#Yes I made the header and Yes it's not that great but I still like it so uu♥

[room217prayer]

Tamlin's Week - Day 1 (Forgiveness / Change)

Day one of @tamlinweek and I can't believe I actually made it in time for the first day!

A victory is a victory! This is the first chapter of a long fic I'm planning to do.

I hope you'll enjoy it! ♥ Both prompts are used for this! ♥

Important tags/info: Tamlin is forced to a particular change, thanks to a curse the Mother herself bestowed upon him, so he can forgive himself. (Fem!Tam incoming!)

This first chapter contains Angst and some suicidal thoughts (but no action, that doesn't happen). And mention of blood.

But the next chapters will be a mix of crack/fun/silly atmosphere with sad/angsty undertones. (when and if I end up writing them fdsfds)

(The dividers are made by @olenvasynyt ♥)

(Sorry for any possible errors or anything else you might find! I had no time to actually re-read it in time!)

Mother, I beg you, Curse me

Only the scratching of claws could be heard through the mansion.

If one listened closely, they would even hear the soft brush of fur against the wall, in an agonizing slow pacing. Like a wounded beast that tries to get up.

To free itself from chains that holds it down.

No cry, no howl.

Only the piercing and striding of nails that breaks, as blood flows from the raptures as the tears falls down like petals, while the monster turns into man – fae – but the beast still remains.

Caged. Wounded. Alone.

Still, he remains silent, his breath a silent rush of air inside constricted lungs.

Why does he still try?

Why does his heart still beat, while his Court is void of life?

While his people are lost, hurt... dead.

He should be too.

Maybe only then, he will atone.

In the exact moment he secures that thought – feels solid in his decision – a voice calls to him.

From deep inside the mansion it sings to him, to come closer.

To come to her.

The beast, no... Tamlin does.

Darkness engulf where only light has been.

Where his High golden Halo was brilliant, a ray of sun enclosed, now it’s an extinguished flame.

His powers have dimmed along his will, dripping out of him like the blood he leaves as a trail behind.

He’s lost so much muscle mass, he can feel his bone shivering as his legs quibble, not used to walk. They tremble at every step.

It’s as if he should fall, as if he’ll need for the wind to be a little too strong to do so. As if a pebble could make him stumble and crash – thousand pieces scattered on the dust.

He’s been a beast for what feels like eternity. The last time he remembers this form has been when He first came to visit.

When Rhysand cooked him that meat.

The next visits he refused to shift from his beast form.

Then he never came back – the wailing of a child hunted his nightmares.

Until even that stopped.

Until everything stopped.

Except for this voice that keeps calling him to her.

His knees should have given up a long time ago, but they don’t.

He steadies a bloody hand to the wall and keeps walking.

He realizes the voice, the song, is coming from inside the library.

The door is ajar and he steps inside.

Dust is collecting on every shelf, on every book. Each feeble step creates a little cloud; his feet’s are leaving marks behind him.

There is no one inside.

He looks, tries to feel a presence, but he reaches nothing.

He’s alone.

The voice is silent, there is no song or music.

Not even the ghost of it.

In his search he finds himself in front of the mural.

The Mother is looking at her creation in her frozen stare and so Tamlin’s watch and finally falls.

He doesn’t hit his head against it only because, instinctively – something he didn’t think he was still able to do – protects it with a hand, who catches the brunt of it.

They should be already healing; the nails should be growing back. They aren’t.

He’s still bleeding and he’s leaving traces of his essence into the little panels.

Red is all he sees and an empty laugh scratches his throat while he vomits it out with a choke.

Here’s another thing he has dirtied. Ruined.

He probably has imagined the voice – it sounded just like his mother – that was calling to him.

Maybe his mind had created that illusion to pacify his last desire to be loved. To not be alone in what would be his last moment.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? There is no healing from this.

No turning back.

Not for Tamlin, he has done too much wrong. He isn’t worth it; he doesn’t deserve it.

Redemption, forgiveness, he doesn’t know what they are anymore.

His eyes look up to the Mother’s face and he remembers that one prayer and his fingers twitch with a want to play his fiddle. Instead he opens his mouth and with a crack, that it’s his voice – the cry of a dying plant – he begins to sing.

His last request. The one no one else will make for him.

“Cauldron save you. Mother hold you.

Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey.

Fear no evil. Feel no pain.

Go, and enter” he chokes a little, tears run down his checks, his eyes burn and stings “eternity.”

A single breath rush past his lips as his eyelids falls shut, waiting for the darkness to engulf him whole.

In it he sees violet starry eyes and think how they will gleam in joy at the happy new.

He awaits her cold embrace, what he receives is something else.

Warmth that crackles reaching for him, holding him close in a lost embrace he forgot long ago.

It’s a mother’s one and so, Tamlin, open his eyes again.

In his wonder and confusion, he meets the eyes of the Mother.

“Do you think your death will really atone you of anything, my child?”

Tamlin looks at his figure in the mirror, at how it’s him, but at the same time it’s... not.

He no longer has his tall and masculine body. Yes, his hair is still long and blond, and it does fall on his shoulders and... breasts.

Yes. Not chest – who had flattened in the last months –, no... but now he has a true bosom. A hundred percent female one.

Quite the big one, if he has anything to lament about.

And, in an awkward shift of his thigh, that he tries so hard to not make them touch, he has... no longer has a dick. His dick, to be precise.

The reflection looking at back at him it’s totally and completely... a woman fae.

He is a woman.

That is what the mother has cursed him to be.

To make him... Atone and repent.

His mind does go back to that night, with a sigh and a hand covering his eyes.

How he did confess every single evil deed he did. How he was worthless in the end, no matter what he did – he did wrong.

By his people, the ones he loved, his friends... His Court and heart. It was still a mass made out of stone. What he especially remembers are Mother’s words, who still touched him with her body made of little panels painted, given to life just to answer to his request to be punished.

“You said you have done horrible things to the woman you loved... How you didn’t understand her pain. Of the choices that made you lose everything, even your halo given by... – the Cauldron itself. You can’t forgive yourself for that, for not protecting your land, your people. The one you loved and sacrificed herself for you. You see yourself as a beast who should be put down and you asked me to do it. Will that really make everything whole again? Undo what you sawn with your actions and words? No, that’ll only leave the already bleeding spring to an infesting rot that’ll poison the land itself to its core. The magic won’t fix this taking yours. You will, my blind child. Didn’t you really see the venom running through the land? The shadow who awaits to gulp all of it down in its belly? You said you didn’t understand her feeling, you can’t see yourself as anything else than a bloody and raging monster... Then I will Curse you, Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court. You’ve lived five hundred years as a male and I curse you to live five hundred more as a female – a woman in a land who doesn’t understand and sees. Will you finally catch sight? Will you see yourself more fae than a beast? Will you shed light on the obscured truth?”

Delicate fingers began to push against his forehead, as another sigh leaves him. He actually tried to bargain with the mural – the Mother, if she was really her – but the curse was already bestowed upon him.

And so here he was, a woman.

Still, he had the freedom of his powers – or so she said, but...

“You are still the High Lord – Lady – of your Court, every gift and duty is upon your head. You can shift to anything you like, but your male form – your man body – will be precluded to you. You can shift yourself to it for a little time, but the more you’ll do it, the less you will be able to stay in that form. Use it cleverly Tamlin. Rebuild your Court and find the will to forgive yourself. For you and the Land you have to take care of, feel back the Spring you isolated”

He looked out of the window, toward the rose garden who was no longer, to the last memory of his mother vanished in the flames of the war. In the destruction caused by her – weighted upon himself, for his actions.

His Court was awaiting to be reborn.

It was his duty, no matter what his heart screamed to be relieved from all the pain or about his mind that still whirled with the deepest vile blades, ready to cut him down.

With a shiver he knew what in a year he would be facing.

“Don’t forget about Calanmai, you’ll have to do it, to give back the life you own”

As a woman he would have to do the Great Rite.

The thought alone was something he didn’t want to think about, but it was far away – a breath away, really, the blink of an eye to be for real and he didn’t want to be so.

Still, there was something else he had to do first.

Or better... he had to do some things... one being getting used to his new reality, something the rose tattooed on his chest, under his left breast – where his heart was beating against the petals – would keep reminding him of.

So much to do and five hundred years of punishment to serve.

One last look at the mirror and he could see the fangs ready to devour him... her.

Ready or not, the Mother wouldn’t be kind if he didn’t follow the rules – that be her or her darker counterpart or something far more wicked.

Truth was in her words and even if the mural was now devoid of any life and magic, the blood remained.

And so were the duty and the truths awaiting to be revealed.

Aaaaand here's this first chapter and first day of Tamlin's week! I hope you enjoyed reading it (again, sorry for any errors, I fear I messed up some verbs fsdfsdfsd sorry) and if I end up actually writing the rest.. soon, Eris will make an appearance and actually be the Watson to Tamlin's Sherlock ahaha. (Lucien, bby, your time to shine will come!)

See you for another Tamlin's week day! ♥ (Hopefully!)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

helloooo

can I request reader being an avenger and pregnant with bucky's baby and he has to deliver his own baby after reader went into early labor during a mission ?

absolutely love your work thanksss

Precious Little Miracle » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger/Husband!Bucky Barnes x Avenger/Wife/Pregnant!Reader

Summary: You go into labor during a mission and Bucky delivers yours and his baby.

Warnings: Fluff, language, dad!Bucky/mom!reader, childbirth, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

A/N #2: Thank you @buck-star for helping me come up with ideas for this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, you wanted to get as much work done as you can before the baby comes. Now, you’re in your eighth month of your pregnancy. You’re surprised that you’re still able to go on mission. Bucky, on the other hand, is a nervous wreck every time you go on a mission in your delicate condition. You swear he ages 10 years every mission you go on. You’re able to get the job done though.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says.

“I am being careful, James.” You say.

You threw one last punch at the target, knocking him out. You stood there for a moment to catch your breath. You put your hands on your pregnant belly like any pregnant woman would do.

“Are you ok, babydoll?” Bucky asks.

“Other than my feet hurting, I feel great.” You say.

“We’re going to the safe house.” He says.

“Babe, I’m fine.” You say.

“Doll, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads softly.

You didn’t want to argue with him so you gave in. Bucky informed the Steve that you two are going back to the safe house. In a way, you’re glad to be going back to the safe house. You just want to relax and get off your feet. When you and Bucky got to the safe house, he opened the door for you like the gentleman he is.

“Always such a gentleman.” You smiled.

“Only for you, doll face.” Bucky playfully winks.

You walked inside the safe house with Bucky following behind you. You kicked off your combat boots and went to the living room to relax.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, Buck.” You replied.

“How come you didn’t stop going on mission when we found out you’re pregnant?” He asks.

“I just wanted to get as much work done as I can before the baby comes.” You answered.

“I understand that, doll, but you really need to be careful. I don’t want to lose either of you. I don’t want to experience that.” He says.

“Baby, you’re not-” You gasped when you felt a gush in between your legs.

“Babydoll, what’s wrong?” He asks softly.

You looked down at the floor, quickly realizing that your water broke. Bucky followed your gaze to the floor. His eyes went wide.

“Did your just water break?” Bucky asks.

“Either that or I peed myself.” You say.

You grabbed onto Bucky’s vibranium arm and cried out when you felt a contraction.

“Doll, I’m pretty sure you’re in labor.” He says.

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s early. She’s not due for another few weeks.” You say, your eyes filling with tears.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back to help keep you calm.

“Everything is going to be ok, doll.” He says softly.

“No it’s not.” You whimpered.

“Babydoll, look at me.” He whispers.

You look up at your husband with teary eyes.

“Everything is going to be fine. You have to try to stay calm and remember your breathing, ok?” He almost whispers.

You nodded. Bucky pecks your lips softly. He then guided you to the couch. You sat down on the couch. So did Bucky. You made sure to remember your breathing like Bucky said.

“Bucky?” You almost whispered.

“Yes, doll? What is it?” Bucky asks softly.

“I’m scared.” You tell him.

“So am I.” He whispers.

You whimpered when you felt another contraction. You squeezed Bucky’s hand. You inhaled and exhaled. You were able to relax when it passed.

“You’re doing great, doll.” Bucky praises softly. “Just keep breathing.” He says softly.

Bucky went to stand up to get his phone to call your doctor to let her know you’re in labor and to inform the team about what’s going on, but you grabbed his arm tightly to prevent him from doing that.

“Please don’t leave me.” You begged.

“I’m not going anywhere, babydoll.” He assures you softly. “I’m just going to get my phone to call your doctor to tell her that you’re in labor and I’m going to inform the team of what’s going on.” He tells you.

You stared at your husband for a few seconds before allowing him to get his phone. Bucky pecked your lips softly before doing so. He called your doctor and informed the team.

“Bucky!” You whimpered when you felt another contraction.

Bucky quickly said goodbye to who he was on the phone with and ran back to the living room.

“I’m here, doll. It’s ok.” Bucky almost whispers.

“No it’s not. Nothing about this is ok. The closest hospital is a couple hours away and I’m scared that I’m going to have our baby in this safe house.” You say, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“It’s going to be ok, babydoll. Wanna know how I know that?” He asks.

You sniffled and nodded.

“You’re the bravest woman I ever met. You never back down from a fight. That’s two things I love about you. That’s also part of the reason why I married you.” He says softly.

“You always know what to say in scary situations.” You say with a smile.

“Isn’t that the reason why you married me?” He asks with a smile.

“Yes.” You replied.

Bucky leans down to kiss you sweetly and passionately. You pulled away when you felt a contraction, but also, something didn’t feel right.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” You say in a shaky voice.

“What do you mean something doesn’t feel right?” Bucky asks.

“I-I-I don’t know. What if something is wrong?” You asked.

“Don’t think like that, doll. Try to stay calm and I’ll call your doctor again.” He says softly.

You nodded. Bucky called your doctor again and told her that you said something doesn’t feel right. You maintained your breathing with he was on the phone. On the inside, Bucky was freaking out. On the outside, he was trying his best to hold it together for you.

“What did she say?” You asked as he hung up the phone.

“She said I have to check you down there.” Bucky says as calmly as possible.

Your eyes went wide and your heart dropped when he said that. Your breathing became uneven too.

“Doll, breathe. Everything is going to be fine.” He says softly.

Bucky helped you get your breathing under control. Then he went to find towels just in case he has to do what your doctor told him to do, which is deliver yours and his daughter since you two are in a safe house that’s almost in the middle of nowhere. He came back to the living room with towels. You knew why he had the towels.

“Do you trust me, babydoll?” Bucky asks.

“You know I do, baby.” You say.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He says.

You nodded and whimpered. It wasn’t a whimper of pain this time. It was a scared whimper.

You took a deep breath before lifting your hips so Bucky could take off your tactical pants and your panties. He sat down on the coffee table and moved your legs apart. His eyes went wide at what he saw.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I see her head.” Bucky says.

Your heart dropped. You didn’t realize you were that far along in labor.

“No.” You say out of fear.

“It’s going to be ok. I’m not going to let anything happen to you and our baby girl.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on your knee.

Bucky leans up and kisses your lips softly.

“I got you and our daughter, ok?” He whispers.

“Ok.” You whispered back.

“Let’s meet our daughter.” He smiles.

You smiled back. You took a couple deep breaths before pushing. It hurt. The only thing getting you through it was your husband showering you in praises. You felt relief wash over you when you heard your daughter crying.

“Is she ok?” You asked, panting.

“She’s perfect.” Bucky almost whispers, not taking his eyes off yours and his precious little miracle.

Bucky wrapped yours and his daughter up in a towel and handed her to you. Both of you smiled down at yours and his little girl.

Not too long after that, you went to the hospital to make sure everything is ok with you and the baby. Everything is fine with both of you. You ended up falling asleep for a while. You then woke up to Bucky talking to yours and his daughter. You smiled at your two favorite people. Bucky looks over at you and smiles.

“Mama’s awake.” Bucky coos at yours and his daughter.

