelier glittered overhead while rows of white lace tables were arranged around dancing couples, served by a staff of waiters in the same tails the man at the door wore. 

“All this for your stupid husband?” Nesta hissed, earning a smack against her stomach from Feyre. 

“And Elain. Father things she and Graysen will reconcile and he’ll have two daughters distantly in line for the throne,” Feyre replied without any true ire. 

“Ugh,” Nesta scoffed. 

“Of course,” Feyre mused, eyes sweeping the room with a creeping smile. “Elain is living with a Vanserra—”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Nesta interrupted, thinking of that dickish old man harassing their middle sister. 

Rhys laughed, stepping from behind his wife with a delighted smile. “Ye bastard.”

Feyre was grinning, and when Nesta turned, she understood why.

Cassian.

In his kilt and a black jacket. The waves of his hair had been carefully brushed while his beard was neatly styled and trimmed against his truly beautiful face. He was looking at her sheepishly, apology etched against his expression. 

Cassian and Rhys embraced loudly, two Scots among the polite, quiet English. Their raucous laughter made several people near them jump, which earned a very exaggerated eye roll from Feyre.

Nesta crept forward, trying to make sense of Cassian—he’d had to have left hours before her. “How—”

“Yer sister,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She ah…she called me a couple weeks ago, asked if I wanted to go. Said ye were too proud tae ever ask and that she wasn’t coming—”

“I told you!” Feyre crowed. 

“Why isn’t she coming?” Nesta asked. 

Cassian only shrugged his shoulders. “I didnae ask. I ah…I wanted tae surprise ye.”

“It worked,” Nesta said, realizing Cassian was without a mask. Rhys had foregone one, too, so Nesta supposed it would be a Scottish tradition, then. As if anyone didn’t know exactly who they were. 

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders set in that familiar, defensive stance. He’d come, knowing it was likely to make her angry all because beneath all that, she’d wanted him to. Nesta swallowed, nearly as tall as he was in her heels, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m glad you're here.”

And she was when people finally became curious enough about Rhys to ignore how rude they were, interrupting the four of them sitting at a table drinking and otherwise trying to while away the time so they could respectively escape. Elain never did come, and Feyre was too busy smiling beside her husband to be a fun conversationalist once things picked up in earnest.

Nesta would have been alone—again. Miserable and frustrated until she inevitably snuck off, all the while wishing she was with Cassian. 

“Dance with me, mo chirdhe,” he murmured, pulling her from her chair.

“Since when do you know how to dance?” Nesta demanded, though she followed him all the same.

“Ye don’t ask me any questions,” he said with a smile, pulling her into the proper stance for the waltz currently playing. Of course her father would have hired a live quartet, trying to seem posher than he was.

“What questions should I be asking, then?”

He lowered his face until his lips brushed over the shell of her ear. “What I’m doing at night when I’m not with ye.”

Nesta jerked, looking up at him. “You were with friends, right?”

“I was doing this,” he explained, stepping so precisely it was clear he’d only just learned the steps and wasn’t yet comfortable enough to be fluid. “I know ye said ye weren’t embarrassed but I figured ye’d be steaming, and I didn’t want tae give ye any more reasons tae be angry.”

“Oh, Cassian,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’m not angry. I was wishing you were here right until I saw you.”

“I know,” he agreed, glancing at his feet for only a moment. He was doing so well that he almost seemed effortless. But even if he’d been tripping over his feet, he still would have been the best partner she’d ever had. “I can see yer feelings on that bonnie face of yers.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“It is,” he replied smugly, handsome as ever.

“Then you must be aware that I’m in love with you? And there's no need to say it?”

Cassian stumbled. “I—ah—what?”

Nesta’s cheeks burned. She’d never said those words before and the flustered look on his face did little to calm her nerves. 

“Tha gaol agam ort,” he said, something he’d been saying since they’d first had sex. She remembered it so clearly, had been too afraid to look it up. Foolish.

“Oh,” she murmured, unable to stop the smile creeping up her face.

“Maybe since I first saw ye,” he added, his steps falling out of time with the music. Nesta didn’t care, so long as he kept his eyes wholly on her. So long as he kept his arms around her. “I was stupid, though. Couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t keep away from ye.”

“You sure know how to make a lady feel special,” she teased, still holding his gaze. 

“Let me make it up tae ye when we leave,” he replied, eyes glinting with mischief. “We’ll play sexy Scottish prisoner, cruel English—”

“Oh, stop it,” Nesta interrupted with a laugh. “We’re always roleplaying that.”

