#So when we're talking about it and they see all these steps I didn’t see it's always like 'I mean I of course have to colloe those steps

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 1

Here we go. The final story in the Boy with a Bat trilogy. It's certainly come a long way from when I first started writing for this fandom. Two years ago on this day, I put out Can Anybody See Me? because there was serious lack of season 2 AUs were Hellfire had taken Steve under their wing. And then it grew from one story into two with Never Hold Back Your Step... and I promised I would get Steddie all the way through season 4 to come out alive on the other side.

The goal is to get all the story out before season 5 premiers. So far of what I've written, we're about 2/3 of the way through season 4. We'll get to the end and then we'll have a short epilogue.

Thank you to everyone who cheered me on to complete this trilogy. But especially @bookworm0690, @kultiras, and @dreamercec.

The title like the previous two stories before it (here and here) comes from a musical. In this case, The Phantom of the Opera. RIP Eddie. You would have loved that musical.

In this we have our boys caught between a rock and hard place, Steve watches Lucas's game, and Eddie gets into some trouble.

~

Steve was going to murder someone. He just hadn’t decided on who yet. Though at the moment it was starting to look like Lucas.

“And you’re sure you can’t move it to another night?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured. “Mike leaves for California in the morning and most of the other guys have plans too. Then once spring break comes back...”

“You can’t use the drama room because the play is starting up,” Steve finished for him. “Shit. And I can’t have it here. My mom somehow found out about the movie nights and threatened to have my dad kick me out if it happened again.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nervously chewing on his lip. “And you know I’m gonna want to support Lucas.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “Yeah I know. Dustin told me. I just wish Lucas had come to me instead of the flying monkeys you know?”

“Me too,” Steve said, closing his eyes. “He just got in with the boys on the basketball team and I’m worried he’s going to alienate himself from his friends if he continues to hang out with them.”

“I’m worried about that too,” Eddie huffed. “And my speech was aimed at Carver by the way. In the heat of the moment I had forgotten Lucas was on it. Got reminded afterwards though.”

Steve opened his eyes and let out answering sigh. The little bell above the door twinkled, heralding the arrival of customers. “Look, I’ve got to go, I have to actually work.”

“Booo,” Eddie hissed. “I’ve got that deal with Chrissy after the game, so I’ll be by after that, okay?”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve said. “Be safe.”

“Yup!”

Steve hung up the phone with another sigh. He straightened up and put on his best customer service smile. “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you today?”

The rest of the day flew by in a flash and too soon he was picking up Brenda for the game. She had come into the store earlier and was talking about how she really wanted to go to the game because her brother was on the team but her parents didn’t want to go.

So Steve offered to take her. He was pretty sure she thought it was a date, but Steve kept trying to steer here away from that sort of talk. He’s not sure he succeeded.

~

“It’d be funny if we won the championship game the year after you graduated,” Brenda said with a smile.

Oh hell no.

“I wasn’t on the team my senior year,” he said with a bitchy expression. “You would know that if you actually watched us play. I was out with a concussion.”

Brenda smirked. “You know what I mean. I just mean that you were King Steve, we didn’t win the championship once.”

“Yes,” Steve cocking his head forward, “but I’m the one that got us to the championship my junior year. I sunk that last shot with nothing but net that got us into the final game. The other team was better. You can still do everything right and have the other team just be better.”

Then it looked they were going to lose, so they let Lucas play. After all what was the harm of letting him play for the last minute of the game.

And then a miracle happened.

Lucas was at the three-point line and he let go of the ball just as the buzzer went off. Steve rose to his feet as the shot sailed into the air and hit the basket dead on.

Lucas had won the championship game for the Tigers.

Steve was jumping up and down and just screaming. “Yes! Yes! Yes!!!”

~

After the players came back out from the locker rooms, Steve put his arm around Lucas.

“Looks like our hard work paid off,” he said with a teasing grin.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you, Steve.”

Steve gave him a tight one-armed hug and then whispered in his ear, “If you feel uncomfortable for any reason, just give me a call and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. And don’t let anyone pressure you into something you don’t want to, okay?”

Lucas nodded and then hurried to catch up to Jason and his friends.

Steve shook his head and turned to Brenda. “Hey do you need me to take you home?”

She shook her head. “My brother is going to drop me off before heading the celebration.”

“You got it,” Steve said with a thumbs up. He stopped for a moment. “Which one did you say was your brother again?”

“I didn’t,” Brenda sneered. It’s Andy Snyder, number forty-three.”

Dread pooled in Steve stomach. Andy was the new Tommy H. A bully and a brute, on and off the court.

“He played good tonight,” he said with a fake smile smile firmly in place.

Her returning smile was even less sincere and she walked away. Steve put his hands on his hips and looked up, pressing him lips together.

He was now certain she thought they were on a date, but with Steve paying more attention to Robin then her and rooting for Lucas without even asking who her brother was... yeah. According to her the date was a failure, according to Steve, he dodged that fucking bullet.

~

Steve had barely kicked off his shoes when the walkie talkie he kept next to the door crackled to life.

“Code Red!” Eddie hissed. “I have a fucking Code Red! Is anyone there? Please god, please!”

Steve was on the line faster then from one breath to the next. “Eddie, this is Steve. Repeat, this is Steve. What’s your status?”

“Chrissy is dead, man,” Eddie whined. “She–she rose up into the air, like a puppet on a string and oh god!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cursed. “You’ve got to get out of there, now! Stash the van and run for Rick’s. After the game there are going to be too many eyes on my place. You keep your head down, you hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed. “Yeah. Oh god, it was so bad, Stevie. Why her? She was so nice to me. Why her?”

“We’ll find out,” Steve breathed. “I just don’t know who would be around right now. Everyone is out scattered because of the game, Nancy and Mike are getting ready to take him to the airport for him to fly out to California and everyone is out celebrating the win.”

“What about Dustin?” Eddie murmured. He hated bringing a kid into this, but if that was who they had...”

“I don’t know where he is,” Steve said chewing on his thumb nail. He should have picked up before he did.

“Shit!”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got work tomorrow, but as soon as I can, I’ll bring you clothes and food enough for you hide out there, okay?”

He had a lot of Eddie’s clothes over at his place, it wouldn’t be hard for him to pack a bag.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie sighed. “You’ve got a handle on this. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

“I’d never.”

~

“Hey,” Robin said after Steve pretty much blew up at a customer for not know if her boyfriend liked scary movies or not. “Are you okay?”

Steve grimaced. He had tried to get people on the walkies this morning but he couldn’t get anyone on the line and he didn’t have a chance to talk to Robin, because she had been running full steam about Vickie all morning.

But before he could even open his mouth to answer Dustin came storming in, with Max hot on his heels. “Turn on the news now!”

Robin turned over to the news and sure enough the breaking news was of a girl being murdered at the Forest Hills Trailer Park and the investigation was ongoing.

“That’s Eddie’s trailer!” Dustin cried.

“I saw Chrissy go into his trailer last night,” Max admitted, “and then he came running out screaming.”

“Why you didn’t get anyone on the walkies?” Steve growled. “That would have been great to know last night!”

“My mom sold them for more booze,” she snapped back.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“We need to find him!” Dustin insisted. “He’s innocent! There is no way he did this! He couldn’t have!”

“Whoa!” Steve said sternly. “You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who introduced him to you do you forget!”

Dustin blinked at him for a moment and then nodded. “Sorry Steve, I freaked out when I found that my walkie talkie had been accidentally been turned to the wrong channel, but I couldn’t get him on it this morning and I was really worried.”

“Okay...” Robin said, raising an eyebrow, “and why are you here, specifically?”

“Oh, I was going to hack your system to find out where Eddie might have gone aground?” Dustin said with a grimace.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Oh I am so getting fired.”

Max scoffed. “As if your peon bosses would be able to tell Dustin even touched it.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes skyward. “No, that’s not why I’m getting fired.”

Everyone else looked at each other in confusion.

“Then why are you getting fired?” Dustin asked with one raised eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want to hasten to Eddie’s rescue, yes?” he asked licking his bottom lip slowly.

Dustin rolled his eyes again. “Yes!”

“And how would you get there?” Steve pressed. “You bikes? Because that won’t draw attention to where Eddie might be hiding.”

“Well, no,” Max said, “we’d make you take us.”

“Which means I would be abandoning the job to go look for Eddie if we left now, yes?”

Dustin and Max eyes went wide and then they said together, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffed, shaking his head. “You either wait until two when I’m off or I’m going to get fired.”

“Two, you said?” Max said with a wince.

“Mhmm.”

“That’s not too bad,” Dustin hedged. “After all it might take me that long to crack the system and find Eddie.”

He went to go leap over the counter when Steve grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“Oh hell no,” Steve snapped. “One I just sorted those tapes and I’m not doing it again, and two you don’t need to hack shit, because I know where he is without all the techno bullshit.”

“Techno is a genre a music,” Max supplied unhelpfully.

“And it’s not bullshit if it helps us find him!” Dustin growled.

“Did you even listen to the rest of Steve said?” Robin asked, knocking his hat off his head. “He knows where Eddie is.”

Dustin blinked at Steve for a moment. “How would you know that?”

Steve rolled his head and tilted his head back. “Because I was on the actual fucking walkie talkies you make us carry around everywhere we go and Eddie radioed the party last night. AND I was the only one who answered!”

Dustin and Max blinked at Steve’s outburst, shocked that he would yell at them. But with Eddie missing and a girl dead, it was forgivable.

“So where is he,” Dustin groused, picking up his hat and slamming it down on his head, “if you’re so smart?”

“Reefer Rick’s boathouse on Lover’s Lake?” Steve suggested with a half shrug.

Max folded her arms and glared at Steve. “And how would you know where that is?”

Steve threw his arms in the air with a huff of frustration. “We’d go there sometimes when my dad was being an ass, okay?” He looked down at his shoes and scuffed his shoe on the carpet. “It was a place no knew but us. Sometimes Rick would be there and we’d watch TV sometimes.”

Dustin looked at him disbelieving. “Yeah, sure...that’s all you did.”

“I hate to break it to you kid,” Steve said dryly, “but drug lords actually prefer that their dealers aren’t doing the drugs they’re selling. It’s bad for business.”

“Oh.”

~

Tag List: 10 SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on my mind - Chapter 13

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're still in 1975...

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 2.4K

TWs: Very little. Angst, fluff.

Gloria is nervous about her kids meeting Elvis for the first time, but, as she sits on the bed watching him get changed into his fourth outfit option, she realises not as nervous as he is. She smiles at him in his version of casual wear - a navy shirt and pants, with one of his stage jackets over the top and a large gold belt. 

“Whaddya think?” He turns towards her, fiddling with the bracelet he just put on. 

She steps forward, putting her arms around his neck and looking up into his face. “Gorgeous. Don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”

The slightly unsure expression that had been on his face when he’d first turned towards her from staring at his reflection in the long mirror on the wall turns into a sunshine smile. He gives her a quick kiss and then they both realise the time, again, and head downstairs. 

The kids are shy when they first arrive, Elvis is big and sparkly and intimidating. But it takes no time at all for him to be on the floor, play-wrestling them both at once, and the shyness melts away completely. Gloria and Patricia chat for a while as they watch him interacting with Corey and Jackie, exchanging smiles with one another at how much of a natural he is with them. As if he’s known them forever. 

Elvis has taken his jacket off, and is sat on the floor panting with exertion as Jackie leans against his arm and Corey sits between his legs, his little hands on Elvis’ not insubstantial belly. 

“I surrender!” He exclaims, his hands in the air. “Ya win. I can’t fight no more.” 

He closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, head flopping to one side as his arms flop down comedically. 

Corey’s little hands slap his belly repeatedly. “You’re not dead! You’re pretending!”

Elvis immediately recovers, opening his eyes and staring right at the little boy. “I’m not dead…” he leans forward, making his eyes menacing and screwing his face up. “...I’m THE UNDEAD! RAAAAAH!” He launches himself forward and Corey screams. 

Elvis wraps him up in a big hug and then giggles right in his ear, before starting an onslaught of tickling. He feels another hand on his arm and looks over to see Jackie sitting there, pouting. She’s not much over a year older than her brother, and she doesn’t like being left out. And being quieter, she often is. Elvis chuckles and pulls her into his lap too. Then he feels a hand on his head and looks up to see Gloria standing there. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hi. I was feeling left out.”

“Oh. You want something?”

“A kiss.”

She leans down and he moves a hand to hold her face as he presses a kiss to her lips. Both kids immediately start screaming. 

“Mama!”

“Mama kissed Elvis!”

“Elvis loves Mama!”

When they eventually stop just shouting the first thing they think of, Corey looks up at his mom and asks her a serious question. 

“Is Elvis our new daddy?”

Jackie frowns. “What about our real daddy?”

“Elvis is real!”

Gloria has been thinking about this a lot. She didn’t have to kiss Elvis in front of them, but she had. And now she could make something up that would be easier for them to understand than the truth. But she wants them to understand that life is complicated sometimes, so she decides to talk to them about it.

“Hey. Shush for a minute,” she tells them, waiting for quiet before she continues. “I want to explain this to you. Are you going to listen?”

They both grumble but they sigh and nod and try to listen even as they continue to squirm on Elvis’ lap. 

“Yes Mama.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.” She looks down at their upturned, expectant faces and swallows. “Yes, I love Elvis. And… I think he loves me.” She pauses there and looks at him briefly. She doesn’t want to put words in his mouth. 

“Of course I do, honey,” he replies, craning his neck to stare up at her like he’s the third kid, sitting there and waiting for an explanation. 

She smiles, another of those smiles that stays on her lips and doesn’t reach her eyes. She knows she’s about to say something he won’t want to hear, and part of her wonders if his birthday is the worst possible time to do this. But she’s started now. 

The kids are still looking up at her, rapt. 

“But Elvis lives in Memphis, and we live in San Francisco. And your daddy lives in San Francisco too, and he loves you both a lot. So even though Elvis and I love each other, we can’t live together, because I’d be taking you away from your daddy and that wouldn’t be fair. And Elvis has a very busy life, you both know that. He has to travel all over the country, singing to people.”

“We could go with him?” Jackie suggests, hopefully. 

“You have school, and you know that too.”

Jackie sighs and looks down at the floor sadly. Corey looks sad too. He thinks for a while and then looks up again at his mother, with a face full of hope. 

“Can we visit though? I want to visit! I love Daddy Elvis! Mama! Please!” He’s shouting by the end, and punctuating his speech with exasperated slaps of his hands to Elvis’ belly. Elvis winces, but makes no attempt to stop him. 

Gloria starts to feel her resolve failing in the face of her begging child. She also feels her belief that this was the best course of action starting to falter too. She shouldn’t have kissed him in front of her children. This is not turning out the way she had hoped, although why she thought two small children could deal with such complicated emotions without yelling she’s not sure. 

“Corey, please. I know you’re having a lot of big feelings right now, but you can’t take them out on Elvis. C’mere.”

She picks him up and holds him in her arms and he groans and then bursts into tears. 

“It’s not fair!”

No, Gloria thinks, it really isn’t fair. 

“Son, I think if your mama says it’s okay, I would love ta have ya all here. But only if she says it’s okay.” Elvis clenches his jaw, briefly gritting his teeth before he says the next part. “Your daddy needs ta see ya both too.”

Corey moves his head from where it’s been hanging over Gloria’s shoulder to right in front of her face, and puts a hand on either cheek. “PLEASE MAMA!” Tears streak his face, bright red from all the crying. 

“Shhh. I… we could probably visit…” she replies, feeling almost defeated at this point. 

Corey yells “YAY!” directly in her face and throws his arms around her neck. She strokes his back, absent-mindedly trying to soothe him. Then she looks down at Jackie, still on Elvis’ lap, noticing the sad expression on her face. 

“Jackie?” She asks. The little girl looks up. “What’s wrong?”

For such a small girl she manages a very big sigh in response. Elvis cuddles her close to him and repeats Gloria’s question. “What’sa matter, honey?”

“What about real daddy?” She finally asks, quietly. “He’ll be sad if we’re here all the time.”

“We won’t be here all the time,” Gloria explains, patiently. “We’ll just come sometimes, in the holidays.”

Jackie frowns for a while and then her face sort of flattens back out again. “Oh. Okay then.”

There’s a silence and Gloria starts to think this might be the end of the complicated conversation and she might be able to get this birthday celebration back on track. She carefully puts Corey back down and strokes the top of his head, leaning over to do the same to Jackie. 

Her sister has been watching the whole scene with some interest, and decides maybe now is her time to chip in and give Gloria and Elvis a little time without the children. 

“Come on you two, let’s see if we can find some food, shall we?” She looks down at Elvis. “So long as that’s okay by Elvis, anyway. It is his house, after all.”

Elvis smiles, picking Jackie up off his lap and placing her carefully on her feet, before standing up himself. “Sure is, honey.”

Gloria is relieved to see them go, and grateful to her sister for taking them. That whole situation had been emotionally exhausting. She looks over at Elvis, expecting him to have something to say about it, half-wondering if it will cause a row. 

He moves close to her, then pulls her into his arms, wrapping her in a big hug. “It’s okay, honey,” is all he says, and he feels her whole body relax. 

He kisses the top of her head. It hurts, to know that she doesn’t think there’s a future for them. That they won’t all live together. Of course it does. But she’s here now, and he doesn’t want to spoil the time he has with her. Or the time he has with Corey and Jackie. He’s grown attached to them almost immediately, and he wants them to stay as long as possible, Gloria too. For once he keeps his impulse to anger and upset in check. 

***

The rest of the day passes in a busy and happy blur. Priscilla drops Lisa-Marie off, and various other Memphis Mafia members appear with wifes and children throughout the day. There’s only a little drinking, but there’s a lot of food and, most importantly where the kids are concerned, there’s a big cake. Elvis doesn’t care so much about the cake, or the presents that people have bought him (he likes them, but they’re never quite right), or even everyone singing happy birthday. But he loves his friends being here, and that the house is full of life, children laughing and crying, adults telling stories, singing and even a bit of dancing. Graceland is truly alive with activity in a way it hasn’t been for a long time. And he has Gloria to thank for that. He makes a mental note to thank her properly later. 

***

Gloria tucks the kids in, explaining for at least the third time what to do and where to go if they wake up worried in the middle of the night. Jackie is almost asleep already, not interested in irrelevant information as she’s slept through since she was a baby, but Corey keeps asking and worrying about it being too dark in the room without a nightlight. Wondering what’s taking so long, Elvis walks down the corridor to the room and pokes his head in. 

“Daddy Elvis!” Corey exclaims, in a way that is really not conducive to sleep. 

“What’re ya still doin’ awake, son?” Elvis asks, his voice low and soft as he comes into the room to kneel down next to the bed beside Gloria. 

Corey frowns. “It’s too dark.”

“He doesn’t have his nightlight,” Gloria says, by way of explanation. 

“Oh. Hang on a minute.”

Elvis disappears, then reappears a few minutes later with a ladybug nightlight. “Here ya go. Got a bunch for Yisa.”

He plugs it in and Corey exclaims again with joy, holding his arms out wide for a hug. Elvis leans into it with a smile. Then he walks over to the other bed and gives Jackie a kiss goodnight, not wanting her to feel left out. Remembering the way she pouted earlier, when she had less attention from him, being quieter and less demanding than her brother. 

Finally Elvis and Gloria manage to leave the room, switching the light off and closing the door softly behind them. They walk back to Elvis’ room in silence, and then when they get inside she sits down on the bed with an exhausted sigh. 

“Oh my god. Thank you for getting that light. I thought he’d never let me leave.”

Elvis sits down next to her and puts an arm around her, pulling her against him. “They’re gorgeous honey. A pair a great kids.”

She laughs against his shoulder. “You want them?”

He grins. “Only if I can have you too. You’re incredible, Glory.”

“Hmmm. Thanks,” she mumbles into his jacket, blushing at the compliment. 

“I mean it. Lookin’ after those two, makin’ them into such good kids. After everythin’ that happened with Roger…”

She puts an arm around his waist. “Thanks. That means a lot, El.”

“An’ everythin’ you’ve done fer me. Would’ve been locked up in here on my own today if it wasn’t for you. Yer so special, Glory.”

Gloria can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at his kind words. “I hope you had a good birthday,” she sniffs. 

He pats his lap expectantly and she shifts to straddle him, a stray tear escaping down her cheek. It’s been a tiring, emotional day. 

“I had a wonderful day, thank you.”

His hands cup her face gently. 

“Even after what I said to the kids?”

“Even after that.”

“I love you, Elvis.”

“I love you too, baby. C’mon. Let’s get ready for bed.”

He gently wipes the tear from her face with his thumb, then helps her off his lap again. They curl up together in bed in pyjamas, her hand on his belly. She’d seen the newspapers in the trash this morning with headlines like “Elvis, Fat and Forty,” and her heart had broken a little. She likes the extra weight on him, always has. Her nose presses against his sideburn and it tickles her a little. She kisses along his jaw, thinking this is the most relaxed she’s been with him since their time on Clambake. The least pressed for time. 

“I can stay, if you want?” She says, suddenly. “For the rest of the week. The kids will have to go back in a couple of days for school, but I could stay. Pat said she’d look after them for a while… I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure she’d be okay with it.”

His head turns quickly. “For the rest of the week?” He’s not expecting it and he can feel his throat closing up with emotion. It’s been so long since he’s been able to spend this much time with her. 

“If…if you want.”

“I can’t believe you have to ask that, Glory. Of course I want.”

She smiles. :”That’s settled, then. If Pat tries to say no you can give her a Cadillac.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo @presleyhearted @lvrdollep

[magicmoon65]

@enbydragon02

having one of those executive function days where everything is too many steps

[lovelybucky1]

Treat Me Wrong

Kinktober Day 16- Degradation Kink

warnings: AFAB!Reader, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, sex work, roleplay, spanking, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

“I think we should break up,” you say.

Tommy’s face twists in anger and confusion. “Where’d you get that idea?” he asks.

This is exactly why you want to break up. He’s so dismissive and he doesn’t respect you. He’s sitting relaxed in his chair like you didn’t just suggest ending your relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to care about you?

“I’m not happy!” you say.

Tommy scoffs in response. “You live like a princess. What else could you possibly need?”

“Love and attention,” you huff.

“Christ,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you a child? Do you really need me to attend to you all day to be content?”

“Not all day, Tommy. Just sometimes. What's the point in even having a lover if you won't spend time with them?"

"You act like I have a lot of free time to waste. I'm a very busy man."

His way of having excuses for everything make you feel like you're going insane.

"You have enough time to spend with prostitutes," you say bitterly. This makes Tommy perk up. "I know you go to see them after work and lie to me when you get home late. Why do you bother stringing me along if you'd rather pay for your companionship?"

