#Reblogging old stuf because I have nothing new.

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I have a Cassian request. Could you a do request that's somewhat spoiler free? I'm about midway in acomaf( I know late to the game lol) I've got a good amount of fics reblogged but I've also been nervous to read them. Maybe reader is rhys's little sister and he made clear rule from day one that is inner circle isn't allowed to touch her. But reader Cass have been secretly dating and then their mating bond goes into effect so they can't necessarily hide it anymore. Maybe feyre is the only one that knows until then.

Secrets I Keep

Cassian x Rhys’s sister!reader

Notes: Cass is the best bat boy for the brother’s best friend’s trope! I know you asked this a while ago so I need to know if you’ve finished yet, ACOMAF is one of my favorites.

Warnings:

Bidding Feyre goodnight you shut the door behind her. Letting out a sigh of relief and slumping against the door you look to the closet. When Feyre had come to your bedroom over an hour ago thats where you had stuffed your poor boyfriend. Stalking over to the closet you thanked the Mother that the newly turned fae female couldn’t pick up on Cassian’s scent.

Yanking the door open you immediately spot Cassian curled up, trying to hide behind your more formal gowns. His wings, unfortunately, gave the General away. As well as his long, muscular legs that he attempted to tuck close to his chest.

Stifling a laugh with an unconvincing throat clearing sound Cass pokes his head out from behind the layers of silk and tule. “You can come out now.” Cassian lets out a sigh, groaning as he stood from the tightness in his joints. You laugh at him, a teasing remark already forming in your mind.

Cass towers over you, giving you a playful smirk. “What are you laughing at, princess?” “Just an old man and his creaky joints.” He shakes his head at you, quickly grabbing you and flinging you over his shoulder, tickling your sides. Giggling like crazy you playfully demand he put you down. Cassian throws you on your bed, crawling over your body to press kisses all over your face.

Getting a weird feeling you notice a new source of light from the corner of your eye. Turning your head you see Feyre standing in your doorway, eyes wide and mouth open in shock at the sight before her. You hit Cassian’s chest to get him to stop. Noticing Feyre’s presence Cass turns to her.

Sitting up, your mouth opens and closes, at a loss for what to say. “Don’t tell Rhys!” You blurt out. Feyre nods, slowly backing out of your room, “I got your back, don’t worry.” She says with a smirk.

——

It’s been over a month since Feyre was last in the Night Court. Now that she’s a permanent resident you’ve been helping her adjust to life here and working for your brother.

Today you decided to make a rare appearance before noon, joining the group for training early.

You stayed off to the side for a bit, watching Feyre spar with Cassian. You noticed some of Cassian’s signature moves as they fought. Smiling to yourself you remember when Cass started training you.

Yeah, you’d had some training but your father didn’t want you near Illyrian. Especially because of your wings. You had inherited the same ability as Rhys - being able to call your wings on command - but you also had a fear that one day you might be forced to show them in the camps. And nothing good could come from that.

When the boys came home from the first war Cassian took it upon himself to make sure you were a warrior. Rhys had told both Azriel and Cass you were not in the dating pool. But the sparks flew during your training and you couldn’t stay away. Your relationship finally started a year ago. Ever since you’ve been in a state of bliss, blindly in love for the first time in your life.

Rhys landed, his wings beating loudly, commanding attention. You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Hello Feyre darling. Are you ready for another lesson?” He holds out a hand for her to take, his wings disappearing in that familiar dark mist. You had missed seeing his magic. You missed him.

Feyre nodded, taking his hand, leaving you and Cassian alone. As they walked past Feyre sent you a subtle wink you prayed Rhys didn’t catch.

As you and Cass sparred you grabbed you around the waist, bringing you to the ground. You fought against his bulky frame, trying to get leverage to flip him. “Give up yet, princess? You look like you’re running out of steam.”

“You wish idiot!” you retort, still struggling. Cassian laughs, “Wow, idiot? That’s all you got today?”

You weakly punch at his thick thighs caging in your torso. “I’d think of something else, but a giant is cutting off the air supply to my brain.” Cassian laughed again as you continued to push at him. He wasn’t really crushing you, but good gods your boyfriend is an immovable mountain.

Cassian went ridged above you. Noticing the tension in his muscles you stop, gazing up at him with a worried look. “Cass? What’s wrong?” You ask softly. His gaze seemed far away, distracted. His jaw unhinged in shock. You slide out from under him to stand in front of him. Holding his face in your hands you tilt it so he’s looking up at you.

“Cassian, you’re freaking me out. What is wrong?” You shake him a little to snap him back into himself. Cassian grabbed your wrists, pressing kisses across your knuckles then your palms. “It-the bond. It snapped, for you.”

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Your jaw dropping to match Cassian’s shock. Seconds later you feel that warm, golden thread hum to life in your chest, wrapping snugly around your heart. You fling your arms around Cassian’s neck, pushing closer to his body, trying to be one with your mate.

Cassian’s tears fall against your cheek. You move to pull away from him but Cass holds on to you tighter. “Why are you crying baby?” You coo. “This is just-this is the happiest day of my life.” He whispered.

You squeeze him tighter, turning to press a kiss against his cheek. Feeling unsatisfied with that small show of affection Cass threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

Breaking away for air you rest your forehead against his, both letting out breathless laughs. “I love you.” He says, pressing his lips to yours again. This one quicker and rushed, like he can’t get enough of you. “I love you more, Cass.”

[solar-wing]

⚣ BatBro with his BatBros 🦇

⚣ 🦇 A/N → Ah, my first full installment of BatBro headcanons. Where does the time go? Anyway, as we progress throughout these headcanons, you can imagine the characters slowly getting older too. By, the time we get to the end, the reader is at least 18 years old making Damian anywhere between 18-19 years old, since he's a few months older.

⚣ 🦇 Summary → Going from the life of an only child, to having 4+ siblings, can't be easy. Especially when most of those siblings brothers, and those brothers come from a family a crime-stopping vigilantes. What was your mother thinking in leaving you with your dad?

REBLOGS are very appreciated! REPLIES to, I love hearing your thoughts 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦇

I find it funny that no one has ever thought to take advantage of the fact that Bruce Wayne has created a habit of popping up with a new kid like every couple of years. They could try to offer up their kids to him in hopes of cashing in on the Wayne family's wealth.

And he actively turns away all of them, even if he is tempted a couple of times. At least until he gets to you. Everything was normal until your mom decided one day she was done being a parent and just dropped you off at the front gate and left when you were 9 years old. This is also around the same time Damian ended up in Bruce's care, so you both were now dealing with the fact that you've suddenly got a father you never knew, as well as a brother. Well, brothers, since Bruce did somewhat actually have children before he had you guys. 

She left a note along with your other belongings that said “Trust me. He yours,” with nothing else. Bruce could only stare down at you with that usual grim, but pondering look he had while you just stared back at him. 

“I’d thought you be taller,” was your first sentence towards your dad. One that was vaguely familiar to the billionaire as he rolled his eyes and led you inside the manor.

Obviously, Bruce ran a DNA test and confirmed everything to be true. You were indeed his son, snarky remarks and all. You and Damian must share that quality.

Speaking of, since you and Damian were blood-related, you have a more special bond with each other. Even if he bullies the shit out of you.

Hiding your toys and games all around the manor, stabbing your favorite teddy bears and various stuffed items with his knives and daggers, and I'm just going to throw in that you have a love-hate relationship with Scooby-Doo now.

You love the cartoon, but Damian took advantage of the fact that you may not do well with scary stuff and would make his own costume versions of the villains from the show and chased you around the house with them. They were horrifying and disturbing enough to even unsettle Bruce a little, so you could imagine the early childhood trauma you endured.

People think your fear of clowns stems from the Joker. No, it's from Damian.

It’s always from Damian.

Plus, since you and Damian are around the same age, you both end up in the same grade at the same school. So he always keeps a look out for you and protects you from any bullies, while you teach him how to be more sociable and friendly towards others.

Now, if Damian's closest relationship with another brother outside of you is Dick (who you along with everyone else agree that he is basically Damian's second father), I imagine you have a close relationship with both Jason and Tim for various reasons.

You and Tim connect because you both have very intellectual and detail-oriented minds. You watch Scooby-Doo, so you obviously have an interest in mysteries as well as the Red Robin personality. Whenever he is having a hard time connecting dots to a case or a puzzle, you simply come in, take one look and somehow figure it out. Sometimes, you’ll even just make a random statement that ends up being the key to what Tim is looking for.

Tim and you both have an interest in video games, you a little bit more than him. It was because of you that he even really got into them. Before, when it was just you and your mom, you didn’t have anyone to really play with, besides whatever friends you could find online. So having someone you could play with, especially in person now made you and Tim’s bond that more special.

Also, you’ve made it your responsibility to make sure the guy gets adequate rest and sleep and doesn’t drown himself in caffeine.

“Timothy Drake! It is way past your bedtime. Off the Bat-Computer and upstairs into bed young man.” You yelled, marching downstairs with an amused Alfred towing behind.

Your father and siblings all watched from the sidelines as well, all amused at the sight of your young, tiny body, yelling at a slightly older and taller teenager as if you were his father.

“Um, I’m older than you,” Tim responded while holding on to what had to be his 5th coffee of the evening.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Master Tim, with all due respect, I’d do what the young lad says. He’s already started unplugging and cutting the cords to every coffee and espresso machine in the manor.” Alfred said from behind.

Tim looked at you in horror while you stared at him the look on your face very much communicating a ‘try me if you want to’ message, and that’s when he noticed the pair of scissors in your hands.

“OKAY! I’M GOING! I’M GOING!” Tim shouted, sprinting out of his seat and up to his room. Your brothers were quietly laughing until you turned your head right to them.

“And, what are you three laughing at?! Get to bed right now.”

Now, it was their turn to question you. Cause Dick and Jason were full adults and even though Damian was only a few months older than you, well that was it. He was older than you so he bossed you around, not the other way,

“Woah, there little man. Jason and I, we’re grown. We don’t have bedtimes.” Dick said.

“Yeah, squirt.” Jason voiced right behind Dick with his arms crossed.

“Watch yourself, little brother,” Damian warned.

You raised a subtle eyebrow at them while your father and Alfred both looked at you with curiosity.

Alfred, however, had a little more amusement to his look since he already knew where this was headed.

“Dick, I will never have another brother movie night with you again, and I’ll start going to Jason for brotherly advice instead of you. Also, I’ll tell Kory you were being mean to me.” You threatened your oldest brother.

Dick was both hurt and fearful because how could you even threaten him with something that awful and quite frankly, plain rude and ridiculous. He gave way better advice than Jason! Also, he knew Kory absolutely adored you ever since Bruce brought you to the tower that one time and would not hesitate to put him on punishment as well if she even thought he was being mean to you.

Jason was holding a smug look at your threat toward Dick, that is until your eyes landed on him. “Jason, I know where you keep all of your limited edition books, especially your prized signed copy of Pride & Prejudice. We certainly don’t want that getting in the wrong hands, now do we,” You said, turning to your second oldest sibling. Jason was surprised, and slightly impressed, though also terrified. How could you know?!

You turned to your blood-related brother, who held a bit of an overconfident look as there wasn’t anything you could have over him that would have him actually following your orders. “And Damian, I’m sure you don’t want dear old Dad to know what happened at school last week, now do you?” You said, playing slightly with your fingernails while ‘innocently’ rocking back on your feet as if you weren’t blackmailing your siblings. For noble reasons, of course. They need their sleep!

Your brother was both shocked and angry at your statement. How did you even know about that? The look on his face, well, let’s just say it wasn’t friendly, not in the slightest.

But, to no one’s surprise except your dad, all your siblings silently trudged upstairs without another word.

Bruce looked at you and Alfred with a raised eyebrow as you turned back to face your brooding father, only now you could see his brooding look had a hint of questionable curiosity and amazement. 

“You too, daddio. It’s bedtime, yo.” You rhymed. Apparently, not only was everyone’s sleep tracker, but you had a bit of flow with it too. Someone should get you a record deal. 

You gave your dad a slight hug, your head barely reaching above his waist. You still had growing to do! You’d get there eventually.

Walking back toward the entrance, you also made sure to stop and give the butler a fist bump since he was your secret partner-in-crime. How else would you know where to hit to get your brothers to fall in line? with a slight hug to his side before heading back towards the entrance. 

“Thanks, Alfred,” You said!

“Anytime, Master Y/N.”

Bruce eyed you both suspiciously before he realized what was going on as he watched your small body bounce up the stairs.

“Really? You’re in cahoots with my son, Alfred?”

“Why, Master Bruce, I’m offended. I’d say it was more of a beneficial partnership. Cahoots is for the reckless.” Alfred responded jokingly.

The age-old ending to every mystery novel plays out again, the butler did it.

Though, Bruce was still impressed by how easily your brothers listened to you without a second thought. It takes him a few tries just to get a sentence through their head, and that’s if they were actually listening to him that time.

“Wow, he got Jason to listen to him? I still can’t get Jason to greet me without looking him looking like he wants to punch my lights out.” Bruce commented.

“He has your commanding tone, sir,” Alfred said before backing up the manor himself, “I wouldn’t let Master Y/N catch you back down here, though. I heard he’s got some especially dirty leverage on you.”

Bruce suddenly decided to look at the clock, “Guess it is a little late,” He muttered before rushing upstairs himself.

Speaking of Jason, your relationship with the second adopted Wayne kid had more of a special touch. The Red Hood persona was the brother you really looked up to. You liked and respected how he branched out and followed his own path. Of course, Dick technically did the same, but considering everything Jason went through, he had to be one determined fucker to return to the very life that killed him. And, even though you don't necessarily agree with his 'strategies', you were always standing in his corner.

Though, Jason didn’t take well to you at first. In fact, because Damian left such a bad taste in his mouth after they met; when you two were introduced, he literally ran upstairs and screamed at Bruce about how he was the biggest hypocrite in the world for all those lectures he gave him and Dick about using protection. Richard silently agreed, also remembering his first meeting with Damian. 

Determined to not live with a Damian 2.0, and also thinking he was saving you from a life full of trauma because, in his mind, no one deserved to be raised by someone like Bruce Wayne, Jason attempted to take you down to child protective services. 

Your father was very unhappy when he got a call from CPS later that day and he could clearly hear you sobbing on the other side of the phone just as Jason walked through the front door. He was not the least bit ashamed, at least until you came home and he saw how upset you were.

He apologized and decided to give you a chance, thinking since the whole ordeal actually had you crying, you had to somewhat have a soul, unlike Damian. After some time, you got really close with each other. 

Jason taught you how to fight and defend yourself. He’d read you stories at night from some of your favorite books as well as your own, and he’d always get Damian to back off if he decided to pull another one of his scare antics on you. 

Your second eldest brother was your get-out-of-jail card too, whenever Bruce punished you for something. Though, sometimes, it may have just been better to take the punishment than let Jason pull you into whatever shenanigans he was planning. Considering the fact you and he managed to put an entire city without power for two nights somehow.

"How did you two manage to short-circuit the entire electrical grid in New York?" Bruce asked with you two standing side by side, looking like you just finished sleeping on top of a giant summer barbeque grill.

You both looked at each other before turning back to your stern-looking father, Damian mirroring his expression with his arms crossed and tapping his feet.

"Would you believe us if we said it started over a debate of how to eat fries with ketchup?"

Bruce slapped his forehead to his palm while Damian called you idiots. Tim got that curious look on his face, and Dick couldn't stop laughing for 15 minutes.

Now, your eldest brother, he was definitely someone you could count on no matter what. Being the oldest and having the most Bruce experience out of everyone, he always helped you deal with your Brucie problems or ‘daddy issues’ as you'd like to say.