Bucky carefully stood up with yours and his daughter in his arms and walked over to the hospital bed you’re laying in. You moved over just enough for Bucky to sit down next to you. He carefully put her in your arms. As you gazed at your daughter, you couldn’t help but get emotional.

“Hey, what’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly.

“I can’t believe our precious little miracle is here.” You say softly.

“Me neither.” He whispers.

“Our precious little miracle needs a name.” You say.

You and Bucky have brainstormed names for yours and his baby girl, but haven’t agreed on a name both of you like.

“Oh. Umm-” Bucky thought for a moment.

“Do you want to hear the name I came up with?” You asked, looking up at your husband.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Rebecca Stevie Barnes.” You tell him.

Bucky knew he wanted to name yours and his baby after his best friend, no matter if you were having a boy or a girl. He thought it would work either way, which in this case, it does. Also, he didn’t know that you wanted to name yours and his daughter after his sister.

“You- You want to name her after my sister and Steve?” Bucky asks, his eyes tearing up.

“Only if you’re ok with it.” You say.

“I’m more than ok with it. I want nothing more than to name our daughter after my sister and my best friend.” He says.

You smiled and leaned up to kiss your husband passionately.

“I love you so much, doll.” Bucky whispers.

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered back.

“And we love you too, our precious little miracle.” He whispers to yours and his daughter as she grabs onto his finger.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ��em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 95)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (72) / Alexia Putellas x Character (47) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (27)

Masterlist (other parts here)

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LUCY POV

“Okay Luce, a kiss is fine, but the tongue is a little too much…” YFN said, pulling away and murmuring against her cheek. It was hard to miss the flashing of cameras around them and Lucy could tell she was feeling a little uncomfortable, most likely with her sling and knee brace. As her little Australian pressed her body into Lucy’s as if to hide herself from the cameras, she tightened her arms around her. She’d never be uncomfortable with Lucy, and that made her heart swell at the thought.

Lucy allowed herself a small chuckle. The sinking feeling of the Olympics had disappeared for the moment. She’d finally kissed her girl at a game. In front of friends and family. In front of the world.

She groaned into her.

“We have some special people to go see, Luce.”

Lucy blanked. “The… team? I wasn’t too mean to them…”

YFN squeezed tight before she pulled back and pet her forehead. “Lose a few brain cells with that header, did we?”

Lucy couldn’t help but grin at that cheeky expression of hers. She loved her cheeky. “Yes, you’re going to have to help me shower and feed me from now on.”

“LUCY!” Several small voices sounded. YFN turned in Lucy’s arms as they both watched Freddie and Alzira running towards them in front of the Bronze family. Jorge looked like he was chasing to catch them and give the couple their space, but he was failing in that task.

“Your special people…” YFN murmured, capturing Lucy’s cheeks between one hand and pecking her on the lips.

She stepped back out of her embrace just in time for the lunging children. Lucy fell dramatically to the ground and that excited them further as they leapt on her. It was exactly what she needed. Her special people.

“You did a goal!” Alzira cheeped as Lucy sat up to tickle her.

“I did! Did you see?”

“Yeah!”

“Rightttt here!” Freddie said, smacking her in the forehead. Lucy fell backwards like a starfish with her arms out and was rewarded with their little bodies falling onto her ribs.

“You’re not dead!”

“Wake up!”

She chuckled and sat up on her elbows, rubbing her forehead. “Is it red?”

“Yeah!”

“And so are your cheeks.” Freddie said, looking over at YFN. Although he didn’t really understand, he made a kissing sound.

Lucy rolled her eyes and looked over at her girl. Her parents were now standing by her and watching on, chatting away. Her mum said something and then shared a laugh with YFN as she gestured to Lucy. Her girl blushed slightly and pressed her lips together to cover it. She caught Lucy’s eye and the footballer gave her a look that said she knew what she was thinking.

Jorge and Charis came over to try and calm the excited kids while Sophie and her girlfriend came over to console her.

“Great game, sis,” Sophie said, offering her a hand up. Lucy was a mess of sweat and fatigue, but managed to get back to her feet with the help.

“Nice header!” Jorge grinned, slapping her on the back.

“Just needed one more,” she said a little more understanding than dejected this time.

“Football is ruthless, sis. You know that better than anyone.”

She hummed a response, her eyes on YFN as they approached. Her arm went out towards YFN when Lucy’s mum grabbed her around the neck and pulled her down into a hug. “Oh honey, you did so well!”

Lucy knew how well she played and struggled against herself to not roll her eyes. “Thanks mum.”

Her hand still out searching, found YFN’s and held onto it. It was like a calming agent to her.

When her mother was done fussing over her, she greeted her dad also.

Lucy stepped back and into YFN’s space as soon as she could, her arm around her own, their fingers tangled. It didn’t feel close enough.

Sophie pointed to their tangled hands, waggling her finger between them. “What’s this, then? Fully public now?”

“Get out of it, Soph.” Lucy responded, rolling her eyes.

“Lucy!”

Lucy looked over to where the team were standing about to huddle. The voice had come from Sarina, gesturing her over.

The group huddle felt like the negativity of their failure. She sighed. YFN let go of her hand and rubbed her back, encouraging her forward. “Off you go, Luce. We’ll be right here.”

Lucy bent down in front of her and YFN got the hint, giving her a peck on the cheek.

God, her lips.

She wandered over to the group as they did their huddle. Sarina gave a speech, and they all accepted that maybe time off during the Olympics would be just what they needed.

“Now onto some positivity for the group, ja?” Sarina encouraged. She gestured to Leah and Jordan, and the family and friends who were around. “Our girls fought hard today and did us all proud. We’ll come back even better. But for now, let’s celebrate the victory with our Player of the Match… Lucy!”

Lucy knew she played well, but still, she was surprised. LJ had scored a brace. She dragged her feet over to where Sarina was holding the trophy and took it with the best smile she could muster for the photo.

Usually she would give a speech, but not tonight. The girls could all see that. Lucy said her thanks and looked around the crowd to spot her girl who was now holding Lucy’s jacket. Thank god – she was getting freezing with her sweat covered body in the cool night air. She went straight over to her and handed the award to Freddie who had his hands out.

“Thanks, little one.” She said as she took the jacket and zipped it up. She came around behind her and wrapped her arms around the warmth of her as Sarina continued to speak of how proud she was of the girls.

“And now, we have dinner and celebrate together. Before we go - would anyone else like to say anything?”

She looked around at the girls who looked defeated, though encouraged by the speeches. They all shook their heads. Sarina’s eyes landed on Leah. “Leah?”

Leah stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Yes, actually.”

Lucy felt YFN get excited in her arms. Leah turned to look at Jordan and held her hand out. The shy Jordan took it and stepped up next to her.

“Last night I asked Jordan to marry me… and she said yes.”

JORDAN POV

“Are you sure you should be drinking that…?” Jordan started.

YFN looked up from her laptop and Lucy grunted into her wine. “I need to pregame this Lioness lunch with Alessia today, plus, I deserve it.”

YFN leant over and kissed her shoulder. “You certainly do.”

“Have you ever seen Lucy drunk?” Jordan quizzed, teasingly.

YFN thought for a second. “Actually… I don’t think so. I’ve seen her tipsy, but not drunk. Always impossible during season, and she doesn’t like alcohol anyways.” She paused and tilted her head at Jordan and Leah’s expressions. “Why? Is she a menace?”

“You could say that again.”

YFN turned to Lucy who gave an innocent look followed quickly by a cheeky grin and shrug.

The Australian rolled her eyes, but it was clear that she was curious.

Jordan gave a yawn and a stretch as she sat with her back against the plane, her legs dangled over Leah’s lap. Leah had been giving her looks since they’d outed their engagement to the team, and she was now absentmindedly stroking her legs which made Jordan feel giddy. She parted them slightly, and Leah noticed, her fingers sliding further up the inside of her leg under the table.

Jordan felt a little guilty. She wanted Leah, obviously, but it was a bit difficult in the private aircraft.

“What are you doing?” Jordan asked YFN.

“Organising this event for Saturday…” she murmured, her eyebrows furrowed as she focused on what she was typing. “Expanding roles of the team and organising the rostering so we’re covering as many matches as possible.” She stopped typing to look over the top of her laptop and smile. “What’s on your mind, Dory?”

Jordan scoffed. “You know me too well.”

“Mmnhmn.” She replied, waiting patiently.

“Well… Lucy will be going back to Spain soon and Leah is headed back to London.. so I was just wondering if you’re coming home?”

YFN gave a cute smile. The one that made Jordan feel seen and heard. “I’ve thought about this.. and I think the best bet will be London in the office from Monday to Wednesday, with every other day at home in Birmingham as it’s so central to be able to travel between the games.”

“Can you limit the travel at all?” Lucy asked, looking worried given her condition.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting a driver to take that pressure off. That way I can continue to work during the drives…”

Lucy gave an impressed look. “It’s perfect. I can pay-”

“-no, love.” She chuckled with a reassuring look. “Thank you, Luce.. but this will be on the company. I spoke to Cath-” she corrected herself, shaking her head. “-Joe about it already.”

Lucy nodded leaning in and kissing her temple.

“What’s happening with you two?” YFN asked, looking between the pair.

“We’ve spoken about moving clubs.. but it’s best to stay where we are.” YFN nodded at that, looking like she’d expected it. “I’m going to give football two more years and see if I can make the Euros team.” Leah gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you sure, Jords?” Lucy asked.

“I’m sure.” She said, confidently. Lucy gave her a sympathetic look, and Jordan struggled to contain her emotions at the thought of retiring. “It’s time. I’ll stay with Villa for play time and then.. I’m not sure what I’ll do for a job.”

YFN tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “It’s a shame that footballers give everything to the game and have a career-span that only lasts until your 30s. It’s unfair. But if you want, I’ll have plenty of opportunities for you if you wanted to join the media industry with me?”

Jordan’s heart swelled and she cleared her throat, nodding while she tried to find the words. “I think I’d like that.”

YFN gave her a wink. “I’ll look after you, Dory. Don’t worry about any of that, okay? You’ll have a job after football. And if you want to do something else instead, that’s fine too. We’re in this together. Okay?”

Jordan wiped the tears forming in her eyes. “Okay. Th…thank you.”

She turned to look at Leah who was still stroking her legs, though now with her head against the chair, smiling at her. “See? Everything will work out.”

Jordan nodded, collecting herself.

“Did we have any other plans we want to share with our friends?”

Jordan chuckled, turning back to the pair. “Well after I retire, I’ll be 33 and Leah will be 28. We’re hoping she’ll play into her mid-thirties-”

“-I may need some pointers,” Leah interjected, directed at Lucy.

Lucy chuckled. “I can definitely help you with that.”

“-we won’t be getting any younger.” Jordan continued. “So… we were going to have kids when I retire.”

YFN closed her laptop without looking at it. “Babies?! Little Leah’s and Jordan’s running around?”

Leah shifted Jordan’s legs off of her and moved closer, taking her head and kissing her lovingly on the cheek in support. “Yeah,” she said. “It feels right. And with my endo…”

“I’ll carry,” Jordan finished when Leah didn’t. “And if it doesn’t work out like that, then we’ll adopt.”

“They may be able to see Leah playing…” YFN said dreamingly.

“I’m hoping so! I want to bring them to the games to see their mum play.”

Leah’s hand found her thigh again under the table and slipped in between her legs. She almost jumped. Clearly talk of their future was exciting her.

“That’s the dream, isn’t it?” YFN murmured, looking at Lucy.

“Have you two spoken about kids?”

YFN blushed, and they shared a look about something that clearly was just between them.

“Uh, yeah. Yep. We want kids.”

“A tribe.” Lucy said, confidently knowing what she wanted.

Jordan found it amusing.

“But we haven’t been together long…” YFN said. Lucy frowned.

“As if that matters,” Leah opinionated, rolling her eyes. “You two were made for each other.”

“Trust me, we feel it too. But right now, I’m injured. I’m building this company and my career. I’d want to be married first. And we aren’t even living together. Lucy’s in Spain…” She sighed, exasperated. “But we have Christmas to look forward to. My Nan and brother are coming over, and will meet Lucy and her family for the first time… and then Ridley was supposed to be coming, so I’m not sure what’s happening there. I imagine she’ll want to spend it with Alexia.”

“It’s going to be an amazing Christmas.” Lucy said. “I have a charity I support which has me at a few children’s hospitals on Christmas Eve, and then we’ll all have Christmas together for a good few weeks. Your first white Christmas.. so it’s a lot to look forward to.”

YFN smiled at that and looked back at the pair. “Trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to have little Bronze menaces running around, but I want to get this company to a more autonomous, self-sustaining level first. Plus, I wouldn’t want to raise children in instability. I’d want us to have a plan and be living together in a house that will be their childhood home, you know?”

“In Spain?” Leah asked.

“That is the plan…”

“It was the plan,” Lucy corrected. “But as of late I’ve been thinking that if I’m to continue playing for as long as possible, then I need a less packed schedule, less travelling, and better medical care. So I think at the end of this contract, I’ll come back to the UK.”

YFN was surprised. “Really?”

“Back to the WSL?!” Jordan asked, excited at the idea.

Lucy smiled at YFN, and then at the pair opposite. “I think it’s for the best. I’ll be close to family. The kids can be born in the UK. And Spain can come later, or become a vacation spot. I’m not sure, there’s a lot to talk about. But it’s what I’m thinking is best for everyone.” YFN squeezed Lucy’s arm, looking a whole spectrum of emotions about the idea, but primarily happy, it seemed. “And YFN will be stuck in the UK for a period while they build Lumos. And I don’t want to be apart from her longer than I have to. So… yes. That’s my thought.”

“Work will take up a lot of my time for the next few years…” she admitted.

“By ‘a few years��, do you mean two?” Leah asked.

She smiled softly, picking up the meaning. “I hope you two can deal with us being pregnant at the same time.”

Leah’s hand slid further up, her fingertips pressing on Jordan’s clit through her shorts and rubbing just enough to be frustrating.

“Pray for us.” Lucy muttered, sharing a look with Leah. They chuckled.

“Aaaanyways. I need to duck off.” Leah removed her hand and stood, waiting. “Jord?”

YFN raised her eyebrow, giving them a knowing look. Lucy was too busy looking at the snack items to notice as Jordan stood and took Leah’s hand, letting her drag her to the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Leah was close to her. Really close.

“L…Lea?”

“You can’t just talk about our future together and not expect me to get excited, Jord.” Leah said before kissing her.

It was hot. Needy. A kiss most definitely only shared in private. Jordan gasped into her mouth as Leah bit her lip and backed her against the sink. There wasn’t much room to play with, but she knew that wouldn’t stop Leah. Her hands found the back of Jordan’s thighs and picked her up, sitting her on the sink.

“Leah, your knee,” she protested on deaf ears.

“I need you.” She responded greedily. Captain Leah. In command Leah. Jordan felt herself almost dripped at that.

Hands were roaming, Jordan’s clothes disappearing with her barely noticing. Her tits were suddenly out to the cool air of the plane and Leah was quick to take one in her mouth. She sucked for a while, her hands still roaming, and then moved onto the second. While that was happening, her shorts and underwear were being removed in one swift movement. She could barely keep up.

Before Jordan had a chance to even find words, Leah was on her knees, her hands gripping the back of Jordan’s legs and her mouth hungrily attaching itself to her clit.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck! Lea…” She moaned at the suddenness of it all.

Jordan spread her legs so Leah had better access and didn’t fight when one of her thighs was taken up over her girl’s shoulder. She did worry about Leah’s knee but one look down at her and she wasn’t concerned. Leah was so focussed on Jordan. On tasting her. On fucking her. So focussed that she probably didn’t notice Jordan sweeping the blonde hair back out of her face so she could see her better.

Leah was always good with her mouth. Incredibly so. And it made it better, the fact that she was so in tune with Jordan’s body. She knew what she needed and exactly what she liked. She teased every single outer area of her clit, enough to have Jordan’s entire body tingling, before she gave attention to the most sensitive, needy part of it. She was soft, so as to not get it too sensitive, but she was still hungry and knew what she wanted from her.

