#Crossed out for a substitute

[lesmisscraper]

The First Encounter of Marius and Courfeyrac. Volume 3, Book 4, Chapter 2.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

[unknownarmageddon]

Yeah, maybe I do wanna send you asks, so what?

Has AKA Killer ever tried cleaning his hood?

he probably does sometimes if there’s a twig that’s particularly annoying, like one that’s in his face or whatever. but i don’t think he cares enough to be consistent or thorough about cleaning all of it. to him he has better things to do. but i do think that sometimes cross will get him to lay down when they’re settled by a fire somewhere and he’ll meticulously pick most the leaves and twigs out himself. but it never stays that clean for long

[poptartmochi]

schedule send for emails, my sweet darling child 😭💖

[l0stvegas]

About twoish years ago I had this completely inscrutable dream where there was a new cardinal direction (like north, east, west, south) that suddenly started existing and was basically east but on a different directional plane. The name of the dimension/direction called “Crust”.

The way the Crust functioned was that the laws of physics changed where approximately 1 out of every 100 times something attempted to move east as relative to a compass, you’d accidentally cross into the Crust plane and be caught in a weird limbo dimension where your surroundings were a forever-looping snippet of whatever you last saw before entering the Crust. Think of how the infinite stairs in Super Mario 64 or how looping backgrounds in old cartoons like The Flintstones worked. Except, the further you descended into the Crust, the more your surroundings would gradually saturate and grow brighter until you were left with solid opaque white surroundings, and you would completely lose your sense of time and direction if you progressed too far.

This was an issue because the only way to escape the Crust was to move extremely fast westward and hope you could break “through” the crust back into regular reality, and you had to do so through the approximate point you entered the Crust. Some people would travel into the Crust for minutes or hours at a time not realizing they were in the Crust until they were inconveniently far from their starting point. There were even a few individuals who got presumably permanently lost in the Crust when they descended too far in to know how to navigate to their return point.

It got to a level where people in the dream were creating weird, deep-fried memes about how the Crust ruined their commute to work, which @/solsticeinstars and @/morrighancorbel on Twitter tried to make recreations of based on my description. There would be school classes cancelled because their teacher got Crusted and they couldn’t find a substitute in time, or truckers that went missing because they got Crusted while on their route and, tired from the road, didn’t realize they were in it until the point of no return.

I have nothing else to add this dream just haunts me and I needed to share it here

[loveinhawkins]

The sun is annoying Steve Harrington. Eddie knows this because the blinds in English class are notoriously shitty—have been ever since David C yanked the cord, so the sun always manages to get through the gaps.

Steve is squinting against it, the glare shining right in his eyes. Eddie can’t figure out why he doesn’t just move; he’s watched Steve battle with the blinds throughout the class, but it didn’t change much, no matter which way they were tilted.

Now Steve’s just stuck with a permanent frown, like he’s accepted his fate—or maybe he’s preparing for a grand finale, Eddie muses, not very seriously, like maybe the blinds should be writing their last will and testa—

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

It’s murmured so the substitute’s none the wiser. Still, the lack of volume doesn’t detract from the tone: Steve’s gone from annoyed to royally—ha ha, Eddie thinks stupidly—pissed off.

He considers replying with false pity, Oh, Harrington, I’ve got too many problems to count, but for some reason he can’t muster up enough energy for the performance. He manages a quip all the same, muted as it is—he’s got no desire to get detention again.

“Nothing. Just wondering if you’re gonna set fire to the blinds.”

Surprisingly, Steve laughs—or he laughs as much as someone can when they’re supposed to be silently reading. He gives a rueful look to the offending window, and it’s a damn shame really, that the sun’s making him squint, because otherwise his eyes would be all lit up and—woah, absolutely not, stop that train of thought right there.

“I’m this close, honestly,” Steve says, showing just how close he is with his thumb and forefinger.

And perhaps it’s simply the way he does it, the genuine flash of his grin, like he’s not worried about what he looks like; maybe the contrast makes Eddie realise that he’s been kinda serious for a while now, frowning even when the sun isn’t in his eyes.

What are you thinking about?

The question’s crossed Eddie’s mind more than once: chance sightings in the cafeteria, as the Nancy Wheeler love story came and went—but they still smile at each other, so it can’t be just that; his gut keeps telling him there’s something more, something he’s not…

But it’s none of his business, and he doesn’t know Steve like that, not nearly enough to ask.

So he tilts back in his seat, holds a book aloft like he’s trying for a Tony. In the newfound shade, Steve rolls his eyes with amusement, “You’re gonna fall.”

“You wish, Harrington,” Eddie says.

A few seconds more, and the teacher’s gonna notice, will snap at Eddie to read his book instead of waving it about.

But for now, all that matters is Steve’s smiling instead of frowning.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[moonstruckme]

Ooh ok, so here are some ideas for vampire!James in case you feel inspired to write any of them! Maybe something where he comes home after going out to feed thinking reader is asleep and he's feeling guilty and reader comforts and reassures him? Or another idea is just reader finding out that James is a vampire now, or maybe just her being there for him through the turning process. Sorry if none of these tickle your fancy!

Thank you for requesting lovely!!

cw: mention of blood, nausea

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

James walks through your door with heavy steps. He’s glad that he can do it—the first time he tried to come home after turning, you’d both wondered at how his feet wouldn’t cross the threshold until you figured it out and invited him in. It had been embarrassing. Now, James all but stumbles into the kitchen, hopefully not leaving any drippings of blood in his wake. 

He always feels drunk and sluggish after a feeding. Nauseous, too, though he’s not sure if that’s from the bilious too-full feeling or simply his own disgust with himself and what he’s done. Sirius theorizes that if James fed more often instead of waiting until he’s wasting away every time, he might not feel the effects so keenly, but James doesn’t like to talk about it. He still can’t find it in himself to talk about his condition the way his friends do, like it’s normal. 

The water coming out of the tap could be cold or boiling, James wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. All he can think about is getting it all over him, cleansing himself. He’d imagine it as washing away his sins, if such a thing were possible for creatures like him. Still, he wants to be clean to slip into bed beside you. You deserve at least that. 

It’s probably his distraction that keeps him from hearing you come down the hall. (James is not a very good vampire, he thinks. Shoddy predatory instincts.) But when you touch his shoulder, coming up beside him, he doesn’t startle. 

“Sweetheart.” James has the urge to cover his mouth from your view. These days he’s pretty good at feeding neatly, but tonight had been messier. There’s blood down to his chin. “What are you doing up?”

You give him a little smile, opening a drawer next to the sink for a cloth. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“No, you couldn’t. I’m a creature of the night now, remember?”

Oddly, this has been one of the most difficult parts of the transition for James. There’s the whole living-off-blood thing, of course, and the new ability to hear a fly in the neighbor’s kitchen, but James was always an early-to-rise, early-to-bed sort of bloke. His old schedule was dictated by the sun. Now, all his instincts are in opposition to it. 

He stays still as you adjust the temperature of the tap, wetting the cloth and then lifting it to James’ face. You smell like toothpaste, and underneath that the garlicky pasta you had for dinner. (James isn’t actually deterred by garlic, though he can’t eat it just like he can’t eat any regular foods anymore. Maybe that’s where the folklore came from. Only something truly cursed would stop eating garlic.) He can feel the veins pulsing in your wrist like a substitute for the heartbeat he no longer has, but he’s full enough now not to worry about craving you. 

Of course, he craves you in various ways, all of the time. Just not in that specific way at the moment. 

“You should be in bed,” James murmurs. He touches his thumb to the shadow underneath your left eye. “I can clean myself up.” 

“I wish you’d just use the bathroom,” you reply just as softly, dragging the cloth over the line of his jaw. “But anyway, I don’t mind helping.” 

You don’t mind much of anything, James has found. You don’t mind watching your boyfriend turn into a vampire, don’t mind letting him feed on you, don’t mind cleaning an animal’s blood off his chin at two in the morning. You’ve adjusted to James’ new lifestyle better than he has. He’s beginning to think there’s nothing about him you won’t accept. You’re a sweetheart to your core, your center soft and sticky sweet like a cinnamon roll’s. (James should know, he’d practically tasted it himself.)

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says. 

You wave a hand. “You didn’t. I was up, I just came when I heard the tap come on.” 

So you’d been waiting up for him. James’ heart at once warms with fondness and heavies with guilt. 

You give him a searching look. “Does it still make you feel sick, after?” 

“Yeah,” James admits. 

Your lips pull down. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it, lovely.” 

“Mm, try and stop me,” you counter teasingly. “Do you think you could handle a sprite?” 

James isn’t sure. Solid foods only ever make him sick, but drinks have been hit-or-miss. 

“I could try,” he says, mostly for you. 

“Only if you want to.” You set the cloth down on the edge of the sink, kissing him softly on the lips. James doesn’t know how you can do it. To open your mouth to one that’s just done something horrid, and to do it so simply. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

James’ unbeating heart gives a powerful squeeze. “I love you, too.” 

You press a kiss just below his lips, and another to his chin. If you’re trying to prove a point, it’s working. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if we go to bed?” you ask softly. 

“Mm, definitely. Like the dead.” 

A startled giggle spurts out of you. You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling in the dark. James thinks that maybe he could get used to the whole vampire thing, so long as he can keep you looking at him like this.

[puppetwoman17]

Let’s talk about what aging would do to Billy’s perception of how he’s acting toward other heroes when he’s taking care of them(yes this is dad Marvel I’m feeding yall today).

When Billy was younger, he just wanted to help. Of course, that doesn’t alter anyone’s perception of Cap as a dad figure, but Billy wasn’t actively trying to take care OF them. All he’s doing is trying to be a helping hand. Someone to listen to others when they just need a good vent.

In his perspective, all he’s doing is being a good friend. Not a mentor, or an older brother, or anything akin to that. Of course, that doesn’t make a difference for younger heroes(or, heroes who perceive themselves as younger than Cap). Or even for some of his League coworkers. Because all of that care is coming from someone who they don’t really know the age of.

He could be in his thirties, or he could be thousands of years old, or he could even be just eleven, manifesting out of pure magic, and with that wisdom.

It’s only as Billy grows older, I’m thinking somewhere between high school junior-college freshman, that he actively starts thinking of himself as that mentor figure. Or, he starts thinking of what he DOES to heroes as being a mentor/older brother figure.

And once he feels more comfortable leaning into that, that’s when he starts reciprocating the affection given to him. I’m talking him saying “I’m proud of you” with that fatherly tone. Him deciding to give hugs instead of others always having to ask(ofc he asks first, our boy cares about consent). And yes, him going as a substitute for parent teacher conferences.

For Billy, it’s always been about being a better parental figure than the many adults who let him down. It’s about learning the dos from his parents and the don’ts from Ebenezer.

Now all the “best dad/brother” mugs make so much sense. Raven following him sometimes. Clark asking for advice on how to handle Jon and rekindle things with Kon. Tbh he feels kind of stupid for not realizing how people thought of him sooner.

Of course, this only amplifies his refusal to reveal his identity. Sheesh, he was gonna introduce himself on Christmas, but what would they all think now?

It’s a complicated thought process of “They deserve to know if I have such an important place in their lives��� and “but what if I lose all that respect and relationship?” and “but that would be selfish of me to want to keep that.”

The thought that they might still accept and love him never crosses his mind because no matter how self aware he gets, Billy will always be clueless when it comes to how people perceive him(aka yes, Billy, you are lovable—No, Billy, no one is using you for money, you don’t have that).

[eroselless]

───────────────────somebody else // 3

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.1k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings: angst, insecure reader, unprotected smut (don’t be silly, wrap that willy!)

note: Magui is mentioned in this chapter and will be mentioned going forward and I know there’s lots of conversations on the internet about her. I honestly just used her in this story to avoid having to come with an original character. I don’t like to comment or get into driver’s actual personal lives so please if there’s any comments y’all want to make of her that doesn’t have to do with this story, please take it elsewhere. 