Truth be told, every kid in this family had daddy issues.

As mentioned before, Dick was your movie-watching buddy, he helped you with your homework and always assisted with any life issues you had going on. No matter how many times you may have threatened the Nightwing persona with such, you always went to him for advice, and there was never really a moment you could think of where you regretted it.

He also helped you learn how to be more agile and light on your feet with your fighting. While your second eldest brother taught you how to use brute force and strength in situations, he gave you the acrobatic style of lessons. Where Bruce and Jason were direct and serious, Dick taught and showed you how to be more of the opposite.

And, whenever Jason wasn't around to get Damian off your back, you'd go to him since he was basically his second dad.

You and Dick together were like two chatty Cathys on drugs. One moment, you could be talking about the movie you were watching, then you’d get into a debate over onion rings vs french fries, somehow landing in politics, somehow ending up in a political debate only to end with the "Are we even real" conversation. And for whatever reason, you swore you could hear Tim itching in his seat whenever that conversation came up.

That boy goes down a lot of YouTube rabbit holes at 2 AM when he’s bored on patrol or not doing anything.

Now, one brother on their own was one thing. Two? Someone was calling the police. Three and you may have to check if your life insurance policy is still good. All four? Pray.

Since you now were officially the youngest, a title Damian was actually happy to pass on despite his warnings to Bruce, that meant you got the most of the teasing, even if it mostly came from your blood-related sibling. But his version of teasing tended to leave you with trips to your therapist so you could do without them.

However, one rule all your siblings and family stuck by, no one, and I mean NO ONE, not even in the Justice League or Titans/Young Justice teams, could mess or pick with you except them.

Everyone in the family was very protective over you. You were surprised to see even Alfred was on that list, though you learned quickly the butler was not one to be fucked with. 

You distinctly remember that one time the Batcave got invaded and Batman made you hide in one of the saferooms, you saw on one of the video monitor screens Alfred whacking the shit outta them with just a rifle.

For that reason, among others, you took a mental note to be careful with how you complimented his cooking in the future.

But seriously, if anyone messed with you, and your family found out, Hell itself would be scared of what would break loose from your home.

A bully from school started picking on you and calling you names and you didn't tell your brothers about it, wanting to handle it on your own. Besides, you could defend yourself. They taught you well.

Until the fateful day you came out as gay, bi, pan, etc., and he called you names that your father wouldn't even repeat, and that man had the title of a playboy.

Well, word spread around the school and got back to Damian, who went back and told your other brothers.

By the next day, Dick had shredded every thread of that boy's confidence. Tim hacked the school files, got his address, and framed him for changing grades in the school. Jason used said address Tim got to pay a trip to the kid's place and shot bullet holes in all his clothes when no one was home. And well, let's just say Damian almost went to jail.

Of course, Bruce was pissed when he found out and had to intervene, but when Damian admitted the reason he nearly got arrested, your father upped his allowance.

Only God could imagine the terror that would unfold the day you started dating.

Oh, and they all call you babybird which you despise.

Don't even get me started on your sisters.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[thetravelerwrites]

Margaret and Rourke (Part 3)

Rating: Explicit  Relationships: Female Human/Male Orc  Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Lovers, Interspecies Romance, Orcs, Older Man/Younger Woman Content Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Physical Violence, Mentions of Torture, References to Sexual Assault Resulting in Pregnancy  Series: Part 18 of Shelter Forest: The Towns  Words: 4,101

Margaret and Rourke find their way through their wedding night, and the count approaches. Please reblog and leave feedback!

Rourke led you inside his cottage. It was homey and well lived in, but clean to the point that it seemed like he’d torn the house apart to clean it appropriately sometime before you arrived. The effort he’d gone to made you giggle, but it also made you feel warm. He sat you at the table and gave you a cup of water to sip while he went to remove his armor and weaponry and to stoke the fire. 

As you sat there, the nerves began to set in. You knew what a wedding night was for, and you were terrified. You hoped he couldn’t see you trembling in the low light. 

That was a vain hope, it seemed, as he pulled the cup out of your hands and crouched in front of you, gazing up at your face.

“What is it, my love?” He asked softly, almost whispering. “Are you scared?” 

You chuckled nervously. “Don’t orcs find it shameful to be scared?” 

“Perhaps, but you’re not an orc,” He replied, reaching up to caress your face. “It’s alright to be scared, Margaret. You know I won’t think less of you.” 

A tear escaped your eye, though you dashed it away. 

“I’m scared,” You admitted. 

He nodded and smiled softly. “That’s alright, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything tonight.” 

“No, I want… to try…” You said. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. It’s been almost two decades since… since it happened. I’m too old to still be like this.”

“No, you’re not,” He said, ruffling your hair. “Fear doesn’t always go away like we want it to, even if much time has passed. But if you want to try, we can try. I’ll take it slow and be as careful as I can.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

He took your hands, pulling you to your feet and leading you to the bed, which had brand new bedding placed on it. He sat down and pulled you close, hugging you around the middle and laying his head on your stomach, sighing happily. You smiled fondly at him, stroking the top of his head. After a moment, he pulled back to look up at you but kept his arms around your waist. 

“I’ll keep my clothes on for now,” He said. “I’ll even put more on, if you like.”

You laughed. “How are we supposed to do anything with your clothes on?” 

He grinned up at you. “We’ll play a little first, just to help you relax.”

“Play?” 

He nodded. “I’ll show you.” He released your waist and took your hands again, looking up at you sweetly. “Can I undress you?” 

Your anxiety rose up, but you stuffed it back down. “Yeah, it’s alright.” 

While seated, he slowly and carefully drew up the pretty wedding dress that had been made in a hurry for you and pulled it over your head. The chemise went next, and then your smallclothes, and finally you stood nude in front of him, wearing nothing except the flowers in your hair. You shivered in both terror and anticipation. He kissed the knuckles of both hands. 

“Gods. You’re so beautiful.” 

You ducked your head, hiding behind your hair a little and tugging a strand, playing with it nervously. He stood and pulled back the covers of the bed, holding out his hand as if to help you into a carriage. You laughed at his silliness and climbed into the bed, allowing him to slide in next to you fully clothed. 

“What are you going to do?” You asked him as he knelt next to you. 

“Just touch,” He said. “And kiss. If it becomes too much for you, you may stop me at any time. I don’t want you to force yourself through it because you feel like you have to. I don’t want to hurt or frighten you, even unintentionally. Alright?” 

You nodded. He bent down to kiss your lips, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. It made your body tingle in unfamiliar ways. It seemed like he wanted you to open your mouth, so you did, and his tongue entered, swirling about and teasing your own. He pulled back to look at your face as his hand began to touch your body, starting with your face, tracing down your neck and collarbone, stopping at your breasts and rolling them in his hands. A lump formed in your throat and you took a deep breath. 

“Can I kiss them?” He asked. 

“Yes,” You said breathlessly. 

He bent his head and kissed your breasts softly, nuzzling them with his nose and touching the tip of his tongue against the nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You could feel his tusks grazing your skin, dry and solid, but it was the one thing that felt thrilling rather than scary. 

He lay next to you and rested his elbow above your head so that he could look down at you. 

“I’m going to touch lower now, alright?” 

You nodded again, and his hand moved down your stomach and over your hips, settling in the patch of hair above the deepest part of you. He started raking his fingertips forward and backward through that thicket in a teasing manner. 

“Feel weird?” He asked with a grin.

“Yes,” You replied, a blush bright on your skin.

“Feel bad?” 

“No,” You said. 

“Are you alright so far?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

“I think so.” 

“Good.” 

He reached down a little farther and lifted your right leg, placing it over his own legs, so that he could tease your inner thighs. You bit your lip and held his gaze, swallowing hard. 

“I’m going to touch you there,” He said. “Is that alright?” 

You gulped, but nodded. His hand moved to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, touching it lightly to test your reaction. It was an unusual sensation, but it wasn’t bad, so you smiled to encourage him to keep going. He bent to kiss you, pressing more firmly, rolling in circles around the bud, whipping up a brand new feeling in the innermost parts of you. It was a sensation you’d never felt, but you thought you might be enjoying it.

Then, one of his fingers slipped inside you. 

The effect was immediate. Panic rose up in you and your body locked up in terror. You gasped as though in pain and gripped his arm, whimpering piteously. Tears gathered in your eyes as you snapped them shut, blocking out every sensation except for his touch, intensifying the fear. 

“Margaret, look at me,” Rourke said, his voice soft but firm. “Sweetheart, open your eyes. Look at me.” 

You pried your eyes open to look at him, his visage blurred from the tears. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” He said, removing his hand and peering down at you with worry. “I’m here. It’s alright. I’m here. Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head fervently, wiping away tears. “I want to do this.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t seem in the right state to continue.” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” You insisted. “I can do this. Just… put it back in and leave it… let me get used to the feeling. Let me look at your face and try to get accustomed to it.” 

“Alright, but don’t push yourself. If it’s too much, tell me.” 

He pushed his first and middle fingers back inside you up to the knuckles and stopped, leaving it in place. The panic crested in your chest and you had to choke back more tears, but you didn’t push him away. 

“I love you, Margaret. I love you so much,” He said. He said it over and over, kissing your face in between repeating those words like a chant. Minutes ticked past and he remained motionless with his finger still in place, allowing you to acclimate to the feeling of something being inside you, murmuring how much he loved you and speaking your name reverently, peppering your face in kisses.

“I think I’m alright,” You told him eventually. Your heart had settled and you weren’t as panicky as you were at first, but a lump of anxiety still sat in your gut and you were still trembling. 

“You’re sure?” He asked, uncertain. 

You nodded. 

“Can I try something before continuing?” 

“Alright,” You said, and then you pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you, too, Rourke.” 

He smiled at you, kissing you in return. Without removing his finger, he sat up and positioned himself between your legs, lowering his body so that he was eye level with the most intimate part of your body. Before you had a chance to feel embarrassed, he pressed his tongue against your core, and you gasped. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Playing,” He said, grinning up at you sinfully. “You said I could.” 

“I didn’t know you’d do this!” You said indignantly, surprised out of the panic. “It’s dirty!” 

“No, it isn’t, you silly thing,” He said with a laugh. “You want me to stop or do you want to find out what this feels like?”

You glared at him, and he grinned. 

“Oh, alright,” You said, rolling your eyes, laying back down. 

He returned to his business, licking the pearl before closing his lips on it and sucking gently. A shock went through your spine and a thrill in your belly. You could still feel his fingers inside you, and while it caused you anxiety, it was secondary to the sudden surge of sensation. You felt yourself bite your lip and heard your own voice whimper in a completely different way. You were sitting against the pillows in such a way that you could watch him, and he looked up at you, half of his gaze was seductive, but the other half of it was just to check if you were okay. You smiled down at him and reached to run your fingers through his long, loose hair and caress his face. He smiled in return and doubled his efforts. Surprised, you moaned and your head fell back on the pillows.

He licked rhythmically, alternating between using the tip of his tongue and sucking, and you felt a slow, sweet swelling of sensation welling up between your legs. 

“ Oh, god… ” You moaned. Taking that as a cue, Rourke moved his fingers slightly, not pulling them out, but crooking them and rubbing inside slightly. The anxiety spiked slightly, but subsided as another feeling started rushing forward, flowing outward from your center to every corner of your body. Your toes curled and your fingers gripped his hair as the wall crashed into you, and you cried out involuntarily as your back arched against the sheets. Your hips moved on their own, rocking back and forth to ride out the wave, before falling limp against the bed, legs open, chest heaving. 

Rourke kissed your thighs and rubbed the skin of them as you regained your composure. “Did it feel nice?” He asked you. 

“Yeah…” You breathed. 

“That’s what it’s meant to feel like, you know,” He said, kissing his way back up her sweat-sheened body. “No pain, no fear. Just pleasure. ” 

“I can see why people seem so eager for it now,” You said, laughing a little. “Is it always supposed to feel like that?” 

“When you do it right, it is,” He said, chuckling. “It helps that I know what I’m doing.” 

“Thank heavens for that,” You said as he reached your mouth, kissing you deeply. He pressed his clothed body against yours, and you felt a sense of safety in his arms, the weight of his body on yours felt comforting rather than frightening. Flush against you, you could feel that he was hard under his trousers, and though it scared you, you were still willing to try. 

Rourke would never hurt me , You told yourself. I’m safe. He loves me. I can do this.

You kissed him a moment longer, and then held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. 

“You can take your clothes off now,” You said. 

He tilted his head, searching your face. 

“You’re sure?” 

You lifted your head to place a peck on his lips. “I’m sure.” 

He returned the peck and sat up on his knees between your legs, shedding his overcoat and tunic. He started to undo his pants, and the jangling sound of the belt being unbuckled made you grip the sheets in terror, but you stuffed it down and tried to breathe through it, watching him strip before you. He cut a rather handsome figure, if you did say so yourself. 

Once he was free of his clothing, he lay back down on you and kissed you once more. Your legs closed around him reflexively. You could feel his organ pressed against your entrance lengthways, but he didn’t penetrate you. Before he got too into it, though, he rolled off of you and lay back on the bed.

“Would you like to try playing with me?” He said, caressing your face. “You might be less scared of… well, it… if you get to know it better. It won’t bite, I promise.”

You laughed a little, sitting up into a kneeling position next to him. “You make it sound like an angry puppy.” 

“It’s not much different, really, just half as cute and twice as harmless,” He joked, and you laughed behind your hand.

He lay on his back with one arm behind his head and the other petting your leg, patient and unhurried. His organ was erect and laying on his stomach, pulsating slightly. Nervously, you slowly reached out to touch it, grazing it lightly, but snatched your hand back when it bobbed up, as if to meet your hand. 

“It jumped,” You squeaked, startled. 

He chuckled at you. “It does that. Not to worry.” 

You reached out again and pressed a finger to the skin of his length, rubbing it a little, and Rourke sighed heavily, continuing to pet your leg. Swallowing, you wrapped your hand around it and rubbed your thumb over it. It was strangely silky to the touch, and you found yourself curious more than scared. Of course, you were still scared, but it wasn’t as intense as before. You pumped your hand up and down once, and Rourke’s back arched slightly. Intrigued, you did it again, and his thighs twitched. 

“You keep doing that, and it’ll be over before it begins,” He said with a laugh. 

“Does it feel good?” You asked him.

“Oh, you have no idea,” He said. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s touched me, besides myself, so I’m… more sensitive than I’d normally be.” He gazed at her face. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” You said. “This… does help a bit. I guess it’s not… this… that’s the biggest problem. It’s who it’s attached to that’s scary.” 

“That’s a good way to look at it,” He said, rolling on his side and kissing your thigh. “We can still stop, you know. We don’t have to keep going.” 

“No, no,” You assured him. “I feel… a lot better now, actually. I think I’m alright to… move on.” 

“You’re sure?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Then… want to lie down?” 

You complied, lying on your back. He rolled over and placed himself between your legs, propped up on his elbows, though he bent down to kiss you.

“It’s okay to be scared, Margaret,” He whispered, kissing your face. “But I’ll never hurt you. I love you.”  

“I love you,” You whispered back. “It’s alright. I trust you.” 

“Why don’t you try leading me in,” He suggested. “It may help if you’re doing it yourself.” 

“Alright,” You said. Trepidatiously, you reached between the two of you and touched it, using your fingertips to press it against your entrance. The panic welled up again, but you were able to shove it down deeper and proceed. He pushed a little and the head went in slowly. It didn’t hurt, per se, it was more like intense pressure. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I think so? It feels… I don’t know how to say it.”

“It’s it bad?” 

“No, not like… well… it’s just strange.” 

“Stop?”

“No, it’s alright. I can keep going,” You insisted. 