As her tongue swiped over her little bundle of nerves with the perfect amount of pressure and pace, Jordan felt herself building towards her inevitable orgasm. Leah knew this, because she knew her. Her fingertips gently caressed up the sensitive sides of her body to her tits where one hand grabbed and kneaded, her thumb stroking over the nipple as her other hand came back down again just as slow and tantalisingly.

“F…f…fuck. Lea, I’m going to come.”

Leah didn’t say anything, but her flat tongue changed to just the tip, and exactly where Jordan needed it.

“Don’t stop,” she managed to get out hurriedly as she felt herself just about to- “AHHH fuck, Leah.”

Jordan gripped onto her hair with one hand and the sink behind her with the other as she came, shuddering into Leah’s mouth. Her tongue went flat again and rocked back and forth ever so slightly with a harder pressure against her clit to steady her sensitive nerves while she came. When Jordan’s hand relaxed in her hair, she kissed her clit and pulled back, looking up at the now-flushed and dazed Jordan.

She groaned and leant back as Leah got to her feet. There was still this hunger in her eyes that she hadn’t seen for a while.

Jordan slipped off the sink and grabbed her, their mouths coming together again hot and heavy, the taste of Jordan on Leah's tongue was beyond sexy. Her hands now roamed Leah’s body, her face, neck, tits, waist. Her shirt came off and she allowed it, and shortly after, Jordan pushed her pants and underwear down low enough to feel her. God, she was wet. Hot. Excited. Jordan’s fingers slipped past her folds to feel her, two fingers circling the outside of her entrance and then dragging up, either side of her clit.

Leah grumbled, frustrated and removed her hand, turning Jordan around to face the sink. She gripped the sink as Leah’s hand on her back pressed her down. She pulled her ass back and spread her legs apart with her own. Jordan watched in the mirror as Leah sucked two of her fingers, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other tracing down her back and over her ass. Jordan’s body moved forward against the sink as Leah’s wet fingers slid inside her, stretching her out just slightly. Just enough to have her eyes rolling back and her head dropping to take it.

The outrageously wet slapping sounds of Leah’s fingers in and out of Jordan’s smaller body gave away just how horny she was for the footballer. She whimpered and moaned, her back arching and her body pushing back against her hand as she fucked her.

Since getting back together, they hadn’t had sex like this, and until that moment, Jordan didn’t realise how much she’d missed it.

She reached back and touched Leah, the younger woman allowing her to now, and even rocking into her hand. She teased around her clit, Leah practically dripping onto her fingers. Leah’s hand released her neck and instead wound Jordan’s hair around her hand, using her forearm against her back to keep her body down while she pulled her head back to look into the mirror.

As her head was pulled back, Jordan realised by just how little Leah was actually hanging on. She breathing was erratic, her face flushed and lips trembling. Her expression was less hungry and more desperate. Teetering on the edge.

Jordan applied just slightly more pressure to her clit as she stroked it steadily, knowing that she didn’t like it too fast.

“I… can’t. I can’t.” Leah fought with herself, so close to coming, and yet wanting Jordan to get off too.

Jordan felt her body clenching. She was right there at the edge.

One more look at Leah in the mirror and realising that she was going to spend the rest of her life with her, Jordan came around her fingers, somehow managing to draw Leah’s from her as she did so.

They both gasped their moans and orgasms as they regained their breath. Leah’s arms wrapped around Jordan from behind and she cuddled into the back of her, grunting her relief.

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Jordan turned in her arms and held her back.

“Where on earth did that come from?”

Leah chuckled against her collarbone. “I just love you.”

Jordan nodded against her in understanding, knowing she didn’t expect to hear it back. She already knew how Jordan felt. Not long later, she felt her naked body begin to get too cold, and Leah felt her shiver.

“We need to get you dressed.”

Jordan dressed as Leah washed her hands and fixed herself up. She stood by the door waiting patiently, and Jordan gestured to it. “It’s okay, I need to pee. Can you get us a cuppa?”

Leah smiled and stepped forward for a kiss before leaving.

As the door opened, and she stepped outside, all Jordan could hear was Lucy shouting from the table. “Welcome to the mile high club, kids!”

ALEXIA POV

The sun was just rising over the cliffs of the island as Ridley landed. Alexia and Chiquito watched, still playing around with her football on the sand as she taxied in and hooked up to the buoy. Just as she touched land and dragged the dinghy up, she was almost caught off guard at the football flying her way. She managed to keep it up with her feet and kick it straight back over to the pair effortlessly. Alexia liked to think that Ridley had gotten even better with it as they’d been playing so much. It was keeping her fresh and quick with her reactions and made her even more eager to get back on the field.

Though one look at Ridley walking over to her in shorts, a bikini top with an open shirt, and sunglasses keeping her hair back, and Alexia realised she could live like this the rest of her life.

Ridley caught her around the waist, pulling her close and kissing her. Her lips were soft with just a little sweetness to them, like she’d eaten some fruit, which she guaranteed she had.

“Mmn. Hi.”

“Where have you been?” Alexia asked. She’d woken up to an empty bed, with Chiquito looking equally as confused.

“I went to get you some breakfast. I know it’s been a while since you’d had something other than fruit and eggs,” she murmured against her lips. Ridley kissed her again. “And I managed to get myself an encrypted tablet which can’t be tracked… it won’t have internet but I did download both the Spanish and English games..”

Alexia stared at her. Ridley could think she was non-romantic all that she wanted, but she definitely was. Her heart swelled. “You’re the best.”

“Would you like to know the scores or just watch?”

“Don’t tell me the score.. just who won?”

“Both your Spanish girls, and the Lionesses won.” She murmured, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Alexia felt herself leaning into her hand. “They made the Olympics?”

Ridley gave a soft smile and shook her head. Alexia’s heart sunk for them. Lucy would be devastated.

“But Lucy seems in good spirits,” she said, as if reading her mind. “She had a luncheon event with Alessia Russo yesterday and she seemed happy. She was asked a lot of on the spot questions about Blue and you couldn’t wipe the smile off her face if you tried.”

“Why so many questions?”

“Ah… they kissed on the field.”

Alexia was impressed. It was a big move for her teammate. She wondered if Ridley would ever want that. She knew she wouldn’t care about the public part, though someone in her field of work usually kept a low profile. Ridley was a little different, managing to hide in plain sight with her company, though it was a topic that she’d been meaning to broach.

Ridley looked at her as if knowing the question in her head. She gave her that cocky look and reached back, taking an iced coffee from her side of her backpack and giving it to Alexia.

“Any other news?” She asked as she took a sip.

Ridley stepped back looking her up and down with dark eyes unashamedly. She bent down to greet an eager Chiquito rubbing himself on her legs. “Leah and Jordan are engaged.”

The coffee sprayed from her mouth and the grey cat managed to dodge it.

“We haven’t been in reception for 2 days and this all happens?!”

“Mmnhmn.”

“We need to get back..” she found herself murmuring.

“Tomorrow, Lex.” Ridley reassured. “Let’s just enjoy our last day here..”

She took her hand and kissed it, leading her to the hammock outside the front of their hut. The guitar Ridley had been messing around with the night before was leaning up against the tree near it.

The Australian set her bag down as Alexia climbed onto the hammock with her coffee. Ridley settled between her legs, Alexia’s arm draped over her, and Chiquito jumped up to curl himself onto Ridley’s lap. Without speaking they moved. Already understanding what was happening. It was something she’d never had in her life. She’d never known such peace.

Ridley put the little packages of breakfast next to them and propped the tablet up against Alexia’s knee, pressing play on the Spanish game.

[adragonprinceswhore]

You’re Perfect

Billy Washington x Girlfriend

Summary: You ask Billy to fulfill one of your fantasies.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, deepthroat, throat fucking, breath play, fingering, cum eating

A/N: Here you go, anon! Made a header ‘cause I was bored 🤓 Also, I can’t believe I wrote this? Please forgive me for the crimes of my ovulation 🙏

Word count: 1700

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The days between Christmas and New Years always feel like being in limbo; stuck in time between the cosy familiarity of Christmas, and the rejuvenating passing of New Years. Never feeling quite like yourself; sometimes unburdened by the stressors of everyday life, sometimes fretting over the return of normalcy as a new year embarks.

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as a shower makes you feel human again.

You step out of the bathroom, steam accompanying your dampened silhouette as you enter the living room of Billy's small flat. He’s lounging on the small sofa in the corner, feet propped up on the low ikea coffee table, eyes flickering from the TV screen to you, taking in the way your dressing gown clings to your dewy skin.

Eyes still on you, he sits up a bit straighter, spreading his legs out while stretching out a needy hand, the other one fidgeting with the remote to mute the TV, “Come here”.

As you got more comfortable with each other as a couple, you learned a few things about Billy; he’s giving and he’s needy.

He wants you to know how much he appreciates you. He shows his love by making you tea each morning. By complimenting your cooking, even when it tastes horrid. By touching you, every chance he gets.

You take his hand and sit down on his lap. Billy’s face instantly nuzzles into the softness of your chest, nose trailing across your smooth skin as he inhales, “Did you use that shower oil I got you for Christmas?”

“The one I told you to buy for me?”, you giggle, remembering how panicked his blue eyes had looked in the over-crowded shopping centre before you slipped your gift into his hand and told him you’d go out while he finished up there, “-yes”

Billy hums, the stubble on his chin scratching your skin, “Great choice. Do you feel better after your shower?”

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as Billy's touch makes you feel human again.

He’s always so gentle with you, a stark contrast to the natural clumsiness he seems to possess. With you, he’s always careful, fingertips grazing delicately over your skin.

“Yes”, you answer honestly, grabbing his face to angle it towards your lips.

The kiss starts soft, plush lips moving against each other slowly. But once Billy finds your ass, squeezing it over your dressing gown, his mouth matches the neediness of his hand.

When you push on his shoulder to allow yourself a moment to come up for air, his lips chase your mouth, reluctant to allow separation between the two of you.

You dodge him, place a quick peck on his lips and stroke the smooth skin on his cheekbones, “There’s this thing I’d like to try..”

Unable to keep from adoring you, Billy peppers your neck with soft kisses, mumbling “Tell me” into your skin.

“It’s this fantasy I’ve had for a while”, you start, feeling Billy straighten up slightly as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, intrigued.

“Anything”, he says, grasp on your ass moving your body slightly so your leg makes contact with his crotch, feeling the hardness already there.

“Before we met, I’d… get off to this thought…”, you explain, hand moving to play with the sandy hairs at the base of his neck, “it’s something I’ve always wanted to try”.

“If you’re about to suggest a threesome with one of my mates, I’m throwing you out the window”, Billy jokes, still busy lathering you in featherlight kisses.

You chuckle, leaning in closer, mouth right by his ear as you purr, “I want you to fuck my throat”

Billy’s body goes stiff beneath you, but you can swear that you feel his cock twitch against your leg.

“Um-, y-, yeah. Yeah, guess we could try that”, he stammers, caught off guard by your brazen request.

You swing one leg over his lap so that you're straddling him, a playful smile turning the corners of your lips up.

“Yeah?”, you excitedly confirm, stifling a giggle at how rapidly your partner's cheeks have turned pink, “would you like to try right now?”

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Billy looks at you in amazement, nodding a silent yes.

You’d already gotten a bit worked up from just mentioning the subject, and now the realisation that it’ll happen has your core aching; arousal overtaking you rapidly.

You leave one last peck on Billy’s rosy lips before standing, pulling him up from the sofa and laying down with your head hanging over the armrest.

He observes you, mouth hanging open in astonishment, shoulders slumped and tent in his adidas bottoms evident. You almost let out another giggle at his baffled state.

“I want you to use me, Billy”, you urge, hand closest to him grabbing a fistful of the soft joggers material to pull him closer, “please”

He exhales shakily, hand moving down to palm over his aching cock. If this is what you want, who is he to deny you?

His eyes flicker from your face, eyes expectant and half-lidded with want, to your scarcely covered body, peeks of your soft skin peeping through the middle slit of your dressing gown.

God, you’re perfect.

“Tap my leg if it’s too much, yeah?”, he says, hesitation still evident in his tone, and you smile in reply, nodding.

He grabs his cock in one hand, the other moving to your face, fingertips gently tracing your cheeks as his eyes softly regard you with utter adoration.

Sliding in slowly, he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot mouth welcoming him. He takes the lead, setting a shallow, easy pace, allowing you to get used to the sensation.

After a few thrusts he pulls out, cock twitching at the sight of a trail of your spit connecting the two of you, “You okay?”

His consideration is sweet, but the feeling of his heavy length in your mouth and the taste of his salty skin leaves you craving more, “Yes Billy, try going deeper”

He inhales shakily again, face evidently hot; cheeks shifting from pink to red and skin glistening.

He slides in deeper, holding the side of your face carefully in his palm, fingers gently feeling the outline of his cock through the delicate skin of your throat, and moans.

“Fuck”

He lets his inhibitions go a little more, focusing on how good it feels; how his eyes are able to appreciate every inch of you as you offer yourself to him on the worn-out sofa in his crummy flat.

Feeling your throat close in a useless attempt to swallow whatever’s blocking your airway, Billy whimpers at the pleasurable squeeze before pulling out, eyes looking down at you in horror, “Shit, sorry!”

You cough slightly, inhaling deeply to fill your lungs again. He’s so cute when he’s like this; worried puppy-eyes contrasting his out-blown pupils.

Locking eyes with him, you smile as one of your hands slides down to slip inside the opening of your dressing gown, fingers diving between your folds, urgently seeking your entrance.

Without needing further preparation, you work two fingers inside your tightness, delighted that the wet sounds of your arousal echo across the room.

“I like it”, you reassure him, “Use me, Billy”

Instantly complying, he moans loudly at how good it feels as your mouth welcomes him again, wet squelching around his length matching the fingers still buried between your legs.

You continue like that, Billy still careful to let you breathe as he fucks your throat with more and more vigour.

Each time he pulls out, there’s more spit adorning his cock. That sight alone has his balls tighten almost painfully in arousal, ready to release at any moment.

You take in a few deep breaths before opening your mouth again, glistening lips and teary, half-lidded eyes illuminated by the harsh, bright light coming from the TV.

Billy leans forward slightly, slowly easing his length back into your hot, wet mouth, unrestrained moans falling from his lips at the maddening sensation. His large hands tug at the cotton belt holding your dressing gown loosely together, revealing your naked form to his hungry gaze.

His palms brace themselves on each side of your waist, fingers squeezing your soft flesh tightly as he begins to thrust his hips again, fucking your throat in slow and precise movements.

The sound of your fingers working your dripping centre, mixed with the moans contained in your throat vibrating around him forces him towards an unabated release.

“‘M gonna cum”, he whimpers, pulling out of your mouth, once again mesmerised by the glistening wetness connecting his cock to your lips as you cough, lungs eager to receive oxygen as you breathe heavily beneath him.

His hand moves furiously over his slick length, pearly spurts landing on your hot skin as he paints your exposed tits in his cum.

Still breathing heavily, Billy drops to his knees beside the sofa to kiss you passionately, warm hand lovingly cupping your cheek.

“I love you”, he whispers, kissing your jaw.

You giggle, still a bit dazed.

“I love you”, he repeats, lips moving down to brush against your sore throat, your collarbones. He crawls on the floor next to you, kissing his cum on your breasts, smearing it over your skin with his tongue.

His lips find your nipple, biting at the nerve-filled flesh before soothingly sucking at it. Meanwhile, his fingers push the limp hand between your thighs away, plunging inside your dripping centre fervently, causing your back to arch off the sofa.

“Does it feel this good when you touch yourself?”, he asks, voice muffled by the skin of your breast, “Can your fingers reach this deep?”

“No”, you moan.