The morning inevitably comes, the early light filtering through the blinds, gently pulling you from your slumber. You blink slowly, discarding sleep from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you suddenly remember where you are. Lando's arm tightens around your waist, and his face burrows deeper into your back, still deeply asleep. Carefully, you try to slip out from under his arm without disturbing him. His hold loosens reluctantly as you rise, and you begin gathering your things in silence. 

You catch a glance of yourself in the full length mirror he has sitting in the corner of the room. What you see is almost something pulled straight from a dream. Your hair is disheveled but in a way that only shows how deeply you had slept the night before. Lando’s shirt clings to your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. As you stand there, you can see him breathing deeply behind you. His arm is outstretched, reaching over your now empty spot on the bed. He’s almost lost in the clouds that are the blankets of his bed. 

You swell with emotion, the domestically of this moment proving to weigh too much on your chest. You swiftly pull the shirt off, fold it and leave it on a chair before putting on your clothes from last night. Moving towards the door, you feel your foot nudge something hard on the floor. Your eyes flicker down, seeing what you only assume is Lando’s phone resting there, almost dead. Picking it up, instinctively, you plug it into the charger by the bedside table, eyes catching a 12 hour's old message illuminating the screen. 

Your stomach twists when you see the name on the message. Magui. You’d see her linked to him, seeing him around Monaco with her things, driving her around in his cars. You peer over the phone, eyes reading over the words on the phone. 

The knot in your chest tightens as you read the text:

already missing you, when are you coming over again? last night was fun ;)

Every letter seems to twist in your chest like a knife. The implication was clear-–whatever happened last night, before your tryst under the dancefloor lights, was anything but friendly. Your breath hitches, and you set the phone down carefully, it feels too hot in your hand now. It's almost as if it’s trying to mock you with the memory of last night’s events. It was too good to be true, you think, the thrill of last night fading into the cruel light of reality. Maybe you happened to just be in the right place at the right time, a convenient substitute for something he had been craving. 

Your footsteps are light as you make your way out, taking one last glance at Lando’s sleeping form before closing the door behind you.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun is already high in the sky by the time you arrive at the track. The same excited buzz that lingers in the air feels different today, it causes your stomach to turn and every step you take feels heavier the further in you go. Your heart pounds as you step into the paddock, nerves running high as you anticipate Lando’s visit, a pavlovian reaction you’ve developed. But you’re assigned to the Ferrari garage for today, something about the overwhelming influx of guests and reporters.  

You’re grateful for the distractions, being away from the McLaren suite is a welcome relief–-you don’t think you could handle facing Lando just yet. You keep reminding yourself that it was a drunken kiss, a mess of touches that happened in the heat of the moment, a memory Lando might not even remember. The glow of the text message on his phone only reinforces that idea. It might as well be left off as a memory, you think. After all, it seemed to imply that he already had someone to occupy his time. You were just … there. 

You’re pouring a drink when you hear a familiar voice greet you from behind. Turning, you find Carlos leaning casually against a table, an easy smile hanging from his lips as you hand him a bottle of water.

“Looks like you’ve been promoted, working for the red team today,” he teased lightly.

You chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess they needed someone with my impressive drink-carting skills,” you joked, catching his eye.

Carlos grins, taking a long sip before lowering the bottle. “Well, at least you’re making this garage look better,” he adds, giving you a playful once-over.

You laugh again, this time a little more naturally, but as your eyes meet his, you see something shift in Carlos’s expression—his gaze briefly darting past you.

You turn just in time to see Lando making his way over, his strides purposeful. Carlos straightens, the easygoing look still on his face but a hint of something else lurking beneath it. The tension between the three of you is almost palpable. There’s that twist in your gut, the face you’d been dreading to see again. There was that voice that lingers in the back of your mind, once again reminding you that it told you so. 

“Hey, you,” Lando greets casually, his voice steady but lower than usual. He doesn’t hesitate pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels almost possessive. His lips brush your cheek in a fleeting kiss, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. It’s warm, familiar, but it only makes the tension inside you grow. It makes your head spin. 

“Hi,” you manage to say, feeling breathless as you return the hug. Your voice feels quiet, fragile. Almost like if you spoke too loudly, it would shatter in your voicebox. You try your best to keep up the smile that had been painted on your face just a minute later. You can feel Carlos’s eyes still on you, watching the interaction closely. You can’t place Lando’s expression, unsure of what could be going on in his head. 

As you step back from Lando’s embrace, you give Carlos an apologetic smile before excusing yourself to attend to the guests nearby. With a quick smile, you excuse yourself, leaving Lando standing there, watching as you disappear into the crowd. The moment you’re out of earshot, the air between the two drivers shifts. 

Carlos arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

Lando narrows his eyes slightly. “Just making sure everything’s in check.”

Carlos smirks, clearly picking up on the unspoken tension. “Yeah? Everything in check, huh?” He pauses, and then with a more pointed tone, he adds, “Including Magui?”

Lando stiffens slightly, but doesn’t take the bait. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Hasn’t it?” Carlos tilts his head. “You know, mate, maybe it’s time you figure out what you actually want before someone else makes that decision for you.”

Lando frowns, not answering immediately. His gaze flickers to where you’re standing, deep in conversation with a group of guests. There’s a carefree look on your face as you interact with them, a genuine smile he can’t help but adore. Carlos, seeing the hesitation, claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“Look, if you’re serious, don’t just sit around waiting for it to blow over,” Carlos says, his tone shifting from teasing to genuine. “Otherwise, someone else might step in. And who knows,” he adds with a smirk, “maybe I will.”

Lando gives him a look, but Carlos just laughs it off, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. You’ve got enough to deal with, but you’re playing with fire.”

Before Lando can respond, a team member calls him away, and with a final look between them, Carlos steps back, watching Lando go with a knowing smile.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The day passes in a haze, the roar of the engines filling the air and drowning the chatter in your head. You do your best to focus on your duties in the Ferrari garage, but the weight of Lando’s gaze bears heavy on you whenever you catch a glimpse of his car zooming past you on the track. It's like a tether—one that pulls tighter and tighter with every passing moment. 

The race finally comes to a close, the sun having fallen through the sky, dipping below the horizon. The energy in the paddock becomes electric as he comes in second, right on Carlos’s tail. The cheers and celebrations blur around you as the drivers finish their interviews, spraying champagne and basking in the excitement. You can feel Lando’s eyes on you, even as he stands among the flashing cameras and jubilant crowds of journalists. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as move around the paddock, eventually returning to the equally bustling McLaren suite. 

As the crowd thins, you don’t get far before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist that tugs you away from the crowd. It weaves you through the paddock, past the media, past the throngs of people, until you find yourselves alone in the privacy of his driver’s room. 

The door clicks behind you, the noise now muffled by the walls around you. The tension between you hangs heavy in the air as you stand nervously at the door, it's thick and suffocating. 

“Lando–”

He doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he pulls you against him, mouth encapsulating yours with a fervor that catches you off guard. It's not unlike how he kissed you at the club but this time you have the reassurance that you’re both stone cold sober.

His kiss is heated, desperate, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of feeling into that moment. The taste of champagne lingers on his lips, and you feel the raw energy coursing through him, a mixture of adrenaline and something deeper—something possessive.

Your body betrays you as you respond to his kiss, the want, the need of him too strong to resist. His hands roam your body, pulling a whine from your lips as he presses his hips to yours. He anchors you to him but it’s more than just a physical desire now. There’s something else in the way he touches you, as though he’s afraid to let go. 

It's dizzying, the way he holds you, his fingers digging into your skin. You respond just as eagerly, hands tangling in his curls, feeling the way his hair slips through your fingers, unruly and messy after being trapped under his helmet. He deeps the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Just like he did in the dimly lit bathroom, he seems to take your breath away, setting a fire in your chest.

You feel his body against yours, solid and warm, heat radiating from him like a furnace. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly as he walks you backward toward the small bed. Your legs hit the edge, and you stumble slightly, but Lando doesn’t break the kiss, his mouth still moving with fervor against yours as he lowers you onto the bed.

He hovers over you, not yet ready to press his full body weight on top of yours. You whimper as his lips trail down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. It makes you arch your back into him, hands taking purchase of the thick muscle of his back. 

“Lando…” you breathe, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He responds with a low, guttural hum, his lips moving lower, his teeth grazing along your collarbone before his hands begin to tug at the hem of your shirt. You help him, lifting your arms as he pulls it over your head in one swift motion, leaving you exposed beneath him.

His eyes darken as he looks down at you, his breathing heavy. There’s something primal in the way he stares, as if he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. His hands find your skin again, exploring, caressing, his touch both gentle and possessive as his fingers trace patterns across your stomach, your sides, your breasts.

You feel your pulse quickening with every sleight of his hand, every kiss he places along your exposed chest. He takes his time moving over the vast plains of your skin, counting every freckle, every mole. He’s savoring you, trying engrave in his mind the way you taste, the way you feel against him, the way your whines echo through the room. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as his lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands are everywhere, stroking teasing, setting your skin aflame as he worships every inch of you. His lips trail lower, leaving a hot trail behind them as he moves closer to waistband.

Your lustful trans in interupted as you see his phone light up silently where it's thrown carelessly on the table nearby. He doesn’t notice it as he moves to unbutton your pants. You want to pull away, tell him to stop. Tell him you don’t want this, that you don’t crave this—the closeness, the intensity of his touch. But you don’t. 

It’s the same part that wanted him back in the club, under those neon lights. But now, even with him so close, the doubt lingers in the back of your mind. Magui’s name feels like a ghost between you, hovering in the room, even though you don’t dare utter it aloud.

You reach for him again, the feeling of his lips on the tops of your thighs bringing you back. You pull him up, pressing your lips to his once again. You tug at his fireproofs, pulling it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his body, muscles softly rippling beneath his skin. The rush of the moment stills for a second and now it's your turn to try to memorize what he looks like. 

Your fingers dance delicately over the taut skin, dragging them down his sternum, counting every mole and feeling each valley you come across. Your eyes flicker up briefly, catching a glint in his eyes you hadn’t quite seen before. But before you can mull over it too much, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s just as intense as before. 

His hands slide into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool air hits your skin and you suck in a breath, the coolness being replaced by his warmth. His body is pressed against yours and hard as you might try, you can’t bring yourself to stop the sinking feeling you begin to feel in your chest. 

His kisses grow more frantic, more needy, and you can feel his desire for you in every movement, every touch. You respond in kind, your own need for him matching his as your hands roam his back, his chest, pulling him closer. The world outside the room fades away, and for a brief moment, it’s just you and him, tangled together in a mess of limbs, breathless kisses, and heated skin.

When he finally moves between your legs, you gasp, your body arching into him, craving the contact, the connection. His eyes lock with yours, and there’s a moment of stillness as he hovers over you, the weight of everything unspoken between you pressing down on your chest.

Each touch, each breath shared between you only makes that nagging voice in the back of your mind grow louder. Does he feel this way with her too? Is this just another moment, another temporary high, easily forgotten once the race weekend is over? Will he be quick to forget you as he’s forgetting her—quickly falling into her embrace as he is falling into yours?

The questions fail to reach your lips, dissolving on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. He pushes into you with a groan, his forehead resting against yours, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the sensation overwhelms you.

The rhythm between starts off slow, tender, as if he’s trying to say a million words with every thrust, every kiss, every movement. But it’s not enough. Doubt still lingers in the forefront of your mind and even though your body responds to his ministrations, your heart remains guarded, wary. 

His pace quickens, his breathing ragged as he moves faster, deeper, and you cling to him, your own breath coming in short gasps as the pleasure builds. He cries your name, lips finding yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, the way his hands grip your hips, the way he looms over you. 

Your body reaches its peak, but as the waves of pleasure crash over you, the doubt remains. You can almost imagine her in this same position, writhing beneath him as he gives himself to you. Her face haunts you, the image of them together, his hands over her, holding her just as tight. 