He pressed a bit harder, and more of his length entered you. After a few moments, his entire organ was inside you. He kissed you sweetly, and you gripped his shoulders. You could feel fear, but it wasn’t like it had been before. You felt… safer. It didn’t hurt and it wasn’t terrifying. Being with Rourke made it feel less scary. Was it just because it was him? He always found some way to make you feel calm and safe, and you couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone other than him. Giving yourself to him felt more like a gift, rather than something that was expected of you because you were his wife. 

“Is it alright to move?” He asked you. 

You nodded, kissing him. “Yes, I’m alright. I feel fine.” 

He kissed your lips, your face, your neck, and your shoulder. He nibbled on your collarbone as he began to thrust in and out very slowly, gently caressing your body with his hands and using his tongue to make your skin tingle. You made a sound, and he sped up only slightly, looking at your face to be sure you were comfortable. 

“Kiss me, Rourke,” You told him, and he did. Using your heels against the back of his thighs, you urged him to go faster, and he obliged, and the good sensation you felt earlier when he was licking below slowly began to reappear. You gasped and sighed, and he smiled.

“You’re squeezing me,” He said, slowing for a moment.

“Is that bad?” You asked anxiously.

“No, quite the opposite, it means you’re feeling good. It’s a good thing,” He chuckled. “I had to slow a bit to keep from bursting too quick.” 

“Would that be bad?” You asked. 

“Not for me, but certainly for you. Don’t want to end this before you get yours,” He said. 

“Get mine?” 

“You’ll see.” 

He thrust again, a bit more focused than before. He moved in such a way that he rubbed the pearl below with his body, and the good feeling started again, building stronger. You gasped again as he pressed his teeth against your earlobe, sucking and teasing it. A slight moan escaped your lips, and he chuckled, a sighing groan issuing from his own mouth. 

“Rourke, faster, please,” You urged him, and he complied. He got up on his hands and quickened his pace so that your body was being moved beneath him in rhythm to his thrusts. He thrust in deep, deeper than before, and you felt a swell of sensation so powerful that your back arched a bit. 

“Was that good?” He asked, peering at your face. “You’re squeezing so hard now.” 

“Yes, it felt good,” You told him. “Can you keep doing that?” 

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am,” He said, and thrust deeply again. 

You moaned and your eyes closed, and from that point, things seemed to happen quickly. Your mind was cleared of any thought or emotion besides the pleasure you felt where you were joined with him, and the sensations flooded your body like a river. You didn’t seem to be able to control your voice or your body, but it instead seemed to behave instinctually from then on, grasping Rourke, kissing him over and over, and moaning loudly. He grunted into your hair as you felt him pulse inside you, though he was still careful to be gentle as he thrust. The sweet sensation swelled and swelled until it burst like a dam throughout your body, and you cried out against his skin, resisting the urge to bite down on his shoulder. The pulsing inside you became faster and more intense, and he groaned as his body went taut against yours, his essence flooding you inside. You could feel yourself become full of him as he slowed to a stop and collapsed onto your body, breathing hard. 

The two of you lay entangled with each other, gasping for air, and eventually he rolled off and went to collect a clean rag, dipping it in some warm water that was in a pot near the fireplace. He came back and wiped you clean, and then himself, and lay back down on the bed, gathering you in his arms. Holding your face, he searched your eyes in concern.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked. “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

“No, not at all,” You told him, kissing his lips tenderly. “I’m alright. I think I’m fine.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” You assured him. You snuggled into his body tiredly. “I’m just fine, Rourke. Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing to thank me for, my sweet,” He said, kissing the top of your head and pulling the blankets over the both of you. “It’s only natural.”

Time seemed to pass quickly after the wedding. Rourke was a wonderful husband, everything you could ever have dreamed of, and being with him made you happier than you’d ever been in your life. Nights were… still difficult in many ways, but Rourke helped you through it every time so that you could eventually enjoy it. It would still take more time for the events of the past to lose its grip on you, but for now, Rourke was a balm for that wound.

It did take nearly a month for the count to arrive, and the stronghold was steadily getting bigger as the townsfolk from Willowridge took shelter inside the walls. Rourke became much busier; contrary to what you believed, he was more than just a mere gate guard. Guarding the gate was just something he did when he wasn’t needed for his main duty: he was one of Akjan’s most trusted men and the leader of the reconnaissance and recovery team. David, the man who infiltrated the count’s manor, was one of many of Rourke’s direct subordinates, though he himself had his own squad of men who reported through him to Rourke, and from Rourke to Akjan. As such, Rourke was helping Akjan structure the troops for the coming incursion.

You, too, were much busier, as more mouths to feed from the town meant that the kitchens were in constant chaos in the attempt to feed everyone. It helped that the townspeople had brought food with them, so there wouldn’t be a shortage. 

It was because you were so busy that, at first, you hadn’t realized your monthly visitor hadn’t appeared. In fact, when you realized it, it was the same day as when the scout informed Akjan and the generals that the count was only a day out and would be arriving in the afternoon of the next day at the latest. You spent the entire day in a state of such anxiety that the women in the kitchen forced you to take the day off. 

Back at your cottage that you shared with Rourke, you waited in terror for Rourke to return. When he did, he looked upset and worried. 

“You weren’t at the dining hall, what happened?” He asked, crossing the room in a single stride. 

“He’s almost here…” You said, sobbing and shaking. “I’m so scared, Rourke, I’m so scared.” 

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, laying you down and getting in after you, holding you close to him. 

“It’s going to be okay, my love,” He said. “Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. He’s outmatched by a long mile, he can’t get to you.” 

“What about you?” You asked him, tears streaking down your face. “Where will you be?” 

He sighed reluctantly. “I’ll be at the gate. That’s where I’m always stationed,” He told you. 

You cried harder. “You could get hurt. He could kill you! Even if he’s defeated, he will still kill people. You could be one of them! I can’t lose you!” 

“You won’t, my love,” He said reassuringly. “I can guarantee that. I can’t tell you why just yet, but we have an ace in the hole he can’t beat. I promise, love, I’ll be alright.” 

“Swear to me!” 

“I swear, love, I swear,” He said, kissing your brow. “You’ll wait with the other women, won’t you? Don’t do anything reckless because you’re worried. You must swear that to me.” 

You nodded, sniffling. “I swear.” You gulped. “Rourke?” 

“Yes, my love?” 

“When it’s over… I have to tell you something.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[corrodedbisexual]

The original plushie

Steddie | G | ~4.1k | AO3 link

This fanart of Eddie sleeping with a bunch of stuffed toys by @baleful-blurbs infected my brain and refused to leave until this ridiculous fluffy thing got written 😭 Please make sure to reblog those wonderful sketches to support the artist who inspired the plushie silliness♥️

Featuring: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seriously beware of cavities, Light Angst, Plushies, Childhood Memories, POV Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Requited Love, Cuddling, Getting Together, Boys In Love

The mortifying ordeal of Eddie's crush discovering his secret plushie cuddle nest turns out to be not so mortifying after all. Steve even starts borrowing said plushies to take back home with him; some time later, Eddie finds out why.

Snippet under the cut

“Who’s this?” Steve asks, grinning as he pokes at the teddy’s ridiculous smiley face. 

“Oh. That’s… that’s Mr. Boogers.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”

Still grinning, Steve turns to him. “Well, now you know I gotta.” 

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand across his flustered face, and figures he might as well tell the story now that he’s dug his own grave. “He was, uh… kinda defective from the start, there were some stitches loose around his nose and there was stuffing coming out of it, like… well…”

Steve giggles. “Boogers. Gotcha.” 

“Yeah. Wayne grumbled about it and wanted to ask for a different one, but I was already in love with this one and clung to him and refused to trade. Cos like, you know how plushies of the same type are supposed to be identical but they’re really not ? And one of them has that perfect face and the others just seem off?” 

Eddie blushes, thinking now would be the moment he finally gets ridiculed for being twenty years old and having strong opinions on plushie faces of all things, but Steve just smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I once spilled some gouache on a Mickey Mouse I owned and instead of washing him, mom just bought me a new one of the same series.” Steve sighs. “It was obvious 'cos his eyes were a little closer together and his smile wasn’t crooked to the left. I knew he wasn’t the same Mickey.” 

Again, Eddie’s heart aches for little Steve, like pretty much any time the boy reveals stories from his childhood in a tone too lighthearted for the words spoken, in Eddie’s opinion. Rich people really don’t value anything, huh. (With Steve being the obvious exception.)

“Yeah, see? You get it!” Eddie exclaims, pointing at Steve and putting more excitement into the words than he feels. Mostly, he just feels relieved and pleasantly surprised at how unexpectedly he and Steve managed to bond over their shared fondness for their childhood toys. “So anyway, Wayne relented and we took this funny guy home, my uncle patched him up, but the nickname stuck. Mr. Boogers. Boogie for short.”

Steve laughs again, but there’s nothing malicious about it as he looks back to the teddy in his lap and flicks his ear.

“Nice to meet you, Boogie,” he says with an affectionate smile that makes Eddie want to burrow his face into the mattress and giggle like an idiot. 

And maybe scream a little, because what the fuck. It should be illegal for your crush to talk cute to your goddamn childhood plushies.  

Whole fic on AO3

[windvexer]

Chickens Have a Prey Drive: the tiny velociraptor's peckables for protecting the coop

A list of stuff I believe about protections and all such, written in the style of the evil overlord list, which I have been fond of for two decades. Take what you like, leave the rest behind.

|. The best time to make protections is before you need them. The second best time is when you need them.

You can make a wide variety of protections ahead of time, whether or not you think you'll ever actually need them, and then learn to "pause" or "lay down to bed" the magic until you ever need it. This provides ample practice in not only spellcasting, but also in magical validation, and learning to pause and restart ongoing spellwork.

2. If your general protections fail, make specific ones.

3. Unless you have specific information that a failed ward was already out of energy when its boundaries were tested, recharging it is probably not going to fix your problem.

4. Protections change things. If you create a protection and it changes nothing about your life, it probably was not cast well.

If you created a protection against advertisements, something about your life should change. The wifi goes down and you can't go on the internet. Someone reblogs a post explaining how to install adblockers. Something happens every single time an ad comes up on screen, thereby distracting you. Where once you slavered with rage at advertisements, now you barely notice them and feel emotionally numb when you do. Etc.

A corollary to the above rule: if you need a way to verify preventative protections against things that are already not happening, use your same spellcasting techniques to make protections against things that are already happening, and see if you can get them to stop.

5. Protections using only "visualization" without energy work, spellwork, prayers, petitions, magical sacrifice, or other forms of metaphysical empowerment, are often ineffective/inert. This is because imagining things really hard is not automatically an act of magic.

Conceptualize visualized energies as being empty shells that then need to be filled up with some kind of metaphysical power. They hold a little energy on their own, but without being solidified, they will fade away over time.

6. It's possible to empower protections only with your personal belief or faith that they will work. But this is a bad idea for most people.

Willpower is not infinite. At a certain point, it runs out. Willpower runs out faster if you use a lot of it. The "batteries" of any spell drain faster when that spell is actively being used, I.E., protections run out of energy faster when they are being tested. Building a spell that relies on your personal willpower to protect you means that you are betting you will have enough willpower during a time of high personal stress to keep the protection going. Not only that, but metaphysically speaking, it is completely possible for the strength of your personal willpower to simply be weaker than whatever it is you want to protect against. (Shout out to the energy suns who have no idea what I'm talking about)

7. Ask for help when you need it.

Please note: this does not say engage in a formal petition ritual, or pay spirits for services, or whatever. It says what it means: ask for help. Ask your gods, spirits, and ancestors. Ask the house and the trees. Ask the sky and the grass. Ask your stuffed animals and your old spell vessels. Ask grace itself. You do not need to know their names. You do not need to have an ongoing, perfect, healthy relationship beforehand. Just ask.

8. Depending on how you're doing it, cleansing and banishing are not the same thing.

9. Powerful and effective protection spells can be performed with one (1) correspondence.

There is a time and place to make elaborate oils using 13 consecrated ingredients, and that time and place is after you've dealt with this current spiritual emergency. You can spend those new XP points earned in combat on leveling up your badass premade potions. Addendum to the above rule: the one (1) powerful correspondence will be found in your kitchen.

10. If you performed a cleansing/banishing/protection/whatever and the Symptom was not resolved, then the whatever failed and you need to try again.

11. Wards can and do trap unwanted presences inside.

If you do not have protections up, only place them after you've banished. If you already have wards, temporarily pause them or "open them up" so that things can get through. Or be very clever and construct wards in such a way that things can get out, but not in.

12. Don't wait before you begin taking care of hauntings or malefica.

Don't wait to research and order arcane little herb packets you read off correspondence lists. Don't wait for powerful magical timings. Begin acting. If you actually are dealing with a serious problem that needs special circumstances to be resolved, you probably won't have the data you need until you start trying to solve the problem, and see first hand what works and what doesn't work.

13. Many protections are best conceptualized as treatments, not cures.

A fence will rot if it is not maintained. Permanency in spellwork is a lofty goal that is difficult to achieve. If you are not tending to your protections and re-upping them as needed, they are going to burn out and over time, eventually degrade and fail. One solution is to intentionally put to bed various protections you don't need in the moment, and waking them up as desired. Beginner-level energy work protections, like shields, often only last 24h or even much less.

14. Ask yourself what may be going on with "advanced" practitioners who say they don't use and don't need protections.

Have they cultivated personal power that deters spiritual intrusions? Are they spirit workers or worshipers who receive spiritual protection outside of spellwork? Do they have a powerful natural talent for personal protection that they don't realize they're using? Do they have an ongoing routine of personal cleansing and empowerments that stop problems before they arise? Do they walk a personal path that simply never intersects with dangerous spiritual situations? When you see someone say, "I don't protect and I've never needed to," this should not be taken to mean that if you need to protect, something is wrong with you.

15. While it may be useful to have a heavy-handed protection amulet around in case you need it, cloaking yourself, your property, or your life in powerful protections may cause problems.

16. If you need protection, you need it.

17. It's wise to keep track of what protections you've cast, especially for the prolific spellcaster. Protections can have long-lasting and unexpected implications.

18. It's wise to construct protections with the foresight that you may need to pause their effects or modify their exact focus.

19. Putting things around the four corners of the property really does work great.

20. "Protection" may be best conceptualized as an umbrella term that contains many aspects: building walls, hiding from prying eyes, forming good relationships, preemptively resolving conflict, removing aggressors, and diplomacy.

It's better to have a stick than not have a stick, but a stick is still a poor tool when only talking things out will do.

21. "No, fuck off" might be a powerful act of magic, but it's not like practitioners are out here developing whole-ass spells and rituals for protections just for funsies.

22. You do not need to confirm that something is Going On before engaging in a course of self-cleansing, banishment, and protections - just in case.

23. The best protection spell is one which you are able to cast when you need it.

24. Shielding is a useful trick, and is a good introduction to energy work.

On-demand energy work protections may be draining to many, especially to those who aren't really energy workers and who don't actively develop that muscle or battery. If you find yourself needing daily protection but are becoming fatigued by relying on energy work, try switching to a protective amulet empowered by evoking correspondences or through prayers - anything that draws on external energy. These tend to hold their charge for much longer.

25. Protection won't shield you from symptoms of your disorder or illness, but they may be able to assist with limiting stressors and triggers.

26. For those finding that the regular upkeep of necessary protections has become too draining, experiment with enchanting batches of oils, waters, incense, etc., to easily feed spell vessels.

27. The astute witch will note that protections can and will block the ability of ancestors, guides, guardians, and other forms of desired spirit contact.