Your Billy, who often looks so afraid and unsure, lights up with confidence as his blue gaze mets yours,

“Didn’t think so”

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part fourteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: finally reunited ahh!! (also a note from me while i'm trying to find pics for the header: damn this dude does not look happy very often huh) (okay so update we're settling for a flashback photo bc coryo in his curls era does not SMILE bruh)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Just right here." Lucy Gray stops on the gravel road, nodding up to the house in front of them.

"Okay, sweet." Sejanus smiles, already heading for the front porch but she grabs his arm, stopping him as Coryo just stares at the house, going slightly pale.

"Sejanus, how about you and I go figure out where you guys will stay, and come back for Coriolanus in a bit?" She offers, nodding toward him.

"Oh- uh, yes. Yeah. Good idea." He agrees, picking up quickly on what she meant. Coryo still hasn't said a word, just staring at the run-down shack that apparently was your home. It was clear that efforts were made to maintain the home, the fence had been patched in several places and there were flower beds outside. From what he knew about your family, that would make sense.

"Coriolanus?" Lucy Gray draws his attention again. "We're going to go find you a place to stay, and we'll come back for you in a bit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah that's... that's perfect. Thank you." He nods, in a trance-like state as he makes his way up to the door through some only slightly overgrown grass, before he has the chance to second-guess himself.

"He didn't even listen, did he?" Lucy Gray says, both of them watching him from the street.

"Not at all, no."

He can hear the two of them chatting as they disappear back down the road, and he looks for a doorbell that doesn't seem to be there, just settling for a knock instead. He waits a few moments after knocking on the wood, about to do it again when he hears a woman's voice come from inside. "One moment, I'll be right there!"

"I got it, Ma!" Comes from right behind the door as footsteps approach and it's swung open, a young boy standing there. "Hi." He says, eyeing Coryo up and down. It must be your brother.

"Uh, hi." He clears his throat. "Is Y/N here?"

"No, not right now." The boy answers. "Can I take a message for her?"

"Oh, well, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and-"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" The woman's voice comes again, much more excited as she rounds the corner from the hall, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You're Coriolanus?" She asks, a polite but delighted grin on her face as she gets closer.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nods in confirmation, a smile growing on his face. You look so much like your mother.

"Oh my goodness, come in, please! I didn't recognize you!" She gently moves her son out of the way, who is still staring at him with something unwelcoming behind his eyes. As soon as Coryo steps into the home, she's wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Wow, it is so lovely to meet you! You came a very long way!"

"I did." He chuckles, hugging her back with as much politeness as he can muster behind shaking hands and a pale face.

"Come sit, Y/N will be home within the hour. She'll be just thrilled to see you." She pulls away, gesturing for him to follow her into the living area. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. Let me grab you something."  Your mother says, mostly to herself as he sits down on the couch.

"That would be great, thank you." He smiles, still nervous as he tries to adjust his posture on the slightly uncomfortable sofa, looking around. In reality, he hadn't been "starving" for some time now. It felt good to have a consistently filled fridge all the time, but he has hardly eaten since they left the Capitol. He was too nervous to even think about it.

"Why did you come here?" Your brother asks, making Coryo look away from the family photos that adorned the walls. Most of the frames were broken, photos blurry, but he could tell that to your family that didn't matter.

"I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Coryo answers, stiffened by your brother's somewhat hostile energy and the thought of getting to see you so soon. Had you told him something you didn't tell your mother? Probably that he killed that boy, but it seemed unlike you to leave out the part where he had no choice. Unless Tigris was wrong.

Unless you still didn't see it that way.

Your brother hums, sitting in the chair across from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees. To Coryo, this felt like an interrogation. Coming from a teenager, it was almost cute.

"Lennox, Honey, can you come help me for just a moment?" His mother calls him from the kitchen and he's shooting up again, glaring at Coryo as he walks away. He was confused, today alone he's gotten so many mixed signals on your feelings.

You stuck out the day at work, even though while you were reshelving returns you had to rush to the bathroom in the back to vomit after reading the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans. You were hoping by now this would happen less and less, but leaving the house had only made it worse. Getting a job was a mistake and you knew that, but your family was hardly scraping by before you were torn from your life- but neither of your parents could work the whole time you were gone. They were sick about it. Your mom still couldn't work, and you knew your father rarely ever slept these days.

You tried to hand over the winnings Coryo's Dean had given you as soon as you got home, holding it out to your parents with trembling hands as they opened the locked door for you. They wanted none of it. Not a dollar from your three thousand, which you had spent time counting and recounting on the train. They only wanted you home. You had hoped it would give you something else to talk about- that you could smile and be proud that you won and that now your family could live comfortably, at least for a little while. The idea almost made it worth it. As you counted your prize under the dim lighting in the train car, you had wondered if you would do it again for them. The money didn't make saying hello again any easier, though, and you cried for what must have been hours on the porch of your family home, the four of you tangled together in a hug bound together by tears.

It was hard to let go, but when they had, finally, your mother shoved the money back into your pocket and told you to save it. One day, you could buy your own home with it, and that wasn't a bad idea.

All you could do for them now that your money sat in a jar in your closet, the best you could do, was convince them you were fine enough for you all to move on and forget about it. The additional income of getting your own job helped, too. So, when your boss tried to send you home, you declined, and five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough.

You drink water out of an old jam jar on the way home, washing the taste of bile out of the back of your mouth. The fresh air made a world of difference. As much as you adored the smell of books, it got stuffy in there, especially in the summers. Even with the sun beating down on your shoulders over your button-up shirt, you felt better just making the walk home every day. The breeze blowing through the trees, the familiar paths beneath your feet, it was one of the very few things that could ground you in the reality that now, you were safe. That, and the meadow behind your house at night time. Reading under lantern light with the stars overhead and your family at your side, you never felt more real. It was truly over.

That's what you would do tonight, you decided, after a long nap following an unfortunate day. At the end of every unfortunate day, you still had that, and that meant the world to you.

"Oh! Here's Tybalt." Your mom smiles, now comfortable on the couch next to Coriolanus as the cat saunters into the living room, jumping up into the space between them. "This is Y/N's cat, she calls him Tybs." She explains, tears forming in her eyes as the cat crawls onto her lap and she quickly blinks them away, but he had already noticed by then.

"She told me about him." Coryo says, placing his now empty tea cup on the coffee table in front of them.

"Of course..." She chuckles sadly. "He took real good care of us while she was away. On particularly... hard nights," She clears her throat. "He would come out into the living room with her father and I and sit with us, he can purr like no ones business, you know, and then after a while, he would run over to our room there and meow at us. Made sure we got to bed. Then curl up with us and just made sure we knew that.... she was still with us."

A tear falls as she speaks and she laughs nervously, quickly brushing it away. "Gosh, I am so sorry..." She quickly dismisses it. "We have company and I'm crying like a little girl. Forgive me..."

"No, it's quite alright." Coryo insists, shaking his head. Of course, he was worried about you in the arena and every night up until then, but he never entertained the idea of what it was like for your family even though he knew about them. That under the same sky, they were sitting here in this very home praying that you might return. Now, he could see it, and you were the lucky one who made it home. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Jessup's family while he was here. "It must have been awful for you."

"Indeed." She nods, wiping her cheek again. "But, you know, it means so much to us that she had someone there to look after her." She smiles at him. It's genuine. Sad, but full of gratitude. He would no longer wonder where you got that habit from. "I decided I wouldn't be watching anything, but her father insisted. He was out at a bar in town, the only one with televisions, then came rushing back in the door twenty minutes later and dragged us back there with him to watch. I didn't want to go but he said 'No, you need to see this. She's not alone. She has a friend.' So down we went, and they were playing reruns of the two of you being dropped into that cage. I just... She looked so comfortable with you. The way you looked at her we could see you cared, that she was human to you, and that you were there to help. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe she had a chance." She's accepted her tears now, reaching over from petting Tybalt to grasp the young man's hands in her own as she spoke.

Your brother scoffs as Coryo lets her hold onto his hands, a small smile forming on his face that's quickly torn away by Lennox's reaction. "Yeah, and then that other boy had to be the one to bring her something to eat after days."

"Hey!" Your mother gasps. "Lennox, get-" She prompts him to leave if he isn't going to be nice.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to leave.

"I didn't have anything to bring her besides a flower." Coryo finds himself stating, shocking even himself at the confession which halts your brother in his steps. He had never told anyone about the poverty he faced at home, but with them, he felt safe to. Something about knowing you assured him that they were not judgemental people. He clears his throat before explaining. "My family lost everything after the war. When I first met her, I also hadn't eaten in days. I gave her everything I could."

Lennox hums before leaving, either not convinced or embarrassed that he'd even made such a comment. Coryo couldn't tell.

"Coriolanus... I am so sorry." Your mother is quick to apologize, and he's embarrassed by the look of pity in her eyes. Pity from a woman who had, for almost a month, believed she had lost her child, and was still struggling with it today. He felt nothing but guilt.

"Well, I must tell you, your daughter saved us from that." He tries to lift her spirits as a confused expression paints itself into her features, but he doesn't get the chance to elaborate as they both turn at the sound of the front door opening.

"Ma!" You call out, closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, preparing your smile to tell her about the absolutely great day you just had.

Your mother stands quickly, patting the boys thigh gently and wipes her eyes. "Hi, Honey, how was your day?" She asks, smiling at him through red eyes.

"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day." Your groaned response comes slightly muffled from the other room, and Coryo can hear you shuffling about.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Immediately your mother's tone shifts to worry, and Coryo wonders how it took her less than a second to understand.

"Nothing, Ma. All is fine." You call back, putting your bag down in the kitchen, and heading for the living room, gluing a smile back on. "Guess what I saw on the walk home! A ladybug, it landed right on my-" You freeze as you walk into the entryway, seeing your mother and your previous mentor just standing up next to her.

"Oh, I should have mentioned, we have company." Your mother smiles, already gathering the used dishes from the coffee table, and brushing past you to bring them into the kitchen. Likely, to give you two a chance to talk.

When Coryo lays his eyes on you for the first time again, he can swear his heart stops. Yours definitely does as nausea comes over you in a wave again, and your calculated smile drops.

You don't say anything, just staring with an expression unreadable to him. "Y/N, hi." He breathes, smiling at you. You look beautiful but tired, still. Still, that girl he watched in the arena, it was hard to believe that every part of you made it out. You weren't the same girl he saw for the first time in the reaping- you were more. More of you, and more of something else; hurt, if he had to guess.

"It's good to see you." He continues, his voice a gentle whisper that cuts through the awkward tension in the room. Your heart races, emotions swirling like a tempest within you. Coriolanus Snow, your mentor and friend who had guided you through your time in that Capitol and the games, is standing in your living room, looking both apologetic and hopeful.

"Coryo," You manage to say, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the sickness rising in your throat. The memories flood back- everything awful you had gone through. Meeting him for the first time as he handed you a flower, sitting on opposite sides of the bars of your cage and talking long into the nights. Everything you had done, everything he had given you, the people you both hurt in the process. He takes a step closer, cautiously navigating the fragile space between you.

"I... What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to meet his gaze. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in on you quickly.

He clears his throat, a nervous habit you remember well. "I wanted to see you," he says, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't know what you were up to and how you were adjusting and... I was worried about you."

The weight of unspoken words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to bridge the gap that only a month of time has built. You had been away from him longer than you had known him, and facing him again, you were embarrassed. Scared. Coryo takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to express the weight of what he's carried in his mind for too long.

"I never stopped thinking about you," He confesses, sincerity etched across his face. "I tried sending letters but I didn't get any response."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors your own, and the air crackles with a shared sense of everything you want to say but just can't find the words. You can't help it as you feel over and over again the countless hours spent together in the lead-up to the worst days of your life.

Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, a silent plea for connection. As your fingers take his, warmth floods through you, dissolving the distance. "I missed you," he admits, his voice barely audible.

A rush of conflicting emotions surges within you- that same embarrassment, anger, hurt, but also a flicker of the fondness that never truly faded. "I missed you too," You admit, your voice breaking through the emotional dam, built up from fear and trauma and the stacks of books in your bedroom that held it back all this time.

With those words, the barriers crumble, and the room is filled with a pitiful silence. The weight of what you had both done begins to lift, replaced with the realization that he did honestly care for you, the way you did for him. As you look into each other's eyes, the connection is undeniable, evidence of a bond that time could never change. You would always be connected to him.

"Do you remember when I brought you that blanket?" He asks and you take in a sharp breath. The few pleasant memories you had of your time together were so often overthrown by the awful ones, these days. His eyes flicker quickly across your face. He looks as scared as you feel. "And I said I wish I could get to know you as you are, not as a tribute, and you said you would show me the stars."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod, the nausea you felt steadily subsiding. "So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing. I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away."

Coryo tilts his head at you, and smiles. That must have been a yes. "Please, don't walk away again." He whispers, and in that moment, he feels the tightness in his chest that carried him through the last month finally release.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[rocknrollbabe14]

Rock-a-Bye Professor

Part One

First Professor story "Hot for Teacher" here :

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: Direct mentions of sex, birth control, missed period, nausea, vomiting, pregnancy and abortion. Professor/Student trope at college level. Both consenting adults. Don't like it, don't read. Thank you!

**I have this one almost completed and have had it in my drafts for over a year now. Since I wrote the first one. Lmao. This continues their relationship. First part is shorter but I left it on a cliff hanger.**

Special thanks to @usererics for my header. I love it and you! ❤️

“You sure you don’t want to go to the party?”, Tori called out from the living room.

“No thanks, Tori. Not feeling the greatest.”, you sighed, laying in bed feeling like death.

You had felt nauseated for several days, chalking it up to a stomach virus. You’d gotten sick in the mornings before class—even missing a few classes. You had to get your shit together if you wanted to graduate in the spring. You were too close to fuck things up now. 

“Call me if you need me?”, Tori asked.

“Sure, but I think it will be the other way around.”, you smirked, pulling your covers up. 

Tori told you she’d be two blocks over before closing the door, finally leaving you alone. You got out of bed, pulling the box out of your purse as you heard your phone ding.

-Coming over tonight? Miss you.

It was your Professor—boyfriend. You were still getting used to calling him your boyfriend. Now, things had grown more complicated. You had missed your period. You knew this usually meant one thing—but you had been super stressed lately. 

-Maybe. Still feeling really bad. ☹️

It took everything in you to raise yourself up from your bed and go to the bathroom, your hands beginning to shake. It made you nervous to even toss the idea around in your head that you could be pregnant. You heard your phone ding and you were certain it was Joe, but you had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Shutting the bathroom door, you read over the instructions on the back before practically ripping the box open. It had two tests to help ensure and confirm accuracy. 

Obviously, two pink lines meant ‘pregnant’ and one pink line meant ‘not pregnant’. You needed and prayed for one pink line before sitting down on the toilet to do your business. Ripping open the wrapper, you took the cap of the pregnancy test. You looked up at the ceiling as you followed the instructions before pulling the test from between your legs and recapping it, laying it flat. You got up and flushed the toilet before going to get your phone—anything to distract you for a few minutes while you waited on the results that would change your life. 

-So sorry, love. I could take care of you. Warm bath, massage, soup? What do you think? 

You felt your insides twist into a knot as you read his text. The idea was tempting. It sounded amazing and the thought alone was turning you on. 

-You mean it?

Another ding.

-Of course, love. Want me to pick you up?

You bit your lip, really wanting to take him up on his offer. After you estimated two minutes, you went to check on the results of your pregnancy test. You swallowed hard as you closed your eyes, picking up the test. Opening your eyes, you felt your heart drop down into your stomach. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Two dark pink lines. You were pregnant—whether you wanted to be or not. Feeling like you were in complete disbelief, you felt the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. 

Your life was over—or at least you felt that way. You always wanted a baby after you were married. You were nowhere close to being married. You had a relationship with your professor—one you had to hide. Now, you were also pregnant by him.

-Yes or no, love? Won’t be mad either way. Just miss you so much.

You sighed. 

-Yeah, sounds okay. 

Part of you didn’t feel like going over to visit him, but you knew you had been a little distant with being sick and all. 

-Great. Did Tori go to her party?