But you don't bring it up, you don’t ask the questions that repeat over and over in your mind. You're afraid of what the answer will be. Afraid that this moment will merely be a chapter in the novel of time, lost in the frayed pages of a book long hidden away. 

When it's over, he lies on your chest. It's terribly domestic as he draws circles on your exposed belly and chest, lips tracing over the skin tenderly. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. The words are there, waiting to be spoken—questions, doubts, confessions—but neither of you has the courage to break the silence. Maybe it’s easier this way, not confronting whatever this is. Maybe it’s safer to pretend it’s just the high from his victory, that this moment will pass, leaving no lasting trace.

His phone lights up again and you see his eyes flicker to it briefly before you both begin to rise from your temporary bliss. That's when you realize it. You don’t have the heart to keep doing this. The uncertainty, the doubt, that cry in the back of your mind. It’s all too much. You can’t be part of something where the lines are so blurred, where neither of you is willing to admit the truth.

So, you walk away.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys @obxstiles @moonvr @spideylovin @lipstickstateofmind

a/n: hi everyone, thank you much if you've gotten to this point! i was honestly so excited and surprisingly had lots of fun while writing this rather emotional chapter. let me know what you guys think of it, i always love to see what you guys have to say!

[aayakashii]

how do they ask for consent?

Warning: NSFW, not super explicit but still gtfo if you're a minor.

Consent is sexy!! I had this idea in a dream and I had to write it (⃔ *`꒳´ * )⃕↝

Also, if some of these characters can't touch or be touched, well. Now they can. GET TOUCHED IDIOT 🫳👉🤲🤚🤜🤲🫵👐🫳👉🫸🫱🖐🤝👐👇🤌🫷🫴👉🤲🫲👐👈🤝🤲

Jin

He feels disgraceful, but the white hot feeling in his groin can't be ignored any longer. He glares at you, the reason for his predicament, and threads his fingers through your hair. You can see the conflict in his eyes as he gets closer, his white porcelain skin tinted pink and hot to your touch. And when he presses his lips against yours, all doubt fades away. He holds your body like it's his lifeline and when your lips part, he allows himself to say one word he would never say to anyone else but you: "please".

Tohma

He desperately holds one of your hand with both of his and kisses each one of your knuckles, slowly – a plea for you to allow him to touch you further as his gaze burns deep into your eyes. He deliberately kisses you with an open mouth, the wet sound of his lips bringing shivers down your spine, much to his pleasure. Once you nod, he finally allows himself to pull you flush against his body. There's no running away from him now.

Kaito

All blushes and stutters. His eyes are hazed and his breath comes out in puffs while he tries to voice out his desire for you, but fails. His face is mere inches from yours and his gaze is so intense that it could burn. He places his hands onto your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as he pushes the fabric of your shirt away. Give him permission or take him out of his misery. He's been in your hands since the beginning.

Lucas

He sits on his feet, a hand on top of his chest so he can feel his own racing, loud heart. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to think of the words to say. Once he finally gathers the courage, he simply mumbles a "can I?" and he hates how feverish he sounds. His heart takes a bigger leap when he feels your hand against his cheek and the flustered smile on your face when you say yes. He quickly realizes that being yours is something he could get used to.

Alan

His hands fist the sheets of your bed, knuckles going white with the effort. He nuzzles his nose against your cheeks and he pants, hot breath against your skin, haggard like you stole all the air from his lungs – and you might as well have done that. Self-control shackles him in place, but anguished desire pulls him to you and he feels his restraint rip apart. And still, he'll never ask, but he'll silently scream for your permission – permission to place his wretched hands all over your body. If you're able to hear it, let him dive into you. He's starved of your touch.

Leo

It's not so simple. First, he needs to cross over the hurdle of his own shame. He is just embarrassed that he needs you so much, but once he accepts it, he's an unstoppable force: doe eyes, batting eyelashes and bratty pouts to convince you of touching him right where he needs you. He's all arms over your shoulders and kisses on the corner of your lips until you give him the answer he wants. And once you do, he promises you won't forget the feeling of his skin against yours.

Sho

It's simple. He doesn't fight himself when it comes to you. His scarred knuckles run gently over the skin of your cheeks and his lips brush over yours, as he breathes deeply to ask for your permission to take things further, loud and clear despite the slight tremble in his voice – permission to fulfill all the feverish dreams he has at night when he's alone and no party can substitute the high of your skin against his. Allow him to taste you like you do his food.

Haru

His hands find their refuge on the plush of your hips. From this up close, you can see small freckles peppering his sweaty skin, surely a consequence of all his work under the sun, and the pretty blush spreading through his face. Haru licks his dried lips, hands still kneading your hips as he gulps, readying himself to ask you for your touch – he figures that, at this point, he was ready to beg. He rests his forehead against yours and a sunny smile spreads on his face when you give him permission into your body. He never knew how much he wanted you until now.

Towa

He kisses you under the stars, in the middle of the fields, on top of the hills, in the deepest caves. If you need him to prove his love to you, he'll spend a lifetime smothering you in kisses, waiting until you reveal your most intimate parts to him. Every kiss will be a question, but he doesn't need an answer. He just loves to love you. He lets you take the reigns and choose the timing. Whenever you allow him in you, it'll be perfect and romantic enough for him. He just wants you to love him back.

Ren

He worries you might run as soon as he shows interest. He wants it, he so desperately wants it, but what if he messes it all up? What if you don’t feel the same? Ren gets so tangled up in the "what ifs" that it takes a while for him to get out of his own head. His question is hurried and mumbled, like he's trying to quickly rip out a bandaid so it'd hurt less; so the shame would drown him in one go once you refuse his touches. Suffice to say, he's confused once you open yourself to him. He thinks you're insane, but he'd be damned to let this chance pass.

Taiga

He kneels in front of you and licks a long stripe on your clothed crotch. He glares at you from under his lashes – a predatory gaze if you've ever seen one – while his teeth pierce the waistband of your pants, pulling it just a little, while his hands greedily clutch handfuls of your bottom. He could rip your clothes off in seconds if he wanted to, but he patiently waits for you to answer his silent question. It's so much nicer when you beg for him.

Romeo

He recognizes he is a man of many sins – pride and greed have been part of him since his early age. So it's rather ironic when it all sends him into a spiral of conflict when it comes to you. His pride prevents him from outright asking you for your attention, but his greed demands you all for himself. A new sin, however, overpowers everything: lust. He can't run, can't hide from the stirring in his insides when he sees you. It is then, that trapping you between himself and one of the golden walls of his office, he finally asks you, breathless and flustered, if you'd help him quell this urge.

Ritsu

He hates everything that he can't understand. Things he can't organize, control, jot down on his notes or record in his phone. Still, he can't help but be addicted to this maddening desire he feels for you, deep inside his core. It's unpredictable, unreliable, and beyond his comprehension. But he loves it. Words, to him, have never been a problem, not even when he's embarrassed beyond belief. He holds your hands firmly and openly tells you of his feelings – of his needs. And if you'll have him, he'll do his best. Just like with everything he does in his life.

Subaru

He can't find the words to explain himself to you. The blush on his neck, his cheeks and the tip of his ears burn his skin, and he pants – velvety smooth lips pouting with the weight of the words he can't say. He reaches out for your hand, holding it gently against his cheeks and he stares at you with a gaze so lustful that you shiver, as if he managed to strip you bare with a single look. He hopes you understand his gestures and give him reprieve from the need in his body. Set those words stuck in his throat free, with your touch, please.

Haku

His hands glide up and down your arms, fingertips hover gently over your skin to elicit goosebumps – he takes his sweet, sweet time with all of it. He places kisses on your jaw and begs you not to be cruel and to please, please let him in. He's his family disgrace – what is dignity to him when you, of all people, are involved? If you wanted to, he'd get down on his knees and kiss your feet like a devotee worshipping his deity. He'd pray for you to let him have you. All for you to allow him to touch the parts of your body he has only dreamed of.

Zenji

He does not hesitate to voice his desires loud and clear. Gently tilting your chin up to look into his red eyes as he asks you whether you'd give him the honor of being intimate with you after smothering you with hot, loud kisses. His intensity is suffocating. Having someone loving you so openly and loudly is dizzying and it's okay my love, he understands. The lightest touch already inspires him more than any poet's muse ever did. He'll patiently wait (though with bated breath) for you to turn his world upside down once you let him in.

Ed

Not even over 400 years of life could prepare him for this surprise – a weathered vampire, lusting for a meek little human. He wastes no time inside his mind and goes straight to you. His arms embrace your waist, and his lips place dangerous kisses on the column of your neck – tongue darting out to feel the inviting pulse of your carotid artery. He whispers his question while nibbling the lobe of your ear and, if you're not ready yet, it's okay. He can be patient, but don't make him wait too much. He needs to eat and you smell like his new favorite food.

Rui

He's confident in his ability to convince you. He knows cute winks and silly flirts won't work, don't worry. He decides to be honest: to hold you flush against his body, arms circling your waist as he rests his forehead against yours. He whispers in secrecy how much he is desperate to touch you, to feel you against his tongue, his fingertips, his skin. He wonders if you'd have him, yours to do as you please. When you smile in the kiss you place upon his lips as an answer, Rui melts down under you, relief washing over his body. All that's left is this maddening lovesickness that feels incurable. But anyway, simplicity sometimes is best.

Lyca

He's confused, and maybe a little scared. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck and drowns himself in your scent – only for the feeling to worsen. He bares his teeth, the need to bite down on your flesh and never let you go almost overwhelming him. You're the only one he trusts with this. Would you help him? He knows it's embarrassing, but you're the only person he can think of at the moment, the only one he wants. He can barely control his hips as he helplessly humps against your thigh. He's sorry, he's sorry. Please take him into your arms and help him?

Yuri

He wonders for a second if he should treat you like an experiment. On... how would he feel during and after intercourse. He sighs, knowing his excuse is terrible. It's hard, admitting to himself that he wanted you. But maybe telling you was still harder. He decides to announce it, like he would announce the results of an exam. It's easier, and he feels less like dying this way. He stammers, cheeks furiously red, as he tries to ask you for your "cooperation" and sighs, running a hand on his sweaty forehead when you smile and agree. Don't tease him. He has no experience in this. If you want him to be more romantic, he'll need practice. You'll practice with him, won't you?

Jiro

Jarring, is how he'd act. As soon as he realized he wanted to be intimate with you, he made a beeline towards your door. Things are simple with Jiro, no need for convoluted explications. He wants you, do you want him back? He makes his point clear by grabbing your hand and placing it on his crotch and you nearly faint at the feeling of him already eager for you. He'd truly appreciate it if you accepted. Just be aware that these things are chronic, okay? Therefore, he might need your assistance again quite soon.

[mywritersmind]

UNCONVENTIONAL - LN4

summary : In which trying to make it home for thanksgiving fails and a cute british driver feels bad.

listen up : no warnings just cuteness! happy thanksgiving to all my americans <33 im thankful for YOU🫵 lando norris x american!driver!reader

word count : 1968

⋆༺

I groan out loud, dropping my phone onto the jet’s seat. “We’re stuck.” Lando sits up from his position across two seats, and frowns.

“Shit.” I look outside of the planes window, seeing the snow and fighting back tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not even december! Snow should not be here!” I wipe my eyes. I know Lando feels bad and I'm not making the situation worse by crying. But I’m having a hard time today because I'm supposed to be with my family.

Lando offered me and some other drivers a ride to Qatar for the next grand prix. Thanksgiving happened to fall the day before media day so I thought I could stop by my parents house and leave that night.

I never particularly loved Thanksgiving, but now that i’m traveling so much because of work, I've learned how much I truly can miss my loved ones.

Lando bites his lip as I sit back down and pull the blanket over me. The pilot informed us that we won’t be getting in the air for a few hours which means we have to go straight to the track instead of seeing my family.

I take a breath, “It’s okay. I appreciate you trying.” I hate crying in front of the guys, even if he is my friend. I hate it because it just plays into the whole emotional woman thing, and even though Lando is one of my best friends, right now I can’t help it.