28. The practitioner who desires to fucketh about with their dreams does well to first protect their dreams.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Key To His Heart

Teaser

Characters: This story is about an AU Bill Skarsgård where a life changing event happend to him 2013 and then one more 2019. These events changed many things in his life.

Setting: L.A. in AU 2024.

Notes: This is a experiment to a new story. Bill's life in this story is really different from his real life because of the events that have happend in his life. This is just for fun and nothing to read in too much in to. Please like or reblog if you want to see more of this story.🤍 As usual have @b-afterhours helped me with the language🤍

💖

Bill couldn't see anyone around him even if he heard a lot of people. A lamp stood just in front of him and created a black hole sun in his eyes. He blinked to try to make it go away but it just made it dance in front of his vision. 

"Ready?" Said the female interviewer in front of him. Bill blinked a bit more so that he could see her sitting on the chair next to the lamp. On the other side of the chair stood a camera. 

"Ready," said Bill with obvious nerves in his voice. 

"Here we are with Bill Skarsgård, famous for his many thriller novels but now will be seen differently to many others when he receives our help in meeting the woman of his dreams. Bill has been really private before but will now invite us into his life, his house and see a glimpse of his life as a single father to two girls. Why do you want to do this?" 

Bill smiled nervously and dragged his hands over his dark gray slacks. 

"Well… I've been alone for quite a long time and I've never been so good at dating so this sounded interesting. To let some girls, women, see my life and see if they would fit in." 

"You're known for being very private to many, especially womens disappointment. Will you be able to handle having twelve women and a film crew in your home?" The interviewer asked with a lurking voice. Bill breathed out with a smile. 

"I don't know. I guess, it's just a month and my daughter's will not be home and I live quite large." 

When Bill spoke, pictures of his old but newly renovated manor started to roll for the viewer. It was obvious for everyone there was someone with money that lived there, a taste for minimalism and with young girls in the home. You could spot a pink backpack, a stuffed unicorn and a glitter cardigan if you looked closely. 

"You do live quite large. You are a really successful author, starting your career in Sweden and then moved here to work closely with Hollywood. What kind of woman do you think would fit into your life?" 

"I don't really care what they work with. The most important thing is that she gets along with my girls and we have stuff in common. She must also accept that my schedule isn't like the ordinary dads." 

The interviewer didn't take a break, she just continued on to the next subject. 

"Just because you have been so private we don't really know you so I thought I would ask you some quick questions, okay?" 

Bill fixed his hair and smiled. 

"Sure." 

"Age?" 

"34."

"Height?" 

"6'3-6'4, something like that." 

The interviewer gave him admiring look. 

"I think many women will like that. What do you spend too much money on?" 

Bill thought and stuck out the tip of his tongue. 

"Ehh… Food. Like expensive food, restaurants. Wine. My wine seller is stuffed." 

"I think you give some great answers, Bill. Say a hot celebrity." 

Bill laughed and rubbed his eye. His white button up started to feel quite tight. 

"Ehh… Maybe Ana De Armas? But I don't know… I think she is beautiful," he doubted. He didn't want the women who moved in to think he just liked one type. 

"You would probably have a chance if she was single. You're a handsome man, Bill. What do you do to take care of your appearance and body?" 

Bill looked down at the ground with an embarrassed smile. He didn't really like to talk about such things but he knew he must be sexy. It was TV. 

"I try to run every morning and work out three times a week… I have a special facial procedure made by Filorga that I do every morning and night." 

The female interviewer smiled again, clearly liking his answer. Bill smiled uncomfortably and thought once again; why do I do this shit?

"What would a perfect date look like?" 

Bill looked down on his hands. He didn't even remember the last date he had been on. Had he even dated? 

"To be honest I don't really know. I guess I can learn that through this." 

The interviewer looked pleased with his answer, like she wanted to coo at him. He was used to women being that way with him. He has gotten away with being really uninvested many times yet still got them to spread their legs for him. He knew that the interviewer probably was the same because she had looked at his height like he was a superhuman and the ring she had on her right hand was suddenly missing.

"How do you wish that date to end?" She said flirtatiously and dragged her long nails from her knee up to the hem of her skirt in a seductive way. Either she wanted the flirting to be a part of the entertainment or her legs wouldn't be shown in the camera angle either way Bill laughed embarrassed and rubbed his forehead with his long fingers. He hoped he could dodge the question but the interviewer continued to look at him with doe eyes. 

"It depends on the date I guess," he said finally and shrugged his shoulders. 

She snarled her mouth but let him get away with that answer. 

"So, the woman in your life, what kind of commitment will they get from you? What do you want for the future?" 

Bill liked his lips and looked down on his cognac brown dressing shoes. 

"Emm… I want a life partner. To do everything with. To explore with. And I want a female role model for my girls. I can also see more kids in my future." He looked up and smiled with a hint of a blush, like it was a bit embarrassing to actually talk about what he wanted. He knew he wasn't the classic bachelor but his friends that had fooled him into this said that it wasn't what they wanted anyway. They wanted something different. A more reserved man with boyish tendencies would make the female viewers wild, they would think he was mysterious and hard to put a finger on. It would be perfect, his friend believed. 

"Marriage?" Said the interviewer with a teasing smile. 

Bill doubted a moment but nodded. 

"Yeah of course. But it's not a must." 

×

[sureuncertainty]

I posted 1,280 times in 2022

218 posts created (17%)

1,062 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@elytrians

@ablednt

@annieisyourfavourite

@neoncomets

@marcusbrutus

I tagged 1,101 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#win rambles - 181 posts

#laugh rule - 47 posts

#my art - 35 posts

#my characters - 29 posts

#dracula daily - 27 posts

#the silence agenda - 27 posts

#undescribed - 26 posts

#all for the game - 24 posts

#ref - 23 posts

#yeah - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i really haven't gotten a good round of feedback and i'm doing another round of edits before revising my query and goign back into querying

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“no one likes a mad woman/

what a shame she went mad”

24 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#4

I'm gonna build me an empire And it's lonely at the top But madness and greatness Can both share a face And nobody will ever convince me to stop

(Version without dramatic lighting below)

39 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

#3

today i had the children’s tour at work which is lowkey my favorite but also probably the most exhausting tour and my voice was already rundown so I was a little stressed about it. I had about six or seven very small children (probably like between 5 - 7 years old), some of whom were VERY enthusiastic about Titanic

anyway after the tour when i was catching my breath, i was talking to some of the kids from it in the gift shop. a little boy who had been asking questions the whole time (he was also wearing a captain’s hat) had chosen a little stuffed bear from the gift shop that was labeled a crew member. he asked me what the bear’s name was and I told him that he should come up with the name. he had told me that his favorite story that I had told on the tour was the story of Frederick Barrett (a fireman in the boiler room who’d saved about 70 people from being crushed in a lifeboat... look it up it’s an amazing story) which also happened to be one of my favorites of the crew stories. So I suggested he name it after him

NOT EVEN THINKING about the fact that because it was a stuffed bear, he could name it Frederick BEARett. his parents also found this great, and so that’s what we all decided to name the stuffed bear

i just hope that Frederick Barrett is somewhere in the afterlife happy to have his legacy carried on by a little stuffed bear with his name but as a pun. I know he had a sense of humor so I’d say it’s pretty likely

46 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#2

doodle of my new blorbo, Andrew Minyard, who did nothing wrong (except for the atrocities)

i love him so much it hurts

65 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

look at this family, a glowing constellation, so full of stars and everybody wants to shine

99 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[laele25]

Hello Polar Vortex 2022

A friend of mine in Northern Florida warned me it was gonna be 14 down there on Christmas.  As someone who grew up in a very cold climate (rural Nebraska), I offer some tips to help you survive your flirtation with Jack Frost.

First thing.  Run water in all your faucets. Hot and cold.  The entire time.  It doesn’t have to be a lot, just a dribble, but it will help keep your likely uninsulated pipes from freezing and breaking. 

Try to seal up any cracks around your windows and doors.  A rolled up towel makes a great draft dodger for the bottom of doors. Stuffing old rags in cracks around your windows will help keep out drafts. Even something as thin as an old tee shirt ripped up will do.

If all you have is a space heater, try to move everybody (especially elderly and young children and pets who don’t have thick fur) to that room.  Close the doors to the area and seal out the drafts.  Wear layers of clothing, you can always take off extra clothing as it warms up. 

Drink warm drinks and eat hot, comforting foods.   So basically, the opposite of what you’re used to.  Hot tea is amazing for surviving cold weather.  Since it’s Christmas, break out the hot cocoa.

When you go outside, the cold air will hurt.  It will sting like you just plunged your face into a tub of ice water.  You will be momentarily blinded and probably start coughing when the cold air hits your windpipe.  Once again, layers are your friend.  Do not stay out in those temperatures any longer than you have to.

Before the polar bears from Wisconsin chime in, people in warm weather climates do not have your tolerance for the cold.  And once you move to a new climate, you change fast.  First winter here in Seattle, the two days of slushy snow didn’t bother me.  By the fifth year?  I’d lost all my cold tolerance.  Folks who aren’t used to cold don’t need to be out in the cold.

If you’re also dealing ice and snow, a few tips.  A bag of clay kitty litter can save your life.  Spinkle it on your exterior steps and walkways to keep them clear.   Put it in your trunk to help keep your back wheels on the road and it can also be used to melt snow and ice if you get stuck.  Drive slowly and try to stick for clear areas.  Look out for black ice on roads and sidewalks.  It looks like dark concrete and it is slippery AF.  Take small steps and honestly, if your footwear is waterproof, if you have a choice between a couple of inches of snow and a slippery sidewalk, choose the snow.  Try to keep your feet dry, though.  Frostbite happens faster than you think, so if you don’t have gloves, keep your hands in your pockets as much as you can.  Hats are mandatory when it’s cold, they keep heat from escaping your head.  Even a ballcap is better than nothing.

Hopefully, y’all’s power and lights stay on.  I’ll be thinking about you and if anybody has anything to add, reply or reblog it because 14 degrees in Florida means everybody else is getting blasted too. 

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

[littlefreya]

Henry's reaction to finding out GF's house is haunted.

Summary: Henry’s friend invites him over to watch a horror film on Halloween, problem is he is madly in love with her.

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (3rd person, no description)

Warnings: RPF, fluff, romantic goo, friends to lovers or rather idiots to lovers, brief mentions of alcohol and Henry’s green hoodie p0rn.  

Words: 1.6K

A/N: So I had to take it to the “friends to lovers” lane, also I will need all the fluff after what I am about to post tomorrow :|! Divider by @firefly-graphics. Beta’d by my beautiful @agniavateira​ . Also FYI my house is totally haunted.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. 

Haunted Houses

All Hallow's Eve was Henry’s favourite time of the year. The spicy autumn air was thickly shrouded by magic. Spooky tales and plastic spiders inhabited drapes of thin cotton tendrils and fat pumpkins carved with scary faces would sit on his doorstep to welcome him home or bid him farewell on his way out. 

Per tradition, he would rally close friends at midnight for a horror flick and pineapple-anchovy pizza; often a bottle of rum would be added to the party. However, this Halloween fell on a bittersweet period, as his friends grew too old for said spooky gatherings. Starting new families of their own, they had no time to indulge him.

All save for her, who just like him was still somehow single. 

How bad would it be to spend the evening just the two of them... alone? Ignoring the fact that it was enough to see her name flicker on the screen of his phone for pure warmth to enkindle in his chest. He thought about her often before he fell asleep and when he woke up; and by often, he meant every single day since he met her.

Though she didn’t think much of him as anything other than a friend she loved to banter with - he presumed. And of course she loved Kal, possibly more than she cared for him. Yet, Henry did what he did best: bury his emotions into a little pit he dug in the graveyard of his mind. 

"Heh!” Henry croaked as the door opened. His sapphires ensnared the veils of black that cloaked her, preserving the sight of silk laces tied tightly at her torso in what seemed like a gothic medieval gown. 

“I see you took off your costume for the evening." 

She narrowed her eyes but only to observe his attire carefully: that same green hoodie and a pair of worn jeans that complimented his… asset. 

She wanted to etch her fingers around the thick fabric and have a whiff of this hoodie, or perhaps just steal it and wear it forever and a day.

"First of all, it is called The Witching Hour so I must dress properly. Secondly - where is your costume, Cavill?" she crossed her arms together, looking rather displeased. 

“I’m dressed as a homicidal maniac, we look like everybody else does.” 

Snorting, she tilted her head, unimpressed. “You totally just stole this joke from Wednesday Addams.” 

Henry shrugged and pressed his lips to a thin line. One of his foolish expressive gestures. It made her feel less nervous to which she was thankful. When she suggested they’d hang out despite them being the only two, she didn’t think much of the consequences of being all alone with the man who inhabited her mind and never paid rent. Everything about Henry made her feverish, but it was always easy when others accompanied them. The awkward anxiety of having to entertain him wasn’t her job, not up till now… 

Oh, god! What if they had nothing to talk about? What if their playful chemistry was always influenced by the presence of other people?

Beads of sweat began to form below her breasts when Henry shoved a bottle of rum into her hand and then leaned in to steal a casual kiss from her cheek. She smiled with a friendly huff in return, stifling the shiver that coursed through her muscles while he welcomed himself into her home. 

Striding forward, he peered at the Halloween decorations she hung across the walls and inhaled deeply - the scent of maple and buttery chestnuts filled the cosy little house, a scent that he could easily get intoxicated with. 

It was what she smelled like and here he was, drowning in its excess.

After a quick observation, he turned to look at her, holding his hands clasped behind his back. She smiled awkwardly in return and then averted her gaze, becoming fascinated by the bottle he brought.

‘There it is,’ Henry mused, ‘that embarrassing silence, there is so much to tell her, but she probably… no! She definitely finds me boring.’

This Halloween celebration would probably be the last and it was all sorts of disastrous. 

Trying to overcome the silence, he cleared his throat and reached a hand to scratch his curly mane. “So what movie are we watching?”

“Movie?” she asked confused and then quickly corrected, “Oh yes, umm... The Exorcist.” 

“Good, love me some green vomit.” his eyes followed carefully as she waltzed into the small open kitchen, placing the rum on the counter and then returning with a large bowl that made his nostrils flare.

“Green vomit goes extremely well with caramelised popcorn,” she suggested and popped a golden flake of popcorn into her mouth. 

“Sweet-salty popcorn? I love you!” Henry groaned and snatched the bowl right away. It was only when his mouth was stuffed that he realised what words he just used. 

But she didn’t seem to react, thankfully. Instead, she brushed a hand over her many skirts and pointed toward the living room.

Hugging the bowl, Henry strode behind her, entering the dimly lit living room. The traditional pizza was already laid on the wooden coffee table, along with a few bottles of Guinness. 

Her couch was small, only fit for a couple. And Henry, being a hulking man, took most of the space. Their thighs immediately ground into one another’s, yet they both pretended as if they hadn't noticed the hot tingle running beneath the layers of clothing. 

“I have to warn you about something,” she uttered, hoping that the tremor she suddenly felt in her body was not visible to him. 

Henry crooked his eyebrow, looking at the ominous glare she offered.

“My house is totally haunted.”  

Not waiting for his answer, she grabbed the remote and pressed play. Henry chuckled at her silly joke, waiting for her to break character but she only peered at the screen.

“Nice try, I am not scared of that stuff.” He shifted in his seat slightly, lifting his lengthy arm and spreading it on the headrest right behind her. Immediately, he regretted this semi-possessive masculine gesture, but it was too late to pull it away. 

Her instincts screamed to snuggle into him yet she held back. “Don’t believe me, but I am not making this up,” she insisted, “Every night around 3 am, I hear scratching from within the walls and these thuds from the ceiling, and then one night… I woke up the door creaking.”