You clutched the pregnancy test, coming out of the bathroom. You slid both tests into your bedside table. Couldn’t risk Tori finding them or taking them in your purse.

-Yes. You can park on the curb. I’ll be out. Just text me when you get here. 

-Sounds great, love. Can’t wait to take care of you. 😉

Another deep sigh escaped your lips, laying your phone down on your bed. You knew you needed to make a doctor’s appointment soon. That was the first step. Throwing a few things in your bag, you began to ponder how you could have gotten pregnant. You took your pill every day—shit. You grabbed your pack of pills, eyeing them. You went down each row until you gasped. You had missed two. How in the hell had you missed two pills? You groaned, immediately beginning to curse yourself.

Not only was it your own fault you had gotten pregnant, but now you had to explain it to your professor—boyfriend that you missed two of your pills and got pregnant. The thoughts alone made your head spin and made you dread having the conversation with him—if you decided to. While your world had stopped spinning, your phone dinged and you just knew it was him letting you know he was here. 

You grabbed your overnight bag, locking up the dorm. Your heart began to beat faster as you took two of the steps at a time. You saw his Mercedes, looking around and making sure no one else was watching you. You jogged over to his car, hearing him unlock the passenger door. Looking through the car window, you could see the big, stupid smile spread across his lips. You couldn’t help but give him a small smile back as you got inside the car. 

“Hey, love.”

“Hey.”, you smiled softly. 

“Maybe it’s the lighting, but you look pale.”

You laughed easily. “Thanks, babe.”

He smirked as he shifted into drive and pulled out. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His free hand found your knee. 

“And just how are you gonna do that?”, you countered.

He smirked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Mhm, well I can start by running you a warm bath. Let you relax while I make you some dinner. Have you been able to keep anything down?”

“Not hardly. Just some water.”

“You’ve got to eat something.”

“We can try some soup and saltines, I guess.”

He rubbed your leg reassuringly as you leaned your head against the door. You felt like shit if you were being honest, but you knew he wanted your company. The weekends were some of the only chances that you all got to be with one another. Your head was pounding from vomiting constantly over the past several days. He rubbed your leg in silence as you both continued the drive to his house. It was dark, the street lights illuminating you both every few blocks. 

It felt like forever before you finally reached his house. Your stomach already felt queasy again, but now you knew why. It was like he could read you. He could tell exactly what was on your mind. 

“Are you doing okay, baby?”

You shook your head. “Feeling sick again.”

“Let’s get you inside, yeah? Let you lay down for a bit while I run your bath?”

You nodded as he came over to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and grabbed your bag, throwing it on his shoulder. He helped you out, keeping a hand on your waist to ensure you didn’t fall over. You knew you were weak considering you hadn’t been able to keep anything down. You were probably dehydrated. He held onto you as he stuck his key in the door, it popping open to reveal his lowly lit home. You remembered the first time you saw his house—you were very drunk. You thought you were imagining things. 

He assisted you over to the couch, helping you sit down easily. The room felt like it was spinning as you laid back and closed your eyes. 

“Want some over-the-counter nausea medicine?”, he asked as he pulled a blanket over you.

Your mind immediately wandered to your unborn baby. Would it be safe to take something like that? You were still undecided on what to do but were still being very cautious. 

“Um…..no, it’s okay.”

He raised his brows surprisingly from behind his glasses. “Alright. Do you think you should go to the hospital? You’re probably dehydrated, love.”

Your heart dropped down into your stomach and you knew that was a bad idea. They’d do a pregnancy test on you for sure when you told them when your last period was. He’d find out you were pregnant and you weren’t ready to tell him yet. 

“No—an expensive bill for nothing? Worst case scenario I need some Pedialyte.”, you laughed nervously. 

He chuckled surprisingly. “Okay, love. We won’t decide yet but if you keep getting worse, we’re going. You don’t need all your electrolytes getting out of whack.”

You nodded as he kissed your forehead.

“No fever.”

You smiled softly as he leaned back up, looking down at you with his piercing, deep brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna run your bath, okay?”

You nodded as he kissed your cheek and headed off to the bathroom. Joe was very affectionate with you behind closed doors, the only chance he had was to show you how much he loved and adored you. How would he take the news of you being pregnant? Did he even want a future with you? The thoughts alone made your stomach twist and turn, the nauseous feeling rising in your chest. 

“Joe?”

“Yes, babe?”, he shouted from the bathroom over the sound of running water. 

“Um, I’m feeling sick—again.”, you groaned.

“Coming!”

He rushed out of the bathroom, holding a small bathroom trashcan before bringing it to you. He sat down beside you on his couch, pulling your hair back. You hated throwing up in front of him. It was the worst feeling and you knew it was definitely not romantic. He rubbed your back with his other free hand as you felt yourself beginning to dry heave, signaling your torture was almost over. Not that you had much to get rid of anyway, but some water and Sprite that you had attempted to drink a few hours ago.

Once you were done, you sat the trashcan down and wiped the tears away from the corner of your eyes. 

“Baby, are you sure you feel like taking a bath? We could still go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. Just let me bathe and lay down in bed? Maybe cuddle me?”, you asked, puppy dog eyes. 

He sighed easily before a small smile came across his lips. “Okay—fine.”

Giving you a small kiss, he went to check your bath water. He came back and told you it was warm and ready for you. Once again, it took all your strength to get off the couch and head to the bathroom. You pulled your top off, laying it on the sink.

“I can get your bra—if you want.”, he breathed. 

You nodded easily, lifting your hair up. You felt his fingertips brush your soft, bare skin as he made his way to the clasp of your bra, unhooking it gently. You inhaled sharply, missing his touch but you were in no position for sex. You felt your chest fall free. Joe’s breathing hitched and you could tell he liked what he saw. His hands snaked around your chest, taking both breasts in his hands, causing you to choke back a hiss. You had no idea your breasts were that sore and sensitive. 

“Still so sexy even if you’re sick.”, he hummed, placing kisses on your neck.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let on like anything was wrong. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hope you feel better soon, love. I miss making love to you.”

You smiled softly, attempting to hide your expression of discomfort. 

“I’ll leave you to finish your bath. You’ll call if you need me?”

You nodded easily as he kissed your cheek again, leaving you in the bathroom but leaving a small crack in the door so he could hear you. You slid your sweatpants and panties off, laying them with your other clothes. You wasted no time sinking down into the warm bath, exhaling some relief on your newly aching body. It felt good—you weren’t going to lie. After a few minutes, you decided to quickly wash off and wash your hair. It had been two days since you’d taken a good shower since feeling so crummy. 

Once the water began to grow cold, you got out and grabbed the towels Joe had set out for you. You wrapped one around your body and the other was put in your hair. Draining the water, you began to feel a little queasy again. You wished this baby would give you a break. But once standing back up, you felt a little better. You quickly dried the water out of your hair making it less dripping and damp before looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked rough, he was right. 

Joe had laid out one of his t-shirts for you and grabbed a clean pair of your panties from your bag. His t-shirts were definitely more comfy than your gown. And it smelled like him. 

“Doing okay, love?”, he called out from his bedroom.

“Yes. Coming to bed.”

You hung your towels up quickly before grabbing your clothes and turning off the bathroom light. Opening the door, you noticed him grading papers while lying in bed. He looked up at you easily.

“Feel better, baby?”

“A little.”

He looked over his glasses at you as you circled the bed, climbing in on your side. Well, it wasn’t technically your side but it was always the side you slept on when coming over. You peeled the covers back easily before sliding into bed, pulling them back up on you easily as you stared at the ceiling. He had a single lamp on, the one on his side. It provided him with enough light to work by. 

“Ready for cuddles?”, he asked softly.

You nodded.

He chuckled softly as he laid his papers and red pen down, reaching to grab the lamp to turn it off. You heard his glasses hit the bedside table before he wrapped you up in his strong arms. He exhaled softly, a sign he was relaxed. He planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Joe.” 

It was a matter of minutes before he was snoring lightly but all that was on your mind was your unborn baby. What were you going to do? 

Over the next couple of weeks, you avoided Joe. You hadn’t spent the weekend at his house since that night. You had your first doctor’s appointment where they confirmed you indeed were pregnant and estimated you at being six weeks along by the time you got in to see the OB. She did an ultrasound, confirming that everything looked good and the baby was growing healthy for its age, your HCG levels were perfect for the timeframe of your pregnancy and gave you printouts of your baby. All you could do was stare. 

She had noticed you weren’t like most mothers who were crying tears of joy or bringing their husbands or boyfriends with them. She asked if you wanted to know your other options. You answered yes. She gave you a pamphlet explaining alternative solutions—adoption and abortion. She told you the sooner you made a decision, the better off you’d be. All you had to do was say the word and she’d write the referral to the abortion clinic. She asked if you were married to which you answered no. 

All you could think about was Joe and how he’d feel about all this. He’d texted you every day, hoping you’d come back around. He knew something was off with you, but he couldn’t pin it down. He absolutely had no idea you were pregnant with his baby and going through all this emotional turmoil. Your OB told you that you didn’t have to come to a decision that day—to sleep and think about it until your next appointment. It would be at the ten-week mark and she told you that you would be able to hear your baby’s heartbeat if you wanted to. 

That was three weeks ago. Back at your dorm, you pulled your shirt up and looked in the mirror. You were getting a very small bump. It was barely noticeable but you could tell a difference. Your phone dinged. 

-Can we have dinner and talk? I really miss you. I love you and can’t stop thinking about you.

You laid your phone back down on the bed, sighing. You could have your abortion secretly and things could go back to normal. He’d never have to know. But deep down inside, you knew that wasn’t fair to him. Sighing, you decided to finally give in. 

-Yeah, I can come over. 

You blew air, waiting for a response. 

-Want me to pick you up? 

Biting your lip, you responded. 

-No, it’s okay. I’ll catch a cab. See you soon. 

-Ok, be safe. Love you.

You got up and gathered a few things and arranged for a cab to come get you. This was now or never. The day you dreaded but he deserved to know. Climbing in the cab, you gave his address and the ride seemed to take forever. Your stomach felt sick, but you didn’t know if it was the baby or your nerves. It wasn’t long before you came up to his house, seeing the lights on. You paid your fare, thanked the cab driver, and grabbed your bag. He pulled away, leaving you alone as you walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. 

[borathae]

"This is a little story about how Yoongi and Taehyung spend their days when the rest of the family isn't home."

Pairing: platonic Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire!Yoongi

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: there are no warnings because this is nothing but sweet fluff and happiness, they go on a little ride with their horses, they're so important to me, hinted polyamory

Wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: i love them i love them i love them 😭 my two babies :( the header is ruining me btw, they're so pretty fandsfna

Yoongi is listening to music. It plays on his speaker and fills the room with its melodies. He already made a lot of progress with your witch office today. 

You, Jungkook and Hoseok are currently visiting Emma and Seokjin in Gordes for around two weeks, which meant that Yoongi finally had time to prepare his surprise for you. There is no reason for it, nor a special occasion, it is as simple as that Yoongi loves to make you happy. There is no better feeling in the world than knowing that he could make you happy. And because your witch business has been going so well lately, Yoongi decided that it is only fitting to surprise you with your very own witch office. Until recently, you made your potions in the main kitchen which often ended in stuff getting into your food and turning it inedible. Yoongi hopes that by surprising you with your very own kitchen, he can make it a lot easier for you. He can’t wait to get your reaction. He already started dreaming of it and feeling really giddy once he wakes up.

The room he chose for the surprise has been unused for decades. Yoongi already forgot its original purpose, but he liked that you had a window to look out of and beams to hang your flowers from. The floors were rotted and the wallpaper peeled off from age. Yoongi spent the first two days ripping everything out and then spent another five days replacing the floors and wallpaper. He went for a dark shade of your favourite colour and added wood panelling to bring it together. He also fixed the fireplace, making it so you could actually use it, and rewired the electricity so you wouldn’t die as you turned on a lamp. 

It is day eight today and Yoongi is currently busy with getting the kitchen working again, kneeling on the new floors, when a familiar scent hints his nose. 

He pokes his head out from under the sink, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. The latter seems to be back from a ride. Horse follows him with his normal scent and he is still dressed in old-fashioned riding clothes.

“You have made impressive progress”, Taehyung says, looking around the room, “I love the colours.”

“Thanks.”

Yoongi sticks his head back under the sink. 

Taehyung rounds the kitchen counter and sits down next to Yoongi. He pokes his arm, making Yoongi move his head again.

“What?”

“You are very cool, hyung.” 

“Thanks”, he says and looks back at the sink. He is almost done. 

“Do you want to come with me for another ride later? The weather is lovely today.”

“I don’t know yet. I still gotta rewire the stove.”

“I can help you with that.”

“No offense, but if you helped you’d kill her accidentally.”

Taehyung nudges Yoongi’s arm, “you are mean.”

“Sorry Tae. You can help me with the cabinets though. I’m sure you can paint them prettier than this.”

“Yes, indeed I can”, Taehyung giggles excitedly, “oh hyung, this makes me very happy. I shall change clothing and begin painting right away”, he says and stumbles to his feet, “will we go on a ride later?”

“Fine. I’ll ride with you.” 

One can call them old-fashioned or stuck in time, but the two vampires put great care into what clothing they wear for riding. Their petticoats and shirts are tailored, their vests hug their figures and their pants are perfectly ironed. They also make sure that their boots are polished and their leather gloves fitted. And while Taehyung goes for a colour pallet of whites and blues, Yoongi is dressed entirely in black. 

“Where shall we ride?” Taehyung asks, sitting proudly on his horse. 

“Where did you go?” Yoongi asks, sitting just as proudly. 

They pass their stable workers, greeting them with a nod of their heads. 

“I went west to the forests.” 

“Mhm. Wanna go east? For a change?”

There are hills waiting east. The grasses are tall and from the highest point, one has view of the town. 

“Yes, we could do that”, Taehyung says and gives his horse a gentle kick to increase its tempo. 

Yoongi follows next to Taehyung, looking left and right in case enemies showed up. It is a lingering habit from a more dangerous life. One he can’t seem to shake even now in times of peace. 

The two vampires put some distance between the stables and them, when Taehyung breaks the silence with a deep sigh.

Yoongi looks at him and the smile he sports.

“Isn’t the weather wonderful?”

“Mhm, it’s not bad.”

“Indeed it is nice. I think we made a lot of progress with the room today.”

“Yeah, I think so too. I can start with furnishing tomorrow.”

“Oh truly? I shall hurry up with painting then.”

“Mhm  I can help.” 

“That is very lovely of you, but truly I can manage.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

Taehyung looks at Yoongi, giving him a smile. One Yoongi retorts shyly.

“I think it is so romantic of you to surprise her. She is very lucky to have you.”

“No”, Yoongi shakes his head, “I’m lucky to have her. She makes me happy, so I wanna make her happier.”

“Well that is wonderful to hear. I can see that you make her very happy, hyung.” 

Yoongi flusters, rubbing his neck nervously.

“I try”, he murmurs, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. 

It isn’t long and the two vampires reach the top of the hill. They stay seated on their horses, looking at the town not far from here. The sun is hiding behind clouds today, which makes being outside comfortable with the two light-sensitive vampires. Despite the hiding sun, the day was still bright and the view of the town clear.

“This will never lose its beauty”, Taehyung says.

“Mhm, yeah”, Yoongi agrees.

Taehyung inhales the fresh air and sighs happily.

“May I help in decorating her office? I have ideas which she could really enjoy.”

“Yeah, you’re better at it anyways.”

“Thank you. I really enjoy interior design.”

“I know. You like it”, Yoongi says, unknowingly filling Taehyung’s heart with warmth. He knows him so well. 

Taehyung turns his horse so he was looking at Yoongi. He grins. Yoongi studies it.

“What?”

“What say you to a race, hyung?” 

“A race?”

“Yes, we shall race back to the stables and the winner gets one wish granted by the other person.”

“Alright, if you want to”, Yoongi says and turns his horse. He rolls his shoulders, tightening his grip on the reins, “I’m not easily beat though.”