Tommy chuckles darkly. "That's what this is about, eh?"

"Why the fuck are you laughing, Tommy?"

He stands up from his chair and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places one hand on your hip while the other holds his cigarette. The smoke swirls in front of your face, the pungent smell burning your nose.

"You're jealous of my whores?" he asks smugly.

"What do they have that I don't," you ask angrily.

"I have certain needs that they satisfy."

You scoff and push his hand off of you. "We're together, Tommy. You should come to me to satisfy your needs, not step out on me."

Tommy rolls his eyes and grabs ahold of your wrist. "What I need isn't appropriate for a high society woman like yourself."

You furrow your brows in confusion, but no matter what he's talking about, you want to be able to provide it for him. "You don't get to decide what's appropriate for me or not. Besides, you'd know that I'm very adventurous if you ever took the time to actually be intimate with me."

He blinks slowly at you and licks his lips, then smirks devilishly. "You want me to treat you like one of my whores?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Right." Tommy stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table, the turns his attention back to you. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding you firmly. "You promise not to get upset?"

"Why would I get upset?"

Tommy fights back a smirk. "Because I tend to be a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" you ask.

"You said you want me to fuck you like a whore. A dirty, cheap, used up whore that's only good for taking cock. Is that right?" You hesitantly nod. "Then until I'm finished, that's exactly what you're going to be. I'm only going to stop if you tell me to, otherwise I'm going to have you just like I have them."

"Okay," you breathe.

Tommy steps away from you and sits back in his chair. "Take your dress off," he instructs.

You find it a bit odd that he's just watching instead of also getting undressed, but it does make you feel better that the prostitutes he visits don't get to see him naked.

You strip piece by piece until you're bare in front of him. He stands up again and looks over your body, occasionally prodding and groping you.

"Turn around," he says, voice low. You do as he says and you allow yourself to be moved over to the couch. Tommy pushes you so you're bent at the waist over the arm rest, bare ass on display.

Tommy continues to grope you; he slaps your cheeks, spreads and slaps them, and teases at your folds.

“Wet already? Didn’t think whores got off on their work,” he says.

Without much prep, he shoves two fingers into your cunt. Like a true whore, you take them easily. He opens you up by scissoring his fingers inside you. He's going quickly, not bothering to take his time and make it pleasurable for you. You suppose he pays for his own pleasure, not yours.

"Already loose too. How many others did you have today?" he asks. When you don't answer him, he delivers a slap to your ass.

"N-none," you whimper.

"Sounds like business is slow."

He pulls his fingers out of you and wipes your wetness on your thigh. He then moves to press his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge in his slacks. He grinds up against you shamelessly, making you feel even more humiliated now that he's simulating fucking you while he's fully dressed.

"Tell me you want my cock," he orders.

"I want your cock," you parrot with a whine in your voice.

"You can be more convincing than that," he says with a slap to your ass. "Be a good whore and beg me to fuck you."

You take a deep breath. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad... Mr. Shelby," you add for good measure.

That seems to please him, because he moves away from you far enough to pull his cock through his fly. He rubs the head through your folds, teasing your entrance with it.

"I'm not going to catch anything from fucking you raw, am I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"No, sir," you reply.

You're glad he bent you over like this, because that means he can't see your embarrassed face and you don't have to look into his intimidating eyes.

"Mm, good."

He pushes inside you, not gently but he doesn't aim to hurt you. Once he's fully seated inside, he begins to thrust before you're ready for it. You gasp in surprise, but you're helpless to do anything but take it.

"Didn't think pussy so cheap would take me so well," he groans. His hands grip tightly on your hips and he slams you back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock bumps against your cervix uncomfortably, but it feels best for him when you take it all the way, and that's the only thing that matters.

With each thrust, you make a punched out little moan. Tommy, however, is silent above you, save for a bit of heavy breathing. It isn't until you arch your back and really start putting on a show that he speaks up.

"Like a fuckin' professional, eh? I should come to you more often. Y'know, my woman's a real bitch sometimes. Never lets me fuck her like this. Thinks she's too good to get bent over. Has so many opinions, too. But you're a good woman; quiet, tight," he leans down, draping himself over your back to speak into your ear. "Obedient."

You can't help but moan at his filthy words, despite how degrading they are. You shouldn't find your lover talking badly about you so arousing, but you cant help it.

"She gets so mad I cheat on her but I think she'd understand if she felt this cunt for herself. 'm gonna marry her and fuck her full of babies to keep her busy while I give the real good stuff to you."

"Fuck," you whimper and immediately regret it.

"You like when I talk to you like a whore? You like getting fucked hard like I don't love you?"

It's rare that Tommy says he loves you. So rare, in fact, that you often doubt if it's true.

"Yes, yes," you gasp. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums. "Save it for when I'm not paying you."

[itneverendshere]

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

 we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not. 

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this. 

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you. 

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little. 

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

 “You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved. 

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

You Want a Baby? (Bat Boys x Female! Reader)

Based off of multiple resquests... and by all means request more of this shit. My Ruhn asks have been kind dry. Would hate for the frat pack to run a train on the reader...

AN: You guys I spent so much time on this I hope it lives up to expectation because this is my kind of thing.

Summary: It's the perfect storm, you're ovulating, all your mates happen to be home and they all want to see you pregnant with their child.

Warnings: Double penetration, breeding kink, size kink, possessive mates, Over stim, literally so many things I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 3738

It was that time of the month, well not THAT time. 

Fae periods were a bitch, that much was true. But fae ovulating? It was a whole different thing. The need to be touched, to be filled, was excruciating. Ever since I had found my mates, three of them to be exact, it was like all those sensations had been heightened. Every time I ovulated, all three of my mates couldn't be present. 

The first time Rhysand was meeting with Tarquin leaving only Cassian and Azriel to fuck me senseless. The next time around it was just Azriel to keep me sated. One of the most memorable times was last year when it was just Rhys and Cassian to help. However, I patiently waited for a day when all three mates would be here to take care of me, a day I secretly hoped would be today. 

I woke up this morning to an empty bed and a note that said they had all gone to Windhaven to check on the Illyrian camps. I didn’t mind their absence too much until later that afternoon when I felt my body start to sweat with need. I went to the bathroom to strip off my clothes, leaving me only in the black lingerie that Azriel had bought me for solstice last year. I couldn’t help but admire myself, running my hands down my body. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was going on, I was ovulating. 

The boys were in Windhaven which meant there was a possibility that they could all be here by tonight. But with the tensions in the Illyrian camps high, I knew it was most likely a long shot. So I spent the day dancing around the townhouse in nothing but my lingerie, loving the feeling of the fresh air on my skin. As the sky got darker I realized my mates weren’t likely to come home. 

I made my way upstairs to our oversized bed and tossed myself on top of the covers. I tried to sleep and push all thoughts of Rhysand’s hands, Azriel’s tongue and, Cassian’s cock from my mind. I was unsuccessful, and ended up finding myself writing all over our shared bed, begging for any kind of friction the sheets offer me. That’s how the boys found me, squirming around our bed in nothing but my lingerie. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Cassian drawled, leaning against the doorway.

I sat up straight, trying to act like I wasn’t about to reach a hand down my panties just seconds ago. 

“I told you both,” Azriel said smugly, walking into the room with Rhysand in tow. 

“Told them what?” I ask bringing my knees to my chest in a lame attempt to cover myself.

“I told them that you were ovulating today,” Azriel smirked. “I’ve been tracking your cycle since I got left out last time,” he looked to Cass and Rhys with a death glare. 

“We got back from Windhaven a few hours and decided to get a drink at Rita’s,” Rhysand explained, stalling towards where I sat on the bed. “We were talking about you.”

“You were?” I ask, sensing the seriousness in Rhysand’s voice. 

“Oh yes we were little one,” Cassian laughs. 

“We were talking about how amazing you would look pregnant,” Rhysand explained, his voice like liquid sex. 

“R-Really?” I say, not trusting my own voice. 

“Yeah,” Cassain answered, taking a step toward me.  “We think we're ready for a baby.” 

“Only if you’re ready though,” Rhys assured me. 

My heart skipped at their words. The idea of carrying any one of their children excited me. I couldn’t lie, I had been thinking about it since my last cycle. 

“What do you think, little one? Gonna let us put a baby in you tonight?” Azriel drawled, leaving a kiss on the shell of my ear. 

I couldn’t even speak, all the intelligent words leaving my brain. All I could think about was how feral the fae were when trying to conceive. My legs would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for my arms holding them together. I nodded my head, still unable to think. 

A collective growl filled the room as Azriel grabbed my arms and stood me up in the center of the room, leaving me on display for each of my mates. They closed in on me instantly and I had to crane my neck up to meet each of their gazes. Cassian’s hand slid under the strap of my bra inspecting me thoroughly. 

“Which one of you bought her this little set?” Cassian said, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder while Rhysand worked on the opposite strap. 

“I did,” Azriel said, rubbing circles into my hips as he left open mouth kisses on my shoulders. 

“Well thank you Az,” Rhys smirked, unclasping my bra. 

My body felt like it was on fire from three sets of hands roaming up and down it. Even if I closed my eyes I could easily tell who touched me where. The sensation of it all had me tossing my head back on Azriel’s chest, trusting him to support my body. He grasped my hips tightly to keep my knees from buckling as Cassian and Rhys stared at my breasts now free of the tight black lingerie.

“Look at those perfect tits Az,” Rhysand drawled. 

I felt Azriel’s large hand drift up my torso and to my neck pulling me against his body even more so I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my back. His hand on my throat gently pushed my head to look at him as he said back to Rhysand

“They are perfect,” he smirked, craning his neck down to capture my lips in his. 

“And soon they’ll be full of milk,” Cassian pointed out with a smirk, swiping a calloused thumb over my nipple.

Rhysand bends his head down to take one of my aching nipples into his mouth sucking it taut. The gesture catches Cassian’s attention and he leans down to give the same treatment to the other side. The sensation has me arching my back aching to be closer to them. I feel Azriel’s hands grip my hips and yank me against his body again. His hand comes to grip my throat once more as he sticks his tongue down my throat earning a moan from me. I feel Cassian’s lips pull off my tit with a pop as he watches me and Azriel. 

“Gods sometimes I forget how tiny she is,” Cassian drawls running his hands up and down my sides. “Look at her with Az she’s like half his size.” 

Rhys stops his menstrations on my other breast to see what Cassian is talking about, “She’s practically half all our sizes Cass,” Rhys chuckles. 

“Gods I just wanna toss her around like a little doll,” Cassian curses. 

“Do it,” Azriel smirks, pulling his lips from mine. “You know how much she loves it.” 

Cassian says nothing before picking me up by my hips effortlessly and tossing me onto the bed earning an excited squeal from me. 

“Told you,” Azriel beamed with male pride. 

Cassian stalked towards me with Rhys and Azriel hot on his heels and I started moving up the oversized bed towards the headboard. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he smirks, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down the bed. I wait patiently watching Cassian untie the leathers of his pants, my mouth nearly falling open as his large cock springs out. “Come here baby,” he smiles and I eagerly sit up and lick the tip of his cock. 

I looked up at him through my lashes donning my most innocent expression as I took as much of him as I could in my mouth. The rest I pumped with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Azriel and Rhys fisting their cocks at the sight of me sucking Cassian off. 

“Good fucking girl y/n,” Cassain moaned tossing his head back in ecstasy. 

I reveled in the salty taste of him, the feeling of every single vein in his cock massaging my tongue. I would never get tired of this, of pleasing my mates.  Cassian pulled me off him and pushed my upper half down on the mattress. My panties are ripped off and discarded somewhere in the room. There goes that set. 

“Stop Cass, make sure she’s ready, I don’t want to tear her,” Rhysand tells Cassian, the voice of a High Lord making its appearance. 

Cassian bends down to inspect my pussy, running a finger through my folds to find me absolutely drenched. “Oh she’s ready alright,” he smiles. “God baby your pussy is so fucking tiny. It’s a miracle you can take us so well.” 

“Cass please,” I whine, nearly coming undone at his words.

Cassian starts pushing his cock in me and the stretch has me backing away from him subconsciously. He grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, pinning me to the mattress. I had been their mate for a while now but every time they entered me I still felt the stretch. Cassian was right, I was half their size, was a miracle I could take them. 

Cassian started trusting in me at a fast pace and the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. To my right and left Azriel and Rhys continued to stroke their cocks and as much as I longed to put them both in my mouth, Cassian had me in such a state of pleasure I couldn’t focus on anything else. 

“Fuck Cass look at her belly,” Azriel practically moaned. Cassian’s eyes snapped to my stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock thrusting into me. I moaned at the sight. 

“Yeah, you like that baby?” He smirks, leaning over to capture my lips in his. His pace speeds up and within seconds he’s cumming inside of me. 

Cassian pushes his cock in me a couple of times, his attempt at burying his seed deep inside me. He pulls out soon after and I whine at the sudden emptiness. 

“That’s the one that’s gonna get her pregnant,” Cassian beams with male pride, his cock already hardening. 

“Pfft, you wish General.” Azriel scoffs positioning himself between my legs. 

He pushes in slowly and I cry out at the stretch once more. Each glorious inch of him brings immense pain and pleasure. 

“Shhh be a good girl and take it all,” Azriel coos until his hips are flush with mine. “That’s a girl.” he moans as he begins fucking me hard. 

My mind goes to mush almost instantly and the moans coming out of my mouth are damn near feral. The need to be fucked and filled by each of my mates runs so deep in my veins. My hands claw and scrape and find Azriel’s forearms as he slams his hips into me, seeking out his own pleasure. 

“Az please let me cum, I-I’m so c-close,” I mewl, each word hard to get out. 

“Not yet baby, you don’t get to cum until we all have a load in that little pussy,” Rhysand drawls, pumping his cock. “Speaking of, step aside Az I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

“No, I’m not done with her yet,” Azriel growls, his possessive side coming out. 

“You think I can fit in there with you then?” Rhysand asks. 

“Now this I gotta see,” Cassian jests. 

The thought of two cocks fucking my pussy at once has my eyes glazing over and my mouth falling open like I’m in some sort of subspace. 

“I can take it,” I choke out between Azriel’s thrusts. 

“Pick her up Az,” Rhys says, his voice practically dripping with lust. 

Azriel doesn’t stop his minstations as he wraps one of his arms around me, lifting me off the bed. My arms wrap around his neck as my forehead bumps his and he stares me down as he fucks me mid-air.  

“Good girl,” he rasps, proud of how well I’m taking him.

The next thing I know he’s lying me down again, Rhysand’s warm chest replacing the mattress. His hands wander up and down my sides trying to soothe my nerves as Azriel stops moving. 

“Alright little one take a deep breath for me,” Rhys instructs and I can feel him lining his cock up at my entrance. 

I do as I’m told, taking the deepest gulp of air possible, excited for what comes next. The second I let my breath go I feel Rhys pushing his cock into me aside Azriel’s. The stretch is more than any I’ve ever felt before but the sounds escaping Rhys and Azriel’s mouths make it so worth it. Once Rhys is brushing my cervix along with Azriel tears prick my eyes and Cassian is kneeling before me in an instant. 

“Shhh breathe baby,” Cassian coos, glancing down to where both his brothers' cocks are seated inside my pussy. “Fuck, you’re being such a good girl. Just gotta take two more loads and then we’ll let you cum alright?” 

All I  can muster is a shallow nod as Rhys and Azriel begin thrusting in tandem. The constant feeling of fullness has me feeling numb while feeling everything all at once. I arch my back further and Rhys runs a hand down my hip to hold me in place so that he doesn’t slip out. My eyes glance to Azriel who has his eyes fixated on the bulge in my stomach being made by both his and his High Lord’s cock. All the while, Cassian brushes the sweat and hair away from my brow whispering praises to me. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Rhys groans, the vibrations of his chest skittering down my back. 

“Me too,” Azriel moans and within seconds I feel his sperm coating my walls just like Cassian’s. 

Azriel cumming triggers Rhys to cum as well and even though I can still feel Azriel, the load my High Lord put in me is equally as distinct. 

“Holy fuck,” Azriel groans pulling out of me inspecting his work. My breaths are so ragged and my vision so blurred that I can barely make out Rhysand’s voice. 

“Take her Cass,” he mutters, or so I think. My assumptions are proven right when I feel Cassian’s arms snake around me, pulling me off of Rhys’ cock.

 I whimper at the loss of the fullness as Cassian lays me on top of his chest stroking my hair and kissing my brow. My body vibrates and my heart pounds with the need to cum. 

“Poor baby, you wanna cum don’t you?” Cassian coos tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My eyes are glassed over and my face looks fucked out but I’m still able to nod. 

“Make her cum Cass, I want us each to get one more load in her before we’re done,” Rhysand says, already fisting his cock. 

“Rhys I’m not sure, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Cassian warns, placing me against the pillows and moving down my body. 

“Do you want her pregnant or not?” Rhys snaps.

“Of course I do,” Cassian says. “Can you take three more loads baby?” he asks me. 

“Of course she can,” Azriel says, his cock already at attention from seeing his fucked out mate. 

“I-okay,” I sputter, still vibrating at the need to be touched. At this point, I was practically bucking my hips into Cassian’s face. 

“You want me to lick your pretty clit?” Cassian smirks using one arm to pin my hips to the mattress and the other to spread my folds. 

“Y-yes,” I beg. 

Cassian chuckles, his eyes fixed on my cunt, “Looks like we made quite the mess of her little cunt,” he muses and both Rhysand and Azirel peer down to investigate. 

“Shit Cass it’s spilling out,” Azriel curses. 

“Don’t worry brother,” Cassian assures him, as he presses two fingers inside me, pushing the cum deep inside me. “She won’t waste it. Will you baby?” He smiles at me. 

“No, I w-won’t,” I say, meaning every word my body still shaking. 

“Cass lick her little clit or I will, the poor thing is shaking,” Rhys orders Cassian. 

Cassian doesn’t waste a moment before lowering his mouth to my pussy  and attacking my clit. It only took five kitten licks for me to orgasm harder than ever before. My back arches off the bed and the tension from my body pushes more of my mate’s cum out of my aching hole. 

“Ah ah ah,” Cassian says, pushing two fingers into me again. “What did we say about wasting?” 

“Cass it’s your turn,” Azriel bites close to spilling his load. 

“Spread em’ baby,” Cassian smirks, spreading my legs for me anyway before burying himself inside of me. 

“Oh gods Cass!” I cry out as he starts fucking me relentlessly chasing his own release.

“Fuck I love seeing that little bulge,” Cassian grins, placing a hand over where his cock hit my belly.

 Seconds later he’s spilling his load into me, a sound coming from his mouth that I’ve never heard before.  My vision nearly goes black, the only thing keeping me grounded is Cassian gripping my throat and pulling me up to kiss me as his second orgasm coats my walls. 

“Who’s next?” Cassian asks, pulling out of me. 

“Me,” Both Rhysand and Azriel say at the same time. 

“Back off Az, you got to have her first last time,” Rhys growls. 

Whenever I told people I had three mates they would usually joke about how territorial they would get over me. The irony was that my mates almost  never had a problem sharing me, but tonight? Well, tonight was just one of those nights. When mates were trying to conceive they were practically feral, I was honestly surprised things had gone so smoothly till now. 

“Yeah, and I literally had to share her pussy with you!” Azriel roars. 

Cassain drags me up to lay my upper half on his chest so he can run a hand through my hair and whisper praises to me.

“I’m pulling rank, as your High Lord I’m going first,” Rhysand orders, nudging my entrance. 

“Fuck off Rhys,” Azriel says continuing to fist his cock. 

Rhys pushes his cock inside me with a groan as he bottoms out. My body shudders and on instinct, I move away from him but he grips my hips and brings me down his cock again fucking into me hard. 

In my haze my head falls to the side, my cheek grazing Cassian’s abs, the very ones he let me rut on to get off a few weeks ago, and I meet Azriel. He looks glorious, pumping his cock while watching Rhysand fuck my hole. On instinct, I reach my tongue out and lap at the head of his cock catching his immediate attention. 

“You wanna suck it baby?” He muses brushing his cock against my lips. I open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out in response.

 I know I’m so fucked out I can barely wrap my lips around him but Rhys pulling rank seemed like a dick move and I wanted to remedy it in any way I could. Azriel pushes his cock into my mouth letting out a guttural moan in the process. 

“Good fucking girl,” Azriel moans and it spurs me on to suck him even harder as he fucks my mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” Rhys roars cumming into me for the second time tonight. He knows better than to stay seated in me longer than necessary and pulls out as soon as possible. Azriel’s cock follows, his cock leaving my mouth with a bead of saliva dripping from it.  

“Are you fucked out my love?” Azriel croons, grabbing my jaw to face him. It’s evident from my hazy eyes that I am.

“One more load sweetheart,” Rhys whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “You want a baby in your belly don’t you?” 

“Uh huh,” I rasp still unable to form actual words. 

“Open,” Azriel orders his grip on my jaw tightening.  

Of all my mates Azriel was always the most dominant. I loved to test Rhys and Cassian, but when it came to Az? I knew it was in my best interest to be a good girl. 

So just like I had a million times before I opened my mouth nice and wide for him. His hand gripped my jaw, keeping it open before he spit in my mouth. 

“Now swallow,” he growled and I followed his orders once again. I opened my mouth to show him I had been a good girl and he rewarded me by pushing his cock inside me. 

“What was that about Az?” Cassian laughed stroking my hair. 

“Grounding her, if I’m gonna pump a load in her I want her to feel it,” Azriel groans. “We’ve done it before, haven't we baby?” he asks me and I nod enthusiastically. 

Rhys wipes the sweat from my brow as Cassian presses a hand down where Azriel’s cock makes a bulge in my belly. 

“She’s gonna cum Az,” Cassian informs his brother. 

“Fuck I can feel it. Her tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight I can barely fuck her.” Azriel groans. “Ready baby?” Azriel asks me and I nod once more. “1…2…3…Fuckkk,” Azriel moans, spilling his seed into me.

Despite the haze that fills my head I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I did it.  I gave each of my mates two orgasms the evidence dripping from my sore cunt, wait fuck. 

“Waste!” is the only word I can get out as I feel all six loads of cum spilling out of me. 

“Shh, it’s okay mate,” Azriel coos, pressing a kiss to my brow laying down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Rhys. “Cass plug her up,” Azriel continues. 

 Without warning, two of Cassian’s fingers slide into my pussy keeping their combined cum from leaking out. 

“Get comfortable mate,” Cassian chuckles. “We’re gonna have to sleep like this.” 