Lando sits across from me, nudging his foot against mine, “How about we have thanksgiving here?” My head shoots in his direction as he puts on a small smile, “I don’t know a lot about it and I know I'm not your family… but I can try to be a substitute.”

I swallow, wiping my eyes again before I cross my my arms, “How would we even do that?”

I did not expect Lando to take my words as a competition. Still, thirty minutes later I'm sat with a full course meal spread out on the tiny table in between seats. There’s no huge turkey or array of pies, instead we have chicken wraps and fries. We have chips, popcorn, pesto pasta, orange chicken, a bagel, salad, and bread. A bottle of champagne sits next to me as Lando sits down.

His smile is wide as he looks down at the spread, “Good enough?”

“How did you…” I shake my head, laughing, “Yeah it’s good enough! Lando, this is really sweet.”

“It’s my first thanksgiving, I had to make it delicious, even if it is all airport food.” He shrugs and starts pulling things onto his plate. My legs are crossed on the comfortable seat and as I watch him pick his meal, I smile.

I bite into the chicken wrap that’s actually delicious. Lando taps on his phone before music starts playing over the speakers.

I smile at him as he chews, “So… what do Americans usually do on thanksgiving?”

I shrug and sip some champagne, “Eat, gossip, be thankful?”

“Okay! Let’s gossip then. Sounds easy enough.” Hes ridiculously committed to the bit and I adore him for it, “Did you know Franco’s signed with RB?” I start coughing, practically choking on my food.

“What!?” I scream.

Lando’s laughing now, “No I don’t actually know, I just couldn’t think of anything else.” I kick him under the table as he gasps.

“That’s evil! I got so excited.” I’m laughing with him now, our food picked apart and a mess in front of us. “What are you thankful for?”

He thinks for a moment, a curl falling into his face that makes my stomach flip a little. “Mmm… My family and friends.”

“That’s too generic. It’s thanksgiving- get deep, Norris.” He gives me a slight smirk before nodding.

“I’m thankful that the championship talk is over. I’m thankful for Chicken wraps.” He holds his up, proudly as I roll my eyes. “And I'm thankful for you.”

I’m a tad bit shocked, “For me?” I expect him to say something stupid or flirty, but he’s dead serious.

“You’re a really good person. I like being around you and for that, I'm grateful.” He raises his glass and I hit it with mine, “Now go on, brag about me.”

I roll my eyes, back to smiling humorously, “I’m thankful that I'm not alone right now.” His eyes don’t stray away from mine, “And I’m thankful for snow. Even if it’s pissing me off, it’s very pretty.”

We both look out the window in sync, the snow still falling. The runway is fully white, matching the trees and wing of the plane.

When I look back at Lando, he’s already looking at me. His face is relaxed, his freckles prominent and curls perfect. “Do you want to go?” I say suddenly as his expression turns confused.

“We can’t yet, we still have like two hours.”

A smile tugs at my lips, “I mean outside.”

He looks hesitant, “It’s freezing.”

I stand and grab my suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my puffer jacket at record speed, “Did I mention every thanksgiving, something really random but really fun happens?” It’s true, for some reason this holiday brings out funny stories. “You’re not scared of some snow, are you Norris?” I step closer, narrowing my eyes.

He stands, grabbing his own jacket, “I’m just saying, don’t come complaining when you’re freezing and wet.”

“Me!?” I scoff, zipping up my jacket, “You’re the one who needs four layers for a sunny day.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m freezing my ass off but I would rather become a human icicle than tear my eyes away from her smile. She’s giggling and running into the snow, twirling around as snowflakes fall into her hair.

“Don’t slip, Y/n!” I yell after her as she turns around, the biggest smile on her face.

Her hand goes to wipe the hair that’s being blown in her face, snow falling around her, “Come catch me, Norris.”

I roll my eyes and hurry over to her as she laughs and dances around. I can’t help but laugh with her, it’s fucking contagious.

She sticks her tongue out, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes. Y/n is so perfectly caught in the haze of the snow and light peaking through the clouds that she looks like an angel.

She pokes my cheek and holds onto my jacket as if she’s about to fall. “Your nose is red.”

“You should get a job in detective work if the whole driving thing doesn’t work out…” She scoffs loudly and punches me in the arm.

Unfortunately, she’s stronger than she looks and because the ground is icy, we’re both falling seconds later.

She lands on top of me, laughing so hard that she’s crying, “Fuck! Are you okay!?”

“Like you care!” I sit up, holding her tightly still.

She laughs and plops down next to me, laying her head back and arms out. “Oh no-”

“Angel time, Norris!” She screams at me.

“I’m going to become snow!”

She doesn’t respond, just stretches her arms and legs out and waves them back and forth to make the snow part below her.

Something about her is my weakness and I honestly can’t complain when she looks so happy. I join her, my hair getting soaked and her laughs making me smile.

I make my angel in peace as snow floats down from the sky, landing on my face. I hear the rustle of her jacket as she turns her head to me, “Thank you.”

I smile softly, examining her face and the snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch her skin. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I'm not your family.”

She lets out a breath, “You’re my found family. That’s close enough.” her words make my heart beat faster, “Even if you are British and your first thanksgiving was on a grounded plane.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way. Although, next year we should try for a more friendsgiving approach. Maybe with the whole grid?” Her smile grows as she looks up at the sky.

“I'm very down for that.” As i’m mentally tracing her side profile in her mind, a voice and light comes very loud.

“You two!” I realize we’re in trouble instantly and stand up as fast as I can, slipping all over the place as the voice gets louder and the flashlight shines directly towards us.

Y/n is trying to get up with me but she’s laughing and slipping so it’s significantly harder. I grab her hand and we make a run for it, up the stairs and into the warm cabin. The door shuts behind us and I lean my head against the wall, sighing in relief of not being caught making snow angels.

Y/n is breathing heavily across from me, a smile permanent on her face as she looks at me. Her hair is wet and I'm sure mine is the same. I can’t feel my hands and I couldn’t care less.

“You look like a popsicle!” Y/n takes her hands and wraps them over mine, getting close enough that I can feel her breath on my skin.

I’d like to pretend that what happened next was a symptom of my cold state, but I’ve never been a good liar.

As soon as she looks up at me, her eyes big and glassy, I lean down and kiss her. Her lips are warm despite her cold hands gripping my own and as soon as she pulls back, I swear.

“Fuck. I’m sorry-” I didn’t even ask! God, I'm an asshole and now I'm completely stuck. Would I die if I ran outside and hid in the woods?

But she doesn’t look mad. She looks… pleased? Her hand slips out of my reach and moves to the side of my neck, “Don’t be.”

And then she kisses me. I think I blackout because I have no clue how long we’ve been kissing but I do know that I'm now completely defrosted and warm.

“You okay?” I whisper as Y/n pulls away.

She nods, “Thanks for kissing me.”

I laugh, “You’re very welcome. Thanks for kissing me back.”

She smiles again backs up a bit, fiddling with her rings, “So… was that just a thanksgiving thing or a way to warm up or…?”

I’m smiling big now, moving my hands under her jacket as she squirms because of the temperature, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen so if you limit me to once a year, i’ll be pretty sad.”

She nods, biting back a smile, “Good to know!” She slips away from me and pulls off her jacket, sitting in a seat and pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

I slowly walk so I’m in front of her again. She’s smiling at the floor, motioning me to come sit, “There’s one more thanksgiving tradition I do every year.”

She pulls out her ipad and scoots closer to me, I feel like i’m dreaming. “And that is…?”

She clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact.

“The Thanksgiving episode of Gossip Girl!” She starts rattling on about the backstories and starts the episode but i’m still stuck on her face and how her eyes won’t meet mine.

“Y/n…” I say it softly, bringing my hand to her chin and turning her face to look at me. She’s blushing. I don’t think I've ever seen her blush.

“Mhm?” She sounds like a mouse.

I brush her wet hair out of her face and press a soft kiss against her cheek, “I really like thanksgiving.” She just smiles and nestles into my side, my arm around her.

She lets me have some of the blanket and whispers, “I really do too.”

[aylish91]

New chapter incoming!!

Sea Of Hope Chapter 8

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

This masterful piece of art was done by @aoi-kanna as a commission. They are truly talented and I appreciate all the hard work they put into making this for me. Go check them out, they are absolutely wonderful!!!