“Neither am I”, Taehyung says and gets into position, “we will start after the count of-”

“Hya!” Yoongi doesn’t let him finish as he commands his horse into a fast gallop.

“Yoongi! You cheat!” Taehyung screams after him and tells his horse to run, “I wasn’t finished explaining the rules!”

“There are no rules! You’re just slow!” Yoongi calls back and runs faster. 

Taehyung furrows his brows. He is overtaken with playful competitiveness, speeding up with tears gathering in his eyes from the wind. He laughs as he does, feeling incredibly light in his heart.

“You are a total cheat, hyung!”

He passes Yoongi very soon, laughing and cheering loudly because the stables were too close to allow Yoongi to catch up.

“Yah, you brat!” Yoongi laughs, trying to catch up but it is too late. Taehyung races past the stables, slowing down his horse in front of them.

“I won!” he cheers, throwing his hands in the air in celebration.

Yoongi doesn’t slow down. Yoongi gallops past him.

“The last to get to the forests loses!” he calls out. 

“You are playing unfair games!” Taehyung complains and rides off. 

Yoongi has already put significant distance between them and he needs to catch up. 

“You are so unfair, hyung!” Taehyung laughs, meeting laughter as Yoongi’s answer.

It has been decades since the two vampires raced each other. It was the beginning of the 1850s and Namjoon hadn’t shown himself in almost seven years. Life at the estate was quiet. Yoongi hid in his wing for most of the time, while Jimin and Taehyung tried to learn how to function normally. One day, Yoongi took them out for a ride and he raced them until the horses were happily tired and the two recovering vampires had forgotten all about the past decades with Namjoon. At this time, Yoongi didn’t really know about what Namjoon put them through, let alone that he still regularly finds them to inflict more pain, so asking them for a race was merely out of his own desire. 

Back then, the vampires didn’t show that they enjoyed it. No laughter was shared, the conversations were dry and their faces stoic. Their emotionless hearts didn’t really feel the need to show that they enjoyed the time with each other. But one must know that if emotionless vampires spend time together even without their emotions, it was a very obvious sign that they enjoyed each other’s company.

Today it was obvious that they liked the time spend together. Today, Taehyung feels vast of air when he sees the utter happiness on Yoongi’s features as the older vampire looks over his shoulder. His black hair is tousled from the wind, his pale cheeks are flushed pink and his dark brown eyes are crinkled in laughter. They are spilling tears as well because of the wind.

“You’re slow”, he teases and looks back to the front. 

In this moment, Taehyung doesn’t even care that he is slow and that he will most definitely lose. He saw Yoongi’s honest smile and can still hear him laugh like an excited boy at the candy shop. He sounds unlike the Yoongi he knows and yet he never sounded more like himself. 

“You are such a cheater, hyung! I would have won”, Taehyung calls out and squeaks in laughter. Riding a horse has never felt more freeing before. 

Yoongi wins as expected, celebrating his win by jumping off his horse and doing a little dance. 

Taehyung joins him soon, placing his horse next to Yoongi’s and jumping off. 

He runs to Yoongi and connects his palm with Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi stumbles back, teasing him by humming a victorious melody.

“You cheater. I won back at the stables”, Taehyung whines.

“Yeah and then I won right now”, Yoongi teases and does a little butt wiggle, “I won, I won, I won.”

Taehyung should be mad at him for cheating. He should whine about it more, but he can’t find it in himself to do so. 

Yoongi looks so happy. So carefree. And it doesn’t feel awkward between them. 

Taehyung feels overwhelmed in happiness. He closes the distance between them and takes Yoongi into a hug.

“Tae, come on”, Yoongi tenses up instantly. His butt wiggles stop, but a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest lets Taehyung know that he is still feeling good.

“My wish is to give you a hug”, Taehyung murmurs and nuzzles his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.

“Yeah? My wish is to not get hugged. Tae come on, you know how this makes me feel”, Yoongi complains and tries to push at Taehyung’s chest. 

“But I love you, hyung. Do you not love me?” 

“Course I do. Just”, Yoongi wiggles, “let go of me.”

Taehyung releases him from his hug. Yoongi fixes his coat and meets his eyes.

“Yah, come here you rascal”, he says and attacks Taehyung with a gentle head lock.

“Hey. Ah! Release me”, Taehyung squeaks in laughter, fighting him gently. 

Taehyung can’t remember if he ever play fought with Yoongi. He is quite sure that he didn’t. He watched Jungkook and Seokjin play fight each other on many occasions. He also knows that when Jimin feels playful he likes to pretend to practice boxing on his arm. And Jungkook regularly has his moments where he playfully slaps people’s butts. But he never had a playfight with Yoongi. This is new and it’s making him squeak in laughter while Yoongi laughs just a squeakily. 

The play fight ends with Taehyung attacking Yoongi with a hug and the Creator whining loudly. 

“I won”, Taehyung says, releasing him.

“I let you win”, Yoongi says and drops onto the ground. He stretches out his legs, resting back against a tree, “I’m stronger than you.”

“Yes you are”, Taehyung says and sits down next to Yoongi, “does this mean that I have another wish free?”

Yoongi chuckles, “I never agreed on that.”

“I think I have another wish free.”

“You’re a brat”, Yoongi says fondly.

“Mhm indeed”, Taehyung relaxes with a smile, “I shall voice my wish later.”

“Fine. If you want to.”

The two vampires can look out at the endless grounds this way. The meadows, the forests, the lakes and the various flower gardens. They see the estate in the distance and the hills even further away. 

“You seem carefree today”, Taehyung says.

“I feel carefree. I don’t gotta worry about life fucking me up again.”

“Yes, I agree it is rather healing to think that we live in peace these days.”

“I still don’t think it’s real. Sometimes I wonder if I’m still stuck in Namjoon’s curse and all the good things happening lately are just my brain making up stuff to escape the pain.”

Taehyung reaches over and pinches Yoongi’s upper inner arm.

“Ah”, he flinches away, touching the spot instantly, “what the fuck? That hurt. Why did you do that?”

“Now you know that this is real.”

“I just said that sometimes I wonder, not that I actually think it isn’t real.”

“No, I understood you, but we had to make sure.”

Yoongi snorts in amusement, clicking his tongue.

“Brat.”

Taehyung chuckles, relaxing happily. He follows a breeze of wind as it dances through the grasses and trees. 

“I think about these possibilities as well”, he confesses after some time of tranquility passed.

“You do?”

He nods his head, “I do. I sometimes wonder if my current perfect life is just another cruel mind trick of Namjoon. There were many occasions where he made me see wonderful things only to pull me back to torture again when the fantasy felt the most healing. The pain he inflicted afterwards always felt especially unbearable”, he says and touches his own hands as if to wipe the memory from his nerves, “I am scared that sometimes all of this isn’t real and that one day, I will have to return to being tortured again.”

Yoongi reaches out for his hand and closes his fingers around it. The shakes, which had started to gradually overtake Taehyung’s hands, stop. Taehyung looks at their hands then into Yoongi’s reassuring eyes 

“It’s real. You know?” Yoongi says softly.

Taehyung takes a shaky breath. He nods his head. 

“I know”, he whispers and allows a small smile to brighten his features.

Yoongi retorts it and looks back at the endless meadows. He slips his hand from Taehyung’s to play with his own thumbs instead. Taehyung traces his own knuckles. Moments before, Yoongi’s thumb grazed them mindlessly. Taehyung still feels the touch. He blinks the emotion from his eyes and looks at the swaying grasses. Their horses are close by, getting their afternoon snacking in. Taehyung’s horse was brown in colour and was dressed in dark blue gear, while Yoongi’s horse had fur blacker than the darkest night and wore black leather gear. It fit the two vampires. 

“I like that you open up to me these days”, Yoongi says into the silence.

Taehyung shifts his eyes from their horses to study Yoongi’s side profile instead. His older friend’s lips were perfectly pouted and his nose perfectly sloped, so that he had a doll-like elegancy to him. Taehyung thought him beautiful as artists thought nature beautiful and photographer light. 

“I only feel comfortable doing so because you made it safe to talk to you”, Taehyung answers him, “yes, I am aware that I wasn’t a safe space for you either, but I am grateful that you decided to become one for me and Jimin. I hope we can be safe spaces for you as well.”

“Mhm, yeah”, Yoongi doesn’t say more, but Taehyung didn’t need more. Just from those two words, he knew that Yoongi was honest. He smiles.

“Look at us, hyung”, he says, nudging Yoongi’s upper arm softly.

“Mhm, look at us.”

“I really like you, hyung. You know?” 

“I know, Tae. Me too”, Yoongi says as his eyes still follow the wind in the meadows. A sense of serenity surrounded him. The kind of serenity which hasn’t followed him for long yet, but Taehyung knew it will only grow from now on. He felt tranquil as well.

“We are truly at peace, aren’t we?” he says as he stretches out his legs. 

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna jinx it.” 

“You won’t. The world is at peace and life is good”, Taehyung nudges Yoongi’s arm again, “you truly kept your promise to her. You made the world a safer place.” 

Yoongi smiles, “yeah, I guess I did.”

The two vampires will sit under the trees until the wind carried the first smell of evening with it. It will be a time well spent with conversation which naturally morphed into them working on music together.

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 5 - "Oh Brother, I've Returned"

an: While it does not fit this chapter entirely, I listened to "Brother" by Madds Buckley a lot during this chapter. As an older sister who moved out when my younger sibling was under 10, I feel the guilt of being gone while your siblings grow up without you. I highly recommend that song.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: "It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them."

TW: Anxiety, profanity, angst, dead daddy issues, literal bone crushing hugs, substance use, fear of addiction, detailed descriptions of Viserys I death, descriptions of severe pain, Vizzy is not a good parent, Aemond and Jace making a scene at dinner AGAIN, very large and physically intimidating men, Jaehaerys being very much a brother, Joffrey and Luke being little shithead brothers,

Romantic Pairings: Very brief focus on Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, Very brief focus on Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader.

Other characters shining in this chapter: Ser Erryk, Jaehaera Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Joffrey Velaryon, Aegon iii, Viserys Targaryen ii, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower

Word count: 6.6k (oops)

The fuzzy feelings disappeared by late afternoon. A bright side was that I was absolutely starving when dinner time came. When I stood from my bed, I found I still had no pain. It was great to be able to walk across the room in less than five minutes.

I met Ser Erryk just outside my room. He greeted me as he always did, cheerful and just seemingly grateful. He spoke to me of the apparent menu for the night. We were to have braised goose with roasted chestnuts and cabbage.

“You like goose?” I asked him as we walked.

“I do, princess. It is greasy, so unappealing to some. I believe your mother is among them,” he said, smiling at me.

“It was a joke of sorts, between her and my father. A discussion they had before they were married. She likes to have it every so often as a way to remember him,” I told him.

It was true enough. The reason why Ser Laenor was who claimed us was apparent to me when I thought of him. He was never without the company of a male companion. When we first went to Dragonstone, he brought a young knight. Joffrey is named after a knight he knew in his youth, whose death devastated him in unimaginable ways. He loved them both deeply and in a way he could never love Mother.

It was known to her before they married, so when she spoke to him of the marriage, she assured him it would not impose on his life. She equated it to taste, saying like her, he preferred roast duck to goose. There was nothing wrong with that. Some people just like things and that was that.

After his death, I found Mother would request goose for our dinner. When I pointed out that he had never picked it out himself, she told me that was the point. The goose was meant to represent their effort in marriage, and for her it was a way to honor him. She had so much love for him, and he for her, even if it was not the type of love she shared with my blood father or even Daemon.

I truly believe they were soulmates. Most believed that soulmates were romantic, that it always ended with love and sex and all those things that made people gooey inside. There was not a person alive, though, that could convince me Mother and Laenor did not belong together in life even though they were not in love. You cannot have a best friend like that and tell me that the gods did not design you for that person.

Often I think how there was nobody better than Laenor to have been with her. Yes, my father and her loved one another in a way most wouldn’t understand. Yes, Daemon seems an equal match for her now. And yes, Laenor had loved his male companions the way he perhaps should’ve loved the one he married. But they understood each other on a fundamental level. They never begrudged one another, never showed anything to us that wasn’t pure love and respect for not only us but one another. Even if it were not romantic love, they were made to love each other.

“Ser Laenor was a good man. I think he would be proud of who you are,” he told me. “I truly believe that.”

Sometimes I didn’t know how to feel about Ser Laenor. He was not my blood. His opinions on me truly held no bearing in the grand scheme of things, as he was never who I had to impress. My inheritance would’ve never come from him.

But anytime I heard he would be proud of me, I wanted to beg for more. Blood or not he was my father. He was the man who claimed me. He loved me. How could I not want him to be proud of me?

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. I appreciate it,” I whispered, trying to not let my voice crack under the emotion.

We continued walking along without speaking any further. I could hear music and laughter as we approached the Small Hall. Don’t let the name fool you, though. Located in the Tower of the Hand, it had to be smaller than the Great Hall where the Throne sat, but this hall still held over two hundred people if so desired. With a family so large, it made sense to have our dinners here.

Erryk went to open the door but I reached out my hand to grab his before he could. The sounds of the ones I love being happy on the other side of this door terrified me. We were all mostly happy that night, the night I disappeared. At least we were for a moment in time.

My finger tips went numb and my bottom lip was trembling. It had been hard enough just being alone with those I’ve had time with already. But to see all of them, all at once, felt like it was an impossible task.

I had yet to speak to any of my brothers other than Jace. Trying to face the very distinct possibility of Little Aegon and Viserys disliking me felt like my stomach was being tied in knots. Joffrey was fourteen now, what if he didn’t like me either? Or if Luke was angry with me, somehow blaming me for being gone, I don’t think I could take it.

So much time had been lost. I was newly eighteen when I disappeared, now Jace and I were fast approaching twenty four. Aemond had been nineteen, Helaena twenty, Aegon twenty two, and Luke just fifteen. We all had so much time together. But Joffrey had only been nine, Little Aegon four, and Viserys only two. I had missed such a grand portion of their lives, even more when thinking of the year I was in King’s Landing beforehand, I didn’t think I could fit.

“We can go back if you wish,” Erryk said quietly to me. “I will make some excuse as to why you remain in your rooms. They needn’t know.”

“What kind of person is scared of their family for no reason?” I whispered to him, looking at him as a tear slowly rolled down my cheek.

It would maybe make sense if they had been terrible to me. But even the worst among them treated me as though I was golden. Alicent, who had undoubtedly been abhorrent to Mother and my brothers to the point she demanded all of us be brought to her when Mother was fresh from her labors, had loved me. I could distinctly remember sitting on her lap as a small child while my grandsire told Jace and I about the Kingdoms the would one day be ours.

“The first time Arryk and I went home after we were appointed to the Kingsguard, I was certain our parents would shut the door in our face,” he told me. “How could they not? I mean we were the only two heirs to our house and we both took an oath that forbade us from having lands, having a wife, having children. We effectively ended our house with us. But all our parents cared about was that we were happy and safe. It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them.”

I could not look him in the eye. Part of me was so ashamed to feel as scared that I did. To me, it was a ridiculous notion. I’m the blood of the dragon, how could I fear anything?

He put his other hand over top mine, that still held onto him like my life depended on it. That was what let me meet his gaze. He truly looked at me with nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“When you were a girl, it is not that you were fearless. It is that you have always loved so fiercely your own fears did not stop you. When you sabotaged the soil stores so that the garden bugs would not die, you faced your mother, Queen Alicent, and your grandsire with tears in your eyes. You were scared of being in trouble, of having done something wrong. Even so, you held Helaena’s hand and explained why you did it. The night of Aemond’s injury, you were scared to anger everyone in explaining what happened. Yet, what mattered to you was the truth and so you told the truth,” he explained to me. “I offer again that I can take you back to your room and I will tell them you were not feeling well.”

The faith he had in the person I am felt comforting. At least there was one person who knew truly who I am. He had no reason to make me fit a certain mold. It was not like with Aemond or Jace in which he needed me to be this perfect representation of a person. He did not need me to understand the darkest parts of him like Aegon did. It was truly like he was a friend.