And sleep I do. With Cassian behind me, my head on Rhys’ chest, and Azriel using my stomach as a pillow I’m out within minutes. I don’t know what the future holds as far as children go, but I’d say this was a good first attempt at conceiving.

pregnant! Reader x bat boys Drabble

Masterlist

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[hisfavegirl]

Dangerous Affairs - Mafia!Aemond Targaryen x Girlfriend!Reader.

Summary : You had become his obsession, his everything, even in the chaotic, blood-soaked world they all lived in. Aemond had always been the cold, calculating son of the Targaryen family, but when it came to you, the mask he had worn so carefully began to crack. You, the only person who saw past the facades, the only one who loved him without asking for anything in return. And now, someone had dared to take you from him.

Aemond Masterlist.

Aemond paced back and forth in his lavish office, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. His eyes burned with rage, and his sharp features were twisted into a menacing scowl. The video on his screen looped endlessly: you, bound to a chair in some dimly lit room, your face bruised and bloodied.

"Who did this?" he snarled, his voice cold as steel. "Who dares touch what is mine?"

His men stood silently, heads bowed, knowing better than to meet his gaze when he was in this state. Aemond's fury was a storm, and they were in its direct path.

One of his lieutenants, a man named Rykker, stepped forward hesitantly. "We're working on tracking the location, boss. The video was sent anonymously, but we've identified-"

"Not fast enough!" Aemond roared, sweeping his arm across the table and sending papers, a lamp, and a glass of whiskey crashing to the floor. He turned back to the video, fists clenching at his sides.

Your eyes in the video were filled with fear but also defiance, even as blood trickled down your temple. The sight of your pain made his chest tighten.

"Find them," Aemond hissed, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I don't care what it takes. I want names, locations, and every single one of them brought to me alive. They'll wish for death before l'm done." Rykker nodded, retreating quickly to relay the orders.

Aemond leaned against the desk, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He couldn't lose control now. You needed him. Whoever had taken you would pay dearly for their mistake.

He stared at the frozen frame of your face on the screen, his jaw tightening. "Hold on," he muttered. "I'm coming for you."

Without another word, he grabbed his coat, his gun strapped to his side, and marched out of the office. If his men weren't fast enough, he'd hunt them down himself.

The sharp sting on your cheek forced you back into the harsh reality of your situation. Your head throbbed, and your wrists burned where the ropes bit into your skin. Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with darkness once again, the dim light in the room barely illuminating the outline of the cold, damp walls.

You whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you pleaded, “Please… whoever you are… let me go…”

But your words were met with the same suffocating silence as before. The only sounds in the room were your uneven breathing and the faint dripping of water in the distance.

You tried to move, but every shift of your body sent sharp pain through your limbs. Your captors had been rough, leaving bruises and cuts that now throbbed with every heartbeat.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Whoever had done this to you wanted to see you break, to see you crumble. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The sound of footsteps suddenly echoed in the distance, growing louder as they approached the room where you were held. Your heart raced, fear and hope warring within you.

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped inside. “You’re awake,” they said coldly, their voice devoid of any emotion.

You turned your head toward the sound, your voice trembling as you asked, “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

The figure chuckled darkly, stepping closer until you could see the glint of a knife in their hand. “It’s not about what I want,” they said, their tone mocking. “It’s about sending a message. To him.”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to ask who “him” was. You knew they were talking about Aemond.

“You think he’ll just let this go?” you whispered, anger mixing with your fear. “You’ve made a mistake.”

The figure smirked, crouching down to meet your gaze. “That’s the point,” they said, their grin cruel. “Let him come. We’re counting on it.”

Aegon leaned against the doorframe, watching as Aemond unleashed his fury on the room. Glass shattered as the goblet struck the wall, narrowly missing one of Aemond's trembling subordinates. His younger brother's icy composure had melted into a blaze of rage, the usually sharp, calculating man now consumed by raw emotion.

"You're all useless!" Aemond roared, his voice echoing through the room. "How could you let this happen? How could she be taken right under your noses?"

The men cowered, their heads bowed in silence, none daring to speak or defend themselves.

"Aemond," Aegon called, stepping into the room with his arms crossed. "That's enough." Aemond turned to him, his eye ablaze.

"Don't you dare tell me what's enough, Aegon," he snapped. "They lost her! She's out there-alone, scared-because of their incompetence!"

"And yelling at them, throwing things, and losing your mind isn't going to bring her back!" Aegon shot back, his voice firm but not without understanding.

Aemond's chest heaved, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Aegon stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I get it, brother. You're angry. You're scared. But losing your temper won't help us find her. What we need is a plan, not chaos."

Aemond ran a trembling hand through his hair, his jaw clenched as he tried to rein in his emotions. "They're using her to get to me," he said, his voice quieter but laced with venom.

"They want me to come for her. And I will."

Aegon nodded. "And you will," he agreed. "But not like this. If you let your anger cloud your judgment, you'll be walking straight into their trap. You know that."

Aemond turned his back to the room, staring out the window. The city sprawled before him, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of you-your face, your voice, the way you always seemed to calm the storm inside him.

"I'll kill them," he said quietly, his voice a promise. "Every last one of them. But first, I'll bring her back."

Aegon placed a hand on his shoulder. "And you will," he repeated. "But let's do this right. For her."

Your sobs echoed in the dimly lit room as the woman's fingers tightened in your hair, pulling your head back sharply. Tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to look at her.

Her cold green eyes bore into yours, a sharp contrast to the dim glow of the single lamp hanging above.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" she said, her voice calm but laced with venom.

You shook your head weakly, your breathing uneven. There was something unsettlingly familiar about those eyes, but you couldn't place them.

"Please," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Let me go... I don't know who you are or what you want."

The woman scoffed, tilting her head as she studied your tear-streaked face. "Oh, you know me," she replied, her tone dripping with bitterness. "You just don't remember."

Her grip on your hair tightened, making you wince. The pain was sharp, but it wasn't as terrifying as the realization dawning in your mind. Those eyes-they reminded you of someone. Someone from Aemond's past, someone with a grudge, someone dangerous.

"You're his weakness," she hissed, leaning closer. "The reason he's untouchable. But now, I have you."

Your heart sank. She wasn't here for you; she was here for him.

"I don't care about your fight with him," you pleaded, trying to remain calm despite the panic surging within you. "Please, don't hurt me. Whatever he's done to you, I-"

Her sharp laugh cut you off. "Oh, it's not about what he's done. It's about what l've lost because of him."

Her grip loosened slightly, but her gaze didn't soften. Instead, it grew colder, more calculating.

"You're going to help me send him a message," she said. "And if you don't..." Her hand moved to your chin, forcing you to look directly at her.

"Well, let's just say I have no problem making him suffer by breaking you, piece by piece."

A chill ran down your spine, but you steeled yourself. Even through your fear, a small spark of defiance flickered within you. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

You hit the cold, hard floor with a thud, a sharp pain radiating through your side. The woman stood over you, her cruel smirk illuminated by the dim light. Her presence filled the room with a suffocating sense of dread.

“Keep her here,” she ordered the shadowy figures behind her. “No food, no water. Let her feel just a fraction of the suffering I’ve endured.”

Her green eyes flicked back to you, glinting with malice. She crouched down, her face close enough for you to feel her breath.

“You think you’re strong because he loves you,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “But love is a weakness, and I will make sure he regrets ever letting you into his heart.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“You won’t win,” you whispered, your voice trembling but defiant.

She laughed—a cold, heartless sound that sent chills down your spine. “Oh, sweet girl, I already have.”

Standing, she brushed off her hands as if touching you had tainted her. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to her men before stepping out of the room.

“Let her rot,” she said over her shoulder. “Until he comes crawling.”

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room. You were left alone in the suffocating silence, your body aching and your heart pounding. For a moment, despair threatened to overwhelm you, but then you thought of Aemond—his determination, his fury.

You knew he would come for you. You just had to hold on.

Aemond paced the room, his jaw clenched, and his fists balled tightly at his sides. The idea of a party while you were missing was incomprehensible to him. His anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt.

“You can’t be serious,” he growled, fixing Alicent with a glare that could cut steel. “She’s out there—alone, terrified—and you want to throw a party?”

Alicent remained calm, her hands clasped in front of her. “This isn’t about celebrating, Aemond. It’s a strategy. A public event like this will draw out whoever’s responsible. They can’t resist the opportunity to mock us or taunt you further.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, suspicion evident in his expression. “You’re using her as bait.”

“No,” Alicent said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m using their arrogance against them. This isn’t just about finding her—it’s about ensuring no one dares to cross our family again. You know as well as I do that they’ll want to gloat, to flaunt their power. This party will bring them out of the shadows.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair. The idea made his blood boil, but there was a cruel logic to it.

“And what happens if they don’t take the bait?” he asked, his voice tight.

Alicent placed a hand on his arm, her voice softening. “Then we continue searching. But we have to try everything, Aemond. She would want us to do whatever it takes to bring her home.”

Her words hit their mark. Aemond closed his eye, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The thought of you, somewhere out there, hurt and scared, made his chest ache.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But if anything goes wrong, this is on you.”

“It won’t,” Alicent assured him. “We’ll get her back.”

Aemond’s resolve hardened. “We’d better. Because if we don’t, there won’t be a single soul left to celebrate anything.”

The grand estate sparkled with opulence, golden chandeliers casting warm light over ruby draperies and intricate floral arrangements. Servants bustled about, ensuring every detail of the so-called celebration was flawless. Guests began to trickle in, their laughter and chatter filling the vast halls, oblivious to the dark undertones of the evening.

Aemond stood near one of the towering windows, his tall frame tense, his eye fixed on the distant horizon. The finery and elegance around him were a mockery of his torment. He clenched his jaw, his hands tucked into his pockets to disguise the tremors of barely contained rage.

“Aemond,” came a soft voice behind him. He turned to see Alicent, her expression poised yet concerned. She gently placed a hand on his arm. “You need to remain composed. They’re watching you closely, hoping for a crack in your armor.”

He pulled away, his frustration evident. “Composed? Mother, she’s out there. Alone. Scared. And we’re here, pretending as though this—” He gestured to the opulence around him. “—is more important than finding her.”

“This isn’t a celebration,” Alicent reminded him firmly, her voice low but sharp. “It’s a trap. And you need to play your part.”

Aemond exhaled sharply, his fingers raking through his silver hair. He cast another glance out the window, hoping—praying—for a sign, for anything that would lead him to you.

Nearby, Aegon appeared with a drink in hand, his demeanor far too casual for the occasion. “You’ll scare the guests if you keep glaring like that, little brother,” he said with a smirk.

Aemond shot him a warning look. “You’d better hope this plan of hers works, or I’ll tear apart this city brick by brick to find her.”

Aegon’s smirk faltered slightly, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. We’ll find her.”

But Aemond couldn’t relax. Not when every passing moment meant you were still out there, trapped, and in danger. He turned back to the window, his fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to storm out and search for you himself.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone knew something. And Aemond vowed he would uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

You flinched as her cold fingers gripped your face, her nails digging into your skin. Her smile was cruel, her emerald eyes glinting with malice. “Oh, darling,” she cooed mockingly, tilting her head as if she were comforting you. “Did you hear? Your dear Aemond is hosting a party tonight. Such a grand affair—gold and red everywhere. He’s moved on quite splendidly without you.”

Your tears spilled over, silent sobs shaking your body as her words cut deep. You shook your head weakly, trying to hold onto your faith in Aemond. He wouldn’t forget you. He couldn’t.

“Ah, look at you,” she sneered, her grip tightening. “So pathetic. Crying for a man who probably isn’t even thinking about you anymore. But don’t worry, love. I’ll be there tonight.” Her voice turned venomous, her lips curling into a sinister grin. “I’ll make sure he forgets all about you. Permanently.”

She let go of your face, and you collapsed forward, gasping for air. The sound of her laughter echoed in the cold, empty room as she stood and straightened her dress.

“Don’t wait up,” she added, her tone dripping with mockery as she sauntered toward the door. “Oh, and if you’re wondering—no one’s coming for you. You’ll rot here, alone, while I take everything that was yours.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you in suffocating silence. Your heart ached, not just from the physical pain but from the cruel possibility she had planted in your mind. Could it be true?

But deep down, you knew Aemond. His love for you burned like wildfire, unyielding and all-consuming. If he was hosting a party, it wasn’t to move on—it was to draw her out.

You closed your eyes, clutching the faint hope that he was still searching for you, still fighting to bring you back.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his single eye narrowing as he locked onto Alys Rivers across the room. She stood there with an air of confidence, a delicate goblet in her hand and a coy smile playing on her lips. Her emerald-green gown shimmered under the golden light, its color mocking the Targaryen black and red he so often adorned.

She raised her glass ever so slightly in a silent toast, her eyes meeting his with a spark of challenge. Aemond’s fists clenched at his sides. The audacity. To show her face here—at his family’s estate—after what she had done.

Aegon approached him from the side, a goblet in hand. “Little brother,” he muttered, his tone low and cautious. “What is it?”

Aemond didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Alys. Aegon followed his line of sight and cursed under his breath. “You think she—”

“She knows something,” Aemond hissed, cutting him off. He began to move toward her, his long strides purposeful and threatening.

As he approached, the crowd seemed to sense his simmering rage, parting instinctively to let him through. Alys’s smile widened, and she tilted her head, feigning innocence.

“Aemond,” she greeted, her voice smooth and melodic. “You look troubled. I hope the festivities haven’t been too dull for you.”

Aemond stopped just a breath away from her, his towering presence overshadowing her dainty form. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice low and venomous.

Alys took a slow sip from her goblet, her eyes never leaving his. “I don’t know what you mean, love,” she replied, her tone dripping with feigned ignorance.

“Don’t play games with me,” he snapped, his voice rising enough to draw the attention of nearby guests. His eye burned with fury, and his fingers itched to draw his blade.

Alys leaned in closer, her voice a whisper meant only for him. “Careful, Aemond. We wouldn’t want to ruin your lovely party, would we?”

Aemond’s patience was razor-thin, and he grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. “Tell me where she is,” he growled.

Alys’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but then she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “You’re so predictable, Aemond,” she murmured. “She’s waiting for you. If you can find her in time.”

Before he could react, she slipped free of his grasp, melting into the crowd as if she had never been there. Aemond stood frozen, his fury boiling over. He turned to Aegon, his voice like thunder.

“Seal the exits,” he ordered. “No one leaves until I have answers.”

Aemond stormed toward the estate’s gates, his long strides purposeful as his sharp gaze locked onto the taillights of Alys’ car disappearing into the distance. His frustration mounted, the realization sinking in that she had eluded him once again.

“Follow her!” he barked at his men, his voice cutting through the cold night air. Several black vehicles screeched to life, tires spinning as they sped after Alys.

Aegon caught up to him, slightly out of breath. “She’s playing you,” he warned, his tone laced with concern. “We don’t know what she’s planning—”

“I don’t care what she’s planning,” Aemond snapped, his jaw clenched. “She has her hands in this, Aegon. I can feel it. If she knows where she is, I’ll make her talk.”

Aegon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to lose your head over this, brother.”

“I already lost something far more precious,” Aemond growled, his voice low but heavy with meaning.

The cars sped out of sight, but Aemond didn’t retreat to the safety of the estate. Instead, he lingered at the gate, his mind racing. Alys had made it personal, and her actions were no longer just a game to him. She was the key to finding you, and he wasn’t going to let her slip through his grasp again.

“Aemond,” Aegon said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her. But you need to stay sharp. You rushing in blind won’t help her or you.”

Aemond shook off his brother’s hand, his eye narrowing. “You’re either with me or in my way,” he spat, turning on his heel. “She doesn’t have time for us to play it safe.”

As the night stretched on, Aemond prepared for the confrontation he knew was coming. Alys wouldn’t give up your location easily, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you home—even if it meant unleashing the darkest parts of himself.

Aemond paced the length of the room like a caged predator, his fists clenched and jaw tight. The air around him felt suffocating, heavy with his barely contained rage. His men stood at the edges of the room, heads bowed, too afraid to meet his piercing gaze.

“You lost her?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. He grabbed the nearest table and flipped it, sending papers and glasses crashing to the floor. “She was right there! And you lost her!”

“Aemond,” Aegon called, stepping into the room cautiously. “This isn’t helping. Losing control won’t bring her back.”

Aemond whipped around, his lone eye blazing with fury. “You think I don’t know that?” he hissed, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic emotion. “Alys isn’t just anyone. She’s calculating, manipulative, and she always stays three steps ahead. If we don’t catch her soon—” He stopped, his voice breaking slightly. “If we don’t find her, I don’t know what she’ll do to her.”

Aegon’s face softened at his brother’s rare display of vulnerability. He had never seen Aemond like this before—so undone, so human.

“She’s strong, Aemond,” Aegon said, his tone steady. “Stronger than you give her credit for. And you’re going to find her. But you need to focus. Letting Alys get into your head won’t help her.”

Aemond ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He had always prided himself on being composed, always in control. But now, the fear gnawed at him, an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. Alys Rivers wasn’t a typical adversary—she knew how to exploit weaknesses, and Aemond was terrified she’d use you against him in ways he couldn’t anticipate.

“I can’t lose her, Aegon,” Aemond finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not her.”

Aegon nodded, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Then let’s make sure you don’t.”

With a renewed sense of determination, Aemond turned to his men. “Double the search efforts. Sweep every safe house, every hidden route Alys has ever used. If she so much as breathes near this city, I want to know about it.”

His men nodded and hurried out, leaving Aemond standing in the wreckage of his rage. For the first time, he felt the weight of helplessness. But beneath it, there was a spark of resolve—he would find you, no matter what it took.

You winced as her sharp nails dug into your cheeks, her voice dripping with venom as she leaned closer. “What does he see in you?” Alys hissed, her emerald eyes blazing with fury. “You’re nothing but a frail little thing. Aemond could’ve had me—should’ve had me. But no, he chose you.”

Her grip tightened, forcing your head to the side as you tried to avoid her piercing gaze. You felt the car jolt as it hit a bump in the road, your bound wrists aching from the tight restraints.

“I gave him everything,” Alys continued, her voice trembling with anger. “Power, knowledge, loyalty. And he discarded me like I was nothing. All for you.” She leaned back, her laugh sharp and bitter. “It’s pathetic, really.”

You swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears threatening to fall. You knew showing weakness would only fuel her anger further. Instead, you whispered hoarsely, “If he chose me, then maybe it’s because you never truly meant anything to him.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her hand shot out, striking you across the face. The sting was sharp, and your head snapped to the side. “You dare?” she snarled. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’ll survive me?”

Your breathing grew ragged, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you met her gaze with as much defiance as you could muster.

Alys smirked, clearly enjoying the game of dominance. “Oh, don’t worry, darling,” she said, her tone almost sing-song. “We’re going to have so much fun together. I’ll make sure Aemond gets to see just how fragile his little treasure really is.”

The car came to a sudden stop, and the door on your side was flung open. Alys gestured for her men to pull you out, and you were dragged onto your feet. The cool night air hit your skin, and you glanced around, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

You were in the middle of nowhere—a secluded area surrounded by dense trees and darkness. The only light came from the car’s headlights, casting eerie shadows across the gravel road.

Alys approached you slowly, her heels clicking against the ground. “This is where your little fairy tale ends,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Let’s see if Aemond will still love you when you’re broken beyond repair.”

Fear gripped your heart as you realized just how far she was willing to go.

Aemond’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he sped through the dark streets. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with every possible scenario. He couldn’t lose you—not to Alys, not to anyone.

The memory of your face, bruised and frightened in that cursed video, haunted him. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he pushed the car to its limits.

Behind him, the headlights of Aegon’s car appeared in the rearview mirror. Aegon was bringing reinforcements, but Aemond wasn’t about to wait. He was done waiting.

The coordinates from his men led him down a winding road surrounded by thick trees. His sharp eyes caught sight of tire tracks leading off into a secluded path. Without hesitation, he veered off the main road, the gravel crunching under his tires as he followed the trail.

As he neared a clearing, he saw the faint glow of headlights in the distance. His heart sank at the sight of figures moving near the car. One of them was unmistakably Alys, standing tall and commanding as her men dragged your limp form toward the shadows.

Aemond slammed the brakes, throwing the car into park before stepping out with a gun in hand. His one good eye was blazing with fury, his jaw clenched as he stalked toward the scene.

“Alys!” he bellowed, his voice cutting through the night like a blade.

The woman turned, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. “Ah, there he is,” she purred. “The mighty Aemond Targaryen, coming to save his damsel in distress.”

Aemond ignored her words, his gaze fixed on you. “Let her go,” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Alys chuckled, gesturing for her men to stop. “And what will you give me in return, my love? You left me for her—betrayed me. Do you think I’ll let that go so easily?”

Aemond’s grip on the gun tightened. “You’re already a dead woman, Alys. The only choice you have is how painful it’ll be.”

Alys raised an eyebrow, her amusement fading. “You wouldn’t,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly.

“Try me,” Aemond growled, taking a step closer.

Before she could respond, the sound of approaching vehicles echoed through the woods. Aegon’s reinforcements had arrived, their headlights flooding the clearing.

Alys cursed under her breath, realizing her advantage was slipping away. With a snap of her fingers, her men raised their weapons, pointing them at Aemond and the approaching cars.

“Stop them!” she barked, but her voice was edged with desperation.

In the chaos that followed, Aemond saw his opening. He lunged forward, dodging a bullet as he fired at the man holding you. The shot was precise, and the man fell, releasing you from his grip.

You crumpled to the ground, weak and terrified, but relief flooded you as Aemond dropped his gun and scooped you into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re safe now. I swear it.”

Alys screamed in rage as Aegon’s men closed in, overwhelming her forces. But Aemond didn’t spare her another glance. His only concern was you, holding you tightly as he carried you toward his car, desperate to get you as far away from this nightmare as possible.

Aemond froze, his arms still securely wrapped around you. He could feel your trembling body against his chest, and the sound of your shallow, frightened breaths only fueled his rage. His sharp gaze locked onto Alys, who now had a pistol aimed directly at you.

"Aemond," Alys drawled, her voice venomous yet steady, "put her down and step back. Or I swear, I'll put a bullet in her before you can blink."

"Alys," Aemond growled, his voice low and deadly, "don't do this."

Alys tilted her head, her green eyes glinting with malice. "You've already chosen her over me, haven't you? Well then, let's see how much she's worth to you."

Aegon, standing a few feet behind Aemond, gestured subtly to his men to prepare for a move, but they hesitated, knowing one wrong move could end with you dead.

"I'm not letting her go," Aemond said, his voice unwavering despite the situation. "If you want to hurt her, you'll have to go through me first."

Alys let out a bitter laugh. "How noble. But your gallantry means nothing to me, Aemond." Her grip on the pistol tightened. "Last chance. Put her down and walk away, or I'll paint the ground with her blood."