Story below or AO3 above.

~~~

While Axe checked you over, Edge grabbed Red by the back of the neck and stormed down the main hatch, loudly yelling at the rest of the crew to mind their own business as they scurried out of his way. For the most part, Red's protests went unheard as he was dragged down the steep steps. Blue, on the other hand, had hesitantly approached Papyrus, whispering something before they too turned and headed past the hatch, disappearing through a pair of doors into the upper levels of the ship. 

The clearing of a throat had you tensing and pressing closer to Axe. Black had once again gotten closer than you were comfortable with, standing only a couple paces away. “AS HEARTWARMING AS THIS IS, IT IS QUICKLY BECOMING LATE AND THE LADY STILL NEEDS ADEQUATE DRESS. MY BROTHER’S COAT IS HARDLY A FITTING SUBSTITUTE.”  

Rus chuckled beside him. However, when he made to comment, a look from Black had him looking down instead. 

Axe narrowed his sockets. “Don’t know where you’re planning on get’n somethin. Ain’t exactly swimmin in extras and you’ve refused to mend mine so I could give it to her.”  

Black scoffed. “YOU FAILED TO MENTION IT WAS FOR YOUR MARKED. YOU HAVE ALSO YET TO COMPLETE THE TASK I ASKED OF YOU. I DID NOT SEE THE POINT IN TURNING IN YOUR FAVOR WHEN MY OWN HAD BEEN UNMET.” 

“Been busy.” 

“AS WE’VE ALL.” 

Something shifted in the air, both of their eyelights brightening. Rus glared, moving closer to his brother. It took Crooks placing a hand on Axe’s shoulder for the two to back down. 

“Petty bastard.” 

“WHEN IT SUITS ME.” With a flourish of a hand and a half step back, he indicated the direction of the doors, continuing to meet Axe’s gaze. “NOW, I BELIEVE WE SHOULD ATTEMPT TO FIND SOMETHING MORE SUITABLE UNTIL NEXT WE MAKE PORT. SURELY YOU CAN AGREE IT WOULD BE IN EVERYONE’S BEST INTEREST.”  

“Fine, but we’re not leadin’.” You could hear the creak of Axe’s teeth. 

“OF COURSE.” With a tight turn, Black nodded, marching forward with Rus trailing behind with a wink. "AS YOU WISH." 

Axe refused to move at first, tugging his empty socket and prompting a sighing Crooks to nudge you both. "I Know You Don’t Like Him, But He Is Fair.” 

“Bastard never does anything fer free.” 

“And Yet, He Has A Point.”  

Neither you nor Axe was reassured but allowed him to guide you forward regardless. Crewmen brave enough to linger eyed your group with various degrees of emotion. When a dog monster growled, another was quick to slap the back of their head, nervously hunching at a glare from both of your skeleton friends. You tried not to show your fear or your growing limp as you passed, hoping Rus' long coat hid what you couldn’t. It didn't seem like a good idea to show weakness around others. The watchful eyes and aggressive postures spoke volumes to your already heightened nerves. Entering the ship did nothing to ease your discomfort.  

It felt cramped and pressing despite having more than enough space and light. Unlike the previous ship, several lanterns lit the expanse leaving no ominous shadows or darkened areas. You could easily see all the doors lining the walls as well as the beautifully carved and decorated windowed doors marking the end of the hall. Rus waited near the last door on the left.  

It was calm and warm, but you couldn’t shake off the feelings of danger. 

“Ya c’n go inside Darlin. Milord’s wait’n.” Rus stood to the side, motioning you inside the now open door. 

You looked to your companions. While Axe kept his eyelight on Rus, Crooks’ soft smile and nod gave you enough of a boost to cautiously cross the threshold. It smelled of lavender tinted with something you couldn’t quite place, the overall size relatively small. What looked like a narrow modified canopy bed connected to the wall was on your right. In front of you, under a single window, was a rather lovely desk intricately carved with polished knobs. To your immediate left was an open decorative chest shoved in the corner. Everything was of exquisite taste and quality, from the bedding and carvings on the furniture to the upholstery on the chair at the desk. The few trinkets left out were of fine gold or silver with glistening jewels. 

You jumped when the door closed behind you. Axe nor Crooks had made it inside. It had your stomach rolling with nerves. You did not anticipate having the others closed out. Having Black now between you and the only exit made it worse. His eyelights were too bright. 

Didn’t Rus call him a lord...? 

Your chest tightened at his approach, making sure to lower your gaze. 

“TRUE TO MY WORD, THAT HORROR’S GARMENT HAS BEEN MENDED. HAD I KNOWN IT WAS FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE HELD ONTO IT.” In his hands was a large linen shirt, neatly folded and dark in color. Holding it out, he offered it to you. “PUT IT ON. I WILL ADJUST IT AS NEEDED AFTER.” 

You froze, intently focusing on the simple article of cloth. Was he expecting you to do it here and now? In front of him? Wasn’t it bad enough you were laid bare in front of all those on the deck, or stars, when you pressed yourself against Blue? At least Axe had good reason to see you. Multiple! To willingly undress now in the presence of a man other than your husband...  

By the angel, what would Axe think of all this? 

Black must have noticed your silent panicked uncertainty when you didn’t immediately take it. Clearing his throat, something in his tone changed. “I SHALL, OF COURSE, REFRAIN FROM LOOKING WHILE YOU DO SO. YOU MAY LEAVE MY BROTHER’S COAT ON THE CHAIR WHEN YOU ARE READY.” 

It was hard not to squirm. While that was greatly appreciated, it still felt uncomfortable. Could you trust his word? You hardly knew the man. Perhaps things may have felt different if the room wasn’t quite so stifling or the door hadn’t been shut so suddenly. 

Luckily, heavy thumps in the hall distracted Black enough for him to hand you the garment himself, squinting at the door behind him. He was just about to speak again when another set of thumps sounded, this time shaking the door. Growling, he finally turned when the muffled voices following the noise got angrier. 

You really didn’t want to do this right now. Not here. Not with all the uncertainties surrounding you.  

Taking a slow breath in, you let it out. The sooner you changed, the sooner you could be rid of these unsettling feelings. With unsteady fingers twitching against the fabric as you took one last glance at Black’s back. 

One more breath. 

The sound of your rattling bones was louder without the security of the coat. Placing it on the chair, you did your best to quickly dress.  

The feeling of fabric against your bones was surprisingly comforting as you pulled it over your head. True to Axe’s size, the shirt almost went to your knees. It was so large the fabric pooled on your much smaller frame and reminded you of the nightgowns you used to wear back at the manor. 

If only it wasn’t so short. 

Though your more private areas were covered, it was not good for a lady to show so much… leg. You tugged at the hem, the sleeves threatening to engulf your hands.  

“I’m dressed, my lord.” 

A calculated breath was your only answer before his eyelights found you, fuzzy with a slight warble. You had to second guess if you had seen them correctly, for the next moment they were back to their bright and sharp orbs. Getting closer, they traveled over you as he hummed, the heel of his boots clicking as he circled. If you had hair, it would have stood on end at the subtle brush of his hand against your back. 

“AS I EXPECTED.” 

You startled, yelping when he came around to lightly grip your hips. Instinctively, your hands came to your chest from the forwardness, sockets wide. He paid no mind, eyelights intent on the bunched fabric. He only let go to pull a satin rope from his pocket. 

You squeaked again when he reached around you to wrap it around your waist. 

“MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER," His gloved hands touched your elbows, slowly moving up your arms to grasp your hands for inspection. “YOUR MAGIC. IT IS MUCH TOO THIN…” He turned them over. “Hmmmmm. Knowing Him…” 

Your chest clenched. He was close enough you could feel his ambient heat and wisps of breath. 

Before Black could say or do anything else, his door nearly burst off its hinges, a very aggravated Axe forcing it open. Black pulled you into him with a snarl, eyelights vanishing with the click of his teeth. Stuck in a headlock was a disgruntled Rus, resigned to the hold around his neck. 

You didn’t know if you could physically handle any more stress.  

“BY THE ANGEL, YOU WILL REPLACE THAT LOCK IF YOU HAVE BROKEN IT!” 

Axe’s voice was low, grin tight as he took in the scene. “Don’t appreciate the closed door, Black. Hell ya think yer doin’ in here?” 

Black placed you behind him, grumbling a growl. “AS I STATED EARLIER, I HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING TO ADEQUATELY COVER HERSELF UNTIL WE CAN PROCURE SOMETHING MORE FITTING.”  

Axe narrowed his sockets at Black’s squared shoulders. For a split second, you could see the red orb of his eyelight flick over the man in front of you before it focused on you.  

“Sure that's all ya were doin’?” 

The fabric of Black’s gloves creaked. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I WAS INSPECTING HER MAGIC FLOW. I’M NO EXPERT, BUT EVEN I CAN TELL IT’S RUNNING LOW. A MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION WOULD BE, WHY HAVEN’T YOU—” 

“I’ve been doin’ exactly what I need ta be. Don’t need ta explain myself either.” Rus stumbled into the room when Axe unceremoniously released him to motion to you. “Now, if yer done?” 

With a snarl, Black pointed a finger. “NOW SEE HERE YOU–” 

Instinctually, you reached out, stopping just before Black’s arm. “My lord, I!” You faltered at his abrupt attention, pulling back to dip your head in respect. “I thank you for your kindness, but I should return to my lord husband before any more misunderstandings occur.” 

His eyelights stuttered. “I, I BEG YOUR PARDON?” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Axe broke into heavy laughter, the loudest and deepest you’ve heard from him. It was enough to warm your cheeks as he beckoned you out and away from the room. Black gaped, slack-jawed and sputtering as you passed. You were already being guided onto the deck by the time he was able to call out one last time from his doorway. 

“AXE! YOU WILL… THAT… YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Axe only laughed harder, closing the doors behind you. 

The sun had mostly set by the time you stepped out into the humid sea air. You would have done anything in the past to be able to look up, out, and around but Axe was swift in guiding you down the main hatch. You didn’t want to linger longer than necessary anyway. 

You didn’t have Rus’s coat to hide under. 

You were grateful for the darkness once you were under. The lanterns were farther spread, some empty of light altogether. It helped ease your mind against the wandering eyes. Most gathered under the brightest lamps, playing cards at makeshift tables, drinking, and socializing while others lounged in hammocks hanging interspersed between the canons. While some watched you pass, Axe was surprisingly good at slipping through the darkest areas to avoid the unwanted attention.  

The closer you got to the front of the ship, the fewer people there were until you came upon barrels and crates stacked near and around an area quartered off by familiar heavy sheets. You could even recognize the stack you and Blue had hidden next to, the sheet on that side still halfway pulled down. Axe was kind enough to hold the flap for you to enter. 

Finally, you were able to relax the tension out of your shoulders and pained joints. You wanted to climb back into the hammock and rest your aching pelvis, maybe snuggle against Axe and his warmth. The way he moved about though had you gingerly sitting on his stool, setting it upright from where it had been knocked over. 

You wondered when that had occurred. What happened after you had been taken? 

... 

A quiet curse had you looking back at Axe as he re-fastened the makeshift wall. There were a few more rips in it than you remembered. If he had any sewing supplies, you would have to mend them. It was the least you could do as thanks. 

You let out a slow breath, peering down at your clenched fists. They were cold and stiff on your lap. Black had been interested in them. The lot of them had been interested in general, but he had seemed so focused. 

Your voice was soft, hesitant as you summoned the courage to speak. “Axe? I have so many questions, but I’m afraid… I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask.” 

Axe chuckled. “Don’t gotta be afraid with me, Dove. It’s good ta ask questions around here. The more ya know the better, good or bad. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.” 

You picked at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it down as much as you could. “Is that true?" Axe simply grunted. Collecting yourself, you forced yourself to ask the questions burning your mind. "What is a Banthos? What does it mean to be one? And what did Black mean when he said my magic was too thin? I don’t have magic. I’m not… I’m not even a monster.” 

It was hard not to flinch when, from your peripherals, you saw him stop. His voice had become more serious but thankfully still soft.  

“The hell yer not. Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, where ya come from, or what ya been through. But you’re as much of a monster as the rest of us. You’re made of magic and hope just like me.” He came over to place your hand in his scarred one, taking a knee to look directly into your sockets. “We’re the same. Dust and all. It don’t matter about anything else. As fer your magic,” he rubbed his face with a frustrated sigh, “let me worry about that. Just know ya got it and I’m gonna make damn sure ta get it where it needs ta be.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent a comforting feeling to your chest. He was always so warm. It reminded you of your mother.  

Nodding, you were about to ask about your first question when footsteps interrupted you. Axe stood, moving between you and the flap.  

“AXE, IT IS GETTING LATE. I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF PREPARING SANS’ ROOM FOR THE LITTLE MISS. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.”  

Axe only slightly relaxed at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, not moving but calling out to the other skeleton. “I can take her when we’re ready. Just got a few–” he bristled when Papyrus entered and smiled down at you, hand twitching at his side –“more things ta take care of.” 

“AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE SO I MAY HELP?” When Axe only grumbled, Papyrus took it upon himself to continue. “WELL, WHILE YOU FIGURE THINGS OUT, I SHALL MAKE SURE TO GET HER SAFELY TO HER NEW LODGINGS.” 

You both tensed. “Papyrus. Paps. At least let things settle before ya drag er away. You saw Sans. I don’t trust him.” 

Papyrus looked a little sheepish at the accusation. “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, BUT I HAVE FAITH THAT THIS WILL WORK. I MYSELF WILL KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS IF I MUST. He Means Well. NOT THAT, THAT IS AN EXCUSE FOR HIS TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR.” He came forward to place a hand on Axe’s shoulder, humble and pleading. “WON’T YOU AT LEAST TRUST ME?” 