“Do not stray far from me,” I said quietly to him.

Releasing his hand, I stood straight and readied myself. He opened the door and stood to the side.

When I stepped into the room, for a moment nobody really noticed me and I just got to watch. Viserys, Little Aegon, and Maelor were all running around the room in a game. Mother and Alicent were speaking to one another, smiling. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were animatedly discussing something with Aemond and Helaena. Luke, Jace, and Aegon were all hunched over the table as they laughed about something. Joffrey was in the corner of the room sneaking a little cake.

They were all so happy. Was this truly what it was like all the time now? Had the wounds of the past been so forgotten we could live like this?

Surprisingly, the first to notice me was Jaehaera. She very obviously lit up upon seeing me and got up from her chair near immediately. Wasting no time, she went to the empty chair in between Mother and Alicent and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that had sat in it. It was then others took notice of her movements and all their eyes shifted from her to me.

When I began feeling the fear bubbling up inside me again and my fingertips once again felt numb, I just focused on Jaehaera. This little girl who was so happy when she noticed me, a little girl I adored so much, was now running to me with these flowers in her hand. They were a pretty assortment, consisting peonies, tulips, and lilies.

“Mumma says you like flowers so I picked the prettiest ones,” she said happily when she stopped in front of me. She very proudly held out her bouquet so that I could admire her work.

I smiled softly at Jaehaera as tears welled up in my eyes. “They are lovely, thank you little one,” I said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Carefully I took the bouquet from her and held it in my hands.

They were not flawless flowers. One of the peonies had not fully bloomed while another had already begun to lose its petals. The lilies had been slightly crushed against the weight of the other flowers. I noticed the tulips had little teeny insects crawling around on them, which Helaena and her children no doubt saw as an added benefit, and as such there were teeny holes in some of the petals. But there was not enough gold in the world that could convince me to rid myself of this bouquet. Despite the flaws, I could not think of it as anything less than perfect. Erryk took them in his own hand before he arranged for a serving girl to take them to my room and put them in water.

She took my hand in hers and began pulling me along to the table. Even in her excitement, she also seemed to be careful with me like everyone else had been.

“Do you want to sit next to me??” Jaehaerys said loudly when I was in arms reach of the table. It caused Jaehaera to stop her path, therefore stopping me.

“Inside voice, bubba,” Jaehaera said softly to him before looking at me. “Excuse him. He forgets we all have ears.”

“That’s okay, Luke was like that too when he was little,” I said to her. It caused them both to grin from ear to ear.

“Did you hear that Jae Jae? I’m like Luke,” he said, noticeably quieter this time, but just as excitedly.

“I am just glad someone else knows about brothers,” Jaehaera said with a giggle.

“I would like to point out that I had no choice but to be loud to make sure I was heard over Jace’s big mouth,” Luke said as he stood from his seat.

When Luke stood I realized he was taller than me. Not near as tall as Aegon, but a noticeable few inches. It caused a great stirring of emotions in my chest. I had anticipated my brothers growing taller than me, in fact it surprised me that Jace was only my height and not taller. Yet, not being here to notice it happening caused an ache.

Especially with Luke. He was only three years younger than me, so I did not remember his birth or his little years quite like I remembered Joffrey’s, Little Aegon’s, or Viserys’. That didn’t keep me from remembering bits and pieces, though. Like, I used to help Mother pick out the clothes he wore as a baby as though he was a doll. I snuck out of bed one night when he was a newborn so that I could sleep next to his cradle. I could remember the first time he got sick and, instead of going to Mother and Laenor, he crawled into bed between Jace and I and leaked snot all over my chest.

The bad parts, the good parts, all of it was not something I would trade for the world. Despite having more conscious thoughts when the younger three were babies, Luke was my baby. To me there was nobody better. He was as good and pure as a person could get. If Mother thought I was the best parts of both my fathers, Luke was the best parts of me. He was every good thing in this world rolled into the sweetest package.

“Now you can’t hold sweets over my head and keep me from getting them,” he said playfully.

“No, but I can still sit on your head until you cry,” I responded. My own ear to ear grin spread across my face. I did not care that it hurt my lip as the skin stretched. Luke was worth it.

“I cried one time! You were crushing my ear!” he defended adamantly.

“I maintain to this day that you should not have taken my book,” I told him with a shrug.

“Hadn’t he already handed it back to you when you sat on him?” Jace asked me.

“I don’t recall asking for your input, Jace,” I said quickly causing Luke to laugh.

Luke was truly a man now. His laugh was deeper, as was his voice. He was twenty now and by no means could he be confused as a child.

He wrapped his arms around me in a near bone crushing hug. Even with the pain shooting through my ribs, I could not ask him to ease up. The world felt right the moment he hugged me. Like the years had not passed without me.

I noticed he smelled like the sea. Salt water and open sky, with just a trace of the smell of the wood the ships were made of. If I had to guess, he spent a lot of time in Driftmark now, preparing himself for when Grandsire Corlys was no longer able to hold the Driftwood Throne. When he was little and we suffered the loss of both Ser Harwin and our Aunt Laena, he feared becoming Lord of Driftmark as he knew the death that would precede that moment. If he had been able to move past that fear, I was grateful.

“Are you a sailor now?” I asked as I pulled back from him.

“Only sometimes. Grandsire has spent two years teaching me how to,” he answered. He had a shy, goofy little smile on his face.

“And I would imagine he regales you with stories of the Velaryon blood ruling the seas every moment of it,” I joked.

“Would he be him if he weren’t the proudest man alive?” he asked.

My three Velaryon brothers and Mother all chuckled at that. Genuinely speaking I could not think of a prouder man alive. Our grandfather had held House Velaryon miles above any house, including Targaryens. I think it was because the Targaryens were dragonlords making him think we were handed power, whereas Velaryons seemed to build everything themselves. There was a pride to be held in that, of course. But Westeros was not conquered by shipmasters, now was it?

With this laughter, I took a moment to look around, turning around the room, and settling to look at Joffrey. Fourteen certainly was not the age of a man but compared to the nine year old I left behind he might as well have been. My little Joffrey, whose birth was the first I truly remember, making the three of us older ones so excited. We were downright annoying when it came to him.

Jace had decided we needed to pick the egg for him ourselves. Without uttering a word to anyone, we snuck away from the dragonkeeper charged in teaching us our lesson that day and delved far into the Dragonpit. Luke excitedly picked the egg from one of Syrax’s clutches. As the three of us had been given one, with only mine not hatching, we had to give the baby an egg that came from Mother’s dragon. Our father found us as we were trying to carry the red hot cauldron to the Keep. With his help, and the enlisted help of a few keepers, we awaited the arrival of the baby eagerly.

We took turns stoking the flames underneath it to keep it warm while we waited for Mother. And when she returned, followed closely by Laenor with the baby boy in hand, Luke and Jace both desperately wanted to get close to him. Laenor and father had to practically bat them away so that our baby brother could meet our father.

For myself, I can only remember looking at my perfect family. While in that moment I had not been told the truth of my birth, I knew. It was not so much a moment of realization that none of my brothers or I looked like Laenor, instead favoring Mother’s sworn shield. It was not even hearing the rumors and embodying them as a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. No, all it took was me seeing how Laenor yielded in that moment to Harwin and seeing the way this mountain of a man became so soft when gazing upon Joffrey for me to know. He was a man who was granted love in undeniable ways and he was a part of our family.

Joffrey looked the most like our father. The four of us all had his hair color and his complexion, of course. Jace and I got his eyes, according to Mother, and I could agree. The colors were the same on all four of us, yet we got the shape. I could see on Jace the little crinkles in the corners that our father had. Luke had his smile to the point that when our father died, I desperately worked to make Luke smile for days so that I could feel the embrace of the man who created me. Yet Joffrey had it all. His eyes, his nose, his smile, even the height and bulk of him. There were traces of Mother, like in the angles of his jawline or the placement of his cheekbones. But one could be forgiven if they thought Harwin Strong walked the halls of the Red Keep again when seeing Joffrey.

How cruelly ironic. The one who only got a few meetings with our father was the one who looked to be a trueborn Strong and not the dirty little secret I always felt like. The one who would never know our father or Laenor and the way they both loved us, who was robbed of the perfect family I loved so much, was everything I begged to be. A perfect embodiment of the father I prayed returned to me sat before me in the form of the last of his children.

“Joffrey, I believe Y/N would appreciate if you could come closer,” Aemond’s voice said from somewhere out of my view. I believed he may be behind me, with Jaehaera on my left and Luke still to my right. I could not be bothered to check.

Joffrey nodded and placed the sweet down on a nearby table before walking closer to me. He wiped his hands against his pants, highlighting to me that he was wearing Targaryen colors of black and not Velaryon ones. I could see the crumbs fall to the floor as he walked. It was almost enough to make me laugh.

“Have you been so short your entire life?” he asked when he stood in front of me. He was taller than Aemond even, wider around the middle, broader along the shoulders than Jace. It was terrifying when one realized most of that was probably muscle, and most likely he had more growing to do.

“I would like to point out I am perfectly normal height,” I said, huffing a bit. “You are just tall.”

“To you. To me, you are short. Perspective, sissy,” he said.

My heart caught in my throat. It wasn’t that I had anticipated him to forget me or all the time I had spent teaching him of the world. But hearing him call me sissy and confirming that I still had a place in his heart made my own ache in unexpected ways.

Wrapping my arms around his middle, I pulled him into a tight hug. It was a hug he returned eagerly, holding me as tight as I held him. Just as with Luke, I couldn’t be bothered to care about any of the pain coursing through my body.

Luke and Joffrey had so much of me in them. Luke was my baby and Joffrey was my sidekick. Where one clung to me the other did just the same. For the longest time you could not find me without them. I did everything for them to ensure their lives. Luke and I spent hours just standing on the deck of our ship so that I could help him overcome his fear of the sea. I was the one who taught Joffrey to read, and then taught him as much as I could of politics and history. Both of them spent so much time with me in the gardens of Dragonstone as I tended to the flowers.

When I finally convinced myself that I could let go without him disappearing, I pulled away from his hold. Concern drew itself onto his face. If the empty yet extraordinarily heavy feeling in my head and the fire spreading through my chest had caused me to look as I felt in this moment, I would imagine I’d look much the same as he did. In truth I could not care to look at everyone else. Leaning forward to lean against Joffrey, I tried to steady my breathing.

“Let’s sit you down,” Luke whispered from behind me. I can only assume I nodded as he and Joffrey both supported me to sit me in the chair between Alicent and Mother. The last note of music that filled the room just moments ago echoed from every wall before the room fell into silence.

“Y/N, you mustn’t overdo it, sweet girl,” Mother said quietly, pressing a cooled rag to my head.

“I couldn’t tell them to stop, mama. My babies still love me,” I whispered to her, gripping her wrist to still her hand. The suddenness of my movement caused me a blinding flash of burning pain.

“Perhaps we should order some milk of the poppy,” Alicent suggested, looking between Mother and me.

“No, no,” I begged her, tears springing to my eyes.

Let me be clear and say I understand the benefits of the medicine. It is extremely effective in easing pain and in large enough quantities, could incapacitate an entire Dothraki horde. Though I dare anyone to watch their grandfather wither to be but a living, skin covered skeleton and he can’t even acknowledge his breathing because he is so addled by the shit.

I am not stupid enough to think back on his life and legacy and think him a good King nor even a good father. But I do know, factually know, that he was a man who loved his family dearly. A man who was taken advantage of in his deepest grief and never fixed the mistakes made in those times. A man who deserved more than to die so slowly while his brain, his very capable and beautiful brain, wasted away because of the only treatment for his pain.

When you watch a man go from being able to tell you about the Kingdom he loves, that one day you will rule, to not even being able to remember your existence, it changes things. When you watch him become so frail and thin that being turned the wrong way breaks his bones, yet remain so puffy under the eye and in his fingertips because of the poison, you may refuse it too. His younger children may not have cared, of that I will not speak on. But I cared, and it terrified me.

Would he have been in so much pain constantly if he hadn’t taken it so regularly? What if he was being treated for an ailment that was caused by milk of the poppy? And if that was true, how much would it take before I could not exist without it?

“Y/N, you cannot live in this pain,” Mother said to me.

“I cannot live like that,” I corrected her.

“Your grandsire was very sick for a long time, you will heal in mere weeks. But you cannot heal if you live in this pain,” Alicent said. Her voice was just as quiet and soothing as Mother’s as she petted my hair.

Very slowly, I adjusted my body in my chair to look to Aegon. He was watching me with silent tears in his eyes. But when our wet gazes locked together he understood what I needed. He did not need anything else from me. He understood my pain as I did his.

After pushing himself to a stand from his seat, he wasted no time in getting to my side. All the while he was reaching in his sleeve to pull out the pouch with the biscuits. Within a moment he was by my side, kneeling to be able to look up at my face.

“Stars?” he asked me. It took me less than half a breath to know he was asking how severe my pain, if it was enough to make me see stars. He knew it went beyond feeling knives in my body but he could not tell further.

“Lightning,” I muttered to him.

He had once theorized the lightning that extended from the sky during the worst of storms would be the most painful thing to be hit by. It was on a late night adventure, one that quickly turned into a two day adventure, that he had dragged me on not long before I had Vhaela. We mounted Sunfyre together and flew to Harrenhal. Quick enough flying on Sunfyre, though it took nearly all night. When we had arrived, a storm had come overhead, and we watched as lightning struck the large castle no less than three times. The stone was surprisingly mostly unscathed, save for the burn marks permanently etched on its side. When we spoke of a human withstanding just one strike, he said you’d nearly die from the pain alone.

It was how I knew he would understand. This was not the pain I experienced falling from my bed when I was six. This was a burning, pulsating pain that caused me to lose parts of my sight. A pain so severe I could not breathe properly.

He helped me eat a significant bit more than what I had earlier. Mainly because every time I moved myself I was hit with another flash of pain. It was just easier to allow his help.

“The larger portion may not quicken the effects but it will help manage your pain better,” he said quietly to me. “Tell me what I can do in the meanwhile.”

“Stay right here and have everyone return to their joy,” I whispered to him as I took his hand. “At the least I wish to see everyone smile.”

He nodded softly and looked to Alicent. Within a few minutes, the music started back up and not long after that the chatter started up again. I would have to be oblivious to not notice the worried looks Mother and Alicent still gave me. Though those looks were nothing compared to the way Aemond and Jace were glaring at Aegon.

Genuinely speaking, it was a lot like watching children. It was as though Aemond and Jace had never once considered that anyone else would want to play their game. They only considered each other and knew what to expect from them. But now they viewed Aegon as a competitor.

Was Aegon a competitor? Sure he had said earlier how he loved me, that I was the only woman he loved. But he did not put his hand forward. He did not express a desire to be with me despite the love he held for me. I could no more count him as a contender for my heart as I could Ser Erryk.

Where Aemond and Jace looked on at him in anger, Aegon paid no mind. His eyes were focused solely on me. And every time I met his gaze, I gave him a small squeeze in the hand.

Six songs passed before I felt any relief. At first it wasn’t noticed until I could take a full breath. It was when I turned my head to watch as the food was brought in that it became clear that I could now manage. It seemed it became clear to Aegon, too, as he left my side and took his place back across from Luke.

Luke, Jace, and Aegon took the seats on the end of the table nearest the windows. Luke and Aegon on the very end, Jace beside Aegon. Joffrey took a spot next to Luke. Then beside Joffrey sat Aemond, and beside Jace there was Helaena. Next to Aemond was Alicent, with Jaehaera across from her. Then you had me and I was sat across from Jaehaerys. To my right was Mother, and across from her sat Maelor. There was two empty seats on Mother’s other side, and across from them was Little Aegon and Viserys. Then a singular chair that looked down the whole of the table sat on the very end, also empty, and that was closest to the kitchen.