Your weak voice broke through the tension.

"Aemond... please," you whispered, barely audible, your tears soaking into his shirt.

Aemond's jaw clenched, his mind racing. He couldn't let you get hurt, but surrendering you to Alys wasn't an option.

He took a deep breath, his one good eye blazing with determination. "Alys," he said, his tone calmer but no less threatening, "you're not walking out of here alive. Let her go, and I might make it quick for you."

Alys's smile faltered, just for a moment. It was enough.

Suddenly, a single gunshot rang out, shattering the tense silence. Alys stumbled, her expression one of shock as she dropped her pistol, clutching her shoulder where blood began to bloom.

Aemond turned to see Aegon lowering his gun, his expression grim. "Didn't think l'd let her get the upper hand, did you?" Aegon muttered, stepping forward with his men to secure the scene.

Alys fell to her knees, her face twisted in pain and rage. "This isn't over," she spat, glaring at Aemond.

Aemond didn't respond. Instead, he tightened his hold on you and carried you to the car, his every step deliberate and resolute. "It's over for you," he muttered under his breath, his voice cold.

As Aegon's men subdued Alys and her remaining lackeys, Aemond focused only on you, placing you gently in the passenger seat of his car. His hand brushed your tear-streaked face, his expression softening as he whispered, "You're safe now. I've got you."

But deep inside, Aemond's fury burned hotter than ever. This wasn't just about saving you-it was about making sure no one would ever dare to take you from him again.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @zaldritzosrose @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eighteen ⭐︎ Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! smut smut smut, fluff, mentions of bullying, mentions of the upside down, unprotected sex, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve takes another step towards you, one that might change everything, hopefully for the better.

Word count: 9.7k+

Author's note: always a pleasure working with @hellfire--cult hehe. we're getting closer to the best scenes roe ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

A shrill noise, distant ringing sounds through the house. You’re in and out of sleep as you try to register where the sound is coming from, you open your eyes to the bright lights coming from the TV in your living room, a groan falls from your lips and you squint your eyes when you feel the pain in your neck from the uncomfortable position you had fallen asleep in. You rub your tired eyes and turn your head to look at your best friend who is sleeping deeply on the other side of the couch, snoring loudly and completely unfazed by the flashing lights from the horror movie playing on your TV screen or the loud ringing of the telephone. 

The obnoxious sound coming from the kitchen continues, forcing you to get up. You nearly trip over Eddie’s sneakers as you rush out of the living room and into the hallway, your mind is still sleeping, your eyes still tired, the ringing hurts your ears and you grab the receiver as soon as it’s in reach. 

“Hello?” You grumble, leaning your head against the wall and closing your eyes again as you stand in the dark kitchen. 

“Hey Blondie.” 

The sweet sound of his voice fills your heart with life and your stomach with butterflies, your eyes shoot open and you instantly straighten your back. 

“Steve?” Your voice only above a whisper as you hold the receiver a little tighter than before. 

“Did I wake you, honey?” He murmurs, sending shivers down your spine with the raspiness in his voice. “I’m sorry if I did, I-I just wanted to hear your voice… I uh, I just dropped Robin off, we talked for a while.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes widen. 

He wanted to hear your voice. 

He called just to hear your voice. 

He makes your heart swell in your chest just with a few simple words, words that hold so much meaning to you. 

But then you remember what happened only a few hours back.

And just like that the swelling and the warmth in your heart fleets away and anxiousness fills it instead. 

What did they talk about? 

Robin didn’t seem quite fond of you when you left his car earlier, the tone in her voice and the glare that she directed at you were proof of that. 

What if she talked some sense into him and told him to stop seeing you, that you are both going nowhere with this?

“Oh…” You mutter, not knowing what else to say. 

You play with the cord, wrapping it around your finger as you start bouncing your knee, waiting for his next words. 

“Are you okay?” You add in concern. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. She uh, she won’t say anything so… we can still… if you want?” He asks and clears his throat to hide the shakiness in his voice but you caught it. “Because I wanna keep doing it.” 

If you want? 

You’d keep going with this for the rest of your life if he wanted it, no matter how badly it hurts to be nothing but a little secret, not having him at all, would hurt so much more.

Relief follows quickly, despite the anxiety that still lingers but something tells you that Robin won’t be as accepting of it as Eddie is.

“I want to keep seeing you too, Steve.”

You hear his breathing, the way it stutters, the way it always does before a smile appears on his face. It makes your own lips curl into a smile as your shoulders relax and you slump against the wall.

“Good,” he whispers and you hope that you aren’t mishearing the happiness in his voice. 

“Good,” you repeat after him, unable to fight the smile off your face. 

You want to ask how the conversation went, what she asked, what she wanted to know but you don’t want to ruin this moment between you. 

You can leave it for another time, you can wait, just like you always do. 

“Is Eddie still there?” 

“Yeah, he passed out on the couch and I’m afraid he’ll wake up with a stiff neck tomorrow.” 

Steve’s chuckle makes your stomach flutter again.  

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You nod with a smile on your face, “yeah.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home with you,” he murmurs after a moment of silence. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying not to sigh, trying not to show how sad you are that he isn’t here with you. The nights you spent alone in your bed are long over. “You needed to talk to Robin…”

He is silent, for a long moment he says nothing and only breathes as he stands in his kitchen, the only source of light coming from the small lamp on the counter, he stares into nothing as he contemplates asking if he can come over because he doesn’t want to spend the night without you, he doesn’t want to go to sleep without the warmth of your body atop of his, your soft breathing on his skin and your hands holding onto him as you unknowingly cling to him in your sleep, he doesn’t want to miss it, not even for a single night. 

“Steve?” 

Your voice sounds like a blessing to his ears now, the emotions that rush through him are no longer confusing him. 

“Yes?” 

He waits for you to speak but you are hesitating, only your soft breathing sounds through the phone. He hopes that you’ll ask him to come, he hopes that he can wrap his arms around you tonight, after all. 

“... Eddie ate your pringles.”

He raises his brows and tilts his head to the side, this is not what he wanted to hear but he can’t help but laugh. 

“And your butterscotch ice cream too.” 

He leans his head against the wall behind him, a smile of amusement appearing on his face. 

“I had to hide your kitkat’s so he wouldn’t eat them too.” 

He closes his eyes and listens to your voice, waiting for you to continue. You could talk about anything to him, literally anything – gossip, music, make-up, clothes and shoes, the weather or some random movie he has never seen, he’ll happily listen to you.

“But he found them…” You say with a giggle, “I don’t know where all that food is going! Did you see how many burgers he ate at Hopper’s?” 

No, no he really didn’t pay attention to your best friend, he was too busy watching you. 

“He might have a hole in his stomach.”

You chuckle, “he might, yeah, or he just gets the worst munchies after he gets high.” 

“Yeah, speaking of, we haven’t done that in a while.”

The last time you got high together, you didn’t get the munchies, no, you got something entirely else, something much more satisfying. It started with slow kissing, soft touches and desperate moans, you made out and undressed each other, you marked his skin and he did the same to yours and left them in places only he could see, he sank to his knees and unraveled you with his tongue, he tore out the sweetest sighs and the prettiest moans from you and now that he thinks back to that moment, he can’t help but wonder what exactly he was high on, drugs or you? 

“What, getting high? We should do that but we’ll have to buy new snacks first, Eddie ate all your favorite ones and I definitely need to stock up on chips and candy but whenever I get high I just want to eat pizza and pasta and uh… I should probably stop talking about food or else I’ll get hungry again,” you murmur the last part and place a hand on your stomach when you feel it grumbling. 

He smiles fondly and an idea pops in his head. 

"Pasta, huh?" He mumbles as he takes a look around his kitchen, “you’re staying with me tomorrow night, right?” 

“...If you still want me to, yes.” 

After his realization, he wouldn’t even mind you staying with him permanently and these thoughts swirl inside his head in full honesty. 

“I do want you to,” he nods even though you aren’t there to see, “well, I promised that I’d cook for you, remember?” 

Your cheeks heat up at his words and the permanent smile on your face grows bigger. 

“Mhm.”

“Let me cook for you tomorrow night, Blondie.” 

You bite your lip, unsuccessfully holding back the grin as giddiness rushes through your bones, making you unable to stand still. 

“I won’t say no to that, Steve.” 

Steve’s cheeks almost hurt from the grin on his lips as he heard the excitement in your voice, his own growing bigger and bigger as he already begins to count down the minutes until you’re back in his arms and here with him, hearing your voice isn’t enough, he needs to see you, to feel you, he needs you by his side. 

But for now, this will have to do. 

You both talk, not minding the late hour in the slightest as you both stand in your kitchen’s and giggle into your phones, feeling like teenagers all over again, each of you wearing lovesick smiles on your faces and happiness in your eyes, fluttering feelings in your hearts and in your stomachs – reactions and feelings now mutual and no longer one sided. 

Your teenage self would stare in awe if she saw you now, the happiest smile would play on her lips, she might even be jumping around. 

King Steve would be… surprised but maybe not unpleasantly so, there was more to him than he ever wanted to admit. 

Steve knows it now. 

When he hears your giggle, that sweet sound that lights up everything inside of him now, he knows. 

He never wants to miss your laughter again, he never wants to miss your voice, he never wants to miss you. He doesn’t even want to hang up the phone, not even when you make the promise that you will call him again with the phone upstairs in your room, when your makeup is off and you’re comfortable under your warm covers. 

And you, you rush out of the kitchen the moment you hang up the phone, with a fluttering heart and huge smile on your face, you make your way back into the living room, despite knowing you’ll be unsuccessful in waking your best friend and trying to get him into the guest room. 

A part of you feels relieved to see him asleep though – you don’t need him to see your blushing face. 

He is snoring into one of the pillows, his bangs covering his eyes, he is taking over the entire couch now, his knee angled weirdly as his arm hangs down, fingers grazing the carpet. You chuckle to yourself and step towards him, you lean down and wrap a gentle hand around his wrist, bringing his arm back up so he won’t deal with any soreness in the morning. You reach for a blanket and place it over his body before you turn off the TV. 

And as you quickly make your way upstairs, rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off, Steve is already in bed, staring at the phone on his nightstand, waiting for your call. 

With his arms tucked behind his head, the covers over his body, he feels warmth surrounding him as your smell lingers in his room, on the covers and the sheets, the pillow that is now yours – your side of the bed empty to his dismay, it almost feels weird to lay here without you when only months back, this was all he knew, an empty bed that he had never shared with anyone until you stepped into his life and came to steal his heart. 

And he never wants to share it with anyone else again, only you. 

The ringing of the phone doesn’t even last for two seconds before he picks it up and speaks your name into the receiver, earning a breathy chuckle from you.

“Missed me?” 

He hears the rustling of your sheets and how you try to get comfortable in your bed – oh, how he wishes he was there with you. 

“Mhmm thought you went to sleep without me,” he murmurs into the phone as he pulls at the cord of the telephone and turns on his side, sinking his face into your pillow and breathing in your scent. 

“Without talking your ear off first? Never.” You joke. 

Steve chuckles, shaking his head, “you can talk my ear off anytime, honey. Tell me about your day.” 

“We spent half of the day together.” 

“Exactly, half.” He says as a yawn escapes him and his eyes grow tired, lashes beginning to flutter. “And half of that day was spent listening to the teens bickering.” 

“Okay, yeah you’re right,” you say with a smile on your face and sink deeper into the side that you don’t usually sleep on, you breathe in the cologne that lingers on your pillow and close your eyes as you start talking about anything that comes to mind, the movie you watched with Eddie, the shopping trip you went on with El and Max a few days back, the pretty necklace you saw in the small jewelry shop downtown, the flowers that started growing in your garden, your niece and how much you miss her. 

A smile tugs at his lips and he feels calmness in his chest, your voice makes him feel safe, so safe that it lulls him into sleep only minutes later as he lies in bed surrounded by the smell of you and the sweetest sound in his ear. 

And you don’t notice at first, continuing to ramble about something completely unimportant before you register the utter silence on the other line. 

“Stevie?” 

A light snore echoes, making you giggle when you realize that he had fallen asleep. 

You hold the receiver tighter in your hand and hold the covers against your chest, closing your eyes and staying on the line, listening to his breathing. You wish you could be with him, lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat instead. 

“Good night,” you whisper softly, though wishing you could say something else, something more. 

-

Music plays in the background, some Tears for Fears song. The mouthwatering smell of food lingers in the air, making your stomach grumble in anticipation, you sip on your cold white wine as you watch him with a smile on your face and blushing cheeks. 

He looks good, he always does but there is something more about him tonight, perhaps it’s the way he looks so sexy in his tight fitted black tank top and his Levi’s, arms sunkissed and his freckles and moles on full display for you, his hair messy yet styled perfectly or maybe it’s that slight rosy color in his cheeks along with the glowing in his eyes, the look of happiness deeply etched into his soft features or maybe it’s the fact that he is cooking for you. 

All day you had been so nervous, you paced around the house and busied yourself with cleaning and organizing drawers and your closet, feeling as though you were waiting on a date when you don’t even know what it feels like to go on one. This isn’t a date, no matter how much it felt like it when you started preparing for the night, when you took your sweet time washing your hair and scrubbing your skin soft, shaving and moisturizing every part of your body, putting makeup on your face and curlers into your hair, you painted your nails his favorite color and put on a dress that you wished would make him swoon. 

And it did, it does make him swoon, everything about you now does. 

You nearly knocked him off his feet when you appeared on his doorstep in this pretty new outfit that shows off your beautiful body and your soft skin that he craves to feel on his constantly. For the first time, Steve didn’t want to rip it off of you and take you, he found himself wishing to take it off slowly, kiss every inch of you softly and feel you in a whole new way, and he told himself he would, that he would take his time with you tonight, though it felt hard to keep his hands to himself when you walked through the door, he wanted nothing more than to pull you against him and kiss you breathless but not yet, he told himself, not yet. 

“It smells so good already,” you smile, watching how he stirs the sauce as you breathe in the smell of garlic and cheese. 

“Just wait until you taste it,” he winks at you. 

“So cocky,” you tease him with a chuckle, taking a sip of your wine before you step closer to him. 

“Well, you always love my breakfasts, honey,” he murmurs, putting the spatula down and checking on the pasta before he turns his body to you, looking you up and down with a lick of his lips. He steps closer to you and reaches his hand out to touch your waist, tearing a shaky breath out of you. 

You gulp. The smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand nearly cause your knees to buckle – it’s almost funny how your body still reacts like this, after everything you have done together, you still blush, you still swoon, your heart still flutters. 

Steve bites his lip as his eyes look at your own, his hand reaches for the glass in your hand and he takes it from you, putting it down on the counter before he grabs your waist with both hands, taking you by surprise when he picks you up with ease, his lips curl into a smirk when a small gasp escapes you and you clasp your hands around his biceps, holding on tightly, even when he places you on the counter, you still hold onto him. He pushes your legs apart a little, letting his hands move from your waist to your thighs as he steps between them. 

You suck in a sharp breath, your cheeks are burning under his gaze, your skin heating up beneath his palms as his fingers disappear underneath your dress. 

His lashes kiss his skin as he keeps blinking, his hazel eyes gazing into yours so differently than usual and it drives your heart crazy. 

But despite how bad you want to let yourself fall into delusions that there might be something other than lust in his eyes at this very moment, you have to remind yourself of what this is and what this isn’t supposed to be. 

“Mhm, your breakfasts are very good,” you nod, “but who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever cook dinner for me, a fancy one too.”

Steve chuckles, leaning much much closer and deciding to make your insides tingle even worse than before when he brings his hand up towards your face and tucking the fallen strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Who would’ve thought that you would ever sit on my kitchen counter?” He teases, tilting his head to the side as his hand slips down your body and grabs at your hip. “I think your teenage self would gasp and glare at the you now.” 

A giggle falls from your lips, you shake your head – he couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Yeah, and King Steve would pour the wine over your head if he saw you cooking dinner for his number one enemy.” 

Steve chuckles. 

“Enemy,” he repeats after you as his eyes crinkle in amusement, “that’s cute.”

Does he know what his words do to you? 

Does he know what his touch causes? 

Does he know that your heart feels as though it will beat out of your chest after every small act of his? 

Because something inside of you, tells you that he is starting to know. His touch is softer, his eyes are too. 

“Cute?” You smirk and speak out confidently even though your palms grow sweaty and you suddenly feel shy beneath his gaze. “You think us being mean to each other was cute?” 

Steve shakes his head at you and to your disappointment, he steps away and returns back to the stove that he turns off after checking on the pasta. He reaches for a towel and wraps it around the handles of the pot, taking it off the stove, he steps further away from you and towards the sink. 

“No, you thinking that we were enemies is cute.” 

You press your palms against the counter and tilt your head to the side, your hair that he just tucked behind your ear, falling back in front of your face. You squint your eyes at him as a curious smile appears on your lips. “Were we not?” You ask, wondering what he saw you as during one of your worst times in your life. 

“I don’t think you’d be sitting here in this cute little dress if you were,” he smirks, winking at you before he turns away from you to drain the water from the pot, tilting his head back to avoid the steam. 

And you are grateful that he isn’t looking at you right now, the heat in your cheeks worsens and you suddenly don’t know what to do with your hands. 

You’re no stranger to Steve’s flirting, but it’s usually a little less intimate and under circumstances different from these, usually his flirty comments are there just to get in your pants – at least that’s what you think. 

“So… what was I then?” You ask, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to show how nervous his behavior is making you today. 

Steve places the pot back on the stove and he throws the towel over his shoulder and glances at you, a striking feeling cursing through him and catching him off guard. The evening sun is still high in the sky, shining through the windows and casting a golden glow over the kitchen and over you, kissing your beautiful skin and your shiny hair, the pretty color in your eyes glowing just like the rosy blush you put on your cheeks, the color matching your lipstick and the little dainty flowers on your dress, your lashes flutter every time you blink, your lips parting as you watch him with a cute look of curiosity in your features, your chest rises up and down softly, he can see the way your breathing stutters the longer you look at him though, it makes his lip twitch into a soft smile. 

He feels the beat of his heart, the fluttering and the sensation that has him in a chokehold, you steal his breath away, all the goddamn time, even when you’re not near, just the thought of you, the reminder of your touch and the image of you beneath his body is enough to nearly sink him to his knees. 

He stares at you, finding himself unable to look away and snap back. 

You look angelic under this golden light and he can’t stop from drinking you in, his eyes taking in every spot on your face, every feature, every edge, every curve – features he once thought were so sharp and shadowed by meanness are actually nothing close to that. 

You are soft, you are so gentle and vulnerable, nothing close to the girl he once thought you were. 

You showed him a side of you only the closest ones get to see. He should’ve known it was there, even before knowing you. 

He should’ve known when you jumped in to help fight against Vecna, when you were so protective over Max and Lucas, when you jumped in after him and saved him from the bats despite being a stranger of the horrors that waited for you on the other side, when you put a comforting hand on Eddie’s when he seemed anxious days and weeks after you were both released from the hospital, when he saw the sadness in your eyes after your fight during that one game night, when he saw how you treated your niece and the fourth of july – the night that changed everything. 

You were always right there, right before his eyes, always in reach yet never close enough to actually see. 

But now he sees you, the real you that you still try to bury underneath that rough exterior that is slowly crumbling, more and more, little by little. 

“Steve?” Your unsure voice calls out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the kitchen. You are staring at him, a flustered expression deep in your features as you look into his eyes. 

He doesn’t shy away from you, from the fact that he’s been caught staring as he lost himself in his thoughts. 

“Sorry… What? Got– I got a little lost there a bit.” 

You clear your throat, surprised by his words, you straighten your back and blink. 

“W-What were we… if we weren’t enemies?” 

Steve watches the way your lips move, the way you shift on the counter and pull your hands on your lap where your dress rides up the slightest bit, the way your perfume makes him want to bury his face in your neck and inhale more of it, the way you seem to become prettier and prettier, each passing second. 

He has to force himself to look away from you so he can come up with the right words. He cranes his neck and looks up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips. 

“Well…” 

What were you to each other? 

What were you to him? 

Steve truly never saw you as an enemy, he didn’t like you, he couldn’t stand you for reasons he only now begins to see and understand, but you were never once his enemy. 

“I wanted to rip your hair out sometimes,” he jokes, making you chuckle, “but… I never wanted to make your life miserable. We weren’t in the same… groups or mindsets… but that never made us enemies.” 

A surprised but soft chuckle escapes you as you look up at him, your eyes trailing from his face to his neck where the hickeys that you have left are so visible to you. 

You believe him. 

As mean as he could be, there was never an evil side to him that wanted people to suffer or feel bad. Though you did feel miserable because of him but it was never Steve’s fault, it was your own, only your heart was to blame. If it didn’t get so attached to him, if it wasn’t his from the moment you laid your cynical eyes on him, his actions and words wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest, you would’ve brushed them off, you would’ve brushed him off, but you couldn’t, you were done for. 

But even if you could change it, if you could take your heart back and change your own feelings, you wouldn’t have done it, not even back then when you suffered nothing but sadness and heartache. Maybe you’re a masochist, or maybe just a hopeless romantic with too much hidden hope – hope that you yourself didn’t even want to admit to having, not until recently. 

“Hmm,” you hum and hook your finger around his belt, pulling him closer and between your legs, “and what am I to you now?” 

Your question catches him off guard once more, the look in your eyes so hopeful, though his own cannot see because the panic in him rises so quickly that it steals his breath away. 

What are you to him? 

What are you both to each other?  

He wishes you were his, he wants you to be his, and after last night’s realization, after seeing what he’s been craving all along, he wants you to be his girl, his only, tonight and for always. 

He doesn’t want this to be a short summer, he doesn’t want this to be a temporary relationship – he wants more, he wants a future, a future with you. 

But what do you want? 

What can he say to you when he only wants one thing? 

Steve knows exactly what to say, but he can’t give you the truth now, can he? 

He doesn’t want to ruin this, this night or this thing between you – he needs to find out more, he needs to be more sure before he risks something. 

“You’re my… friend.”

You try not to flinch at that word, you try to hide the pain in your eyes and the physical reaction from the stab in your heart. 

Of course this is what you are to him. 

A friend. 

“We’re friends,” he whispers. 

And you don’t even notice just how forced his own words come out of his mouth, how his eyes shift and the excitement leaves his features for a moment, how he doesn’t seem fond of his own answer. 

The bitterness on your tongue spreads and you have to reach for your glass of wine to take a sip and swallow it down. 

Tension rises between you but only for a moment because you both refuse to let a few words ruin this night for you. 