You couldn’t place the look that crossed Axe’s face from the question, the red orb of his eyelight quaking until his free hand brushed the edges of his empty socket. “That’s cheat’n…” There was a heaviness to the silence.  

When Axe’s shoulders sagged, Papyrus gave him back his space. “All WILL BE WELL. I’M SURE OF IT.” 

You were uncertain as to what you needed to do, but before you could stand, Axe nudged you back down. With the reluctance of a stubborn cat, he then went about gathering items he had deemed yours, going so far as draping his favored blanket over your shoulders. When all was said and done, you were left with a surprisingly intricate box full of puzzles, Axe’s blanket, and an affectionate nuzzle to your neck.  

It was with a heavy heart and a glowing face that you eventually followed Papyrus back out into the darkness. 

You did your best to keep up with his long strides, missing Axe’s purposely slowed gait. You could feel the grinding strain on your pelvis and lower joints with each step. You focused on the clack of your feet to keep your mind off the aching. Papyrus was already several steps ahead of you when he got to the steps.  

Blessedly, he turned to wait for you. 

It was embarrassing how out of breath you had become from such a short distance, especially when you knew you didn’t technically need to breathe. You were even more so when Papyrus cocked his head to look you over with a contemplative hum. 

His smile was kind. “MY APOLOGIES MISS. I KNEW YOU WERE IN ROUGH SHAPE, BUT I HADN’T REALIZED…” He glanced up the steps. “PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO HELP.” 

Without so much as a warning, he picked you up and draped you across both of his arms. You almost dropped your box, squeaking in surprise as he ascended to the deck. Your mind and tongue had stopped working from the suddenness. Though Axe had carried you once before and had moved you a few times, you didn’t quite know what to think of this stranger picking you up so nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him, smile just as polite and kind as before. 

With him carrying you, it took little time to cross the rest of the way back through the double doors and down to the end of the hall. Standing in front of the windowed doors, you were only jostled a little when he turned the knob. He used his boot to kick it open the rest of the way with a bang, making you flinch when the glass shook precariously. 

You thought you saw a flash of blue, but when you looked, there was nothing there but a railed raised platform with an extravagant-looking bed, windows lining the entirety of the back wall. 

You shuddered. It smelled overwhelmingly of snow and cold rain. 

Scrunching his nasal ridge, Papyrus walked around a heavy round table with a scattering of papers and a lantern. Stepping onto the platform, he carefully set you down, turning to furiously rip the blankets off the bed to ball and fling them across the room with a fwump. 

“FORGIVE MY IDIOT OF A BROTHER. I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH HIM ABOUT APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR LATER. FOR NOW, I’M AFRAID THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. AT LEAST THE BED IS EXCEPTIONALLY COMFORTABLE.” He put his hand down to pat the mattress. “IT IS A GIMBAL BED, MADE WITH LARGER MONSTERS IN MIND SO YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE AND WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE TIPPING OF THE SHIP.” 

When you didn’t move, he gently ushered you to sit before making his way to the windows. It was so dark now that the light from the lamp effectively turned them into mirrors. You were grateful, too afraid to look through them. To your relief, Papyrus closed the many curtains for each once. Once done, he gently took your box and stood at the end of the bed, bowing slightly from the waist. 

“I WOULD STAY TO HELP YOU SETTLE, BUT I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE OTHER DUTIES I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF AT THIS TIME. BUT DO NOT FEAR, I WILL MAKE SURE SOMEONE WILL BE BY IN THE MORNING TO BRING YOU SOME TEA AND BREAKFAST AND TO WELCOME YOU.” Walking away, he stopped to place your box on the table and extinguish the lantern. “SLEEP WELL MISS.”  

With a wave, he picked up the bundle of discarded blankets and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

… 

It was frightening, alone in the dark.

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve just wanted to cure his loneliness and Eddie might have the right remedy for him after all.

ao3

Steve knew he shouldn't use drugs to numb his loneliness. Good omegas weren't supposed to do that.

Then again, good omegas wouldn't be left alone in a big empty house by their parents.

So there was no reason why he shouldn't sit at the infamous picnic table and wait for the town's drug dealer.

Somehow, he had underestimated Eddie Munson's bargaining skill greatly. After fifteen minutes of negotiation, he had ended up letting the alpha eat him out as an exchange for drugs.

And goddamn did Eddie Munson have a way with his mouth.

That was why Steve had ignored his parents' lessons about being a respectable omega and allowed Eddie to taste his virgin pussy every time he sought the alpha out.

It escalated when Eddie asked to finger him one day. Steve had been reluctant at first, because ew who knew what those hands had touched.

But he conceded eventually since Eddie was the only dealer in town (that he trusted).

Turned out, the combination of Eddie's tongue and fingers could make Steve squirt.

To think he used to live a life where he wasn't given such mind-blowing orgasms before was unbelievable. Because he knew he couldn't return to those dull days where he only had his dildos anymore.

Since the first time Steve gushed on Eddie's bed, he started going to the alpha's place more often.

And gradually, instead of slipping him those baggies, Eddie began slipping more fingers inside him.

"Are you insane?" Steve whined as the alpha's thumb nudged at his entrance.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart," Eddie lapped at his cocklet to get him relaxed. "It's gonna feel good when I'm inside you."

Steve bit back his moan as he writhed beneath the alpha's firm hands.

He always got worked up with how casual Eddie talked about fucking him. Like those fingers were somehow a substitute for the alpha's cock.

It did weird things to Steve's poor horny brain and he had to stop himself from begging for the alpha's knot every time they met.

He knew Eddie would fuck him good, but he had to keep his virginity intact.

All of his thoughts evaporated when Eddie's entire hand finally slid inside him.

"Oh my god," Steve gasped and arched his back. His body shook minutely while his cunt leaked a puddle on the sheet beneath.

It was too much, having an entire hand inside him. He was stretched to the seams, breathless and lightheaded in a way that no drugs had ever made him feel before.

"Good?" Eddie twisted his fist slowly, dark eyes tracing Steve's face like a hawk's.

"I–" He inhaled sharply when Eddie grazed his sweet spot. "I wouldn't s– say that."

"Better than your dildos?" Eddie chuckled at Steve's teary glare. "It's pretty obvious to me, Princess."

"What obvious?" Steve couldn't help but bite the bait. Knowing Eddie, it must be something ridiculous again.

Instead of answering, the alpha scratched lightly at that spot on his inner wall, making him mewl and tremble in pleasure.

But the friction wasn't enough for him to come. It was frustrating.

Eddie continued tormenting him like that until he was loose enough for the fist to move faster.

Even in his wildest dream, Steve would never expect to be fucked by someone's hand.

But there he was, drooling and shaking as Eddie fisted his pussy.

It was when Steve was cross-eyed and on the edge of crashing that Eddie finally leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"You're such a slut, baby.”

And Steve was done for.

He rolled his eyes back and let out a high-pitched moan as he spasmed and gushed messily on the already stained sheet.

His cocklet joined in and squirted, coating his belly with watery opalescent fluid.

"That's it, Babydoll," Eddie nipped the tip of his ear, sounding just as wrecked as he felt. "Be a good girl and come for your alpha's knot."

Steve whined at that.

He had been craving for the alpha's cock since they started messing around. But he had to preserve his purity for his future mate.

And it wasn't like Eddie would want to be involved with him outside of their make-shift game anyway.

Steve was aware of the hard truth: he was good to play with, but never good enough to be kept around.

Those people who had left him made it clear how unlovable he was.

He whimpered when Eddie pulled out carefully and glanced away shyly when the alpha placed a soft kiss on his hipbone.

Steve never questioned that gesture. Never asked aloud why Eddie would always do it every time they finished.

Because he feared Eddie would stop doing so if he pried too much.

It didn't matter what Steve wanted to know, he just kept his mouth shut and tried to ignore his flustering heart, tried to swallow all those chirps and trills that always threatened to slip out of him.

But Steve found it hard to maintain his cool when every time without fail, a hand would come up to stroke the side of his face gently.

"Look at me, Sweetheart."

Right, Eddie had a habit of checking in once the alpha was done liquifying Steve's brain with those deft fingers and that clever tongue.

Eddie would insist on helping clean him up and then wrapping him in a soft quilt that smelled of sunlight and apples.

Steve would be given a mug of warm milk and allowed to hang around until he decided to go home.

Much to his embarrassment, he had cried the first time Eddie took care of him.

Although he had gotten better at accepting the alpha's gratuitous kindness these days, he wasn't exactly immune to it.

When Steve complied, he was met with warm brown eyes that always gazed at him with things he wasn't allowed to hope for. Warmth, kindness, and adoration.

He suddenly didn't want this to end.

So he wasn't one to be blamed for what he blurted out, "Do you want to fuck me?"

Eddie only gave him an amused look, "I thought that ship had sailed a long time ago when I asked to eat you out, Bambi."

Steve blushed at that. Yeah, he realized how stupid his question was. But still, he had to make sure.

"My heat will arrive next week," he licked his lips nervously. "So do you wanna–"

Before he could finish, Eddie was on him and crowded him against the headboard.

"You said your little virgin pussy is exclusive to your future mate," the alpha narrowed his eyes at him, wild and dangerous. "What changed your heart?"

"You," Steve hissed. "It's you, Munson. I want you to be my alpha."

Eddie grasped his jaw and murmured hoarsely. "Say that again."

"I want you to be my alpha," Steve bit out.

"Again."

"I want you to be my alpha."

"Again."

"I want you to be my alpha."

"Again."

"I love you!" Steve shouted at that stupidly handsome face. "Fuck you, Munson!"

"Attagirl," Eddie finally smiled at him, pleased and smug before capturing him in a fervent kiss.

When they parted, the alpha pulled Steve into his lap and peppered him with small kisses.

"Love you too, sweet baby," Eddie pecked at the tip of his nose. "Been crazy about you for years."

Bracing his hands on broad shoulders, Steve raised his brow hopefully, "So my heat..?"

Eddie's finger came up to tap lightly at his mating gland. "Let me dine and wine you first, Angel. And then, when your heat passes, I'm gonna court you and we'll talk about our future together."

"Didn't know you'd be the old-fashioned type," Steve said teasingly.

"I'm not," Eddie shook his head and looked at him fondly. "But you deserve all the good things in the world, pretty baby. And if it means I have to spend months courting you, then so be it."

Steve let out a chirp at that.

It was so sudden and unexpected that he didn't have time to react.

But Eddie's pleased grumble had stopped him from overthinking.

"I think I'd like you to court me," Steve met those loving eyes and smiled softly. "Alpha."

In response, Eddie only pulled him into a tender kiss.

It seemed Steve had become addicted, not to the drugs, but to something better.

He had become addicted to Eddie Munson.

And it might be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[loveinhawkins]

It’s the last period of the day, and in his peripheral vision, Steve can see Eddie Munson fighting sleep, elbow repeatedly slipping off his desk.

They’re not usually in this class together; a good handful of teachers are on a ‘field trip’—which had been sold to the principal as an educational experience, but was really an excuse for both students and staff to while away the last remaining days of the semester.

So most classes have become an assortment of students who haven’t gone on the trip, odds and ends who usually wouldn’t cross paths.

When Steve had entered, he saw that the room was sparse, people dotted about the place with no regard to a seating plan—he’d headed straight for a desk by the window, hadn’t even noticed that Eddie Munson was in the seat right beside him until he’d already sat down.

And then it turned out he couldn’t even reap the benefits of choosing a seat near said window. The room was stuffy, unbearably so, and Eddie had beaten Steve to it, actually raising his hand and asking, perfectly politely, if he could open the window.

But the substitute teacher had just sneered and replied haughtily, “No, Munson, you cannot.”

Condescending ass, Steve had thought, and he was almost looking forward to one of Eddie Munson’s infamous diatribes.

But Eddie just wilted in his seat and didn’t say another word.

That’s when Steve noticed that he kept looking down at his desk. There was a piece of paper on there, an end of year test—Steve recognised Mrs O’Donnell’s handwriting making comments in the margins. The top right hand corner was folded over in such a way that just made the hiding of the grade all the more obvious: it was clearly an abject fail.

As Eddie stared at the paper, he started to blink rapidly, and for a horrible moment it seemed like he was going to cry, so Steve quickly looked away.

By the time he dared to look back, it was a quarter of the way through the period, and the heat of the room must’ve been getting to Eddie, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to doze.

And now Steve’s stuck with a teacher who’s clearly immune to every pointed look he shoots his way. He gets to the point where he’s glaring daggers at the dude—seriously, where does he get off, keeping the window closed just to prove some bullshit point about authority?

Every so often, Steve finds himself catching a paper airplane—what are they, five?—that had been heading for Eddie’s face, made by some meathead junior. Steve either swats them away or, if he’s feeling particularly pissy, crumples them up with one hand, throws them back at the junior’s head.

Eddie’s repositioned his elbow so it’s no longer in danger of slipping off the desk—eyes totally closed now, like he’s accepted defeat.