Henry glanced at her quietly for a long moment, watching the reflection from the screen gyrating over her glossy irises and then snorted. He leaned toward the coffee table and grabbed two beers, uncorking them with the help of his pinky ring and then offering her one of the bottles. 

“I think you have rats.”

“Rats who make heavy thuds and open bedroom doors?”

“Yup, a big fat randy rat.” he teased. “We’ll take a look at your bedroom later, but I promise you, there are no such things as ghosts.”

‘We’ll take a look in your bedroom? Great…’ He berated himself. At this point, he just wanted to sigh and shake his head. 

She peered at him oddly, her throat clenching a tad before she turned her head back to the movie with a mumble, “It’s not a ghost, it’s a demon.” 

Within a few minutes they grew quiet, deciding to focus on the movie with the occasional dry jokes and bad puns from Henry as an attempt to overcome his anxiety. Outside the window, thunder rumbled in the distance and shy raindrops lightly kissed the glass, tinted with the many vague shades of lights coming from the street. 

Now and then, Henry shifted in his seat, his meaty thigh further grinding into her leg which stirred her blood to the point of electric spasms. She lightly pushed against him, pretending it’s by accident when truthfully, she wanted to exploit every second of being in his proximity. Had she any guts, she would turn to kiss him, but the thought alone made her heart clench in fear.

She threw him a glance, and their eyes met. Henry offered a kind grin, avoiding staring at her lips. She smiled back coyly, her heartbeat accelerating with anticipation when the possessed girl in the movie made a horrifying groan that ruined the moment. 

And then the room suddenly was swallowed in darkness, followed by a strong clap of thunder that tore open the sky.  

In the scant moment of chaos, he heard a scream and then the light came back as if nothing happened, aside from the fact that she was now in his arms, with her legs straddling his waist, and her fingers clutching the collar of his hoodie. 

Henry was unsure how and when his hand found itself latched to the small of her back, only that he didn’t want to let go. They exchanged bemused glances and swallowed the dryness parching their throats.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, “I got scared…”

Embarrassed to the point of tears, she attempted to climb off, wanting nothing more than to run to the bathroom and cry in hiding, when Henry sent a hand to stroke her temple and gently brushed his fingers behind her ear.

“Stay,” he insisted, squeezing into her lower back as if to prevent her from escaping. 

Her lips parted slowly, the same golden hue that suffused the living room split into her eyes, beaming even brighter as he continued to caress her face before bringing her closer to graze her lips with his.

Halloween was, without a doubt, his favourite. 

Tagging: @the-soot-sprite​ @henrythickcavill​ because they asked to be tagged in these. <3 

[mysticalrambling]

Adorable Addition(Part 1)

Chris Evans Fan Fiction (Fan Fiction Masterlist)

(Part 2)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad!Chris Evans x reader. Chris and you decide to adopt a dog when you see your son with Scott's dog. It is a cute family day and you all enjoy it to the fullest.

._._._._._.

Putting Oliver down for a nap proved to be a difficult task for Chris as the little boy refused to leave his side. It made sense as he hadn't seen Chris for the past three weeks. He went to Colorado for a shooting of his upcoming movie. When he finally managed to put the hyperactive boy to sleep, he sighed in exhaustion.

"Chris, I don't think our family is ready for a dog just yet." You paced across the room as your husband plopped on the bed, looking amused and tired. Of course, he would find this situation funny. Your indecisiveness was his new form of entertainment from the moment he met you.

"Babe, you are the one who suggested it."

"I know that." You sighed in to your hands as you slumped beside him, the sheets ruffling slightly on the contact.

"It's going to be okay, (Y/N). We did a trial run with Scott's dog and Ollie was so good with him. I have never seen a two year old taking such good care of a pet."

The mention of your son brought a smile to your face. He was the best thing that could ever happen to you, besides Chris, of course. From the moment you found out that you were pregnant with Ollie, you were scared. Chris and you were just settling down in to your normal life after your honeymoon month. But, safe to say, he was ecstatic. He twirled you around with tears pooling in his blues. The baby responded to him so well whenever he used to gently talk to it in the womb. Oliver was a daddy's boy from the very start.

"Let's just watch some movies on Netflix till our little prince wakes up from his beauty nap." You were not in a mood for a movie tho so you put on your favorite show, Defending Jacob, despite your husband’s protests. Chris in a suit was something you could not get over and at the end of the day, he was all yours. Time whizzed by with Chris telling you back stage stories and his feelings regarding each scene. Not going to lie, you were quite enjoying this alone time with the love of your life.

The crying on the baby monitor broke you both out of your bubble. Chris went to make his bottle while you went to console your little munchkin. Sitting in the rocking chair with your son, you gently sang a lullaby as he clinged to you like a koala. After he was finished with his bottle, he extended his hands to Chris who leaned on the door.

"I will get him ready and you can pack his bag." You went to pack his bag and kept his stuffed Captain America in the front pocket. Ollie has had that toy from the past year and he does not go anywhere without it.

"We are all ready. Let me just get my cap and sunglasses."

"Why do you always have to hide this beautiful face?"

"It's because everyone finds it beautiful as well." He cackled when you screwed your face at his lame comment. Strapping Oliver in to his stroller, Chris pushed it out of the house. As soon as the stroller was out of the house, you covered it fully with the shade. Your son was busy with a pacifier in his mouth and a teddy bear in his chubby hands. The pet shop was just two streets down so you both had decided to take a stroll.

"Have you decided on the breed?” questioning your husband, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. He just shook his head and wrapped one of his hands around your shoulder while the other one continued pushing the stroller. You both were aware of the paparazzi sneaking behind you and you just sighed.

Sometimes, it was really difficult for you to have a family moment without it being publicised to the whole world. Sure, Chris was a celebrity and people wanted to know what he was up to but you wanted some alone time with your husband as well. You also knew the hate that you and your son were subjected to online. Chris always steered you away from negative publicity but sometimes you can’t help but think it is true. You did not deserve him.

“I am sorry, love.” The hand that rested on your shoulder trailed down your back and slowly drew soothing patterns. He always knew what was going on in your head and always made sure to rid you of all your insecurities. “Don’t mind them.”

“Dadda!!” Chris quickly pulled the shade up and you came face to face with your son’s scrunched up face. “Pick me up.”

“Baby, we are almost there.” He tried soothing the toddler with another stuffed toy because he didn’t want the paparazzi to get his pictures. However, your son was having none of it as he let out a piercing wail and threw his pacifier out of the stroller. You were going to scold him but Chris stopped you and went to pick him up.

Kissing him on his forehead, Oliver placed his head on his father’s shoulder and gently sucked on his thumb. You started asking your son about the type of dog that he wanted. He explained it all with big hand gestures and a twinkle in his blue eyes that warmed your insides. Soon, you reached the shop and went straight towards the dog section.

“Go and pick out your favorite one, buddy. We will take it home today.” You went with Oliver when the workers at the pet shop wanted Chris’s autographs and pictures.

The little boy roamed around the whole section with a thumb in his mouth and the Captain America teddy bear in the other one. He slowly came to a halt in front of a small cage. Inside it was a golden retriever pup with a red collar around his fuzzy neck. He slowly stepped forward and before you could stoop him, Ollie reached out his hand to pet him. The small creature gently nuzzled in his hands and your boy let out a squeal.

“This is a four month old golden retriever. He is fully vaccinated and very well tamed. Your son chose well” The teenage worker walked in with Chris and gave you the necessary information regarding the small pup.

“Does he have a name?” Chris enquired as he gently patted the pup on the head as well.

“Dodger.”

“That’s a good name. Do you want him buddy?” Oliver nodded his head so furiously that Chris was worried he might hurt his neck. Chuckling, he got up to sign all the agreements and buy the necessary things.

You guys took Dodger home and the whole way, Oliver stayed by his side and silently stared at him in wonder. One time, he was about to trip on a rock and Chris saved him from falling down. But that did nothing to stray him from his fascination. You were sure tomorrows headline will have your family’s picture in the front with the headlines,’An Adorable Addition to the Evan’s Family’.

The moment you all reached home, Oliver took a hesitant Dodger towards his room and show him all of the toys. You gently side hugged your husband and whispered to him,”I am grateful for this addition in our family.”

“Me too. Now, let’s go to our son before he scares Dodger from all his excitement.” Following Chris to the upstairs room, you wondered how lucky you were to have a family like this and you silently prayed for all of this to remain the same. Gently placing a hand on your stomach, you just knew that your family was ready for another addition as well. You were going to surprise your husband tonight.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Here is the link to Part 2.

._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it.

Like, comment and reblog.

Taglist: @maximeevansblog, @justile

._._._._._.

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Raymond Holt, Rosa Diaz

Warnings: theft

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case. 

Part Two: Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Word Count: 2,697

A/N: my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge! i know everyone wanted me to post the whole fic at once but then it ended up being 5k+ words i made the executive decision that it was probably best for everyones sanity to split it up into 2 parts. think of it as a commercial break in the episode <3 i’m gonna disclaimer this by saying that i’m not a cop or in law enforcement. idk how this shit works. i tried my best but this isn’t legally accurate. anyway! based on the prompt: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.” 

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

“Not late! I’m not late!” Jake announces, rushing into the briefing room with his bag still slung over his shoulder. He ignores the eye rolls from Amy and Terry, and plops down in the seat Charles has saved for him. He leans back, dumping his bag on the floor as he tries to catch his breath, before noticing Holt’s disapproving stare. “I’m not! Look, I’m right on time!”

Jake points over at the clock hanging on the wall, and Holt glances over his shoulder before turning back to Jake. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Peralta. That clock broke down two days ago.”

Jake takes a proper look at the clock, which, sure enough, is frozen at three minutes past two o’clock. 

“Okay, well…” Jake cringes. “I had a flat tire?” 

“As I was saying,” Holt ignores Jake’s excuse, reorganizing the case files on the podium as the squad quickly focuses. Pulling up a few pictures on the television, Holt curtly explains, “Two bodegas were robbed last night, and we suspect it may be the same person, or group or people, who robbed the three bodegas last week. Thankfully, no one was injured, but we need to crack down on this case before it happens again.” 

The squad nods in agreement, and Amy taps her pen against the desk as she takes notes. Gesturing towards Rosa, Holt asks, “Diaz, you were investigating last week’s robberies. Where are you in solving the case?”

“Nowhere, sir.” Rosa begrudgingly admits, folding her arms across her chest as she shakes her head. “Forensics dusted the place for prints but found nothing, and the security footage was crap. Couldn’t pull any good images because it was so old. All I know is that it looks like at least two individuals are involved.” 

Holt slowly nods, pressing his lips together as he deliberates this. Pointing at Jake, he orders, “Conduct some interviews around the block, see if anyone saw anything. Perhaps you’ll have more luck this time. And take Peralta with you, you’ll be able to cover more ground. Everyone, you’re dismissed.” 

Jake looks over his shoulder to exchange a nod with Rosa before everyone gets to their feet. Holt closes up his file, and quickly stops Jake before he can leave the room, “Oh, and Jake?”

Jake pauses in the doorway. “Yes, sir?” 

“While you’re out, you can get some new batteries for the clock.” Holt points back at the defunct clock. Raising an eyebrow, Holt continues, “So next time, you can actually take a look at how late you are.” 

Beside him, Amy can’t help but snort at Jake’s expense, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

—

Jake jogs over to the bodega, a cup of coffee in hand from the nearby food cart. He ducks under the police tape bordering the store, and he gingerly steps around the shattered glass scattered on the pavement. He can already see Rosa inside, taking off her sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of her shirt, and he can see that the forensics team have already marked up the scene. Rosa looks up as Jake approaches, and she informs him, “This one’s different from the others; they actually broke in instead of picking the lock. Otherwise, they took all the cash, and it doesn’t look like anything from the inventory was taken.” 

“Which is kinda weird, considering this place has pretty cool chip flavors and orange soda.” Jake points to a nearby shelf, and Rosa shoots him a look. Shrugging, Jake looks at the rest of the shelves and the fridge as he mumbles to himself, “I’m just saying.” 

“Security footage from this whole week is missing too.” Rosa continues. She groans, shaking her head as she takes another glance around the scene. “I don’t know how we’re going to get anywhere with this.”

The two of them make their way back outside, where a small crowd is now lingering outside the store, curiously trying to peek inside as the cops try to corral everyone. Pointing at them, Rosa suggests, “Maybe we can find a witness.” 

Jake follows her gaze, quickly sweeping over the individuals before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes momentarily meet, but you quickly look away and turn your attention back to the smashed glass. You’re cute, Jake thinks to himself with a grin, all bundled up in a denim jacket that, and when you turn to look at something over your shoulder, he can’t help but notice has a cool design of some planets stitched on the back. Rolling back his shoulders, Jake holds out his cup of coffee, and he says, “Allow me to handle this, Rosa,” 

Rosa rolls her eyes at the annoyingly confident tone Jake quickly adopts, and pointedly refuses to hold Jake’s coffee for him.

“Alright then,” Jake awkwardly takes his coffee back, and he gulps down the rest, fanning his tongue as it burns his mouth. Tossing it aside into a nearby trash can, Jake quickly composes himself, readjusting his jacket before approaching you. He offers you his hand, and you hesitate before shaking it, and Jake introduces, “Hey, I’m Detective Peralta. Cool jacket, by the way.”

“y/n.” you introduce yourself with a small smile, shaking his hand before you pull away to self consciously tug at the sleeves of your jacket. “And thanks. My friend made it for me as a birthday gift.”

“Nice,” Jake grins at you, before gesturing over his shoulder. “You come here often? It’s a pretty awesome bodega.”

“Uh, well, I work here.” you slowly respond, and you can see something in Jake’s expression falter as his cheeks get red. You bite back a smile as you continue, “So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool,” Jake nods, fumbling to come up with a response. His palms suddenly feel sweaty, and he scrambles to think of his next question. 

“I’ll let our owner know, by the way.” you pipe up, and Jake blinks at you. Nervously chuckling, you add, “That you think the bodega is awesome. He’ll appreciate it.” 

“Oh!” Jake laughs, and you can’t help but smile. Gesturing to the store, Jake continues, “I’ve gotta say, your snack selection is the best I’ve ever seen. I mean, you’ve got every flavor of everything in there! Also, any place that carries orange soda is automatically awesome in my book.” 

“Well of course,” you respond with a smile. “It’s the best flavor!” 

“Right?!” Jake perks up, and the both of you dissolve into laughter before Jake looks over his shoulder and notices Rosa glaring at him. Quickly clamming up, Jake attempts to focus himself, and his eyes widen as he remembers the fact that you work here. “Are you the cashier or something?”

“Yep.” you nod, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I just worked yesterday, too. I can’t believe someone robbed it last night.” 

“What time were you here until?” Jake asks. 

“The shop closes around midnight, and I was the one who locked up.” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Jake can’t help but notice as you momentarily break his gaze, and you glance at the store before back at him. “Usually our owner, Gabriel, closes up, but he’s been sick this past week, so I’ve been helping out.”

“Got it,” Jake nods, mentally taking note of all this information. The both of you look up as Rosa joins in on the conversation, and Jake continues, “And I’m assuming you didn’t see any sign of suspicious activity before you left?”

You shake your head, uneasily glancing over at Rosa as she looks at you. “Sorry, Detective.” 

“No, you’ve actually been super helpful.” Jake reassures you, and he offers you a friendly smile that puts you at ease. You relax, and Jake continues, “It helps us roughly estimate when the crime took place. Do you know anything about your security footage, by the way? This is my partner, Detective Diaz, and she noticed the footage was somehow erased.” 

Something in your expression shifts, and Jake can’t quite read the look on your face. Rosa narrows her eyes at you, and after a pause, you respond, “I think our cameras have been down.” 