“Friends,” you nod and you too miss the way he flinches now, the way he scrunches his eyes as though pangs of pain hit him out of nowhere, the way he still places his hands on your thighs, the way a friend definitely shouldn’t. 

But you aren’t really friends are you? 

Because friends aren’t supposed to be this close and look at each other so longingly, they shouldn’t reach for one another the moment they’re close enough to touch, they shouldn’t meet up in secret to spend nights together and sit at dinner tables with each other, stare at one another with shiny eyes and giddy smiles as their hearts beat in sync through every emotion, they shouldn’t stare at each others lips and wait for the right moment to kiss, their fingers shouldn’t touch while they’re eating their dinner. 

And they certainly shouldn’t do this. 

Your lips are locked with his, you are kissing each other feverishly, your fingers are lost in his hair, his are digging into your sides as he pushes you towards his bed, not once did he break the kiss on the way up to the second floor, despite the giggles that threatened to escape when you both tripped a few times. 

Your heart is beating strongly against your ribcage, your skin feels hotter than ever as moans echo through his room. 

Steve’s lips mold against yours so perfectly, his hands hold you so tightly yet so gently and something feels so different today, feelings that are much more intense than usual are on overdrive tonight, something in the way he holds you feels so raw, so real. 

When your head hits the pillows and his chest presses against yours as he hovers over you, you remove your hands from his hair and slip them down his chest, reaching for the hem of his shirt, though to your surprise, he grabs your hands, gently, he pins them down but not harshly, the tips of his fingers brushing against your palms and when he breaks the kiss, you look up in confusion, not understanding why he stopped you, why he slowed you down. 

“What…?” You mumble.

Steve can’t help but smile at the cute frown on your face, your lips are puffy, your hair is a mess already. 

He feels nervousness rushing through his body but more so, he feels anticipation. 

“I want to try something new tonight,” he whispers before he presses another kiss to your lips, surprising you with the softness of it. “Is that okay?” 

You nod and whisper a small ‘yes’ despite not knowing what he means by that. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks as though he doesn’t hold your heart in the palm of his hand, as though you wouldn’t follow him blindly into anything. 

You don’t know what this means, how far he will take things tonight, how rough he will get or what the new thing is that he seemingly feels desperate to try but you would say yes to anything when it comes to him.

“I do,” you say only above a whisper. 

His lip twitches at that, his eyes lighten up and he wastes no time to connect his lips to yours again, closing his eyes and getting lost in it, in you. 

He realizes just how intimate all of this is, this night, these touches, yours and his words, and it’s all he wished for, all that he ever wanted, all that he craved and longed for. 

Before you, he saw a faceless woman by his side as he yearned for a deep connection, a kind of love he never experienced before, one that would not only bring him back to life but also consume him in every shape and form. He waited and waited, met new girls and took one after the other out, date after date and no future was still in sight until he had gotten so desperate that he had made peace with the fact that there was only one he had something real with – but even that was false, her love was never real, it was nothing but a delusion to him and he realized that his feelings weren’t real either, at least during his second try, they were only the result of desperation and loneliness. 

And he knows, he knows that this might not be real either, that you might not feel the same, that you might never feel the same but he doesn’t really care, especially not in this moment, when your fingers dig into his hair again and your lips move with his so naturally, so softly, like it’s the only thing meant to be. 

Your moans, your smell, your taste and your body beneath him makes him feel things he had never felt before. To feel you clinging to him and kissing him with so much passion makes his heart scream in joy, the heart that only beats for you now. 

Your tongues meet as his fingers pull the straps of your dress down your arms, grazing your skin with his touch, pulling out whimpers from you that shoot straight through him, making everything feel so much hotter. His palm slips down your chest and your waist before it falls to your hip where your dress had already ridden up to, his hand disappears under it but instead of reaching for your panties to yank them down your legs the way he usually would do, he just lets it rest there for a moment, needing to feel your warm, bare skin underneath his hand. 

Your chest rises up and down heavily, it’s pressed against his and he can feel how strongly your heart is beating, matching the pace of his own. 

He feels how desperate you are getting as you grab at his hair harder than before, bucking your hips up to meet his and he grants you your wish, grinding his erection against your core, he makes you both moan in pleasure. 

And when your lips break apart and you call out his name, Steve nearly crumbles. 

He leans down to kiss your neck and you tilt your head to the side, almost immediately, welcoming him to mark your skin up with love bites, and he does, his lips meet your skin, over and over again, kissing softly and sucking gently, he then moves down to your collarbone, leaving no spot unkissed. 

You pull your brows together so strongly, overwhelmed by his gentle touches and the feeling of his lips kissing you this way but you can only close your eyes and moan for him, savoring this very moment. 

“Steve…” You whimper as you feel the hot sensation flushing through you and burning in your core. 

He takes your dress off slowly, not quickly or desperately, he takes his time slipping it down your body. His large hand grabs at your hip, his fingers playing with the thin material of your panties as his lips are still latched onto your collarbone, that he pulls away from to take a look at you. 

There you lie beneath him in nothing but your matching underwear, your eyes hooded and filled with emotions you usually hide, your puffy lips are parted, your cheeks are flushed, you furrow your brows in need as you look up at him with pleading eyes. 

He sucks in a shaky breath as his heart skips several beats, your beauty, your soft skin, your smell, the look in your eyes all being too much for his poor heart. 

He is so genuinely done for – there is nothing he wouldn’t do for you, all you have to do is look at him with these eyes and he’d do anything you’d ask him to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, unable to hold himself back with words a friend shouldn’t say with such emotions. 

He misses the way your eyes widen and fill with surprise as he pushes his hands under your back so he can unclasp your lilac colored bra, he throws the lace down on the floor where your dress is lying. 

He kisses your chest and wraps his plush lips around your nipple, his hands slip down your stomach and he hooks his finger around your panties, removing them slowly. 

You look down at him, your heart unable to find calmness as everything he does, drives you crazy tonight. A gasp tears from your parted lips when he slips his fingers through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he brings his digits up to your clit. 

“S-Steve,” you moan as you bring your hand down to his hair, digging your fingers through it and gripping it tightly. 

He meets your eyes and you watch how he kisses down your body, softly, gently, slowly and not tearing his eyes away from your face, he keeps looking, staring at you as his lips trail kisses down your chest, your stomach, your hip bones. 

Is that what friends do? 

Steve spreads your thighs and he lies down before you, he moves his palm from your knee to your hip, throwing one leg over his shoulder before he leans in closer to kiss your inner thighs, truly leaving no spot unkissed. 

You swallow harshly, unable to figure out what to do with yourself when he handles you so carefully, so… lovingly, almost as though he could feel something other than lust for you. 

You blink and stare in anticipation, breathy whines keep falling from your lips, the fluttering in your stomach growing stronger and stronger.

You lean on your elbows, not wanting to look away from him just yet. His hair is messy from your tugging, his cheeks are pink, his eyes dark and filled with something you cannot read. 

He looks so pretty between your thighs. 

Steve leans into you, licking his lips before he presses the tip of his tongue to your entrance, slipping it through your folds and bringing it up to your clit where he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking teasingly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your brows furrowing even more than before as you grip his hair tightly. 

He gives no time to react before he holds on tighter and begins to eat you out, hungrily yet softly. His movements are slow and sensual, his moans vibrate against you. 

His name falls from your lips over and over again as your head sinks deeper into his pillows, everything about this brings you a pleasure you haven’t felt before, it’s so much more intense than usual. 

“You always taste so good, baby,” he murmurs against you, nudging his nose against your clit as he slips his tongue into you, catching you off guard with his words and the sudden action. 

His free hand slipping back up to your chest, he pinches your nipple and rolls it with his thumb before he grabs your breast. 

“Don’t stop,” you breathe as you throw your hand over his, feeling out of control with your emotions when you slip your fingers through his and keep his hand there – right over your beating heart. 

Steve moans approvingly, squeezing your hand as he deepens all his movements, adding his fingers as he continues on pleasuring you with his mouth – a kind of pleasure you both get lost in. Moans and whimpers echo through the room, you pant and breathe heavily as waves crash over your body and you get closer and closer to the edge he never fails to bring you to. 

Watery eyes meet his soft ones, your fingers now molding together, your hips rising up to grind against his face as he unravels you. You see the way he is moving, the way his own hips grind against the mattress to find some sort of relief, his moans are just as desperate as yours.

His chin glistens with your slickness and he keeps moaning as though you’re the sweetest thing he ever tasted – and you are, you are the sweetest thing he ever tasted on his tongue, touching and feeling you this way burns everything in him and he can’t help but want more of it. 

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” he murmurs against you, pressing kisses to your sensitive nub as his fingers curl deeply inside of you, the tips grazing that very spot that makes you whine his name so cutely. 

You dig your nails into his skin as you still hold onto his hand, your other is still lost in his hair, gripping and tugging at it as the fire burns in your core, everything flutters inside of you. You blink through your tears and keep your eyes on him, watching the way he licks and sucks on your clit, the way he looks so content doing this. 

You try to speak though your words get lost when he speeds up his movements, making you shut your eyes in pleasure as your jaw falls slack. 

His long fingers slamming in and out of you, joined by his tongue again, he shakes his head from side to side, his nose nudging against your clit over and over again. 

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs against you, his voice adding vibrations, “look at me, I want to see your eyes.” 

You oblige, despite the tears that pool in your eyes, you do your best to grant him his wish. 

“Just like that, good girl,” he hums and hits that spot inside of you, causing your whole body to tense up and your cries to fill the room. He doesn’t stop there, not even when your body falls limp and your heavy breathing along with the sensitive whimpers sounds through the room now. 

Steve licks you through your high, moaning in delight and kissing your clit just to tease you, making you jerk and whimper. 

“Please,” you whisper, looking at him with your teary, pleading eyes. 

He pulls away but only to take his clothes off, finally, you were so lost in the pleasure you didn’t even notice just how much clothing was still on his body. 

He tears his tank top off and throws it down on the floor, unbuckling his belt next and practically tearing down his jeans and boxers, letting his aching dick slap against his stomach, his tip red and leaking, his length twitching as it did the whole time he was eating you out, he nearly busted before, the sensation of it all tonight, being too overwhelming and it’s hard to keep himself together when he looks down at your pretty face and your bare body, your pussy glistening and so ready for him. 

He could stare at you for hours but he feels so desperate to feel you, to be inside of you, he presses his palms against your knees and spreads them further apart, he settles in between them and leans down before you, looking deeply into your eyes after pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

He isn’t blind or unaware of the way your breathing stutters in your throat, the way you gulp and stare in confusion as you stare into his eyes. 

And then, you raise yourself up a little, propping yourself up on your elbow as you slip your hand down his stomach, making him breathe in harshly as his heart skips a beat. In lust, he watches the way you slip your own fingers through your slick folds, gathering your wetness before you bring your hand up to his cock, wrapping your hand around it, you start stroking him slowly, making him whimper at the feeling. He grips the sheets beneath you and watches the way your much smaller hand moves around him, the way you tease his slit with your thumb, making him shudder over you. 

“F-Fuck,” he whispers, trying not to close his eyes but this drives him crazy, the intimacy of it all making it all feel so much better, “just like that, baby.” 

A tiny noise, something close to a whimper falls from your lips thanks to the nickname he started giving you on occasions. 

“That feels so good,” he moans as he continues to watch, finding it hard to control himself, “are you ready for me?” He asks as his eyes move up your body before they meet yours again. 

You nod quickly and buck your hips up, teasing both him and yourself when you slide the crown of his dick through your sensitive folds before you guide him into your entrance. He instantly reaches for your hip, digging his fingers into your skin as he feels your warmth sucking him in, your wet walls gripping at him despite not being fully inside yet. He watches your face, the way it scrunches up in pleasure, the way your jaw falls slack and your eyes stay glued on him as you watch the way his cock disappears inside of you. He listens to your moans and feels the way you hold onto his shoulders tightly the moment he takes control. 

“Steve!” 

His heart could beat through his bones and rip through his skin at this moment and he wouldn’t care. 

He needs more, he needs you closer, he pushes in deeper and deeper, splitting you open and making you both whimper. He stills once he’s fully inside, letting out a shaky breath when he feels you pulsating around him. 

You breathe heavily, he can feel it, your chest is flush against his, he’s got you close, just like he wanted you. 

“S-Steve,” you repeat his name in a whisper, feeling overwhelmed by your emotions, by all those feelings, by this and yet you want more, you crave more, you crave him. You muster up all your strength and wrap your legs around his waist. 

“I know, baby,” he whispers, surprising you for yet another time this night when he moves both his hands up your body, one slipping from your shoulder to your wrist and then to your hand, lying his palm flat against yours, he cups your cheek with his other hand, sliding it across your jawline as he tilts your head up so he can see your eyes, so he can gaze into them. 

You feel as though your frown might stay permanent on your face after tonight, but everything he does confuses you, even more so when slips his fingers through the gaps in yours and intertwines them together, holding your hand tighter than ever before as he leans his forehead against yours. 

His breath mingles with yours, his nose nudges against yours and your lips touch but he doesn’t kiss you yet, he squeezes your hand as he pulls out and pushes back in, stealing your breath away. 

Everything about this feels so deep, so intimate, you feel vulnerable tonight with the way he handles you so differently. 

Tears of pleasure and love prickle in your eyes and you suddenly find it hard to keep your emotions down, especially when he closes his eyes and he kisses you as though it’s the only thing he is meant to do. His palm rests against your jawline as his fingers get lost in your hair. Your moans match his own as he starts rolling his hips, slowly and deeply. 

Your hands cling to each other, your chests are pressed together, he slides in and out of you, his tip hitting and rubbing against the spot that tears out sounds from you that you never made with anyone else before. 

As deep and hungry as the kiss is, you want to feel him closer, so after swallowing down the confusion and leaving the questions for another time, you bring him closer by sliding your free hand down his back, stroking his skin and grazing it with your nails, you grab his ass and dig your fingers into his skin, causing him to moan even louder as he thrusts deeper. 

You feel the shudders that grip at your body, the hot waves and the fire that burns within you, your heart that threatens to burst at the way it fills with even more love for the man panting above you, moaning just for you, because of you. 

Even when he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t move away from your lips, keeping his against yours as he opens his eyes again to look at you while his hips move faster and he fucks into you deeper. 

Steve strokes the top of your hand with his thumb, his other hand still resting on your jaw, his dark eyes gazing into your own, he looks at you so differently and it makes you want to cry, you are too overwhelmed, too sensitive, too vulnerable to feel such hopeful feelings when you know damn well that you could lose this and him any moment but how can you not hope when he looks at you as though you’re something worth loving, when he whispers your name as though it comes from his heart, when he pecks your lips and nuzzles his nose to yours. 

No words are spoken, your touches and the eye contact are enough tonight, everything he could speak with his words are written in his eyes. 

But everything that lies on the tip of your tongue, threatens to spill the closer you get and the longer he looks at you this way. 

I love you. I love you. I love you, you scream in your mind, not knowing that these words match the ones in his mind. 

Tears slip down your cheeks, tears that Steve kisses away with his lips as he holds you tighter and pulls you closer as his hips meet yours and he thrusts in deeper, his hand only letting go of your jaw so he can slip it down your stomach and touch you between your thighs, he catches your moan in a feverish kiss as his fingers rub at your sensitive nub. 

Your tongues clash together and your lips move sensually and roughly as he moves faster, making himself whimper in need. 

This isn’t the first time that Steve discovers something with you, but this makes him live through something entirely new, he had never felt anything like this before, he had never felt his heart race so fastly in his chest, he had never felt this kind of heat, this kind of fire burning in his whole body, nearly overwhelming him and making him cry too. 

His newfound feelings make this experience even more pleasurable, to hear your moans and to feel you clinging to his shaking body, to know that he is the one who is getting to touch you and feel you like this makes him feel… special. 

He wants you, he wants you in every way possible. 

He can feel his heart yearning for you, yearning for more with you, he can hear it screaming your name. 

Steve loves you, god, he loves you so much that his feelings nearly crush him. 

He wants you to know, he needs you to know but his fears hold him back and he swallows them down, begrudgingly so. 

If only he knew that you would cry tears of joy if he told you those three little words. 

If only you knew that this isn’t just sex, that this is something else, that he is making love to you. 

When you both reach your peak and you come undone, gasping and crying out in pleasure, you keep kissing, you don’t stop, despite the lack of air in your lungs, you keep kissing, you keep moving, you want more and more, you don’t want this moment to end. 

You can feel the shift of emotions, his touches feel so different than they did before, his hands and lips linger a little longer, his eyes look at you in a way that has your own skipping and fluttering. 

He keeps his fingers entwined with yours, even when he is no longer inside of you and chasing after his high, even when the moment is long over, he keeps holding your hand, he pulls you on top of him now, covering your lower half with the thin covers. 

And now it’s you who cups his cheek to kiss him, sliding your fingers down his jawline and moving your lips against his, nuzzling your nose against his just the way he did before. 

Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, playing with your hair and stroking your soft skin, smiling into the kiss as he gets lost in the feeling of love, a kind of love he never felt before. 

Sweat shines on Steve’s forehead, his hair clinging to his skin, his cheeks more flushed than before, he is humming into the kiss, feeling every happy emotion flushing through him as you make noises that leave his stomach with butterflies. 

You break the kiss with a soft giggle as you watch him chasing after your lips. 

He puckers his lips, begging for another kiss and how could you say no to him? 

You lean in again, not bothering to tuck your hair away when it falls in front of your face. You kiss his lips, only shortly, but enough to satisfy him. 

“Hmm, I might have to do this more often,” he murmurs and cups the back of your head when you lay your head on his chest. 

“Do what?” You ask as you loosen your grip on his hand and lay your palm flat against his, taking in the sight of how much larger his is. 

“Cook for you, you got all soft on me, Blondie,” he whispers and plays with your fingers, lacing them together with yours, making your heart flutter yet again. 

Your lips part and you raise your brows as you look at him, “oh, I got soft on you?” 

He is teasing you, you can see it, the way his lips tug into a smirk and his eyes flash with amusement. 

“Mhmm,” he nods, “got all sweet and adorable on me tonight, I can’t even remember what it’s like to deal with your mean side – not that I don’t like your mean side, I clearly do, turns me on, if I’m being honest.” 

A surprised giggle falls from your lips. 

It makes his heart flutter now, his eyes crinkle as a bigger smile appears on his face. 

“You’re kind of a dork, you know?” You whisper and rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, starry eyed. “I almost don’t remember your sassy side.” 

“Sassy?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Mhmm, you’re sassy, Lego head.” 

He chuckles softly, “Lego head, you haven’t used that in a while.”

You giggle again and reach your left hand up to touch his hair, brushing away the curls that are stuck to his forehead. 

“It's certainly very unique," he snorts, making you laugh and his eyes only light up further at the sound.

You don’t see the way he looks at you, you never really do but the awestruck look in his eyes is so hard to miss. 

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers as he rests his palm along your jaw, tucking your hair behind your ear as his hazel eyes trace your features. 

“Of course,” you whisper back. 

He blinks, taking a moment to speak up again, his cheeks still glowing pink underneath the golden light from the small lamp on his desk. 

“What’d you think of me when we first met?” He murmurs, blushing. “When we were teens… I mean…” 

His thumb grazes your bottom lip, he touches you so softly, so gently as he looks at you with patience. 

Your heart jumps in your chest, panic spreading around it as you repeat the question in your mind. 

Oh Steve, if only you knew, you think to yourself as you stare at him, taking him in and how he looks at you. 

No one’s ever looked at you this way. 

No one’s ever touched you this way. 

No one’s ever made you feel emotions that probably kept you alive during your darkest days. 

He deserves honesty, doesn’t he? 

But he is scared of it, you can see it in his eyes, you know how ashamed he is of how he acted as a teenager, and you know how bad he feels when others remind him of his past, teasing and laughing in his face about King Steve. 

If only he knew how much you have worshiped the ground he walked on from the moment you laid your eyes on him, how you never once thought badly of him, not even when he hurt you with cruel words. 

‘I have loved you from the moment your hand touched mine when you brushed past me in the hallway for the very first time.’ Is what you should say but you can’t, despite the aching feeling in your chest, you cannot utter these words, no matter the shift between you both tonight and the hope he filled you with. 

But he waits, he waits for you to answer his question and who are you to leave him waiting? 

“Insufferable. And a douche.” At those words, Steve’s eyebrows fall in sadness, prompting you to smile sweetly at him. “But I knew you never meant it. I knew it wasn’t truly you…”

“Oh? And how would you know that?” He asks, his thumb going in circles in the small of your back as your eyes twinkle with love, with admiration, with devotion.

“Because I saw you.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I don't get why the fandom likes to say Lily and Ginny look really similar to each other.

I mean, yeah, they both have red hair (different shades of red, btw), but all their other descriptions are very different, and the two probably don't look alike at all.

Let's start with their hair:

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes — her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape

(PS)

It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry’s eyes.

(OotP)

Ginny, on the other hand, is described with "flaming red" hair, so it's likely something like this:

Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn’t show it) with flaming-red hair

(PoA)

where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

(CoS)

As Lily's hair is described as "dark red", so we're probably talking on this sort of more auburn color while Ginny's (and her brothers) hair would be more orange (Lily - Left, Ginny - Right):

Also, Lily is described as having "thick" hair, while Ginny isn't. So, I usually imagine Ginny's hair as straight while Lily's has more waviness and volume to it.

Their eye color (and shape) is also different:

As I mentioned above, Lily has bright green almond-shaped eyes like Harry, while Ginny's eyes are described as:

He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, noticing as he did so that they were precisely the same shade of brown as Ginny’s.

(DH)

They are built really differently as well, and their facial structure is likely quite different too. Ginny is often mentioned to take after Molly (short with brown eyes) and we know Molly is plump and rounder:

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman

(CoS)

So, Ginny likely has a similar build, short and stocky (if likely less plump as she's more sporty. Also she didn't have 7 pregnancies yet which can also affect a woman's build), and has a round face. She is mentioned to be noticeably short of repeatedly:

“You need more persuasion?” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny. He stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest.

(OotP)

Harry looked over the top of Ginny’s head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass in his hand

(HBP) - Harry who's about 5'11 in HBP can easily see over the top of Ginny's head.

Lily, on the other hand, is Petunia's sister and likely shares some familial resemblance. Petunia is tall (for a woman, not tall-tall), thin, and she has a thin face:

Aunt Petunia’s thin, horsey face now appeared beside Uncle Vernon’s wide, purple one. She looked livid.