“That’s right, mo chirdhe,” he said, taking their joined hands and pressing it against her heart. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The music ended, though neither of them moved. Barely breathed. “Good,” she replied, swallowing hard. What else could she say to that? 

Cassian grinned. “Now. Where’s yer father?”

And Nesta, smiling so wide it threatened to split her face, merely pointed in his direction. She’d take Cassian to him.

They’d go together.

[lullaebies]

Hey! Do you have any Jaehaera & Maelor headcanons?

I might as well have given birth to these kids myself, tbh 😂 Yep, of course. I'll separate this into two parts for Jaehaera and Maelor. (this is a very long post lol sorry) Jaehaera Targaryen Headcanons

To begin with, and this is not specifically my headcanon, I just kind of adopted it - Jaehaera is not exactly 'simple' despite showing attributes that may indicate it, she's hard of hearing. She has trouble following conversations/teachings and does not react much to things because she does not hear them to be alerted. Much of her struggles come from this issue going undetected.

That being said, she has her twin - Jaehaerys is louder than she will ever be and always stands close to whisper and clarify things straight to her ear. They have an almost symbiotic relationship for siblings - he fills her in on what she cannot hear and she keeps her hand [with the extra digit] locked under hers to reassure him and keep it hidden whenever he's embarrassed about it.

Jaehaera finds it the most comfortable among her dolls as a child because dolls cannot chide or rebuke her for not understanding a situation immediately. When Maelor is born, she puts so many dolls in his cradle (many of them formerly hers) so he'll feel safe too.

Helaena taught her to embroider well, and that is the 'womanly' activity that Jaehaera is most adept in and learns to express herself with. She also uses embroidery as an isolation activity when the war begins and all hell breaks loose. It's not true, but in her mind, if she keeps threading the threads and acts busy no one would bother her.

Her dragon, Morghul, is one of the most seemingly ill-fitting dragons for her personality. He is entirely black with razor teeth and red eyes and he looks terrifying even as a hatchling, but he's is very gentle with Jaehaera. She hugs him as if he is one of her dolls.

Jaehaera is generally not easily spooked. Her lack of reaction to things is also just her not believing something is out to get her until it's actually out to get her, as seen with Morghul.

She craves/asks for attention in a subtle way, because she doesn't really know how to verbalize it. An example would be something I wrote about actually - if Aegon II says he likes the color gold, she wears the color gold, because she wants her father's attention. This is really most prominent with her father because he's more absent and she doesn't know how to get his attention.

Some of her kittens from after the war is over are named after her dead family members. Rys, Mel, Mond [Jaehaerys, Maelor, Aemond]. Only subtle enough so people in the Keep wouldn't begrudge her for it. (She calls Helaena and Aegon Mother and Father - sadly that's too on the nose). She could name dolls after them, but even for her the dolls are too lifeless for that not to hurt. Maelor Targaryen Headcanons

Maelor came about in a period of some reconciliation between Helaena and Aegon II. (speaking in relative terms - I can get into it but it'll take me an hour) The birth of the twins was kind of traumatizing (Helaena was 14 giving birth to twins in medieval times, I cannot see it not being rough... this needs a oneshot smh) and both of them struggled to cope with how it all ended up. Aegon tries around 126 AC to be more present in the family in some kind of a regret spurt. When Maelor is born the birth is easier, and the fact he has no defects nor any issues is immense for both Helaena and Aegon. He is somewhat dotted upon for being both the youngest and being such a relief.

He is the absolute loudest of the three children, sobs the loudest and insists on attention the most - because he also got a bit more attention from Aegon and Helaena as a baby. He's just a clingy baby, there's no rhyme or reason for it.

When he cannot cling to Aegon or Helaena, he clings to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera as substitutes. Jaehaerys takes it up with stride and together both become absolute menaces Jaehaera has to caution all the time.

He's the type of baby that questions everything. You tell him something? "Why?" you explain it? "But why?" you try to again "But...!" he's really curious, if you tell him something you can't escape it without two hours of interrogation. Alicent often jokes/says he should go to Oldtown one day, to learn at the Citadel.

Maelor's birth's feast was the first feast Daeron has attended in KL since he left for Oldtown. Daeron also had him on his hands for almost his entire stay, answering his little questions earnestly.

After Blood and Cheese, he becomes the exact opposite - almost entirely silent, to the point Jaehaera has to goad him to talk. When he is spirited away, Ser Rickard Thorne promises to Alicent they'll reach Oldtown and he'll help Maelor learn to speak and question everything in a lively way once more. But.. canon must canon, sadly.