Jake and Rosa exchange an uncertain glance, and you can feel your stomach twisting into knots as you know they don’t look convinced. The atmosphere becomes intense, especially as you feel yourself under Rosa’s stern gaze, and Jake quickly tries to lighten the mood as he tells you, “I think that’s it. Thanks for answering our questions, y/n.”

You nod, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow as your gaze lingers on him, your lips moving as if you want to tell him more. But you stop yourself, taking in a deep breath, before responding, “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” 

You turn on your heel, and Jake watches as you head down the block. He looks over to see Rosa studying you, before she shakes her head. “I don’t like it, Jake. They seemed suspicious to me.”

“They were just nervous.” Jake finds himself defending you. “And probably a little frazzled, too. They were the last one in the shop, if they had stayed any longer, they could’ve been in danger.” 

“Or they could have something to do with the crime.” Rosa counteracts, and Jake lets out a sigh. Leaning towards him, Rosa continues, “I know we don’t have solid evidence, but I just have a feeling something’s up, Jake. Plus, it doesn’t help that you were flirting.” 

Jake gapes at her. “I was not flirting!” 

“Look, we need to solve this before Holt gets on my case about it.” Rosa insists. Jake lets out a sigh, before glancing down the direction you walked, and he can just barely see your figure heading into the subway station. 

“I’ll be right back.” Jake tells her, and before Rosa can stop him, he jogs after you. By the time he’s entered the station, he’s terribly out of breath, and he manages to catch you before you enter through the turnstile. “y/n!”

You look up upon hearing your name and you pause as Jake stops in front of you. He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and you patiently wait for him. Through heavy breaths, Jake manages to puff out, “Yeah, sorry, super unfit. The chips and the orange soda clearly don’t help.” 

Jake tries his best not to cringe at what he feels like is the lamest joke he’s ever made, but to his surprise, you laugh. A genuine laugh, not a cruel, teasing one, but one with a wide smile that makes Jake feel like he’s on top of the world. Tilting your head, you manage to say in between chuckles, “You’re pretty funny, Detective.” 

“Call me Jake.” Jake insists, finally regaining his breath, and you grin at him. “Hey, any chance I could get your number? For professional reasons of course, in case we need to contact you again. Or I could just give you my number if you feel better doing it that way.”

You seem hesitant, but you nod. He fumbles through his pocket, pulling out an old receipt and a pen that barely has enough ink in it, and you scribble out your number before handing it back to him, “I work every day but Tuesdays, too, so you’ll be able to catch me at work if you need me.” 

“Got it.” Jake nods, tucking the receipt into his pocket. “Thanks for your help, y/n.”

The expression that Jake can’t decipher crosses your face again, a look of pensiveness, of hesitation. But you shake it off, quickly plastering on a smile, and you nod, “Have a good day, Jake. And… good luck.” 

—

Jake and Rosa sit in the break room, a laptop open between them as they flip through countless CCTV videos from the blocks nearby the bodega. Rosa becomes increasingly aggressive with the keyboard with each video she clicks through, and Jake impatiently shakes his head. He groans, rubbing his fingers up against his temple as he complains, “This is killing me. If I have to look at one more minute of another grainy video, I’m going to lose it.”

Rosa rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms across her chest. She kicks Jake’s chair with her boot, and she points out, “This is all we have, Jake.”

Jake sighs, but nods. Rosa had interviewed some people in the neighboring apartments, some of which reported hearing smashed glass around three in the morning, but hadn’t called it in on the assumption it was a clumsy accident from a downstairs neighbor. It at least gave them a time of the crime, but as Rosa unfortunately pointed out, it didn’t give them much else. The CCTV didn’t seem to pick up on anything interesting, no speeding cars, and a brief moment of footage that might’ve captured the suspects only showed their retreating backs. The forensics team had also swept over all the evidence from the bodega, but had yet to find anything incriminating, not even a single fingerprint which could help lead the investigation somewhere. 

“These guys clearly know what they were doing.” Rosa grumbles, jabbing her finger into the screen. “They know to avoid all the camera spots.” 

“I hate smart criminals. Why can’t they all be dumb and just make it easier for us?” Jake whines, and Rosa rolls her eyes. 

“Have you talked to y/n lately?” Rosa asks, and Jake shakes his head, hoping Rosa doesn’t notice the faint blush that lights up his cheeks at the mere mention of your name.

“No, Rosa, who do you think I am? That’s way too forward.” Jake scoffs, before his expression turns serious. It’s been a little over a week since your interaction, and he looks at Rosa before continuing, “Unless you don’t think it’s too forward. Should I text them?”

Rosa resists the urge to punch Jake’s arm, and she deadpans, “Talked to them about the case, Jake, not for a date.” 

“Right.” Jake nods, clearly flustered, and Rosa rolls her eyes again. Wiping his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, Jake corrects himself, “No, I haven’t talked to y/n.”

Rosa leans her elbows forward on the desk. “I think we should call them in again. You know, see if there’s anything we can get out of them. Kind it seems like they’re the only lead we have.”

“You don’t still suspect them, do you?” Jake asks, eyebrows furrowing, and he lets out a sigh as Rosa shrugs. Shaking his head, Jake insists, “I really don’t think it’s them, Rosa.” 

“Jake…” Rosa starts, shooting him a look, and Jake quickly waves his hand, brushing her off as he already knows what’s coming next. 

“Alright, I’ll reach out to them, see if there’s anything more they can tell us.” Jake reluctantly says, and Rosa nods. Pointing back at the computer, Jake asks, “Does this mean I can stop watching these boring videos?”

“Fine.” Rosa grumbles, angling the laptop towards herself as Jake grins. He grabs his jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and he sneaks one last glance at the grainy video before darting out the room. He pauses, his eyes narrowing, and he points at the screen. 

“Wait, what’s that?” Jake points at the corner of the video, where a figure rushes down the street. Rosa squints, and she pauses the video for Jake to get a better look. His eyes widen, and his expression pales slightly, and he asks, “What time was this footage from?”

“Five in the morning.” Rosa replies, checking the timestamp. Looking up at Jake, she asks, “Why? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Jake hurriedly remarks, and Rosa frowns. Before she can demand an answer from Jake, he’s already rushed out of the break room, swiftly exiting the bullpen as he dodges Terry on his way out.

It’s not nothing, but Jake knows he can’t tell Rosa that. Not when the figure in the video was wearing a distinctive denim jacket with planets stitched on the back.

tag list: @myfriendmagislit​​ / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi​​ / @writinqss​​ / @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites​​ / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes​​ / @lgbtonystarks​​ / @fangirlsarah16​​ / @kittensanddarkclouds​​ / @randomfandomimagine​​ / @ofthedewthesunlight​​ / @bravelittlesunflower​​

[stillebesat]

Code: Blanket

Sanders Sides: Janus, Virgil, (Logan & Remus mentioned) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn't stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references. Taglist in Reblog

Janus Daemon @TheGatekeeper *12m To the ‘family’ that locked me in our unfinished attic these past 4 months to “knock the Antifa sh!t” out of me; Pretty sure this is worse than anything I’d have done. Don’t bother deleting the evidence of your ‘trip.’ It’s already been passed onto the proper Authorities. Cheers.

Virgil shot upright in bed, staring at the tweet and the handful of photos from the storming of the Capitol that Dee had attached along with it. “No way.” He breathed. No freaking way.

Janus. Janus Daemon, the goodie-two-shoes who always obeyed his parents and followed their lead...had actually turned them in as Capitol rioters?

He frowned, tapping on his phone to blow up the images so he could see the people within them better. Yah, no. Even if it had been ages since he’d seen Dee’s family...there was no denying that two of the dozen faces circled and labeled in the pictures were the same parental figures that he remembered sneering down at him before they forcefully dragged their son off the playground when he was six.

That had been right after...Virgil hunched his shoulders. After his Dad’s divorce from his Mom. Apparently hanging out with a child who only had a Dad in the picture was a big “NO” in their messed up book of rules.

Not that that had stopped them from becoming secret best friends in school...well until last year that is….when his Dad had married Remus.

That had...been rough...when word got out--well reached Dee’s parents and they’d stormed the school to find their son working on a project in the library with him, the ‘hooligan freak who dared to be okay with having two dads when it was unnatural to the natural order of things.’

He’d known, from Janus, that his parents were uptight...but that day had shown him how all Daemons were a Demonic Clan of Super Karens that had campaigned nearly as hard as the President to force both his Dad and Remus from their jobs in order to protect the community from their sort.

Unfortunately for the Daemons, they’d picked the wrong family to mess with. Not when his Dad, Logan Andrews, was considered to be the best lawyer in the state, if not the country. Not when his new husband, Remus Knight, had just finished performing a life saving surgery on the governor's daughter. No. The Daemons may be influential, but they were nothing compared to his parents when their Momma Bear instincts were roused.

Honestly...to discover that the entire group had drunk the kool-aid and actually stormed the Capitol to support the Orange Cheeto shouldn’t be so surprising.

Well...not everyone.

Virgil frowned, glancing back up to the first part of the tweet before he hit his contacts, scrolling through them to find Janus’s name only to hesitate over pressing the call button.

He hadn’t spoken to Dee in a year. Not since that fiasco. Not since his so called friend had taken his parent's side and cut off all contact, purposely burning the bridges of their friendship with sneers, glares...and well---

Virgil exhaled, closing his eyes.

Could a Demon change their stripes? Could Janus...could he---

Sure...it appeared he was finally rebelling against his parents...but he had no idea what Dee thought of him---Virgil gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. “I made a promise.” He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

Still. Maybe not a good idea to call. Janus had probably blocked his number anyways---

He swiped out of his contacts, switching to his barely used Facebook Messenger where he picked out Janus’s name from there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Dee probably still wanted nothing to do with him.

He swiped a single word...once again hesitating over sending it.

They hadn’t talked in a year.

This could go so wrong.

And yet--

He hit send.

Virgil: Blanket?

He bit his lip, barely breathing as he stared at the little check mark symbol showing that Dee’s account had at least received the message.

Not that he really expected a response. It was Facebook after all. But Janus had just turned his family in. Did he have a place to stay? Had he been fed? Just how bad had it been for him to be locked in an unfinished attic over the summer by the people who supposedly loved him? Who had proclaimed they wanted to protect him. If---

His heart skipped a beat as the checkmark switched to Janus’s profile picture.

Dee had seen the message.

He stopped breathing as the three typing dots appeared.

Janus: Seriously?

“Ha.” Virgil relaxed, running shaking fingers through his hair. Not a totally unexpected response after everything. But far better than the hate filled rant he’d half expected to get. That had to be a good sign right? He had come up with that particular coded phrase as a way to judge his friend’s needs when Dee had pulled him into the hollow of an old oak tree on his way to the bus the day after his fateful encounter with the Super Karens on the playground with tears shining in his eyes.

Janus hadn’t wanted to return home that day because his parents had been so mad at him for playing with Virgil. He hadn’t understood why having only a Dad was bad--

He hadn’t been as understanding when Virgil ended up with two.

Virgil rolled off the bed, stuffing his feet into his shoes as he sent a one word answer back.

Virgil: Yes.

No typing dots appeared even though he could see that Dee had seen his response.

Unsurprising. Dee was probably wondering if this was some sort of trick, if there was a catch. Why would Virgil of all people contact him out of the blue after how he’d treated him?

He pulled his hoodie over his head, swiping his keys and face mask from his desk as he took a chance and pressed call, holding his phone up to his ear, listening to it ring as he left his room and moved downstairs.

A click sounded in his ear right before the voicemail could activate.

Janus had picked up, Virgil could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background, the shaky barely controlled breathing.

He wasn’t saying anything though.

That was fine. Not normal for Dee, who always liked to have the first and last word but Virgil could work with this.

“Offer still stands, Dee.” He said, keeping his voice low as he moved past Dad and Remus’s darkened bedroom, heading to the front door. “I’ve told you a million times that if you don’t know where to go you can always come here. You acting like the world’s biggest dick doesn’t change that.”

Janus may have thrown their friendship out of the figurative door...but Virgil--well he...hadn’t. Not really. He had been hoping Dee would come around--not like this...but if this could get his best friend back---

“You can’t mean that, Annie.” The voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Not after--”

“Dude.” Virgil tsked, scribbling a quick note to his parents because Dad would hear the car start up and be up like a shot once he realized Virgil was leaving after hours. “You just posted that you were locked up in your attic by your so-called parents.” He pulled open the front door, quickly slipping out before he jangled his car keys by the phone. “Unless you say Nest right now, I’m coming to get you and dragging you back. So. Blan--” He looked up and froze, staring at the shadowy figure hovering just outside the gate. ”-ket?”

Janus huffed in his ear, the figure at the gate shifting to grab onto one arm, rubbing it as they shuffled back a step.

Dee did that whenever he was nervous. Whenever he was afraid he was making the wrong choice.

He hadn’t spoken to Virgil in a year.

Yet he was already here.

Virgil was off the porch and jumping over the gate in a flash, grabbing onto Janus before his friend could change his mind and bolt. “Dee.”

Janus flinched, slowly lowering the phone, a crumpled face mask hanging from one ear, ragged hair half covering a deep purple bruise and three long scratches by his left eye as he ducked his head. “If...I said...Fort?’ He whispered, shoulders hunching as if expecting a physical blow.

Blanket Fort. A need for Protection. For Safety.

Virgil growled, tugging his friend into his arms, holding him tight, heart throbbing as Dee practically melted into him like a shaking leaf, breath hitching as his fingers dug into Virgil’s hoodie.

How long had it been since anyone had treated Dee with any compassion? Four months locked up in an attic. His family halfway across the country committing treason. Had they even left him any food when they left? Probably not from how bony Dee felt now in his arms.

“Janus.” Virgil said softly, holding him tighter as his friend shuddered in his arms, running careful fingers through his greasy hair. “I told you. You can always stay here.”

Part 2

[donutloverxo]

Vanilla

Kinktober day 21 - Vanilla

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - @stargazingfangirl18 asked for soft ransom! Thanks @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @whateveriwant for their advice! Also for @finleyjayne 's rainbow writing challenge with the prompt 'white lie'. Hope y'all like it💖

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - When you find out Ransom's been lying, you can't help but assume the worst.

Warnings - 18+ only please!, smut (m/f), ooc Ransom.

Pairing - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You sighed as a tear rolled down your cheek, looking at an old photo strip of you and Ransom. You had taken it in a photo booth at the fall fair, he was reluctant, calling them dumb and cheesy but he gave in when you gave him your puppy eyes.

He looked stoic in the first two, with you perched up on his lap, your arms around his neck but then he was laughing boisterously because you started tickling you. The last one was of him biting your neck as revenge.

Happy times. But they seem to be taunting you now.

Your family, even your friends, weren’t huge fans of Ransom. Your mother was actually scared he’d hit you or hurt you. But they didn’t know him like you did.

He was never cruel to you. Not even when he didn’t know you and had nothing to gain from being nice to you. Surprisingly, he was quite the gentlemen, holding the door for you, paying for your meals, even waiting for over a month before making love - you knew then you could never let go of him, no one would ever give it to you like him.

He did tend to be a bit judgmental and cynical, entitled and maybe a bit spoilt. But you accepted that as a part of him, encouraging him to work on himself. Sure, he’ll never be everyone's cup of tea, but he’d always be yours.

Or so you thought.

Dealing with Ransom required some finesse and patience that you were willing to put up because it was worth it. But you’d never put up with lies, or worse... that’s not who you were.

Ransom had told you he was going to meet up with his published to talk about his new project. Your gut told you that something was wrong. When he was late you took it upon yourself to call the publishing house only to find out he didn’t have a meeting today at all.