(OotP)

Plus, Lily is implied to be taller than Pettigrew (who I estimate at about 5'2 and taller than Ginny):

His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Harry recognized at once as Wormtail

(OotP)

Also when she stands next to a 5'11 James, she isn't mentioned to be shorter than him by a full head (like Ginny is and which is the kind of thing Harry often mentions):

The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her

(PS)

I always imagined Petunia as tall and thin and Lily not shorter by much. So, Lily is somewhere around 5'6-ish, I think, which is a bit taller than average, while I imagined Petunia is a little taller. And Lily would likely have a thin, slightly longer-looking face, especially compared to Ginny. (Harry too, is mentioned to have a thin face, like his mom).

Ginny, like the rest of the Weasleys, is very freckled:

My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.

(PS)

Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.

(GoF)

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned;

(GoF)

Note Fred, George, and Charlie, like Ginny are more similar to Molly, and all are covered in freckles.

Whereas Lily (or Petunia) is never mentioned to have freckles, and most likely doesn't have any. Her face is only ever described as white. If she did have freckles, Harry would have mentioned it since it's the kind of thing he notices. Especially considering how excited he is whenever he sees his parents' faces.

So, Ginny and Lily don't look at all alike, not even their hair is the same kind of red and I find all the jokes about Oedipus complex or Hinny looking just like Jily make very little sense when you look at their actual descriptions in the books. These two women look nothing alike (besides red hair (in different shades!) and white skin), so it just kind of annoys me when they're treated like look-alikes in fanon.

[majeoeje]

Beating heart (part 2)

Laios x reader

The only right answer was you

Part 1

Is this truly the right decision? You dwelled. The scent of the sea lingered in the air, the sounds of footsteps and people around you was enough to drown you.

You were leaving everything with little money in your pockets. Your stolen dowry surely wouldn’t last that long, you thought. You hoped your parents would ever find it in their hearts to forgive you for what you’re doing. But mostly… you hoped your betrothed would not harbor revenge for you.

Imagining their kind faces turning malicious made you falter. Suddenly the eight hours of horse ride that you just endured felt more than reckless. Maybe you should go back after all.. maybe if you turned back now, they’d still accept you and take you in with open arms.

As you took a step back you were bumped into someone.

You groaned before giving them a short apology not really looking at them in the eye.

“I knew it was them!” You frozed, A familiar male voice filled your ears. Upon hearing that it was as if you were transported back to your home. Back when you weren’t promised to someone you barely know, back when beginning a family wasn’t what everyone expected of you, back when you could have dreams, back to that simple village, back home.

And then you turned around to see that it was some weird unkept guy you didn’t know

You thought maybe you had mistaken someone else for your long time best friend, but then another voice appeared

“Hey, you’re right!!” Said the female voice

You audibly gasped seeing the woman, she was still the same as ever! maybe you weren’t wrong after all. And upon closer inspection, there was no denying it.

“Laios! Falin!!” You gleamed, before you shared a meaningful hug with both the Touden siblings

You almost didn’t recognize Laios with his unkept appearance, his hair growing past his eyes while you could tell he hasn’t been eating enough let alone shower or shave in that matter. You were so glad that Falin didn’t succumb to such things, keeping her appearance squeeky clean.

“It’s been too long” you let go not before you gave them a final squeeze

"We're so happy to see you.. agh- heyy..." Falin protested, you couldn't contain yourself from messing with her short hair upon seeing her signature closed eyed red cheeks smile.

"Are you planning to sail to the island too?" Laios said. Despite his drastic change you noticed that the golden hue of his eyes had never changed. It brought you a sense of relieve somehow. Despite everything, he will always be Laios.

“Traveling together would be nice”

The tone of his voice was rather hopeful. As if he wanted you to come alongside them. And by his words alone you could change your mind.

You thought about how nice it would be to travel together. Maybe you could become adventurers? As hard labour as dungeon exploring is.. you were hoping you could have your chance in it. Maybe now you could have your own room and live however you like, And maybe you could finally see the monsters that Laios was always so excited to talk about.

Aghhhh- you were stupid. You cursed yourself for being so easily swayed by him. The fact that Laios of all people didn't even need to ask you back then horrifies you. How are you that excited to see someone?

This realization came late to say the least. Years of adventuring had gone by and now you’re here. In this very moment. Grumbling alone to yourself about your past recklessness, as your other party members just lets you relish in your own madness (they already know you had lost it so why bother)

It was during your intense thought process that you didn’t notice Laios’ hand inching closer to yours only to falter away.

He wanted to tell you that dinner was almost ready but why was it so difficult??

Hesitant he rarely was, especially with you. But something had changed since last night, it was as if the beat of your heart had ingrained itself in the back of his mind, with each closing distance with you only adding to the fire that was the tune of your heart. It slowly eats him alive, drowning him, suffocating and burning him away with its sounds.

Though it wasn’t until now as he mindlessly observed you that he noticed that the fast and loud beat that was replaying over and over wasn’t yours at all in this moment.

He brought his hand to the left of his chest finding it hard to believe that his heart would beat this loudly for you. Has he always felt this way?

“Oh- Laios!… i didn’t see you there buddy” you were surprised to see Laios seating next to you. He couldn’t be there the whole time could he?? (He was)

You waited for his reaction, but he could only sit there and stare at you like he just had a realization too.

“I think-“

“Dinner’s ready!” Said senshi unknowingly interrupting Laios, presenting another one of his delicious cooked meals. The smell alone could make you drool. It doesn’t matter if it’s a monster as long as it’s good right? You choose not to dwell on the deeper meaning, ignorance is bliss. Some would say.

“What is it that you’re going to say?” You say attention now shifting back to him.

Laios looked like he wanted to say something but he shook his head and retaliated.

“Let’s eat, we can’t have other’s waiting” he stood up before going ahead to where the others are. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say. If Senshi hadn’t interrupted him, he knows that his sentence would just falls short.

Around the campfire everyone ate soundly, maybe it was because the lack of monster trivia on Laios’ part. You can’t help but miss it

It was during this moment that he wonders what is it that he wanted to say? What is it that he discovered? He knew that it was realization and he knew it was about you. But that was about it.

Marcille felt like the tension was rather dry, so she thought she’d finally ask you a question that has been itching itself in her brain

“Was it true that you were betrothed?” She asked, Laios practically choked on his food, it’s not like he didn’t know this, but he never thought to pay any mind to your past betrothal.

“Well, it was a long time ago..”

you wave your hand around, it’s true that it wasn’t a big deal anymore in your life but it does bring a sense of nostalgia in your mind at the times before you ran away from the village

“What were they like?” Asked Marcille, you could by the shine in her eyes that she loved romance books

You hummed before putting your empty plate down

“They were sweet, lovely,caring,hard working and very very stubborn” you laughed. “I could go on and on about how they were but we won’t have enough time”

The way in which you describe your betrothed was as if you were fond of them. It made Laios a little weary somehow. Why was that? It’s not like he hasn’t met them… in fact they were a good friend of yours, despite not getting along that much with him.

“You know by how you described them it would seem that you loved them” chilchuck asked, a little suspicious

Laios awaited your answer practically on the edge of his seat. Well it was pretty clear that you didn’t considering you ran away and what not, Laios said to himself

“I did” the sound of your confirmation was accompanied with the sound of Laios’ wooden bowl falling to the dungeon floor. “How could i not?”

When everyone looked at him he tried his best to seem normal, laughing nervously and saying how his bowl just slipped past his hand suddenly before gingerly picking it up.

“Then why did you leave??” Marcille was basically starry eyed, hearing you talk about your love life was what she had been waiting for.

While Laios was lost in thought. Would you want to come back to your betrothed? If you did loved them then it wouldn’t be outrageous or even wrong to get married to them once all of this is over.. but you would still go one a some adventures with him and fin before you di right?

it’s just that by then Laios had realized that he didn’t want you to marry anyone. He didn’t want his adventures with you and Falin to be over just yet. Such thoughts of you to be wed with other people lingered on his mind and soured his appetite.

“It’s because I didn’t want that life yet you know? I just didn’t want to settle down when i haven’t at least tried to reach my dream”

Your answer was short, Marcille begged you for details but suddenly you drifted the conversation to Chilchuck’s children. Then suddenly her attention drifted away. You chuckled at her antics, you didn’t thought it as nosy really,it was quite endearing to you.

“Do you.. still love them?..” Laios suddenly asked, a little quiet, but not quiet enough for you not to hear, the tint of insecurity was more than evident in his voice yet you couldn’t be more than blind to it.

After a long while you finally thought about them once again. Those days you spent everyday was more than lovely. At the time, you enjoyed their company more than anyone… it would be a lie if you were to claim that you did not love them. But even though you were glad that now you were able to look back at the fond memories you had and appreciate them, you never once wish you would go back.

“No.. at least not anymore” you reminiced, bittersweet it was.

So many questions filled Laios’ head. What if that person were to look for you? Would you come back to them? How long were you in love? He wanted to ask one by one yet only one was able to spill out of him

“Would you ever want to settle down?” Asked Laios.

Your cheeks grew warm. It was a if… he was asking for you to settle down with him.

You mentally slapped yourself for such thoughts. For fuck’s sake that was your best friend you were thinking about! You knew him ever since you were all but 2.

You looked back a few summers back. Back when you were with someone who once used to be your soon to be spouse. Back when you planned a whole future with them knowing that you didn’t actually wanted those things before ultimately throwing everything all away. You remember all the pain, anguish and guilt you felt as you ran away. You never wanted to feel like that ever again.

But.. you thought that if it were with Laios.. it would be different. It somehow just sat right to you.

“I would like that”

You unconsciously smile, you were ashamed to say that you were excited about such ideas, like he meant what he said anyways. You then realize the gentle hold of his hand on yours, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your knuckles before carefully tracing down to one particular finger, perhaps someday where a wedding ring would be.

“I would also like that”

[hcsiqs]

| i love you, im sorry

• pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

• summary: inspired by gracie abram’s i love you im sorry

• warnings: angst ?? mean!paige kinda…

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Paige, please,” you begged as tears fell from your eyes and you tried to get the blonde girl to look at you, but she refused. “Don’t just push me away!”

“Go y/n! I don’t need you anymore, ok?” she replied, hurt evident in her voice. She jerked her arm away from you.

She had just torn her ACL and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially you. It seemed like everything you had been doing for the past few weeks set her off. She hated the way you tried to help her and the fact that it seemed you pitted her, even though you weren’t trying to. You just wanted to help her, that’s all you ever want to do.

“I’m just trying to be there for you,” your voice dropped into a softer voice as mascara stained your cheeks.

“Well I don’t need you to be here for me or whatever the fuck,” she ran her hands down her face.

“I wanna help because I love you P,” you tried reminding her that all of this came from your love for her, but she didn’t wanna hear it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” her voice broke as she her piercing blue eyes made contact with your own and you could see that she meant every word.

You bit your lip trying to hold back your sniffles as your lips curved into a frown without you even trying. Your arms crossed over your body as you let out a hushed, “Ok,” before packing all your things from her room into a bag and leaving without saying another word. That was the last time you talked to Paige junior year.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all

that often, we're cool now

Paige had decided to stay an extra year at UConn due to her injury that she suffered from a few years prior. And you just so happened to also be staying at UConn to get your graduates degree.

Obviously going to the same school you two had bumped into each other and exchanged a few words, but nothing much, both always seeming to be in a rush to avoid the awkwardness.

You had decided on taking a few summer classes and as you were walking with your head down you found yourself run into a taller figure. When you stepped back you immediately recognized who it was.

“Paige,” you said with a tight lipped smile.

“Y/N,” she replied with the same smile before shooing her teammates off. “How’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good,” you nodded, “Staying busy, you?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” she replied nodding her head while shoving her hands into her pockets. “You—uh—you look good,” her eyes scanned you up and down, something you had gotten used to when you were together.

“Thanks. You too,” you were trying to keep the interaction short and sweet, not wanting to get into anything. “I gotta go, but see you around?”

“For sure,” she nodded before you walked off and tried erasing the entire interaction from your brain.

It wasn’t like you had talked at all in the past two years. You had your civil interactions here and there but never had them for too long. And you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted it to just stay cool between the two of you. Not wanting to bring up y’all’s past.

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

You had just finished your fall semester finals, so you and your friends decided to celebrate and get rid of all the stress by going to Ted’s and getting drunk.

It just so happened to be the same night that the UConn women’s basketball team had won a hard game against one of the best schools, and they had all decided to out to celebrate.

And that’s how you found yourself staring down a certain blonde at the bar who was obviously flirting with another girl. You kept telling yourself that it shouldn’t bother you because you had broken up almost two years ago now, but you could shake the “I loved her first” from your brain as you watched the two.

So, you took another shot to try and distract yourself. The burning sensation trickled down your throat before walking past Paige, ‘accidentally’ hitting her arm.

And once you found yourself in the comfortable muffled silence of the bathroom the door swung open to reveal the tall blonde basketball player. “What’s your problem? You’ve been staring at me all fuckin night long.”

“Have not,” you slurred, rolling your eyes and turning away from her to look in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had taken and your mascara was messy under your eyes from continually rubbing them.

Paige moved closer to you, but not too close, almost scared that if she did you would run away and she would lose her chance. “Yeah. You have.”

“No,” you shook your head, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

“Dude, just fucking talk to me!”

“No! You don’t get to act like what happened is my fucking fault,” you raised your voice turning to the side to actually look at her up close. “You pushed me away, not the other way around.”

“I know and I regret it everyday. But every time I try to talk to you, you rush off!” Paige started moving her hands to represent her frustration with the situation.

“Why would I wanna talk to someone who is just going around flirting with random girls,” you snapped back before even realizing what you were saying. But as soon as the words left your mouth you immediately slammed your lips shut, afraid of what might come from them if you didn’t.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay?” your hands found their way into your hair, brushing it back with your fingers.

A moment of silence fell between the both of you. Neither really knowing what to say in the moment.

“Forget what I said,” you shook your head, wanting to disappear from the entire moment.

“I miss you,” she confessed as you tried pushing past her to get out of the small room.

You felt as if your heart was gonna beat out of your chest at those words. The words you had been wanting to hear since your fight two years ago. The words you had fought to hear that same night but never did.

“I miss you too, P,” your drunken self admitted. Your glossy eyes meeting hers. It seemed like your heart had stopped in that moment and nothing existed but the two of you.

I love you, I'm sorry

allie’s corner

this is lowkey poop im sorry

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (7 - Fix the Dead)

Chapter Summary: A conversation with Wanda about the twins’ rapid growth leaves you both struggling with guilt and loss. Clint’s attempt to contact you through a vintage radio ends in disaster, as Wanda tightens her hold on her fragile reality. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: So, cat's out of the bag--Reader is actually alive. Three more chapters until we close part 1! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Please, talk to me.”

You look over your shoulder. You've been pretending to sleep for almost an hour now, and just when you thought Wanda had drifted off and you could sneak out to spend some time alone with a book in the living room, she surprises you.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face her. The sight that greets you instantly breaks your heart. Even in the darkness, with only a sliver of blue moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate her face, you can see her lonely, anxious expression.

“What is there to talk about?” you whisper back.

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull it back slightly. “I can feel your sadness,” she murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

You take a deep breath, burying half of your face in the pillow, your throat tightens and your eyes begin to sting at her simple inquiry into your well-being. You want to remain silent, but you know you can't—and shouldn't—hide your feelings from Wanda. Your efforts are superfluous anyway, she always has a way of seeing right through you.

You give a small nod, unable to voice out more.

Wanda sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before the doubt and fear catches up to you. “Did I do something?” she asks softly.

You bite your lower lip, struggling to hold back the feelings swelling up inside you like a dam ready to burst. “It's the boys,” you finally say.

Her disarming green eyes search yours earnestly. “What about them?”

You sit up fully, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “They're growing up too fast, Wanda. One moment they're babies—I’ve barely held them—and the next they're ten years old. I feel like we're missing out on so much.”

Wanda swallows hard. The twins’ childhood has lasted barely a week. Having lost her own childhood at a very young age, she knows the pain of missing out, and she desperately wants her children to experience a proper childhood. But here in Westview, Wanda has learned to look on the brighter side of things. At least you both have Tommy and Billy; you're a complete family. They're happy with who they are and what you have together as a family. At least you're here with her, raising them, no matter how short the time given to both of you.

She reaches for your hand again, and this time you let her hold it. “They're just exploring their abilities,” she says, repeating the assurances she's been telling herself. “You know how kids are…”

You don’t look entirely convinced by that, so Wanda sits up too, tightens her grip on your hand. “They're special. You know that their abilities make them different,” she points out.

“Different doesn't mean we have to skip their entire childhood,” you reply bitterly. “I didn't get to see their first steps, hear them say ‘Mama’ for the first time. Those moments are gone, and I can't get them back.”

Beside you, she tenses. You don’t need to look to know she understands—she wasn’t there for those moments with the boys either.

“Doesn't it bother you?” you ask. “Even a little?”

Wanda glances away for a second, quickly blinking back any sign of weakness before she looks at you again. “It does. But I've been so focused on keeping everything together that I didn't stop to think about what we might be losing.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling bad for thinking Wanda didn’t care. She just seems so… tolerant of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you say, scooting closer and wrapping your arms around her. “I bet you wanted those milestones just as much as I do. Just…forget I said anything.”

Wanda leans into your embrace. “No, you’re right to bring it up. They’re missing out on so many things, too.”

“How can we fix this? Can we even fix it?” you ask.

Wanda understands it’s not about whether she can intervene—it’s about whether she should. She could easily use her powers to stop the boys from skipping ahead. But it’s the ethics of it that she’s wrestling with ever since she did it to you. 

“Maybe next time, I could… ensure things go differently?” she suggests carefully. 

The implication of her words doesn’t go over your head. “Wanda, we can’t do that,” you tell her softly. “I... I don’t think we should do anything without their consent, even if we think it’s for the best.”

Wanda pulls back in shame. “You’re right. I’ve been making too many decisions for everyone.”

You gently hold her cheek, making her look at you. “It's okay, Wanda.”

She fights the urge to disagree, to shake her head and confess that it's not okay. She's made these choices for you too many times, and it’s clearer now than ever how much she’s overstepped, compromising your privacy and trust.

“Maybe we can talk to them?” you suggest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think they’ll listen?”

You offer her a sleepy, crooked smile. “I hope so,” you say. “But even if they don't, we'll be there for them, whatever they choose.”

You gently coax her to lie back down, and Wanda instinctively pulls your head to her chest, letting you rest your head against her. This time, you drift off quickly, soothed by the steady beat of her heart into a deep and dreamless sleep.

–

“Why keep it a secret?” Monica demands though not unkindly. She can’t wrap her head around why you’d choose to disappear and fake your own death, especially now that Wanda is back from the Snap. While it's undoubtedly a relief to learn that someone isn't dead, Monica can't help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.

All this time, they believed they could persuade Wanda to abandon her fantasy in Westview. But now, with everything she desires apparently right here, why would she ever choose to leave?

And more importantly, how would she ever allow any of them to leave?

“Also, how do we know you’re not lying again?” Darcy adds quickly.

Clint raises a hand to calm the room, nodding toward the television where you just appeared, very much alive. “Clearly, there's evidence that she's there,” he says calmly, pointing out the obvious. “Living and breathing just like the rest of us.”

Everyone quiets down, accepting his point. It checks off one of the many questions they've had since this whole thing started.

“She wanted it this way,” Clint then tells Monica, in response to her question earlier. “Believe me, it hit the kid hard, watching Wanda turn to ashes right before her eyes... I lost my family that day too. But at least I was spared from seeing it happen.”

Monica can only imagine what it was like. She was snapped away, but she counts herself lucky she wasn’t one of those left behind to endure the absence.

“Does Y/N know that Wanda returned from the Snap?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. Everyone looks at him, expecting more, but it’s clear he meant to keep his answer short and sweet.

Jimmy taps his pen against his notepad. “So how did Wanda find her?”

“That's the million-dollar question,” Clint says, glancing back at the screen now showing only static. “Last I heard from Y/N was about five months ago. She settled in Reykjavik. Wanted to live a quiet life.”

Monica crosses her arms, the gears in her head haven't stopped turning since finding out you’re really alive. “And now she's in Westview, starring in Wanda's show?”

“Doesn't add up,” Clint agrees. “Y/N was determined to stay hidden.”

“Maybe Wanda found out Y/N was alive and pulled her into this reality she made,” Darcy says.

“Or perhaps Y/N reached out to Wanda,” Jimmy suggests.

“She wouldn’t,” Clint counters gruffly, dismissing the idea outright. After a second, he adds, “And if Y/N didn't want to be found, she wouldn’t be. She was always skilled at vanishing.”

Monica thinks it over. “But Wanda's powers have grown exponentially. Maybe she picked up on Y/N’s presence somehow.”

“Still doesn't explain why Y/N would play along,” Clint counters. “I know her. She wouldn’t agree to this.”

Darcy shrugs. “Unless she’s being controlled by Wanda.”

Clint clenches his jaw. “Y/N's strong-minded. It'd take a lot to manipulate her. Besides, Wanda wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Clearly,” Darcy scoffs. Clint’s lips press into a thin line, struggling to hold back a retort to that.

Jimmy flips through his notes. “From what we've observed, she seems... compliant. But there are moments where she looks almost aware.”

“You noticed that from the show?” Clint asks.

“Not from the show,” Monica clarifies, standing up. “From me.”

Clint gives her a puzzled look.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I’ve been inside the Hex.”

“You were there? How did you manage to get out?” Clint asks, both horrified and a little impressed.

Monica sighs. “I mentioned something that referenced the real world. Wanda didn't like it. She literally threw me out of town.”

Clint runs a hand through his hair, processing this new information. “So, she really is controlling everything in there, and anyone who challenges that gets expelled?”

“Exactly,” Monica nods. “And now that we’ve found out that the real Y/N is in there with her, it looks like Wanda’s got everything she wants. That throws a wrench in our plans.”

Clint rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And your plan was to...?”

“To...” Monica trails off, suddenly realizing how naive it sounds. “...talk her out of it.”

Clint furrows his brow and lets out a noncommittal “Hmmm.”

“I know how it sounds,” Monica says, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “But I thought if I could just reach her, reason with her, maybe I could get through. I've lost people too—”

“We all have,” Clint replies. “Though maybe not to the extent she has.”

“Parents, brother, best friend, lover...” Darcy ticks off Wanda’s losses on her fingers. “That's pretty much every key relationship in a person's life.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jimmy asks, turning to Clint, who looks like he’s been hit with a freight train over the last five minutes. Overwhelmed would be an understatement—he probably needs an Advil after this conversation.

Clint exhales sharply, mulling it over while the others watch him, waiting.

“I'm usually a man of action,” he says slowly, “but sometimes it's better to try talking before jumping into a fight. Only, I don't think it's Wanda we should be trying to reach out to.”

“Then who?” Monica asks.