Steve is too late to catch the next paper airplane as it hits the side of Eddie’s head, and when Eddie stirs, blinking blearily at him, he says, defensively, “It wasn’t me.”

“Relax, Harrington,” Eddie says, yawning, “I know.” He unfolds the paper airplane with a tut. “No structural integrity to this thing at all. You’d give me quality.”

Steve doesn’t think of a barbed comment to reply with, because Eddie starts refolding the paper and uses it as a fan—and it’s not even for a bit or anything; Steve can tell that he’s just genuinely suffering.

Movement draws his eyes to the front of the room; he watches as the teacher makes his way to the door and leaves.

“Thank God he’s gone,” Steve mutters. He stands and lifts up the window as far as it will go, hears Eddie’s quiet sigh of relief as the fresh air comes in.

Steve glances over at the door; the paper airplane-throwing junior has gathered a little group, and it looks like they’ve locked the teacher out. There’s no footsteps or furious knocking yet, so Steve figures he’s got a bit of time.

He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside.

He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve turns his head to him. “What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says.

And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

“What about me, Munson?”

Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult.

“Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.”

“Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”

Steve snorts. “Bull.”

“And not all of us have the hair for it.”

Steve tilts his head, drawls, “Oh, I dunno.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh like he’s been taken by surprise.

Steve turns back to the window. It’s not all that great a view, really, the sun only highlighting the dried unkempt grass around the track. Still, there’s an undefinable something to it that gives Steve pause.

Maybe it’s because graduation is right around the corner. Even just walking down the school corridors feels like a series of goodbyes.

“Hey, Harrington. You heard of mise-en-scène?”

And Steve finds himself grinning at the French accent Eddie slips into.

“Bless you,” he says, just to be annoying, though he has heard of it, remembers it from when they looked at some plays in English. Then overheard it, really, while the aspiring film students fretted over their college applications in the library, and he listened with a jealousy he didn’t care to analyse. “I’m seeing some movie shot stuff here, is all.”Steve looks over again, in time to see Eddie adopt an over-the top trailer voice. “The fallen King—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“—looks down at what remains of his Kingdom, setting his sights on pastures new.”

A wistful edge creeps into Eddie’s voice, something separate from the theatrics—confirming Steve’s suspicions that he won’t be graduating this year, after all.

“Not exactly pastures new,” Steve says. “I, um, didn’t get into anywhere so.” He shrugs vaguely. “Gotta hold down a summer job and then… I don’t know. Not thought that far ahead yet.”

Eddie seems to consider him. “Nothing wrong with that, Harrington,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Steve replies. Because it’s true; he knows he’ll be far from the first high school graduate staying in Hawkins, working a minimum wage job all summer.

His parents had said as much. But then…

He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the tone in which they say things rather than the things themselves that sets him on edge. That sometimes just the way they shut doors around him inexplicably prompts a feeling of nausea.

But they’re out of town for the whole summer—already left this morning, thank God. So he’s hardly going to get into all of that with Eddie Munson, of all people. Barely addresses it within himself, honestly.

“It’s just… not really what I pictured,” he says instead. “You know, like…” And maybe Eddie’s theatricality has made him a little bolder, because he looks out at the view, and slips into a brief understated impression with ease: “I'm shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.”

When he turns back, Eddie’s lips twitch again, and this time the smile wins. “Well okay, George Bailey.”

Steve smiles back. Shrugs once more. “It’s for the best, really. Means I can keep an eye on—”

And he stops himself, realises he was about to say the kids.

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh? So you’ve found someone worth staying for.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice when he adds, “S’awfully romantic of you, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not like that. But… yeah, you could say so. They’re all worth it.”

“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “What happened to you, Steve Harrington?”

Steve laughs. Shakes his head. “Life. And, uh, got a thump to the head.”

Eddie whistles lowly. “Damn. Maybe I should try that.” He glances down at his test, frowning.

“Hey, come on. Everyone loves a comeback kid.”

“Hmm. Not everyone.”

Eddie sighs and stuffs the test into his bag. As he does so, there’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve hears some of the students break out into whispers that are so loud they might as well be shouting: discussing their plan to pin the blame on Eddie for locking the teacher out.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s soon leaving high school behind that has Steve viewing all of this with a clarity he can’t remember having a few years ago. They’re just mean, he thinks, just plain mean for the sake of it. Jesus Christ, you don’t kick a guy while he’s down.

Eddie’s eyes dart over to the group. He’s clearly overheard them too, but he seems resigned to it, like he’s got no more fight left in him.

A girl unlocks the door, and the teacher storms inside, apoplectic with rage.

And before anyone can get a word in, Steve says, “It was me. I locked the door.”

He can feel Eddie staring at him. He leans more into his lounging on the window sill, pretends to check his nails.

The teacher’s eye twitches. “And may I ask, Harrington,” he seethes, “what would even possess you to—”

“Oh,” Steve says, faux brightly, “that’s easy. I don’t like you.”

Eddie’s hand subtly rises up to cover his mouth. Steve bites back a grin; he knows a hastily stifled laugh when he sees one.

“Out you go, Harrington,” the teacher says, pointing at the door.

Steve stands up, unbothered. He’ll just ditch, head home early before the dick’s had any time to step out into the corridor and scream at him. That mall’s almost done being built; he could finish filling in a job application for one of the stores there before the day’s out.

He makes sure the window’s pushed up so far that it’ll be more of a pain to try and close it compared to just letting it be.

Then he swings his bag over one shoulder, says in a little aside, “See you, Munson. You know, Class of ‘86 has a better ring to it anyway.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it, man,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little taken aback.

Steve glances over his shoulder just before the door shuts behind him, and he sees Eddie’s hand raised in an uncertain wave, like he can’t believe he’s even doing it.

And if you ask Steve, that’s a movie shot all of its own.

[elliewluvr]

my dearest love | ellie williams

pairings: farm!ellie x f!reader

summary: you and ellie have been together for around two years, the two of you in love and living on a farm house together where you both decided to reside due to how dangerous it is in the city.

content warning: 18+ SMUT MDNI, farmhouse, lovers, slight angst, reassurance, gentle, reader receiving, oral, fingering, & praising

dont purchase tlou2! support palestine 🇵🇸

—— <3

the day started off the same as always, you waking up to change the baby and straighten up the bedroom you all shared, the floorboards creaking quietly as you tiptoed around the house.

the sound of the birds chirping and the grass swaying through the wind hitting your ears each time you passed the windows that were open in substitute to air conditioning. you laid your baby down in their crib who remained sleeping despite the changing of their diaper.

you smiled, looking down the chunky little baby whose tiny lips were slightly parted from sleeping so well. one of your hands gliding over the tiny human’s face.

after an swift while of analyzing the creation you made, you tucked your baby underneath the blanket to begin picking up any clothes you found from the day before.

your hands tossing them into the clothing bin to be washed and strung outside to dry later. after that, you headed downstairs as subtle as you could to start making breakfast.

humming to yourself while you cracked and scrambled four eggs that were freshly taken from the chickens hen the night before. you thought to yourself for a moment, mind completely blurred. 

you shivered as you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, goosebumps coating your skin while you were immediately knocked from out your thoughts, a gentle peck being placed on the left side of your neck.

“goodmorning, howd you sleep?” you heard your lover say, her voice slightly raspy while she gently rubbed her fingertips over your hips. you let you head fall back onto her shoulder, the feeling making you sigh in relief.

“i slept well, thanks to you.. i missed you so much.” you said before turning around to face her, wrapping your arms around her neck while smiling happily at the sight of her, her shoulder length hair a bit messy as her pale green eyes glistened in the sunlight that peeked throughout the kitchen ever so beautifully.

despite ellie being home now, she wasnt a few weeks ago. tommy heading over to update her on the new information he found on abby. as much as you hated the thought of her leaving, you allowed it. tears were shed everyday before she returned.

the thought of leaving to find her crossed your mind far too many times but you listened to her, trusting that she’d be back soon enough and the one day you packed up your bookbag and grabbed your weapons with your baby strapped to your chest, there she was at the front door.

ellie was in shock, not expecting you to be so eager and impatient to find her. that alone making her happy but also a bit sad as she wouldn’t even know what to do if you and you guy’s baby gotten hurt or into some deep shit.

you ran a hand over her auburn hair before tilting your head at her, “no need to miss me, im here now. i dont plan on leaving any longer.” she said, her eyes traveling from your irises to your lips a few times.

“im glad, ‘cant be without you.” you said in response, leaning forward to place a soft but long peck onto her lips. ellie let out a hum into the kiss, her hands gliding over your lower back and waist gently.

you furrowed your eyebrows in awe, pulling her closer to you as the kiss progressively grew more and more passionate. your feet stumbling back as you were met with the counter that was conventionally behind you.

you gasped, feeling the cool wood graze your hips while ellies hands massaged and groped your soft and smooth skin, her breathing hitching a bit the more she leaned into you.

ellie pulled away to make her way to your neck, your head falling back once again while you felt yourself tremble from the feeling of her soft lips immediately and directly hitting your sweet spot, “f.. fuck, ellie.. dont.” you mumbled softly.

you whined, feeling her place an knee between your thighs that were trembling. she always knew what to do to get you pooling your panties with your wetness.

“its been so long.. please.” she said softly against your skin before pulling away to look at you with now pink cheeks and lips, her tatted hand lifting to glide down your clothed chest.

“i know.. i want you but im nervous.” you said, letting a breath pass between your lips from the feeling of her gentle fingers passing over your body.

“dont be, i know your body better than ever and ill take my time. i know we haven’t did it since you gave birth but i promise ill treat your body right.” she responded, giving you complete eye contact.

you felt yourself relax, nodding at her words, “then take me.” you said, your breath grazing her lips as she leaned in closely to kiss you once again, enthusiastically deepening it while grabbing your waist.

ellie and you stumbled your way to the living room, her hands landing on the walls and doorframes to keep the two of you steady before collapsing onto the couch, the auburn haired girl landing on top and between your legs.

you felt your body heating up more and more as both of your lips danced around eachother, getting a bit sloppy from the eagerness before feeling ellie pull away to look at you, her eyes low and full of lust.

“take this off..” she mumbled a bit above an whisper, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your bare stomach and breasts that immediately caught her eyes.

she let her eyes pass over your body, every curve catching her attention as she slipped the hairtie holder off of her wrist and lifted her arms to pull half of her hair back into an messy ponytail.

you whined a little, gasping as you felt her fingers immediately play with your nipples, rolling the nubs between her thumb and pointer fingers while she watched your reaction closely, her lips stretching into a smirk.

“does that feel good baby?” she asked, earning a whimper from you, “yes.. please.” you begged, growing desperate and needy for her long slender fingers in your soaked cunt.

“no need to worry, you have me. im just getting you there.” she said, laying a soft kiss on your lips as she reassured you before leaning down to take one of your nipples into her mouth.

“fuck.” you let out, resting the back of your hand over your mouth to keep you from being loud through the quiet house while ellie’s tongue gently rubbed your nipple, sucking it as she pulled away to do the same to the other.

your back arched up from the couch cushions that were under you, the feeling of ellie landing teasing pecks down your stomach made your pussy ache in your panties, “please..”.

she grabbed your waistband and leaned up to yank your shorts and panties off, instantly moaning from the sight of your glistening pussy. “so wet for me.” she mumbled, using one of her hands to rub two fingers between your slit, gaining a whine that passed from your throat quietly.

her large hands readjusted you on the couch, pushing you further up to the armrest where she leaned down between your legs to place soft kisses on your inner thighs as she tucked her slightly muscular arms under your legs to get a better grip on you.

“no more teasing.. i cant take it anymore.” you said softly, gasping as she glided her tongue from your thigh to your pussy, her tongue flattening between your slit to land a long lick from your entrance to your clit.

your eyes shut subconsciously, hearing her hum a bit while flicking her tongue over your desperate clit before sucking the sensitive bud which made you immediately lay a hand over her head to push her deeper between your legs.

this did nothing but encourage ellie, her eyes slowly drifting close from how good you tasted as she pulled away from your pussy with a pop noise, holding your thighs down to flick and rub her tongue back and forth over your clit.