He didn’t have one that Sunday either, where he was for over four hours you didn’t know.

You let out a humorless chuckle at your own naiveté - who the fuck has a meeting on the weekend anyway?

You only saw what your heart wanted to show you. Maybe, he never loved you. Maybe everything you both shared for the past two years was a lie - an act.

You yelped a bit when you heard the door being slammed shut, putting the photo down you quickly composed yourself.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you, kissing the top of your head before scavenging for a beer in your fridge.

“Hey,” your voice hoarse and croaky, you cleared your throat, “how was your meeting?” you spat. Unable to keep the contempt from your voice.

“So and so. They don’t know shit,” he twisted the cap off before he taking a long drag of it.

You gulped when you looked at his pale throat bobbing and swallowing the liquid down. He took his coat off, throwing it over the counter.

You watched his muscles flex under his tight sweater, his curious eyes watching you, your traitorous body still found him attractive. Which he was, objectively so, some might even argue that he was out of your league and not the other way around.

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked, catching you staring at him. He stood before you, holding onto your hips.

You blinked, pushing him away and putting some distance between you, “I want to know more about the meeting.” you insisted.

“What the hell are you going on about?” He ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair - messing it up. You knew it was a nervous tick of his.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! You weren’t at any meeting were you? You were probably with some bitch,” you yelled, jabbing him in his chest with your finger, “No,” you laughed, “Wasn’t her fault. She’s not the one cheating. I should’ve known better.” you shook your head, “Everybody warned me.”

He had the audacity to roll his eyes, “God, you women - ”

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom. Now is not the time for your boring jokes. Where were you?”

“Why would you jump to the worse conclusion?!” he yelled back, his face turning red and a couple of veins popping on his forehead. “Do I not get benefit the doubt? Don’t you trust me?”

He walked towards you, making you take a few steps back until you hit the counter, tall and imposing above you. His jaw clenched shut as he stared you down.

You gulped, “I did trust you. But what explanation could you possibly have? You lied, didn’t you? Where were you?”

You watched him as he dug through his discarded coat, taking out a box and handing it to you. You knew what it was as soon as you saw it, the familiar burgundy color with the words ‘cartier’ written on top in golden cursive.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, your heart clenched in guilt. You accused him of the worst when he was just out getting you jewellery. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“Bit to late to be sorry when you already said your part.” he gritted.

“Sorry,” you gave him a nervous smile, “I really don’t deserve this, I don’t know what to say...”

“I was with Meg, since she’s the only girl I know, who’d be of any use. She just gave a lecture about how buying diamonds is so unethical or something, I don’t know I tuned out,” he shuddered at just the thought of it, “So, it’s not final. We can exchange it if you don’t like it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You frowned, “Why would I need to exchange it? I’m sure it’s very pretty,” you opened the box and gasped, your jaw dropping, “Ransom... this is...” the most beautiful diamond ring you’ve ever seen. “Wait a minute, does that mean..”

“Yep,” he snatched it away from you, taking the ring out of it and then sliding it on your ring finger, “I was going to go the whole nine yards. Get down on a knee, act like a fucking Disney Prince but you don’t get that now,” he smirked, the diamond looking so pretty on your hand. “You’re stuck with me, forever.”

“Well, I’m sad that I missed out on a proper proposal but I suppose I deserve it. It really is so pretty,” you beamed at the ring.

“Don’t you dare take it off.” He held onto your hand possessively. Glad to have some sort of claim on you now that would let any unworthy asshole know that you’re taken.

You giggled, placing a quick smooch on his lips, “I won’t. I’ll protect it with my life,” holding the hand close to your heart. “I’m still so sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“That’s right, you should’ve.” he grumbled

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He’d have no problem assuming the worst if the roles were reversed. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Jutting your lower lip out and looking at him with your big doe eyes.

Pulling you by your waist and holding you tightly against him, “I can think of a couple of things, pumpkin.”

He captured your lips in a salacious kiss that was all teeth and tongue, running his thumb over the diamond.

***

“Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed, pumpkin,” he praised, choking on a moan, pushing your hot, eager mouth further down on his length.

You let out a muffled whimper, relaxing your throat so you could take all of him. Which was quite a task but you powered through, swallowing him down until your nose touched the brown patch of hair above his length.

He let out a loud, primal moan, holding onto your head and trying his best not to bust his load too soon. He pulled you off of him, getting off of the mattress, putting his hands below your arms and hauling you up and pushing you down on it. It was always fun to manhandle you like that, what with you being so small and plaint. Always ready to serve him and let him have his way with you.

You blinked up at him with unsure eyes, almost wanting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. “St - stop looking at me like that.”

He chuckled, “You’re mine now. I’ll look at you however I like.”

He knelt on the floor, pulling you till you were on the edge of the bed, nudging your intimate lips apart with his nose. He took a long breath in, your unique scent never failed to make him hot.

Placing a flurry of kisses up and down your inner thighs, giving your a nick and a bite here and there till you were going crazy with need. Need to have his mouth on you.

“Please, Ransom,” you sniffled exaggeratedly, “Just want your mouth on me.”

“You’ve got no patience, doll.” Which was rich, coming from him.

He shook his head, teasing your entrance with his tongue. Before finally, wrapping his mouth around your bundle of nerves, sucking at it leisurely.

You pulled at his hair, pushing him closer to your heat because you needed more.

He took the hint, plunging two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out till he felt you clamping down on them. He pulled right away when he felt you getting too close to your climax.

No, he needed to look at your face as you fell apart with him.

Ignoring your whines and curses he hovered above you, pushing his tip against your entrance, coating it with your juices.

You were out of it, barely there with him, your hands loosely holding onto his broad shoulders, “I love you,” you murmured and then yelped, your eyes scrunched shut as he thursted his entire length inside you. Your nails digging into his biceps and drawing blood.

There was that delicious familiar ache at first, but you willed yourself to ride through it. It’ll feel good in no time. Except.... he didn’t move.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him to see him staring at you. You called out his name, caressing his cheek.

“Say it again,” he panted.

“Say what?” you yelped again as he lifted your hips up, his tip brushing against your spongy spot, “Oh.. uh... I love you.” you repeated.

He stayed still for a moment or longer. Still not used to hearing those words, especially said so sincerely by you. They often caught him off guard and overwhelmed him.

His hips bucked into yours as he started thrusting into you properly, his fingers digging into your hips.

You pulled him down and pressed your lips to his, swirling your tongue against his, spilling your moans in his mouths, only pulling away when you could barely breath. He did have a way of always leaving you breathless.

Propping himself on his elbows, he watched you writhe under him, your face scrunching up in untethered pleasure as you kept asking him for more. It's where you belonged, wrapped up around him. And your cavern was his rightful place, especially now that you'll be married.

“You’ve always been a, tight little thing. Squeezing the shit outta me,” he grunted as you pulsed and fluttered around him your body seized up and fell back.

He kept driving his hips into you, riding out your orgasm till ropes of his seed coated your walls, he didn’t let up till he was sure he gave you every last drop of him.

He collapsed on top of you, nipping at the shell of your ear, “Again,” he pleaded, his voice wavering with his cock softening inside you.

“I love you, baby, more than you’ll ever know,” you said, cradling his head close to you.

He hummed, pulling himself out of you, laying beside you, he admired your ring as you struggled to stay away, your eyes already dozing off.

He was proud to have bought it with his own hard earned money with the book you inspired him to write, it was sort of poetic in a way. But you didn’t need to know that or you’d accuse him of going soft for you - which to be fair he was. As his mother always says every marriage has its secrets.

Tags will be in the reblog!

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

[tobesolonely]

jealousy

a/n: hello! this is a little one shot that’s apart of my dad!harry universe! you dont have to read the original one to understand this one shot but if you’d like to, ill link it here . i hope everyone enjoys! please reblog and leave feedback if you do<33

summary: y/n and harry have another child, and their first born is a little skeptical on the idea of being a big sister.

warnings: none

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

After hours of excruciating contractions, a backache like nothing you’ve ever felt in your life, and the horrid discomfort that came with pushing, you forgot all about your displeasure when Harry grabbed your hand, eyes sparkling, and said: “He’s beautiful, Y/N. Oliver’s here.”

When you found out you were having a baby boy, you were ecstatic. You and Harry already had a daughter, a fiery six-year-old named Allison, or Ally, as she preferred, and wanted to try for a boy. Girls run on both sides of your family, so you were pleasantly surprised when you found out you were expecting a baby boy. However, your daughter was not so happy about this news.

At first, you and Harry thought that the farther along you got in your pregnancy, the more your daughter would warm up to the idea of being a big sister. Unfortunately, the opposite happened. She became withdrawn and had outbursts that you would describe as “unpredictable and unprovoked.” You tried using your own experience as an older sibling to help your daughter know what to expect. You let her pick the color for the nursery. Harry got a t-shirt made that said, “Best big sister ever!” but she never wanted to wear it. Despite your greatest efforts, nothing changed your daughter’s attitude. She was much like you in that aspect— once she had an opinion on something, it was difficult to get her to see things from a different perspective. Still, you were looking forward to your eldest meeting the newest addition to the family.

After a few hours of skin to skin, feeding, and napping (because everyone knows you sleep when the baby sleeps), Harry breaks the silence. “Told my mum she can come over with Ally and Gem, now. Are yeh okay with visitors?” His voice is scratchy from not speaking for so long, and he’s whispering in an effort to not wake up your son.

“That’s fine,” you respond, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. “Just exhausted. Maybe a short visit?” Harry nods, telling you he already suggested they don’t stay for long. You look over at your son, starting to feel a little anxious. Ally had six months to adjust to the idea of having a sibling, and she was upset about it right up until the very end. When you went into labor, as Harry frantically got the car packed, she stood off to the side and said nothing. When Harry’s mom arrived as you were getting set to leave, the two of you told your daughter to be good, gave her hugs and kisses, and reminded her how loved she was. Still, Ally said nothing. When Anne waved as Harry backed the car out of the driveway, Ally had a look on her face that she didn’t often wear— a look that could best be described as pure hurt.

“What’s on your mind?” While you were lost in your thoughts, Harry moved from the chair near the window to the one next to your bed.

“I’m just worried about how Ally’s gonna react to him,” you gesture toward your son, who was still fast asleep in his bassinet. “Did you see how she looked at us when we left? Hardly said a word to either one of us.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, thinking back on the earlier day's events. “Guess you’re right, now that ‘m thinkin’ about it. She didn’t seem excited at all, did she?”

You shake your head, tears starting to form in your eyes. Harry’s expression softens, and he reaches to gently cup your face. “Hey, don’ gotta cry, lovie. Just wait ‘til she sees him. Promise she’ll fall in love jus’ like we did, trust me.” He wipes a stray tear from your cheek and gives you a reassuring smile.

“You’re right,” you tell him, feeling silly for getting so emotional so quickly. “I know it’s a big adjustment. My mom told me I was the same way when my little sister was born.” Harry nods, retracting his hand from your face and reaching to grab a tissue from the table beside your bed.

“See? Who woulda thought yeh didn’t like your sister when she was born? The two of yeh are inseparable at this point, know she’d be right here beside you if she wasn’t away at university.”

You’re about to respond when a gentle knock at the door interrupts your conversation. Harry’s eyes light up as he turns to see his mother, Gemma, and your baby girl all walk into the room. Gemma is holding a big bouquet of flowers, Anne has a bunch of balloons with “It’s a boy!” written in curly script, and Ally is clutching onto her grandmother’s hand, a stuffed bear that you don’t recognize as being hers in tow.

“C’mere and give Daddy a hug,” Harry immediately stands up and goes to pick up your daughter, twirling her around. “Missed yeh so much, love bug. Were you good for grandma and auntie Gem?” Harry’s voice is still quiet, as Oliver was still sleeping, and no one wanted to deal with a fussy baby at the moment.

“Yes, daddy.” Ally answers quietly and shortly, looking down at the floor. Harry notices this and sets her down, kneeling to make eye contact with her.

“What’s wrong, Ally? Mumma and Daddy have noticed that yeh haven’t been yourself lately. Something botherin’ you?” Harry questions, already knowing why she was so upset but wanting to give her a chance to freely express how she was feeling.

“S’just…” she says, tugging on her shirt and stretching it out, a bad nervous habit she developed. “I don’ think I want a brother, Daddy. Auntie Gem said it would be fun, but I jus’ don’t think so.” Your daughter has a look of genuine worry on her face. At this point, Gemma and Anne have made their way over to you, quietly offering congratulations and gushing over Oliver.

“What makes yeh think it won’t be fun, bug? What are some things you’re worried about?” Harry takes one of her little hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on her thumb. Ally harshly rubs at her eyes, and you know this means she’s about to start crying.

“Jus’ think you and Mumma won’t love me anymore… because you’ll be too busy playing with him,” She looks over in her brother’s direction, not even wanting to say his name. “I bet he’ll get more cuddles than me.”

Your heart breaks at the fact that your daughter thinks you and Harry don’t have enough love in your heart for her and her baby brother. “Ally, come over here and lie next to Mumma,” you call out quietly. Harry picks her up and brings her over to you, laying her on your bed cautiously to make sure she doesn’t accidentally get tangled in any of your IV’s.

“Baby, there’s nothing and no one on this planet that could make me and Daddy love you any less. We have enough love in our hearts for you and Oliver. Do you understand?” You ask. She doesn’t say anything.

“D’ya wanna hold him?” Harry offers, looking at his mom and sister who have hopeful looks in their eyes. They know how difficult it’s been for Ally to accept a new sibling, as Anne and Gemma have both reassured you countless times when you’ve vented to them about it.

“I guess,” she mumbles, looking at her hands. Harry tries a different approach.

“I see yeh had a new bear in your hand when yeh walked in. Is that for your brother?” Ally looks at the bear that she had discarded on the chair and nods slowly.

“Auntie Gem got Mumma flowers, an’ grandma got balloons. So I wanted to get something too,” she tells him, looking between yours and Harry’s faces. He smiles widely at this and reaches to grab the bear.

“That’s so thoughtful of yeh, bug. See? You’re a natural big sister! Did Auntie Gem teach you some things when I wasn’t around?” Ally chuckles at this, playing with the stuffed animal’s legs. “Do yeh wanna hold him and give him the bear, Ally?”

She quickly nods, a noticeable shift in her mood. Harry tries to hide his excitement as he walks over to Oliver’s bassinet, who was now starting to wake up. He coos when Harry picks him up, and you’re relieved when he doesn’t burst into tears like he has been for the past few hours.

“Hold your arms like this,” you demonstrate for your daughter, situating her body next to you so she could hold her brother without hurting him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Gemma pull out her phone and start recording.

“Ready for him?” Harry questions. Ally nods and Harry slowly places her brother in her arms. “Make sure yeh hold the back of his head, bug. Can’t let it dangle.” You help her readjust her hand placement to offer more support to Oliver’s head. Ally looks up, a dimpled smile on her face.

“He’s so little!” She exclaims, staring back down at him in awe. You and Harry look at each other, tears filling your eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

“He is, isn’t he?” You ask, quickly wiping under your eyes. Anne places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at her grandson with a look of pure adoration in her eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” she gushes, sounding slightly choked up. “He’s got eyes just like yours, Ally.” You see her smile at this, but she doesn’t look up, not wanting to stop staring at her new brother. She reaches carefully with the hand, not supporting her brother’s head to grab the stuffed bear she picked out for him, setting it next to him.

“This is for you, Olly,” she says, placing the bear beside him. “You can sleep with him every night!”

Harry glances at you again, a look of relief on his face. “Olly, is it, bug? He has a nickname just like yours,” he tells her, reaching over you to smooth her hair. “Ally and Olly. I like tha’.” Your heart is full, and your family is complete.