Clint licks his lips. “Y/N.”

–

“Where’s Sparky?”

It's odd to see the boys without their four-legged companion ever since they adopted him. He's been their whole world lately, and even Wanda spends her breaks between chores playing with the puppy. 

Billy and Tommy exchange uneasy glances. “He... ran out the front door,” Billy says, his voice papery-thin.

“What do you mean he ran out?”

“We tried to catch him, but he was too fast,” Tommy reasons.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Guys, you can't just let your pet run off like that. What if he'd been hit by a car? I'm… I’m really disappointed.”

“We’re sorry,” they mumble, eyes fixed on the floor.

“This is why I asked you boys to wait,” you say gently. “Maturity doesn’t just come from aging yourselves up—it takes time and experience. Do you understand why that matters now?”

They nod, a little slower this time. “We understand,” Billy says quietly.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to stay upset for long. “Let’s go find Sparky. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

The three of you set out into the neighborhood, calling Sparky's name. It's around four in the afternoon, with about two hours of daylight left—plenty of time to search. After half an hour of knocking on doors and showing neighbors pictures of the scruffy Jack Russell, you begin to worry that finding him might require a more extensive search. The boys look really upset, and you feel guilty about reprimanding them earlier, even though you knew you had to be honest about their oversight. Just as you're about to suggest checking the park behind the townsquare, Agnes appears behind the bushes on her lawn, cradling something in her arms.

“Agnes?” you call out, a sick swirl of hope and dread twisting in your stomach.

“I…” Agnes approaches slowly, her face somber. Even before she gets close, you can already tell that whatever she’s carrying is limp and motionless. “I didn’t wanna come until I’d wrapped him up…”

Wanda pulls up just then, fresh from the grocery store. She’s barely out of the car when she notices you and the boys, your somber expressions stopping her in her tracks. She hurries over and follows your gaze. “What's that?” Wanda asks.

“Found him in my azalea bushes,” Agnes says, sidestepping the question. You glance at the twins, your heart sinking at the sight of their scared, regretful faces.

“I don’t know how many leaves he ate,” Agnes continues, her voice dropping even lower. “I didn’t find him until it was too late. Tommy, Billy, I’m so sorry.”

The brothers break forward. “No! Sparky!” they cry, tears streaming down their faces.

Your eyes sting as you pull them close. “I’m so sorry, guys,” you whisper, holding them tightly. They cling to you, their tear-soaked faces pressed against your shirt, and for a moment, the world feels still. But a moment later, they pull back, exchanging a glance—a silent conversation you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“Wait,” you say in panic, quickly stepping between them, as if the act alone could stop whatever plan is forming in their heads. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Boys, stop,” Wanda says, kneeling down to their level. “The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. But growing up isn't the way to avoid getting hurt. It…it teaches you to face it, feel it…learn from it. Trust me, I know.”

Billy wipes his eyes. “But it's too sad,” he whispers.

“I—”

Tommy, unlike his brother, has fire in his eyes. “You can fix anything, Mom. Fix the dead,” he pleads.

“You can do that?” comes Agnes’ voice behind her. 

You turn to your wife, who seems struck silent by Tommy's request. You know Wanda is powerful, her abilities growing stronger by the day, but reversing the natural order of things—that feels impossible and wrong.

“Some things can't—and shouldn't—be fixed,” you say, looking from one twin to the other. “Some things are final.”

“It's not fair,” Billy mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

You swallow hard. “I know. But maybe we can give Sparky a proper goodbye.” Agnes takes that as her cue to hand Sparky back to the boys. Wanda stands a few steps away, her face unreadable. The twins clutch the dog tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks.

You reach out toward your wife. “Honey—”

But Wanda steps further back, her eyes avoiding yours. “I... I need to start dinner,” she mutters, turning away before you can say more.

“Wait, can we—” you start, but Wanda’s already turning away, disappearing into the house.

–

The boys try to skip dinner, claiming they're not hungry, so you play your ace and order pizza, knowing they can't say no to that. Wanda just gives you a wary look and announces she's heading to bed early. You make a point of eating a good portion of Wanda’s dinner—not just to avoid waste but because you genuinely enjoy her cooking—before you tuck the boys in for the night.

After making sure they're settled, you decide to check on Wanda. You find her in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“Wanda?” you say softly.

She doesn't turn. “Are the boys okay?” she asks quietly.

“They're handling it,” you reply, approaching the bed. “They needed you.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you say softly, sitting beside her. Your hand rests on her shin, fingers starting to massage in slow, soothing circles. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”

When she finally looks at you, your breath catches. Her eyes are swollen, red from crying. You reach for her hand, but she keeps it clenched in her lap. “I feel like I’m letting them down. Letting you down,” Wanda says quietly.

“Are you kidding? You’re an amazing mom to our boys. And the best wife I could ever ask for.”

She scrunches her nose, clearly struggling to accept your words. You smile, finding it endearing how shy she still gets whenever you compliment her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, lacing your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

“Have you eaten anything?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Well, let's fix that,” you say, standing up, pulling her with you. “Come downstairs with me.”

“But you've already had dinner,” Wanda says.

You smile. “There's always room for dessert.”

–

Darcy practically jumps out of her seat, pointing excitedly at the screen. “That's our shot!”

Monica, Jimmy, and Clint look up from the reports scattered across the table, their brows furrowed in confusion. Hayward’s team is still stuck, unable to figure out how to get equipment through the barrier without it being warped into something unrecognizable. The working theory is that anything era-appropriate to Wanda’s “show” might make it through intact.

“A shot at what?” Jimmy asks.

“Reaching Y/N through Wanda's kitchen radio!” Darcy exclaims, already grabbing her coat. The others scramble to follow her outside to where her equipment is set up, ready to put their old theory to the test. 

Darcy starts adjusting the dials on a makeshift transmitter hooked up to a vintage-looking radio. “If we can sync up with the frequency of the broadcast, we might be able to get a message through,” she reminds them, her breath forming clouds in the cold.

Clint eyes the gadgets cluttering the back of the truck. “Is this really going to work?”

Darcy smirks. “Well, considering traditional methods aren't exactly panning out, it's worth a try.”

“Someone should keep an eye on things from the inside,” Monica surmises.

“I'll head back and keep watch,” Jimmy volunteers, already walking back to the tent. “I’ll radio in if it works.”

Monica turns to Clint with a thoughtful expression. “Who do you think should try talking to Y/N?”

“I'll give it a try,” he says. “Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help snap her out of it.”

Monica nods. “Good idea. She trusts you.”

Darcy comes up to them with the transmitter. “Alright, it's ready to go. Just press this button when you're ready to speak,” she instructs, handing the device to Clint.

Monica grabs her radio and contacts Jimmy. “Agent Woo, what's the situation inside?”

“Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Y/N is alone in the kitchen, looks like she's preparing dinner.”

“Thanks,” Monica smiles slightly. “Perfect timing. She's alone—we can reach her now.”

Clint nods, stepping closer to the microphone. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters. He presses the button and speaks into the microphone. “Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

–

You’re pouring two glasses of wine, waiting for dinner to finish heating, when the old radio by the sink crackles to life.

“Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

You freeze, hand hovering over the glass. The voice is faint, broken, but you heard your name. 

And his.

Clint? Why does that sound so familiar?

You glance at the radio, its dial unmoved. Adjusting the antenna slightly, you try to wait for another message to come through, but only static follows. You resume what you’re doing, only for the radio to speak again—directly to you, it seems.

“Jesus, Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

Your hand trembles violently, forcing you to set the wine bottle down before it slips from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you stare at the radio. “Hello?” you whisper, not really sure you believe what's happening. It feels like a dream. Other than your wife, who could even make a radio do this? 

And why would they need to talk to you?

“Finally! We've been trying to reach you. Listen, you have to—”

Before he can finish, a sharp burst of static erupts. The radio sparks violently and explodes right in front of you. You barely have time to shield yourself as fragments fly past, one slicing across your cheek. Wincing, you touch your face and your fingers come away smeared with blood.

“What was that?” Wanda's voice calls from the other room. You can hear her hurried footsteps approaching, but you can’t seem to move or say anything, too shocked to respond.

She appears in the doorway, eyes widening as she sees the blood on your cheek and the smoking wreckage of the radio. 

“You're hurt!”

In a flash, she’s on you, her hands checking your face, her thumb brushing near the cut. She tries to wipe away the blood, but it keeps coming, stubborn and unrelenting.

“I-It's nothing…”

“We need to clean this up,” she says, too calm, like it’s normal to find you bleeding after a radio exploded.

“I'm fine, really,” you insist weakly, but she’s already fetching a cloth and pressing it against your wound.

As she tends to you, her eyes dart quickly to the destroyed radio. “These old things can be so dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Yeah…” 

Someone named Clint had tried to reach you. Who is he? And why did the radio explode? There are too many questions swimming in your head, overwhelming enough to numb the sting of your wound.

“You're shaking,” Wanda notes softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe,” you concede, allowing her to guide you to a chair.

She kneels in front of you, dabbing gently at your cheek. “It's not deep. You'll be okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumble absently. 

Wanda purses her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure if you should tell Wanda what just happened or ask her about Clint. But something inside holds you back.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for her hand as she tends to your wound, and lightly kissing her palm. “Promise.”

–

Jimmy stares at the screen, where the words “We'll be right back!” are now plastered, replacing the live feed. The broadcast had cut out the moment you answered Clint's call with a hesitant hello. He runs outside, where Clint, Monica, and Darcy are huddled around the equipment. The cool air bites at his cheeks, but he barely notices.

“The broadcast’s down,” Jimmy says, slightly winded. “The second Y/N responded to the radio, it switched to a standby screen.”

Clint's hand falls away from the microphone. He knew it was a long shot with Wanda just a room away. “Now she knows we're trying to make contact,” he remarks grimly. “I’m sure Wanda will find a way to block any future transmissions from here out.”

Darcy doesn’t look up, her fingers flying over her tablet. She curses under her breath, scowling at the screen. “Yeah, looks like she’s already on it,” she mutters.

Monica rubs her hands together, exhaling into them for warmth. “Alright, clearly this isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“Uh, guys…?” Darcy cuts in, looking around. “Is it just me, or does it seem way emptier out here tonight?”

Everyone stops, taking in their surroundings. Sure enough, the area is quieter than usual—just a couple of guards lingering near the barrier and not much else.

Jimmy crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on the tent serving as a Command Center. “Either everyone’s on break at the same time, or Hayward’s pulled them all into a meeting.”

They exchange uneasy glances, the same thought running through their heads. What’s this meeting about—and why does it feel like they’ve been deliberately left out?

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 8

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Rhys and Cassian talk about Under the Mountain. The twins, Rhys and Cass meet the bone carver where Y/N sees someone unexpected, the IC goes out for dinner and two familiar faces come to greet Y/N. Cassian gets jealous.

Content Warnings: broad allusion to the S/A of Rhys. Mention of death by childbirth, unwanted touching from a stranger in a bar setting.

A/N: This is a chapter that i'm really happy about! I'm excited to share but this is also where I'm going to warn that we're no longer going to follow canon exactly. Big moments will happen in the same order but i'm adjusting time lines and some canon moments to fit what I want. I hope you liked this chapter as much as I do. I'm also close to 500 followers and that's crazy. Thank you for reading and giving my stories some love!

Word Count: 6.5

Unwavering Masterlist, ACOTAR Masterlist, Chapter 7

Rhysand’s POV

I opened the door to peek inside, and my heart swelled. The twins were curled up on the bed together Y/N’s arm protectively over Feyre. Their faces were so peaceful, not a worry on their features. I smiled and closed the door. Turning to walk away, I jumped as Cassian was leaning against the wall arms crossed, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, unapologetic snoop.” I flipped him off and he chuckled. “Everything okay?” His tone turned serious.

I smiled, “Yeah, they are sleeping together.”  I paused as Cassian raised an eyebrow, “I mean they are asleep on the same bed. Don’t make it uncomfortable, brother.”

Cassian feigned offence placing a hand over his heart, “Rhys, how you wound me so!”  I rolled my eyes, as my brother’s face grew serious, “Do you think they are going to resolve their issues?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, “I think they have already begun.” I looked back at the door and could hear the two rustling in bed before they settled. I nodded my head toward my study. Cassian held his arm out letting me lead the way. When we got into the study Cassian sat on the couch. “Cassian.”

“Rhysand.” He counters his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped together, his siphons gleaming in the fae light.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, “I have a confession to make.”

Cassian brows furrowed, “By all means, Rhys, leave me in suspense.” He chuckled his laughter died in his throat at my face, “Shit, what is it?”

“There is something about that night that Y/N defended those girls, I never told you.” Cassian gave me his undivided attention. I held my hand out and Cassian rose from his seat, tucking in his wings he gripped my hand, and I took him to that night:

Cassian.

This girl reminded me of Cassian. Even as Amarantha cinched her wrist together, Y/N kept her chin up, her eyes met mine noticing aware her twin was on my lap her head on my shoulder. My hand remained on her waist. Amarantha had Y/N pinned to her. It’s like I could hear him chuckle, “Where the hell did you find these two human women, brother?”

Breathe. I’m sorry Y/N, I cannot help you.

Those girls didn’t deserve to see the cruelties of this world just yet. Try to keep their innocence.

Cassian would have said something similar with that same stance that same glint in his eye. I gave her a nod, and for the first time in 49 years I could not reign in the memory of my brother or the hope in my chest of seeing him again. Maybe these two human girls would be able to break this curse. Then I can go home and tell him about her. I can’t afford to think that way and I chug the rest of my wine.

 “Eris Vanserra, please step forward.” My blood ran cold as the heir of the Autumn Court’s name came out that witch’s mouth. My gaze drifted over to the red-haired male step up as Amarantha forced Y/N to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

I gripped her sister tightly as she began to wiggle, “Darling, dance for me, will you?” I whispered in her ear. She drunkenly giggled and got up to begin to dance. I could feel Y/N’s pulse quicken, Breathe. Through your nose. I could see she obeyed as Eris lifted her to her feet. I fought against gritting my teeth keeping my mask of cool indifference. I focused on Feyre as her hips swayed positioned right between my legs. My gaze drifted back and saw that Eris put a collar of flames around her neck and he was guiding her by a leash of flame. The crowd separated as he approached me.

Feyre spun and saw her sister and smiled, “Y/N,” she grinned not realizing her sister was in the grips of a viper and yet she still held her chin up high a challenge in her eye. Again, I could hear Cassian’s voice, “You need to keep her safe, Rhysand. Keep her alive so I can meet her.”

I pulled from the memory and Cassian sat in the chair across from mine, his face unreadable and his shields were locked up tight. “Cass, it was the second time I let myself think of you. The first is when she defeated the worm, and she gave a dramatic bow to the crowd as Feyre threw a muddy bone to Amarantha. When Y/N ran up to those girls I allowed myself to think of you and the hopes of coming home so I could tell you about them. Y/N did something dangerous without ever knowing.”

Cassian took a deep breath, “What was that?”

“Hope,” I lifted my hand and a decanter, and two glasses appeared I poured two fingers worth in both glances and handed one to my brother, “She gave me hope that we would make it out of this, that we would be able to come home. And when I dropped Feyre into her cell, I made it back to my room and cried. I cried so hard I vomited I let out 49 years’ worth of missing you, Azriel, Mor, even Amren.” Cassian chuckled, “This one human girl unraveled me all because she reminded me of you.”

Cassian smiled and gripped his hand in mine, “Well you did make it home, brother, and you kept you promise too spiritual me.” I snorted as he continued, “She’s wonderful Rhys.” He released my hand, and I watched as his eyes went distant, “Is it possible to fall in love with someone from the first time you’ve met them.”

I tilted my head, “What?”

Cassian sat up straight, flaring his wings, and his cheeks turned a shade of red against his tan skin, “What? Did I say that out loud, mother above.” He drinks the alcohol to the dregs and sets the glass down. “I enjoy her company. Is all I’m saying.”

I chucked, “Someone have a little crush, brother?”

Cassian leveled me with a glare, “Shut it, you prick.” 

“I mean, Y/N, is funny. Kind.”

Cassian interjected, “Extremely kind.”

I grinned slyly, “She’s also beautiful.”

Cassian exhaled and his face morphed into a lovesick teenager’s, “The word beautiful doesn’t hold a candle to what she is.” Cassian blinked and looked over at me. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I chuckled and stood having this sudden feeling of being dirty I plucked lint from my shirt and Cassian’s brow furrowed, “You’ve been doing that a lot since you’ve been home.” There was an underlying question that caused me to straighten my spine. “You don’t have to talk about it, Rhys, but I am here, if you want to.”

He stood and walked out of the study leaving me as my thoughts drifted to those haunted

Reader’s POV

I could feel eyes watching me as I slept and I jolted awake, Feyre doing the same to see Amren at the foot of the bed. “Don’t you knock.” I muttered rubbing my eyes. The morning sun filtered in the room.

Amren threw an amulet onto Feyre’s lap, “This is on loan. I expect this to be returned.”

Feyre looked at the jeweled necklace and looked at the tiny female confusion on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s, what helped me get out of the Prison, girl, you’ll need it today.” With that she left. Feyre and I exchanged glances and I simply shrugged sliding off the bed.

“Y/N,” I turned as my sister slid out of the bed as well, “Would you come with us today? To see the Bone Carver.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Rhys purred as he leaned against the door, Feyre threw a pillow at him, and he ducked in time that it flew in the hall. Rhys smirked and tucked a hand in his pocket.  “Such a violent little thing.”  I rolled my eyes.

“You two make me sick.” I muttered at the same time Feyre asked, “Don’t you knock.”

Rhys looked at me, “Do you want to come join us today?”

I nodded, “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”  I walked toward the door, Rhys blocked the door, I crossed my arms.

“Want Cassian to come?” Rhys lifted a suggestive brow.

I pursed my lips, “He’s a grown male, he probably has other things to do.”

Cassian popped up behind Rhys, “It just so happened that Rhys cleared my Schedule, Princess.” He gave me a wink and I fought the butterflies flittering in my stomach.

“A group adventure it is.” I looked at Rhys, my smile falling as I noticed the dark circles sunk in his eyes and stars gone and he looked distant.  You, okay? I reached out into his mind.

Rhys met my stare, Never better.

Liar.

High Lords can’t afford to have breakdowns in the time of War, Y/N.

I snorted. Someone better inform the High Lord of the Spring that.

Rhys laughed and placed a kiss on my cheek, “You are something else, Angel.”

My face didn’t change. If you need to talk, I’m here. You need to heal too. War or not.

Stars flickered back into his eyes, and he nodded as I moved to get to my room. The sound of boots was the only indication that I was being followed. “Something I can do for your, General?” I didn’t bother to turn around as I asked the question.

His hand gripped my wrist gently, “I wanted to see if you were okay.” His eyes drifted from my face to my chest.  His face tilted as he gently pushed my hair behind my shoulder. I had to remind myself to breathe as he tugged the tunic to reveal the new tattoo there. “Well, hello,” he purred as his eyes flicked to mine, my toes curled, and I had to fight my arousal by his sensual tone. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”

I took a deep breath and centered myself trying to ignore how him rubbing his thumb against my tattoo caused my whole body to thrum in response. “Feyre and I made a promise to one another. The tattoo appeared not long after that.”

Cassian nodded, letting the silence blanket the hall and I was able to take a good look at him. His eyes had a warm kind glow to them and being this close little flecks of green poked through, and one eyebrow had a slit going through where a white scar laid bare. His face had stubble on it as if he hadn’t shaved yet and I yearned to cup his face to feel it against my skin. My eyes drifted to his lips full and as tan as his skin. My mind wandered as I thought what it would be like if I pressed my own to them. What would he taste like. Cassian shifted eyes widened and I hadn’t realized how close our faces had gotten. I took a step back and cleared my throat, “I should probably get ready.”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and a blush fell onto his cheeks it made him look boyish, “Good idea,” his voice was husky and slightly strained, and he tucked his lower lip behind his teeth. He was beautiful in every sense of the word.

 I turned forcing myself to look away from him and headed to my room when his voice rang out, “Princess,” I turned my head back he opened and closed his mouth and opened once more, “The prison is cold make sure to bundle up.” He looked pained as he said it, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you, General.” I winked and continued to my room all the while settling the erratic beating of my heart.

***

Cassian was not lying about it being cold. Rhys had winnowed us to the side of the mountain where the cold air pierced my skin. I wore my leathers with fleece line leggings and a long sleeve tunic underneath, but my teeth were still chattering. Cassian shuffled in the bag he brought with him and pulled out his leather jacket. There were patches on the back that were able to detach when he wears it to accommodate his wings. The wind caused a few of the loose strands from his bun to fly into his face though as he approached me, he seemed unfazed by the cold as he held up the bag. “Here, Princess.”

I slipped my arms into the leather sleeves, and he raised the jacket to my shoulders. Warmth encased my upper body as his jacket falling to my knees. Cassian’s hands gave my shoulders a squeeze, “Thank you.”

Cassian leaned in close his warmth seeping into my bones as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”

We made to the entrance of the building and Cassian interlaced his hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. Rhys was the one that broke the silence talking to Feyre, “Do not let go of my hand. No matter what you hear or what you see. Do. Not. Let. Go.” Feyre nodded.

Rhys turned to me. Not like you would want her to let go of your hand. I smirked as Rhys leveled a glare my way, the only indication that my statement got to him. “Same with you, Y/N. Don’t let go of Cass’ hand.”

I lift our entwined hands and open my hand up as Cassian’s still clamped down and go as far as shaking our arms causing the male behind me to chuckle, “I don’t think he would let me. If I want to.”

“Not a chance. Not here.” Cassian murmured.

“Amren-“a hand clamped over my mouth muffling the rest of my sentence and  I tried to wriggle from Cassian’s grasp fighting against how his body pressed against me makes me feel.

Rhys sighed, “We don’t mention her near or in the prison.”

Cassian released my mouth and I shoot him a glare. “Why?”

The General spoke this time, “The prisoners here do not take kindly to her escape. If they know we know here it could get messy, fast.”

“Next time just say that.” I punched his shoulder, “No need to manhandle me.”

He kissed my cheek, “Sorry, Princess, won’t happen again.” He leans in lowering his voice, “Unless you ask me to.”

Heat crept up my face as he straightened to his full height, and I tried to ignore how the words left a pool of heat in my belly, I punched him again, “Shameless flirt.”

Cassian laughed, “Keep it up, Archeron, and your punches could actually hurt me one day.”

I scowled as we entered the prison my humor dying as the darkness consumed us. The low fae lights didn’t help with lighting the path before us. Though Rhys and Cassian led us like they knew the place backward and forward.  I could feel Feyre’s tension as badly as my own as we turned this way and that. Every turn reminded me of the path Under the Mountain but before my mind could wander too far into those memories there would be a squeeze of my hand. Like the male beside me knew where my mind was going and wanted to bring me back to him.