you furrowed your eyebrows, your breathing getting more intense while you sat up to watch her in awe. your eyes growing glossy from how good it felt, thighs already trembling. “oh fuck! ellie!” you moaned out, hips pushing up into her mouth.

ellie hummed in response, lapping her tongue over your clit before swirling the muscle over your cunt sloppily; a long moan dragging from your mouth while your fingers tugged at her ponytail. “you taste so good, baby.” she spoke muffled, face still deep in your pussy.

“dont stop, please! ‘feels too good!” you moaned loudly, throwing your head back once you felt her suck and swirl her tongue over your clit at an quick pace, eyes rolling back in complete awe.

you jerked forward, eyes shutting tightly while your toes began to curl, moans falling from your mouth loudly as you felt yourself grow more hot and flushed than before.

ellie pulled away for a split second to spit her saliva and your juices onto her fingers before pushing them deep into your pussy as she began flicking the tip of her tongue onto the bud of your pussy, fingers curling up into your spot that she always seemed to find.

she took her time, pushing her fingers into you before pulling them halfway out to yank at your spongy sweet spot, your juices soaking her chin while she watched you closely.

you on the other were a mess, body shaking and twitching as you felt your body begin to tremble while your pussy spasmed over her fingers, “i.. if you do that.. mm! ‘gonna make me cum!” you moaned, attempting to push her head away.

her fingers sped up as she watched you through heavy lids, attaching her lips around your bits to start sucking and tugging at your sensitive clit while your body started to tense and the feeling between your thighs grew more intense.

ellie leaned up, continuing to push her fingers in and out of you before rubbing your clit quickly with her free hand, nodding her head slowly in response to you. a smug look forming on her face while she watched your expressions change and alter from every move she made.

“cum for me, let it all out baby. be a good girl and cum for me.” she said, landing a few spanks on your clit as she sped up her fingers and applied a bit more pressure to your clit.

“im gonna cum!..” you let out while your eyes rolled back and your head fell against the arm rest on the couch while your mouth dropped open, juices beginning to flow down your thighs as you started to come undone all over her fingers.

ellie laughed as she twisted her fingers in circles inside of you while she helped fuck you through your orgasm, slapping your clit a few more times. “good girl, you did so well.” she said, slowly pulling her digits out of you to lean up and kiss you sloppily.

you whimpered, panting a bit against her lips. your heart was pounding, body still trembling and pussy now aching from how intense your orgasm was.

a whine passing through your lips and into the kiss from the familiar taste of your pussy hitting your tongue, arms and legs wrapping around ellie to hold her closely.

after an few minutes of kisses and i love you’s both of you pulled away from the sound of your 3 month old crying from upstairs, immediately making ellie lift up off the couch.

“get dressed, ill go get him and dont worry about breakfast. ill cook for us.” ellie said, smiling happily at you before heading upstairs while you began to slip your shorts and shirt back on, smiling as you thought about everything.

“dammit ellie, what am i gonna do with you..”

link 2 my masterlist!

[hopefulceladon]

wherever you stay, i will stay | sunday x reader

summary: after many months in light of his newfound freedom (and his wardrobe change), sunday makes a visit home to you. pairing: sunday x reader word count: 1.9k notes: drip marketing and the worms influenced this one. because of course they did. i honestly might delete this one i'm not even sure yet ao3 link: here!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night's chill had settled bitterly into the quiet premises of your chambers, ripping you away from your beloved comfort and carelessly substituting it with an eerie cloak of loneliness.

As if upon instinct, you tried to seek out the familiar warmth of your beloved's feathered form, haphazardly guessing your hand's landing upon what would be there and what truly ought to be there, but a tensed sigh had crossed your lips once all your palm had planted itself upon was the lifeless, cold, white linen of the lavishly sized mattress you rested upon.

It was far too easy to loathe the evening when its’ brisk bite was so eager to remind you of your solitude, after all.

Still deeply disappointed, you curled the sheets against the grasp of your fist in frustration before fumbling around for the partially completed book on your nightstand with the other, retrieving it from atop the ever-growing pile of its familiarly half-read brethren, ever so careful to not knock over the candle that flickered nearby as you reached for your hopeful distraction.

You sat up and rested the book upon your lap, your eyes slowly trailing over every last detail of the front cover; it was a highly detailed guide to different factions across the galaxies that Sunday had recommended to you in passing. Despite your initial hesitance to comprehend such daunting knowledge back then, you’d chase down even the smallest of traces your beloved had interwoven into your life in the midst of his absence now.

Once you cracked the book open, however, you had found that you were struggling far more than you really should've.

Not only had you sworn that the nearby clock formed an elaborate conspiracy against you, desperate to drive you to your wits’ end with every second-span tick, the author of the book was prone to rambling up to the high heavens—everything truly reminded you of him now, did it not?—allowing for none of the words to have a chance at nestling within the crevices of your memory long enough for anything to click.

Before you could helplessly toss the book onto the wooden floor below and tirelessly fuss with the comfort of your pillows, as if the mere absence of your life's light was of their doing, a soft, unassuming knock rapped against the door of your house.

All the worsts were what had flown through your head first, and so you remained silent, far too alarmed to say a word as you quietly grabbed a dagger from the nightstand drawer and pocketed it.

As if dissatisfied by the lack of response, the one who knocked finally decided to speak.

“Please, I insist that you open the door.”

If you hadn't valued your life so much for the hopes of seeing your beloved once more, you would’ve audibly scoffed at the request. Still, you had to force your voice to not waver. “I... I do not open my house up to the likes of strangers!”

In the silence that fell, you had prayed whatever had intruded upon your property had lost interest and simply left you alone.

“Ah... should I be deeply offended by your words, my star?”

You froze at the familiar lilt in the ‘stranger's’ voice.

Either you were now indeed face to face with impending doom, or...

Feeling emboldened by what you fervently hoped was an abrupt rush of assured clarity, you tiptoed your way to the door and, with a candle in hand and a small dagger concealed within your pocket, opened it wide enough to see who it was, but hardly wide enough to allow them in.

All it took was a glimpse of familiar, soft grayish-blue hair to grace your line of sight before you abruptly nudged the door wide open.

“Sunday?”

The aforementioned Halovian quickly looked around and placed a finger to your lips, murmuring a small ‘shhh’ before lowering his hand and welcoming himself inside, shutting the door behind him with a small thud as he led you both over to a nearby seating arrangement.

Your eyes were still wide with disbelief, though your words were far quieter. “You’re... you’re here?”

“I... suppose you could say that, couldn’t you?”

It was then your bewilderment had melted away into a grin in light of his soft chuckle. There had been points in time where you weren't sure if you would ever hear such a simple sound again, and to have it fall upon your ears so gracefully like the beautifully familiar melody it was had made your cheeks ache from the overabundance of smiling.

Finally taking the time to refamiliarize yourself with the pleasant sight of your heart’s solace, it hardly took long at all for you to notice that he was no longer adorned with his priestly garments. Gone was the gray blazer that had been accompanied by a white vest, for they were both now replaced by a half white, half navy-blue ensemble.

You could’ve sworn the duality in colors and all the new embellishments that decorated his attire seemed to bring out the shine in his brilliant golden eyes.

With trembling hands, you briskly cupped your palms against the tops of Sunday’s stress-ridden shoulders, absentmindedly kneading your fingers against the soft material of his new apparel as you desperately tried to reassure yourself that he truly was standing before you.

Sunday’s focus trailed up from your wandering hands to gaze into your own eyes, his lips upturning slightly. “I take it you must’ve missed me?” he asked softly, as if he hadn't already been assured of the answer.

You hummed in agreement before abruptly resting your head against his chest, growing ever more grounded back within the fabrics of reality with each passing beat of his heart.

“Probably more than you ever could’ve imagined.”

The Halovian gently pulled you closer towards him at your heartfelt answer, resting his chin atop your head as he enveloped you in a more-proper attempt at a hug. “I’ve missed you dearly, too.”

You clung yourself taut to his form as if he would disappear into thin air if you hadn’t, your arms wrapped snug around his waist as your breathing synchronized with his.

How many hours had you spent aching for this? All the miniscule moments that made your chest clench with longing upon every reminder of his presence? All the passing thoughts of his actions? Every fleeting memory of his mere touch alone?

After multiple moments worth of resting yourself against him, you lifted your head away from his chest and, without much thought put behind it at all, delicately cradled your palms against his skin.

Sunday tilted his head at the gesture, his wings fluttering from his surprise.

It seemed as if, despite all the other visible changes in his appearance, his expressive plumage had yet to differentiate themselves away from the likes of those in your memories.

“What's on your mind, I wonder?” he questioned, pressing his cheek against one of your palms.

Abruptly broken out of your love-stricken stupor, your hands retreat to your sides. “I... am unsure, my love,” you murmured. “Please, forgive me.”

“Ah-ah,” Sunday tutted softly, the weariness in his eyes melting away into a rare form of playfulness, the very kind you missed oh-so-dearly. “Surely you had a reason? I’d love to hear it if you did.”

You were afflicted with disbelief as Sunday grasped your wrists and brushed a brief kiss against the right one, before settling both of your hands back against his cheeks.

Sunday hadn't known this, of course, but you had desperately craved for him to initiate any sort of contact against your skin.

What you hadn't know, however, was that he, too, had whispered a quiet prayer that he’d be at the mercy of your gentle grazing, aching for your touch like the rising sun yearned for the waning moon.

“It's just...” you began, swallowing down the lump of anxiety that had dried out your throat. “I’ve missed you so dearly, and...”

“And?” he urged you on, his patience never faltering in light of your hesitance.

You hated yourself for the hesitant, all too obvious glance you took at the very lips that had rested against your wrist only mere moments prior.

“I mean, for heaven’s sake, Sunday, it’s been months since I last saw you, and...”

Utterly fed up with the way you suddenly couldn’t finish a sentence around him, you silenced Sunday’s future words before he could even dare to speak them with a desperate, abrupt press of your lips against his.

Every brush spoke a thousand feelings more than your stammered words ever could’ve hoped to amass, and you quickly pulled away with a shaky breath.

As Sunday’s expression morphed into surprise, a rush of shame had snuffed out any feelings of relief you could've gathered from the intimacy.

You looked away with an embarrassed huff, tightly squeezing your eyes shut.

“I... should’ve warned you.”

Albeit still taken aback by your boldness, Sunday carefully guided your chin back to face him.

“You must know that you never have to do so by now, surely?”

Braving yourself into opening your eyes, you were met by the visage of Sunday gazing at you warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkled by the depths of his fondness.

You found yourself pushing him backwards for yet another kiss soon after.

As you both fell forth against the comfortable expanse of the couch ahead, you let out a small hum against Sunday’s lips as your hands hastily clutched against his chest for support.

After you had successfully steadied yourself, you allowed one to fall down to his leg, absentmindedly rubbing circles beneath the bottom blue belt wrapped around his thigh, whilst the other hand cradled his steadily-warming cheek, your thumb brushing slowly back and forth against the starting, downy feathers of the nearby wing.

Once your hand had squeezed itself against his lean yet soft upper thigh, Sunday had let out a trembling breath.

“Ah, love,” Sunday murmured breathlessly as his shimmering, pleading eyes locked upon yours. “I do believe that, we, ah... we shouldn’t...”

Quickly, you retracted both of your hands as if you had seared them on scorching coals, fastening them behind your back before scooting away from him on the couch.

Sunday was keen to the unspoken guilt that had marred your countenance, and he was quick to try to eradicate it. “Please, don't take my words harshly,” he began, reaching for your arms to slide his gloved hands back down their expanses to reunite with your hands, as if a simple, gentle squeeze would soothe your fears.

He had assumed correctly—it did. It always, always did.

“It's merely that I didn't imagine our reunion would... I simply don’t want to rush...” he stumbled. In light of his abnormal struggle with mulling over the perfect words, he soon relented to brushing his apologies against your knuckles in the form of a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips upturned at the way your breathing had fluttered. “Not here, my star.”

Sunday’s gaze turned distant as it lingered near the door, as if he were peering beyond the barrier and off towards distant horizons.

“Perhaps, maybe in the future, should you continue to follow me as I search for wherever within the stars that'll make a place for me...” he continued on, before turning to look at you. “Though, I beg of you, please don't feel the need to fasten yourself down to me.”

“Sunday...”

He tilted his head at the soft calling of his name.

“Wherever in this star system you roam is where I will roam, and your future planet shall be my future planet,” you whispered tenderly, pressing your forehead against his. “My home is where you are. Can't you see that?”

A shaky breath escaped Sunday's lips at your heartfelt confession, and he leaned in closer against you in kind.

“You truly mean so?”

“With all my heart.”