At least, for now.

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 2

A/N:  Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+  Angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words:3500+

Part 1 here

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be re-posted anywhere.

Snow.  

Of all the days to make the largest and final delivery, the sky had to open and drop copious amount of fluffy, white snow throughout the morning, which dramatically turned to rain in the afternoon. The streets were bound to be a disaster and you didn’t have time for this mess.

Trying to slide another box into your SUV was like playing a game of Tetris and one that you were about to lose. With a push, the last piece fit in, but as one went in, another slid out. From the top of the pile, a large box (in painful slow motion) popped out of its comfy home and dropped to the ground, a large splash soaking your left side with cold, slushy water. All the carefully wrapped toys, were now submerged in the grey slush water at your feet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you cried out to the sky and pulled your toque over your eyes. Lifting the wool from your eyes, you stared at the colossal mess at your feet, and tried to swallow down the lump that was quickly forming in your throat. Blinking fast, attempting to avoid that tears that were threatening to pour out of your eyes. What a mess.

“Y/N?” A male voice came from behind you, the sound of slushy footsteps quickly approaching.

Oh no. OH NO.

Not that voice.  

Squatting down once more to try and quickly pick up some of the packages, you stop when two large feet stand in the water beside you, splashing dirty droplets of water in your face.

“Thanks, asshole,” you muttered.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Chris chuckled from above you and offered his hand.

“Get the fuck away from me, Evans,” you shouted, slipping while trying to stand up. You made another attempt to stand and turned to face him, a look of disgust clearly showing across your face.  

“Damn. What exactly did I do to you again?”

“The fact that you are asking, pisses me off even more,” you shot back as you turned around and bent down, wrapping your arms around several sopping packages.

“Gifts for your boyfriend?” He asked, his tone emitting a slice of jealousy.

“These gifts are for the kids, you oaf,” you snapped back.

Chris didn’t have a response but leaned down to pick up a box floating near his feet “Here, don’t forget this one.  I’m...I’m sorry for the snarky comment,” he said biting at his lip, embarrassment running through him. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that,” he added holding out the small, mushy box to you. “Are these going to the women’s centre? I can help you get them there if you like.”

You stared back at him, trying not to bit your lip so hard in frustration. “I don’t need your help. Please, stay away from me, Chris,” you said grabbing the wet box from his hand. “They’re going to the Neighbourhood House.”

“At least let me get the car door for you, the trunk looks a bit full,” Chris said as he opened the back door.  

Tossing the wet gifts into the back, not caring about the upholstery, you muttered a “thanks” Chris’s way before slamming the door and walking around to the driver's side, stopping to close the trunk on your way. Hopping in, you made the mistake of looking in your rearview mirror as you started up the car, Chris’s smirking face looking right at you. “Stupid good-looking asshole,” you snarled as you drove away from him, trying to ignore the small wave he gave as you drove down the street. Heading back to your office, hoping that your coworker was still there with the other pile of gifts that were ready to go out today to a few local schools.  

The office was quiet, no papers shuffling, no phones ringing. You knew you had missed your chance to switch out some of the gifts before heading over to the Neighbourhood House that evening. This day was not going the way you had planned and if you couldn’t deliver the gifts promised, this day was going to go from bad to worse, very quicky.  

You wanted to blame all of this on Chris, mainly because even looking at his handsome face infuriated you more than anything. But your reasonable side knew that the problems with the gifts had nothing to do with him and you were still holding a grudge from years before. You needed to get this out of your system, once and for all.  

You poked around the storage room in your office for any extra toys; a few boxes remained and you remembered that several gift cards remained – a few of the older kids may want to buy something instead.  

Okay, this will work. This isn’t so bad, right?

Packing up the new gifts in bags and leaving the soggy toys by your desk, you headed back to your car and off to the Neighbourhood House.  

*

“What? Where did these come from?” You gaped at the bags stuffed with tissue paper of every colour, full of gifts. Boxes upon boxes filled the front of the entryway, piled neatly underneath a large tree that almost touched the high ceiling.

“A gentleman came by, maybe 20 minutes ago with all of these, he said that they were part of the delivery you were bringing by this evening.”

“But...I...” Completely confused but relieved that you didn’t need to explain the mess that had happened earlier in the day, you smiled at the shelter employee and made your way back out to your car to bring in the remainder of the gifts.

“Thank you for your kind donation this year, including our staff this year was not expected,” Marjorie the director of the Neighbourhood House gushed.

Was this some alternate universe where gifts started popping up where ever you went. What the hell was going on? Had your team approved an extra donation at the last moment?  

It didn’t take more than a few minutes for you to figure out what was going on. There he stood, inside the main entrance of the building, hands in his pockets, bouncing on his heels, whistling a Christmas song and completely avoiding eye contact.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, walking up to the smirking man.

“Trying to follow in your footsteps and help out the community more? Is that okay with you?” Chris snapped back at you.

Storming out of the building, you rushed to your car, in hopes of escaping Chris. His long strides caught up to you in no time, meeting you at the SUV but before you could put your hand on the door handle, he took hold of your arm and turned your body to face him.

“Why are you so angry at me? All I did after I saw you three years ago, was to send you flowers! Do you hate flowers or something?! I’m trying to figure out what the hell I did to you to make you act this way around me?”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about; you’re absolutely delusional,” you spat at him and went to pull at the handle too fast, ripping back one of your nails. You shouted out in pain, holding your finger tightly with the other hand, face flushing red out of anger and pain.

He reached out, placing his hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from turning away. “Y/N-

“Don’t touch me!” You shouted, pulling away your arm in disgust, “the last time you did that, you broke my fucking heart!” And with those final words, you pulled on the door handle again, hopping into the car and screaming once more before starting the engine. Your head fell to the steering wheel, hitting your forehead into the it several times while angry words spouted out of your mouth.  

Having no idea what was going on, Chris drove away from the shelter, utterly confused by what you had screamed at him. How the hell had he broken your heart? After spending the night at your place all those years ago, a lazy morning and a wonderful breakfast, he had made his way back home with the promise to see you again two days later. Unfortunately, his schedule had a last-minute change and he had to head out several days earlier than expected. He’d spoken with Scott and begged him to pop by your office and drop off a bouquet as an apology and that he would reschedule when he returned to town the following week. What if...

Chris turned the wheel fast, tires screeching as he maneuvered a U-Turn and headed back towards his house. Once parked, he slammed his car door and pushed his way into his house, the aggression taken out on the door as he slammed it. He immediately headed up to the guest room to find his brother. He found him quickly, the younger Evans sitting back and looking engaged in a book that once sat on Chris’s nightstand. Scott jumped when Chris burst into the room, letting out a scream and throwing the book towards his older brother.

“Chris! What the hell, man,” shouted Scott and got up for the bed to stand in front of his brother.  

“I’ve got something to ask you and you better have an answer that makes sense,” Chris shouted. “What happened when I asked you to send Y/N flowers all those years ago?”

Scott nodded, his eyes looking to the ground, afraid to meet his brother's cold stare. “I... I forgot to do what you asked. I ended up with a call from my agent and was excited about the conversation I had and it slipped my mind. Plus, there were a thousand other things that came up that week. I’m sorry?” Scott apologized, looking up and meeting his brothers' eye, a little smile on his face, looking for forgiveness.

“Scott! What do you mean you forgot?” Chris stepped closer to Scott, almost nose to nose.

“Exactly what I said, I forgot to go by. I had a lot of other things going on that week if I’m remembering clearly. Was it too hard for you to call or message her?”

“I thought the flowers would be a romantic gesture. I can’t believe you never went by, now I know why she doesn’t want me near her. The thing is, when I got back, I did call her and she never picked up.”

“Do you not know how to leave a voicemail? A text? Are you really that idiotic?”

“She just...I just...” Chris couldn’t stop fumbling with his words.

“You’re something else, dear older brother. But I know you can talk and I know you have a romantic side. So, where to start?”

Chris shuffled his feet, embarrassed that he hadn’t given you the time and respect you deserved all those years ago. “I guess I should try to talk to her,” he mumbled.

Scott pushed his right shoulder, “Come on Rico Suave, you can fix this, right?”

“I’m pretty sure after her stewing on this for 3 years, that my chances are nil.”

“Bat those pretty blues and sing to her, I swear, use your Evans charm, or continue being a dumbass, your choice,” Scott shrugged.

Chris shook his head in annoyance and walked away from his brother. Could he fix this?

“So, lover boy, what’s going on in that big head of yours?”

“I’m going to go by her office and I’m going to beg her to come by the house.”

“And what

“I have an idea. What do you think about this...”

*

The chimes jingled as the door to your office opened “I’ll be right with you, I just have to send off this email,” you said. A few more words added and you hit the send button. “Okay, done. What can I help...” You tried to finish your sentence but that cat definitely had your tongue. The second your eyes met the blue eyes of the man you despised more than anything, you couldn’t finish asking your question.  

“Y/N, please, please let talk to you about what happened, or what I think happened. Please,” Chris pleaded, seconds away from falling to his knees and begging.  

You were tongue tied, the snark you could so easily dish out was stuck in the back of your throat, silenced.  

“I’m sorry that I came by work, I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you. You did a pretty good job of blocking me on every form of media and communication I have. When I saw Rosie, I couldn’t help but ask about you.”  

“Why are you here?” you whispered, trying to hold back tears that were fueled by sadness and anger.

“I want to, I need to talk to you about what happened. A few things came to light today, that I didn’t know and I would appreciate if you would take the time to listen and hear me out.”

Before you could try to respond, your phone sang out a tune, the one that you have reserved for Rosie. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you now had an excuse to pull your eyes away from Chris.

Y/N. Please give him a chance. Hear him out, I swear it's worth it.  

“Rosie is in on this too? Why are you involving my friends Chris? I swear, you better make this worth it.”  

“Please. Y/N. After you finish up here, will you come by my place and I promise all I want to do is speak and I’d appreciate it if you’d be willing to listen.”

You needed to sit down. The anxiety building quickly, you couldn’t breathe. “Fine. I’ll come by in an hour. I’ll sit. I’ll listen. That’s all. Deal?”

Chris’s face lit up, a half-smile forming, “Deal, I’ll see you shortly.” He gave a little wave and headed back out into the night.

You sat in your car outside of Chris’s beautiful house, nervous as to what the night was going to bring. After all of these years, what did he need to tell you? Would a simple text not suffice? You took a deep breath and unbuckled your seatbelt, ready to pull off the Band-Aid quickly and get this all over with. Feet finally out of your car, you walked across the gravel drive to his front door, knocking and hearing Dodger bark at the sound. Footsteps followed soon after, the door unlocked, and there, there was the most handsome man you had ever seen (and couldn’t stand).

“I was wondering when you were going to get out of your car. I heard you drive up about twenty minutes ago and I figured you were having second thoughts about coming. I’m glad you’re here though, so thank you.” Chris moved aside and you walked into the entryway, pulling off your shoes and placing the beside the door. “Follow me, we can sit in the front room. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m pretty sure a drink is necessary.”  

“Let me go grab something, take a look around, okay?”  

Walking to the couch, you checked out the little plants and decorative items he had placed around the room. There were some great art pieces on his walls and when you got closer to the couch, the painting hung above it stopped you. “What the...” It couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have known all this time and not have said anything. This man lived to rub shit in your face – the ultimate gloater. In front of you, on the wall above his couch, was the painting you had donated all those years ago to the gallery. Dodger’s nails tapped on the wooden floor, pulling your mind (and jaw) back into place. You heard footsteps following and a tune being whistled as he walked through the doorway, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

“I thought you might like a glass of this, I...” he stopped halfway to you and realized that you were still standing in the middle of the room, your mouth half open and staring at him. His eyes flicked to the painting on the wall and then back to your face, you could see the look of panic slowly starting to take over. “I...I can explain,” he stuttered taking several steps closer to you.

“How-”

“There was something that was pushing me to find out and that night, I called the owner of the gallery and asked if I could find out which piece you had donated. She was hesitant to offer any details but as privileged as this sounds, I offered to donate a large sum to the charity and buy another painting from her gallery to get the information. I needed to see what you created and once I had it, I couldn’t stay away from you...which is why we kept running into each other the way we did. Please don’t be creeped out.”

“Are you completely forgetting about the whole fuck ‘n chuck moment? You hunt me down and flash your pearly whites at me, make me feel something for you, we get into bed, and poof, you disappear. Care to explain before I get the hell out of here? You replied angrily, your face flushing out of frustration.

“Y/N...”

“Y/N, what? Oh, it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t think it meant anything...”  

“That’s not it, that’s not it at all.”

"Then what is it, Christopher. You never shut up and when I need you to say something, you clam up. What IS IT?” You couldn’t help but shout, you were angry, sad, and had no idea where this was going.

“If you stopped jumping over what I keep trying to say, then maybe I could get everything out. So, for a few minutes, can you keep your mouth shut. Shit, and I thought I was annoying,” he explained loudly.

You nodded; eyes wide that he had raised his voice to get his story across. You were wound up so tightly, incredibly hurt by his action's years ago, that you didn’t exactly know how to contain and cope with your emotions. You took a seat on the couch and looked up at him, still standing where he first entered the room and had stopped when he noticed you looking at your own art in his house. He took a few steps closer and looked to you, “Is it okay if I sit on the couch next to you?”

“I guess...”

Chris sat a comfortable distance from you, placed the wine glasses and bottle on the table and waited until you settled and looked to him to continue on.  

“I messed everything up, I’m taking all responsibility for this giant mess.” Chris sat silent for a few moments, his fingers intertwined and his left thumb rubbing across the right. He was clearly nervous. Clearing his throat and lifting his head up, blue eyes meeting yours, he blinked once and began to speak. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I messed up and badly. When I left you that morning, my plan was to see you again, once I returned home from my work trip. Everything happened so fast that day and to be honest with you, my head was in the clouds; all of my thoughts revolved around you and the wonderful evening I had with you. I was so busy in dreamland, that I ended up almost missing my flight. I asked Scott to help me out and send a bouquet of flowers to you, with a note explaining that I had to leave earlier and that I would call you soon. The thing is, I thought he had followed through and didn’t even know until the other day that he had never sent the flowers or note to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I did try to call though, when I was home and you never answered and I figured the night meant nothing to you.”

You sat there, silent for a few moments trying to take in everything he had said “Well, aren’t we a bunch of idiots,” you said, looking at him, a smile on your face.

The corner of Chris’s mouth lifted, a smile in there. “Does this mean you forgive me?"

“I mean, I’m still upset but I get that miscommunication can happen and I mean, how many people go as far as calling a gallery to hunt down a painting and then buying it. You’re pretty unbelievable, Evans.”

“But do you forgive me?” Chris asked as he scooted closer to you and let his fingers crawl closer to yours.

You took a hold of his hand and brought it to your lips, and kissed his knuckles softly. “I do forgive you Chris and I hope you forgive me for how hostile I’ve been. I really appreciate what you did for the Neighbourhood House too, I’ve never seen anything like that and you saved the day, so, thank you.” You kissed his hand again and looked up at him, a smile still on his face.  

Chris sighed and watched as you pulled his hand into your lap. “Y/N, is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?”

“That would make me incredibly happy,” you replied and moved in closer, meeting his soft lips again after all these years. “I’m still mad at you though, I hope you know that. And let’s not forget about Rosie. I can’t believe the two of you did this. I’m still mad at her too.

Chris pulled you in for another kiss, running his hands through your hair. “I know. I plan on making it up to you. I’ll help with every event; I’ll clean up your messy office. I’ll even carrying you and your toys through the slush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and pull him down with you to lay on the couch. “I can’t wait for you to get started.”