After a few minutes we reached the cell of the bone carver. Feyre looked back at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod.  Rhys led her into the cell, and I stepped closer to Cassian our hands still entwined, and he curled his wing around me giving me extra warmth. We stepped inside and moved around, and I lowered my head finding my feet interesting.

Feyre and Rhys had begun their musings but the metallic smell from the power this creature possessed was making it hard for me to focus. I drowned out the conversation picking up key words. The book of breathings and Like calls to like but everything else was drowned out I tried to focus on Cassian’s hand in mine and how he was rubbing his thumb along the side of my hand. Back and forth back and forth, before I knew it, I was matching my breathing to the slow movements his thumb was making to center myself.  The cell fell silent as I finally adjusted to the cell.

A female voice flooded my ears, “Look at me Y/N Archeron.” I looked up and was taken aback by the female before me. She was beautiful. She had one hazel and one Blue gray eye that looked so much like Feyre’s she had long dark hair braided in a crown atop her head a few wavy pieces that strayed from the updo framed her face highlighting her pointed ears. Her tan skin was clad in leathers similar to the ones Cassian and Azriel wore. What really caught my attention was her wings, they too were like Azriel’s and Cassian’s broad and beautiful even when tucked tightly behind her. She smirked, “Step closer, child.”

I attempted to take a step, but Cassian’s hand stayed firm in mine gently pulling me back to him. I wouldn’t move back to him I wanted to get a closer look at the female, she had a slender face, freckles kissed her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked so much like Cassian, but then there was that smile and it looked so similar to the one my twin and I share. Was this a relative of Cassian’s?  She was beautiful.

Her laugh was boisterous, “Who do you see when you look upon me child?”

Don’t answer that. Rhys voice flittered into the spot of my shield for him.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly.

You’re a great listener, you know that?  

Cassian once again gently tries to tug me back to him. As the Bone Carve paces like a wild animal in a cage, “I wonder, what secrets does the human Archeron twin keep. Tell me one secret, Y/N Archeron.”

“What do I get for sharing a secret with you?” I asked and tried to release my hand, but Cassian refused to let go.

“Oh, clever girl,” The females wings fluttered, “A secret for a secret then and as a sign of good faith I will go first.” She met my gaze, “There are ancient creatures that roam these lands, Legend states that they were extinct in the first war. They were not, they just went into hiding. They want to come out and play again.”

Rhys swore, and I looked back and saw Cassian’s face paled as he muttered, “Dragons.”

The female looks back at Cassian, “Indeed, Prince of Bastards.” Something made me bristle at the implication of the title and the sneer on her lips. She turned back to me. “A deal is a deal.”

Rhys stepped in, “No we’re leaving, your insight has been very helpful.”

He turned and my sister was made to follow, Cassan gripped my arms releasing my hand and turned me away but wiggled out of his grasp and took the opportunity of his mistake stepping toward the Bone Carver, “A secret of any kind?”

She smiled and bowed her head, “I am partial to the darkest secrets, but I will accept any, Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Cassian’s tone was laced with warning that I promptly ignored.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I am responsible for the death of my mother.”

***

We returned to the Town house in complete silence it wasn’t until we were in the dining room that Rhys debriefed Azriel, Amren, Mor. About what the bone carver said about the Dragons and the Book of breathings. I just listened as they talked about half the book being at the summer court and the other half with the human queens. I could feel eyes on me, but I proceeded to ignore his gaze and focus on Rhysand.

“I want to keep this between us for now. I have a plan to test Carver’s theory that Feyre can sense these objects. Like calls to like but I will need a few days to do so. I’ll send a letter to Tarquin and see if he will allow us to make a visit there. That leaves the human queens.”

I mutter, “Nesta and Elain could help.”

Feyre nodded, “We could use their manor as the meeting point. They could be our Correspondence with them since they reside in the Human lands.”

“You both willing to go back and talk to them.” Rhys looked at me.

“You did give us the job as your human emissaries, Rhys. I’ll do what I must.” Feyre nodded in agreement.

‘Alright, send word to your sisters tomorrow and see if we can set up a time to meet. However, I think tonight we have earned off. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Everyone cheered, even Amren had a sly grin to her face as they exited to go get ready, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys and I stayed in the dining room. I met Cassian’s gaze his lips were in a tight line and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He was stunned at my confession at the prison, but he didn’t say a word, he had just grabbed my hand and led me back out, holding it tightly to keep me grounded.  His eyes went vacant for a moment and when they went back to normal, he looked to Feyre and grinned “Feyre, let me escort you back to your room. Maybe that way I can talk you into fighting lessons. With me.” He held out his arm for her to take and winked, and my heart sunk. He was flirting with her. I mean I guess this was the first time I’ve seen him interacting with other women in the court. I had been so wrapped in my bubble that I never noticed that he was a natural flirt.

Feyre smiled and looped her arm in his and he walked out leading her upstairs. Rhys was facing the door looking out at Velaris, I pushed out of my seat, “What did you mean today?” Rhys asked turning to face me, “When you said you were responsible for your mother’s death.”

I shrugged, “What I said is what I meant, Rhys.” His brow furrowed. “Can we not talk about it? Please.”

Rhys sighed and walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, “Fine, but we have to talk about it.”

I pulled away, “Like how we have to talk about how Feyre is your mate?” His face paled as he dropped his arms. “I’m human, I’m not dumb, I noticed your behavior changed. She doesn’t know does she?”

Rhys shook his head, “No,”

I shook my head, “When did you find out?”

“When we said goodbye after we beat Amarantha.”

Shock rocked me, “You were going to let her marry, him…”

Rhys bit his lip, “I was going to respect what she wanted. I wanted her to be happy. Then she called out for help, Y/N, she was begging for anyone to save her. I felt it down the bond.”  

I nodded my head, and I cupped his cheek, “Don’t keep her in the dark forever, Rhys, she’ll hate you for it.” With that I walked to my room to get ready for dinner.

***

We arrived at the restaurant, and everyone was dressed to the nines, and I opted for black silk pants and a sapphire blue corset top and a leather jacket. Put my hair up in a ponytail and placed a matching sapphire blue bow and some comfortable slippers. I walked down and Azriel shared an amused look, “Well Archeron, may I say blue looks ravishing on you.” He kissed my cheek. It was then that I noticed I matched his siphons. Everyone laughed as a blush crept up my face and I glanced at Cassian. He looked bemused but still made sure to extend his arm for me to take to escort me to the restaurant though it was apparent he kept us a good distance from the shadow singer.

Even at the dinner table Azriel sat by the window and I was making my way to sit next to him, Cassian guided me to the end of the table on the opposite side. “Cass, he doesn’t bite.” I murmured.

Cassian pulled out my seat for me and gently pushed me in, “Yes. He does. And he is a sore fucking loser.”

Azriel snorts, “I’m sorry she chose blue instead of red, brother.”

Rhys buts in, “She is allowed to wear whatever she wants, in whatever color she wants. Just because she wears a color doesn’t mean she is swearing an allegiance to either of you.” The kind restaurant owner came and brought our food and handed us a goblet for Amren. “Thank you, Nicolette. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The older female bowed her head, “Likewise, Rhysand. I hope everything is to your liking.” She looked to Feyre who was dressed in another radiant midnight blue Top and matching pants. “Its an honor to meet you Cursebreaker,” her gaze reached mine, “You as well Y/N Archeron. I hope you enjoy.”

Simultaneously Feyre and I said, “Thank you.” She smiled and left.

We all began eating and I looked over to Amren, “You don’t eat.” Not a question.

“Very observant, girl.” Amren snorted swirling the goblet in her hand.

“Are you not high fae?” I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

Rhys interjected, “She is in a way.”

“I do not know what I am completely, I did take form in a high fae body I chose this body.” Amren said in a tone telling me that that was all the information she was willing to give. I took a note and began drinking out of my own glass.

Azriel leaned his elbows on the table there was a mischievous glint in his eye, “Y/N, tell me. Did you have any lovers back in the human realm?” I choked on my drink; a fit of coughing erupted. A hand was rubbing my back and I looked to see Cassian giving Azriel a glare that if I were on the end of it would make me want to crawl out of my skin. Azriel didn’t seem phased.

“Just one.” I answered when I regained my breath. “Lover is a generous term for it though.”

Azriel quirked a brow, “Oh, why is that?” Feyre shifted in her seat uncomfortably by this conversation.

Before I could answer two tiny voices called out, “Y/N, Y/N.” I turned my brow furrowed in confusion as two small girls came running to the table and when I turned to face them, they leapt into my arms. Two little red-haired girls with tan skin tucked their heads into my neck. I rose, arms securing them as I moved off the chair.

The girls’ mother came toward us, “I’m so sorry. They saw you and they wanted to say hello.”

The two girls pulled away and met Y/N’s gaze and I gasped their green eyes shined bright and their red hair was not matted but curled and their tan skin looked healthy and gleaming. “Well look at you two. You have grown.” I smiled, holding both of their hands.”

Mor’s voice piqued, “You know them?”

One of the girls who was slightly taller, “You remember us?”

I smiled, “Of course I do.” She pulled them into a hug again and the two girls clung to her tightly. “I would never forget either of you.”

Their mom smiled, “I never got a chance to see you, to thank you for what you did for them.”

I met the mom’s stare with a smile of my own, “No thanks necessary.” The girls pulled away from me but still clung to my hands, “I’m glad you girls are okay.” I looked back up to their mom, “I didn’t realize you resided in the Night Court.”

“We were originally from the Autumn Court. I served for the Lady of the Court. Rhysand offered me a place to stay and a comfortable home if I wanted it.” I looked to see her gazing at Rhys with a smile and Rhys nodded his head, “I couldn’t stay in that court knowing what the prince did, so I grabbed the girls, and he brought us here.”

The girl that spoke before said, “We love it here!”

I smiled, “I’m so glad.” I leaned and naturally the two girls also lean in as if we’re telling a big secret “I love it here too.” The girls giggled in response, “What are both of your names? I never got a chance to be properly introduced. I’m Y/N.”

The social butterfly of the two smiled wide, “I’m Alexis, you can call me Lexi. This is my twin Elizabeth, but we all call her Lizzie.”

Lizzie gives a shy wave before biting her lip a bit. I beamed and I turned and point to Feyre, “Well what a coincidence my Twin is right there. That’s Feyre. I call her Fey.”

Feyre gave the two girls a small wave, and the two waved back enthusiastically. Y/N looks to the mom, “I’m Evangeline. Feel free to call me Evie.” I let go of the girls’ hands for a moment and walked toward Evie as she blinked away a few tears and gripped me into a hug, “I can’t thank you enough,” She turned her gaze to Rhys and Feyre and the rest of our table. “All of you, for your kindness.”

Rhys smiled, “The pleasure is ours.” The table all gave nods in agreement.

Lexi tugged on my pant leg, “Can we have a sleepover sometime?”

Alexis!” Evie scolded, “She is probably busy with working for the high-“

I interrupted her raising my hand, “For my two new friends,” I knelt to their level, “I would make the time. You just need to convince the High Lord. I do live at his house at the moment.”

Lexi and Lizzie ran to Rhysand and held their hands up, “Please, High Lord. Please.” I noticed that  Cassian and Azriel were trying really hard not to laugh as they saw their brother turn to into putty at these girls hands.

Rhys smiled, “Tell you what whenever, mom needs some time to get errands done, or would like to have an evening to herself you can come to my townhouse and spend as much time as you want with my family.”

“Including Y/N?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Rhys smiled widened, “Yes, including Y/N.” He gave them a playful wink and the two girls giggled and ran back to their mom.

“C’mon girls, let them enjoy the rest of their dinner.”

Alexis waved, and Y/N stands to take her seat, and she feels a tugged on her pants. She looked down to find Lizzie and her eyes lined with silver, and she blurts, “I want to be like you when I grow up.” She looked down sheepishly after blurting it.

I took a minute to process what she said, “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

She looked up tears streamed down her face, “I want to be brave and kind and not afraid like you,” I could feel the emotion swelling in my chest and tears of my own were beginning to fall. I fell to my knees and pulled her in to a hug, and Lizzie erupted into sobs burying her face in her shoulder. I held out my other arm and Alexis ran into tears in her eyes too. Lizzie whimpered, “I was so afraid I had an accident. You were so brave, Y/N.”

“You were so brave.” I whispered, stroking their hair. I pulled away from them and made the effort to wipe both their tears from their faces. “I think you both were extremely brave. You both held your chin up so high going back to your mom. I was proud of you.” I looked at both girls, “I was proud of both of you.” I smiled and hugged them both, “And we’re here now. And we’re friends.”

“Forever?” Lexi hiccuped.

“And ever.” I promised.

I gave both girls a kiss on their forehead and sent them back to their mom who was smiling with gratitude. I took a seat in my chair watching them walk away, “So those were the girls you told me about.”

I nodded as I shifted back to face my friends, Cassian held out his napkin for me to grab and I graciously took it and wiped my eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t even know they were twins. Kind of poetic.” I chuckled as I felt the familiar callouses of Cassian’s hand on the back of my neck, that thumb rubbing soothing circles and I leaned into his touch. “Thank you, Rhys, for bringing them here and giving them a better life.”

Rhys held out his hand and I took it, and he grabbed Feyre’s hand and gave them both a squeeze, “They deserved it, as you both deserve a chance at a better happy life.”

***

Dinner came to a close and as we walked out in the crisp night air Mor linked arms with me, “I say we head to Rita’s anyone in?”

Cassian and Azriel agreed to join but it was Rhys and Feyre who both declined Amren already left for the evening. I smiled at both of them and waved before I was being dragged away to the bar.

The atmosphere of Rita’s was nothing like the taverns at the human realms, the music thrummed, and the beat could be felt on the floor there were various colored fae lights, Azriel led us all to a table and offered to grab everyone drinks. Mor sat next to Cassian, and I ended up at the end of the booth. I noticed how Mor laid her head on Cassian’s shoulder and he laid his head on top of hers giving her forehead a light kiss and that pang rang in my chest again. How had I not noticed that he is like this with everyone. Clearly he expresses love through touch.

 Azriel brought everyone a drink and a shot. I took the shot with fervor and welcomed the burn of the alcohol. Az sat across from me and quirked his brow as I also chugged the drink, he brought for me. This was going to be a long night.

A few drinks in and Mor was basically on Cassian’s lap. I tried not to gape, but it was hard as she kept whispering in his ear. He held her but his face was slightly bored, Az and I just sat and watched the people on the dance floor. His shadows swirled around my ankle, and I smiled.

“Excuse me,” I male’s voice interrupts my appreciation of Azriel’s shadows and look up to find a fae male, with pale skin and blonde hair smiling at me. “Could I bother you for a drink and a dance.” I looked him over his body was toned and I noticed that he had a tail that touched the floor if he were to extend it out. “I just couldn’t help but notice how you beautiful you were.”

I opened my mouth to refuse but Mor cut in, “She would love to.” Mor gave me a light push and I turned back to look at Cassian who seemed more interested in his drink as Mor nuzzled back into him. I gave the male in front of me a bright smile and took his hand.

We walked to the bar, and he said his name was Mark not even bothering to ask for mine, “So I’ve not seen you around before?” He purred in my ear as our drinks came. His tail brushed up my leg and I stepped out of its reach.

“I’m new in town.” I said shrugging.

“For being new in town, you do keep interesting company. The Lord of Bloodshed, The Morrigan and the Shadowsinger. You must have made some impression.” His tail pushed me closer to him, so he grabbed me by the waist. I pressed a hand to his chest, “Sorry, Babe. Sometimes my tail has a mind of its own. I nodded and fought the urge to roll my eyes. We continued our drinks in proximity, and he insisted we go dance. He placed a hand on my lower back his tail once again grazing my leg and moving to the under curve of my ass. The alcohol was settling in my system so that where his hands were didn’t bother me anymore and I let the beat of music take me away.

Mark wrapped a hand around my stomach and held me flush to his chest. “You are such a pretty thing,” He murmured in my ear. I hummed in thanks as his free hand gripped my throat lightly, to angle my head to his. I could see the lust in his eyes as they glanced at my lips, and he leaned in. There was a cough behind us.

We turned and Cassian stood there, ire was in his eyes and the object of that anger was geared to Mark. “Mind if I cut in?”

Mark had a look as if he wanted to say he would but thinking better of it he walked away not so much as a goodbye. His tail did manage to graze my ass. What a dick.  Cassian moved closer and gripped my hand and spun me around. He pressed me to his back my head meeting his chest. Both his hands entwined with mine and pressed me closer and calm washed over me. He whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.”

I smiled and shifted my head to see his hazel eyes now soften and his pupils were blown out. “Thank you, Cass.”

He spun me around, so he pressed my chest to his, and his toned arm snaked around my waist. His nose brushed mine, “I wonder though how you would look in red instead of blue.”

The alcohol made me bold because I grinned, “Hmm I wonder how Az would fee-“

Cassian growled, “I don’t want to hear his name out of that pretty little mouth of yours, Princess.”

“Whose name should I say?”

His lips were so close to mine, our breaths intertwining, as he huskily said. “Mine.”

Before I could press my lips to his, Mor tapped his shoulder, “We’re going home, fly me to my apartment?” Cassian pulled away and I instantly missed his warmth.”

“Sure.” He muttered before kissing my head, “Goodnight, Princess.” He turned back to Mor glaring at her, and she only gave him a saccharine smile.

Mor blew a kiss to me before looping her arm in Cassian’s and the duo walked out.

Azriel was beside me in an instant, “She’s a brat.” He murmured and pressed a hand on my back and led me out of Rita’s.

When we reached the Townhome I walked into my room and sat on my bed and looked out at the night sky, hoping to see wings and flashes of red on the horizon.

Chapter 9

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94

[rynwritesreid]

Okay, so i request a lot of smut but i’m gonna surprise you and request the most tooth rotting fluff you can write. Pregnant!reader x totally in love, acts of service!spencer. Do your thing 😉

A/N: I love all requests, but requests from my mutuals especially iluvreid, are my favourite. But sorry this took a long time, I am slowly getting through requests:)

Summary: it’s basically the request, but I’ve added in a little more detail about the pregnancy and yes I do believe Spencer Reid is a girl dad!

Content: pregnant!reader. I don’t think I have used pronouns in this, but Fem!reader just to be sure. Acts of service/loving!Spencer. Fluff. Mentions of morning sickness. Mentions of food. Heavy talk about pregnancy. Talk of Spencer been scared to be a dad, but reader reassures him.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer Reid had had both nightmares and dreams about becoming a dad. He did truly want to be one, but he also didn’t want to become like his dad or make his child suffer like he did while witnessing his mother’s mental health crisis.

 

But you had assured him that he would make an amazing father, and that all the stuff he was worrying about showed him that.

 

So, the day you showed him a positive pregnancy test, with a huge smile on your face, he knew he would have to put some of his fears aside because he had to take care of you.

 

*


For the first few weeks, Spencer would always wake up before you. He would get some water and put into the fridge, making sure it was chilled for you. He would get some ginger biscuits out from the cupboard and start making you a cup of tea.

 

Once he had heard you wake up and shuffle your way to the bathroom he would come in shortly after you to make sure you were okay. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched you, his hand resting protectively on your back as you leaned over the sink. The worry etched on his face softened as you turned to him with a tired smile, grateful for his silent support.

 

“Are you feeling okay today?” Spencer asked, concern evident in his voice.

 

“I don’t feel as sick today, just a little queasy and exhausted, that’s all.” You grinned, reaching out to hold his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer. I appreciate it more than words can say."

 

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always take care of you, Y/N. You and our little one mean everything to me." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back to let you finish up in the bathroom.

 

*

 

You and Spencer had discussed if you wanted to find out the gender of your baby when it came to the 22-week scan, and you both agreed you did. You didn’t care what gender the baby was going to be, but you believed Spencer would be the most amazing girl dad.

 

As you both sat in the waiting room, Spencer held your hand tightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. The anticipation of finding out whether you were having a boy, or a girl was palpable in the air.

 

When your name was called, you both walked hand in hand to the examination room. The sonographer greeted you warmly and began the scan. You watched the screen anxiously, feeling your heart race with excitement.

 

Suddenly, the sonographer smiled and pointed to the screen. "Congratulations," she said, "It's a girl."

 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Spencer, whose face broke into a wide grin. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes filled with wonder and love.

 

"We're having a daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

 

“You’re going to make the most amazing dad, Spencer. You already make the most perfect husband.”

 

Spencer Reid's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out to caress your cheek, overwhelmed with emotion. The reality of becoming a father to a little girl filled him with a mixture of joy and trepidation, but seeing the love and trust in your eyes gave him the strength he needed to embrace this new chapter of his life.

*

 

You had popped around six months, and Spencer couldn’t get enough. He loved putting his hand on the bump and feeling the baby kick. He loved talking to you about baby names, and being able to talk to the baby knowing it would recognise his voice soon enough.

 

He also loved been able to take care of you. Anytime you needed anything, he would offer to get it for you. Even before you had gotten pregnant, he was an act of services person, but now his acts of kindness and care had intensified. Spencer had become even more attentive and thoughtful, always ensuring you were comfortable and taken care of.

 

 Spencer didn’t mind running out at odd hours to fetch your favourite ice cream flavour to giving you foot massages after a long day, Spencer made sure you were always comfortable and well taken care of. He had even offered to sleep in the spare bedroom, so you could have as much bed space as you wanted.

 

As your due date approached, Spencer's excitement and nerves reached new heights. He had meticulously prepared the nursery, painting the walls in a soft shade of lavender, and assembling the crib with precision. Every night, he would sit in the rocking chair, reading aloud to your growing belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

 

“Do you think she’s going to be more of a Beethoven or a Mozart fan?” you teased, watching Spencer's face light up with a mixture of amusement and adoration.

 

“Oh, I think she’s going to be a Vivaldi fan. But I also know she’s probably going to be the only one who can beat me at chess.” Spencer smiled at the thought, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. The idea of sharing his passions and interests with his daughter filled him with an indescribable sense of joy.

 

“She’s going to be smart person ever. Probably even smarter than you, so of course she’ll be able to beat you at chess.”

 

Spencer chuckled at your playful banter, his heart overflowing with love for both you and the little girl growing inside you. He couldn't wait to meet her, to hold her in his arms and show her the world through his gentle, intelligent eyes.

 

“I think we should call her, Astrid Luna Reid.” You watched as Spencer's eyes widened with surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. "Astrid Luna Reid," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder and warmth. "It's perfect. Our little star, our moonlight."

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