Alicent lead us all in prayer. Truthfully, I probably should’ve paid more mind to the words she was saying. It mattered a lot to her, Helaena, and even Aemond. Yet, when I looked down the table and saw Aegon watching my every move, every thought from my head left. So instead, I looked directly at my plate.

The juices that flowed from the goose glistened in the candlelight that danced against every surface in stunning opposition to how the dark gravy absorbed light. The cabbage and roasted chestnuts sat to the side of it, looking decently appealing on their own. There was a basket of bread placed down for every four people. All of the adults, save Aegon and I, had a large cup of wine sitting in front of them. If Aegon and the children had the same as me, we all had water. Once Alicent was done saying her prayers, the only sound to be heard was all of us eating our food.

It was delicious. Though it was not a surprise to me, as the cooks here in King’s Landing had always been phenomenal. Maybe it was the fuzziness in my head that made it more apparent. Yet, it seemed more complex than normal. The meat was almost sweeter, the gravy with a level of saltiness that counteracted it perfectly. The chestnuts were almost like velvet in my mouth, creating a feeling akin to butter. Even cabbage, that I normally did not like, was something I would pick again and again.

“Did you try to come back?” A small voice asked. I looked up, only to see Viserys staring at me.

“Viserys,” Mother said firmly. It was her warning tone. Perhaps she did not think it proper for him to question me.

“I can’t remember,” I said quietly. “But I cannot imagine a reality in which I did not fight to return back to you all.”

“Is that why you are all beat up?” Little Aegon asked me.

“Aegon,” Mother said with the same firmness. I reached to take her hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. She needed to understand that they were allowed to ask me, I could not fault them for being confused.

“Possibly. But I do not remember,” I told him.

“Do you remember anything?” they both asked at the same time.

“Not from when I was gone, no,” I whispered. “But I remember before I was gone. I remember loving the two of you so much. I am sorry I disappeared, and I am sorry that you both grew up without me.”

All of that was mostly true. I hated my disappearance, as it did take me away from everyone I loved. Yet to say I do not remember anything from the time I was gone may not be true.

In my thoughts, I could wade through the fog that the biscuit causes. Only in this feeling did I get any information from my brain. When I tried desperately to remember the last five years, there were only two things that my mind could conjure up. A glowing vial of shimmering red fire that I am near certain was a potion swirled in and out of my mind’s eye. And there was a distinct feeling loneliness, of knowing that where I existed was not where I belonged.

The shade of red of the potion was eerily familiar. While equating it to fire would be the right way to imagine the way that the liquid flowed, it was poor in grasping the color. One could tell me that someone was able to melt rubies into this vial and I would believe them. That was the only physical thing that was colored correctly.

Until I could explain more or had more answers, I would not say anything. With how desperate Mother and Aemond were for vengeance, giving them half answers could cause more damage that it would repair. It was not worth it.

“Do you want to come to our dragon lessons tomorrow?” Little Aegon asked.

Unable to verbalize my answer, I nodded. Spending time with my two littlest brothers felt like exactly what I needed. They may not be quite sure about me at all, but they were willing to give me a chance. I suppose that is all I could ask for.

The sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor brought my attention to the left side of the table. Aemond stood with his cup raised. My jaw tightened. The last time he gave a toast, he managed to call my brothers bastards while ignoring that it meant I too was a bastard. It caused a fight to break out, with Jace punching Aemond and Aegon slamming Luke into the table. I was not wanting a repeat and I doubt anyone else did.

“A toast,” Aemond said. “To the return of Ali. The Keep had truly existed in a darkness without you.”

A heat rose to my cheeks with his words. It was tame, I suppose, with what he could say. Although, I do wish he would just have not brought any further attention to me. I don’t think I would be able to say anything to him though.

“I wish to take this moment to make it clear,” he said. As always there was a confidence he held that I couldn’t shake. “Byka zaldrīzes, no longer do I wish to hide my affections. It is here and now that I am declaring my intention to marry you.”

My heart started skipping beats. While he had said it aloud to me, he had not voiced it to anyone else. And it wasn’t entirely like it was a secret, as he had always been rather obvious. With this declaration there was no longer a doubt about where I stood with him.

Jace stood up quickly, slamming his hands on the table as he did so. “She is my twin, Aemond, my betrothed. You do not get to decide such a thing,” he said angrily.

Aegon grabbed Jace’s shoulder and pulled him back into a sitting position. I was aware of Aemond smirking as he watched Jace. Leave it to him to make this a little game, a game which he is certain he will win.

“It is not your decision, either,” Aegon told him as though he were spitting poison at him. My jaw dropped slightly. It was not usual that I saw him actually angry.

“And you think you get any say?” Aemond asked his older brother.

“I think the two of you are so focused on this pissing contest that’s been going on since we were children you fail to realize that she is hurt,” Aegon shouted, standing up. Despite being shorter than Aemond and not as broad as Jace, he somehow made himself look larger. He made himself an unmoving force.

“I better than anyone know that she is hurt,” Aemond said darkly, to which Jace voiced the same sentiment.

“Are you both so truly lost in your desires that you are ignoring the anguish she is in? She caused herself so much pain she was barely conscious just so she could feel as though she still has a place! Do not pretend this is about anyone other than the two of you,” Aegon shouted.

“And what of you? What is your plan, dear brother?” Aemond asked, moving himself to appear larger.

The difference between them in this moment was fascinating. Aemond wanted to prove his dominance. He felt he had some claim to me just because of the love he and I share. With Aegon, though, it was because he wanted to prove nothing more than he was capable of protecting me.

Aegon turned to look at me. I could see him ease up almost immediately. It was like just the sight of me was enough to calm him.

“I am here however you choose to have me,” he said softly, addressing me directly.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

The Storeroom Incident

When professor Sharp asks you to assist him with fetching some more volatile ingredients from the storage cupboard in the dungeons, of course you come to his aid. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like the door will lock behind you and trap you inside, right? Right?

Shout out to my amazing consultant, @tea-withjamandbread <3

header made by yours truly

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

The Storeroom Incident (6.2k words)

tw: explicit, vaginal sex, orgasm denial/edging, dubious consent (but not really), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult), age difference, dirty talk, light swearing, porn with little plot

How did you even end up in this situation? Your front was pressed against a door, you were breathing and blushing heavily, your heart was beating out of your chest. Two large hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as your potions professor’s hot breath scorched the skin of your neck. 

It was a day like any other. You woke up and went to breakfast in the Great Hall, idly chatting with some of your housemates about nothing in particular, other than the upcoming exams and everyone’s nerves. You gently rejected Natty and Poppy’s proposal to enjoy the Saturday in Hogsmeade in favour of preparing for the practical exam from NEWT level potions. Your essay was long since written, proofread about a dozen times and even appraised by professor Sharp, whom you asked for criticism. 

Speaking of professor Sharp, you gave him a little smile and a ‘good morning, sir’ as you entered his classroom sometime later. He was sitting behind his desk as usual, enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits. You haven’t seen him in the Great hall, so he either ate earlier than you, or he decided to forego the full English breakfast in favour of sleeping in, and later decided that biscuits were a acceptable breakfast substitute. 

Judging by his still quite sleepy eyes, you decided it was the latter.

He murmured something unintelligible in return and waved his wand. Another teacup appeared and the steaming hot earl grey was poured into it. You sat down on the other side of his desk and thanked him, bringing your tea to your lips and blowing on it softly.

“So, miss (L/N),” he drawled in his gruff voice, although there was a certain amount of warmth hidden inside it, “what will you be brewing today?”

Yes, you could have easily used the Room of Requirement for your potion making. You did use it, for potions like Wiggenweld, Maxima, Wideye or Dreamless sleep, however,you preferred to brew the more complicated concoctions in the safety of the classroom, as well as professor Sharp’s company. The man always provided you with useful advice, guiding you towards unlocking your full potential.

“Oh, I think it’s nearly time to finish the Polyjuice potion, sir,” you chirped cheerfully, sipping on your tea and leaning back in the chair before his desk. “I think you may be right,” agreed the professor, “remember, Miss (L/N), the entirety of that potion stays here. I don’t want you running around the castle impersonating your classmates, or, Salazar forbid, your professors.”

You give him your most innocent smile, batting your eyelashes. 

“I would never, sir.” 

That was a lie. One of the best Christmas presents you’ve ever received was the chance to impersonate Headmaster Black in your fifth year. Yes, you did so in order to get a password for his office, where Niamh Fitzgerald’s Keeper trial was waiting for you, but you had to admit to yourself that it was pure, unadulterated fun. Very much unlike the following trial, which still sometimes made you wake up in cold sweat.

Though Sharp probably knew you were lying through your teeth, he decided not to comment on it, giving you an unimpressed sarcastic expression instead before placing another biscuit into his mouth. You copied him, a little smile still present on your face. 

The potions professor, you found, had a bit of sweet tooth. Sometimes when you’d come over, you’d make a stop in the kitchens first and sweet talk some baked goodies out of the house elves there. Well, sweet talk… the little fellows pretty much pushed them into your hands the moment you stepped in! You only ever took enough for the two of you to share. It always improved the grumpy man’s mood slightly.

“Before you go get your cauldron from my office, there is something I could use your help with,” professor Sharp said as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, brushing away the few little crumbs that stuck to his lips and beard. His pink tongue appeared and he licked at his lips. You couldn’t help but follow the muscle’s movement with fascination. “Of course, sir, how may I aid you?” you said innocently.

“There are a few ingredients in the storeroom that I’ll need for later. They are a little volatile, which is why I can’t just summon them, and as useful as Hogwarts’ house elves are, I’d still feel more comfortable to fetch them myself. And as I don’t want to have to make two separate trips there, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

You finished your tea, the hot drink making your body warm up. Or was your teacher’s dulcet tones? Nevertheless, you smiled at him again: “Certainly, professor Sharp. I am entirely at your disposal.” 

“Good,” he replied curtly and stood up from his chair, “let us be on our way then.”

You made your way down towards the storeroom in comfortable silence, descending further into the dungeons. The air was cool and damp down there, a big contrast to the outside of the castle’s walls, where summer was quickly approaching, bringing the sun and its warmth. Professor Sharp used a key to unlock the door to the storage closet, no doubt enchanted to be nearly or entirely resistant to the unlocking charm. 

You stepped into the room together, the space so tight your shoulder was touching his upper arm as you stood next to each other there. “So,” you began, your voice a little quiet as you found yourself slightly tense to be so close to the former Auror, “what are we looking for, sir?” Professor Sharp cast a non-verbal Lumos and started skimming his eyes over the shelves to the left and the various jars and bottles they held.

Suddenly, the door closed shut with a bang, startling you both. Professor Sharp’s surprise forced him to drop the charm and you were suddenly plunged into total darkness. “A draft of wind?” you chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed at the high pitched yelp that escaped your lips. You could almost hear Sharp roll his eyes: “A draft of wind, Miss (L/N)... In the dungeons where there are no windows… With all due respect, Miss, that seems highly unlikely.” You went red under his remark. He was, of course, right.

With a sigh, the potions master reached for the door, making you blush even further, as his body brushed against yours in the process. He gripped the handle and… nothing. You expected him to open the door and let some of the dim light of the corridor inside the tiny room as well, but you both remained in total darkness. You felt his confused little sound before you heard it, as his strong chest pressed against your own. He gripped the handle again and this time you heard him repeatedly pushing and pulling at the door. 

It didn't budge.

“It sounds like the door’s just… locked,” you say curiously. Professor Sharp is quiet, it feels as if he nearly doesn’t breathe, and it suddenly occurs to you as to why. Uh oh. The door is locked, and the key is inside the lock on the other side. Therefore, judging by your professor’s silent state, this door really cannot be opened with the unlocking charm. The two of you were stuck.

“Lumos,” you say and the tip of your wand flares up with a bright light. Your professor is still standing very close, looking at the door morosely. “Um, sir…” you nearly whisper, “we couldn’t… blast the door out?” The tall teacher turns to look at you, a dark amused expression in his brown eyes. “By all means, Miss (L/N), be my guest. That is if you’d like the two of us to die - the door is reinforced by enchantments, and I’m fairly certain there’s some highly explosive powdered Erumptent’s horn somewhere in here.”

You huffed. Sometimes he was really driving you mad with his snarky comments. “Then what do we do, professor Sharp? Just wait here until someone passes by and unlocks the door for us? It’s Saturday, sir, nobody’s going to come through here until Tuesday when the Fourth years have Alchemy class.” You may have sounded a little desperate… If only one could apparate in Hogwarts! You understood why the no apparition rule was set, but why on Earth couldn’t teachers be excepted from it? Were you really going to spend three entire days stuck with the potions master? What would you eat? Where would you sleep? 

Oh… Oh, no… How would you use the bathroom?

Professor Sharp seemed completely calm where he stood in front of you, if not a little bored. “Why don’t you try and call out, Miss (L/N)? Bang on the door? You never know, maybe someone’s wandering through the corridors, lost or looking for mischief… Or perhaps a friendly ghost will hear and glide for someone to aid us.”

You put the light out on your wand and pushed it into your robes, so that you could use both of your hands pounding on the door. And pound you did. “Hello! Hellooo-?! Can anyone hear me?! We’re stuck in here! Hello?! Anyone?!”

Your shouting and beating on the door caused you to not hear the movement behind you. So when you were suddenly pushed against the cold wood, there was nothing you could do but gasp and yelp in surprise. Professor Sharp’s large, powerful body pressed into your own from behind, his hands on your hips and his lips inches away from your ear. His breath was scorching hot when he spoke: “See, my dear. Nobody will be able to hear you. You poor little thing…” he said darkly then, and you felt something hard push against the curve of your bottom, “Stuck with me out of all people… I am going to ruin you for everyone else.” 

And with that, his mouth attached itself to your neck, making you shudder with both fear, but also a strange surge of arousal. In any case, you weren’t able to do anything about it, as you were perfectly sandwiched between the door and Sharp’s body, your wand absolutely out of your reach when your front was squished against the wood like this. Sharp growled into your ear and bucked his hips against your behind. 

You were helpless… Completely at his mercy. 

He began nibbling down your earlobe, his teeth sinking into a little spot between your ear and your neck, and you suddenly moaned, the sound torn out of you unexpectedly. Your body felt way too heated, and the air around you terribly heavy. “P-professor…” you gasped when he rutted against your bottocks again, his large build making you feel like you were going to be crushed. You cried out softly when a calloused hand slipped under your skirt and trailed between your legs, making you instinctively close them and trapping the curious hand there in the process. You shuddered: “Sir…”

“Such a sweet girl you are, Miss (L/N), so very innocent…” said professor Sharp, his voice a hoarse whisper. Two long fingers pressed against your folds roughly and you suddenly realised just how damp your underwear felt. “Do you even know what your body wants? What is it aching for?” The fingers searched blindly along your soaked drawers, looking for a way to get under them, touching your most intimate areas and making you writhe as well as you could in his iron hold. You were filled with so many sensations, the burning pleasure, the confusion, the slight twinge of fear at professor Sharp’s sudden shift in personality, but also a sense of wild heady want. 

One strong arm curled around your abdomen, keeping you in place between Sharp and the door, while his hips started rhythmically rubbing against your behind, the feeling of his hot hardness making your cheeks burn even more, and when his gruff voice began grunting right into your ear, you could barely stand it anymore. You tried to move again, unsure whether you wanted to move away from him, or further into him. The arm around your stomach gripped you harder immediately, and you were promptly reminded which one of you was stronger.

The long digits of his hand finally found their way into your underwear, and you whimpered when they made contact with your soaked core. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be touching you like this. And you definitely shouldn’t be putty in his hands, moaning for more, your legs quivering. Your back tried to arch in vain when he pressed against your clit with his thumb.

“That’s right…” he said, his voice low and dangerous “yield to your master, my little lamb.” 

Silence. 

And then.

You let out a little breathless chuckle. And then another, And then a few more until you’re laughing fully. 

“A lamb?! Really, Aesop?” you ask through your laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder behind you. He’s slightly shaking with his own giggles: “I’m sorry, dear, that was so bad.” You laugh together, your position getting slightly awkward, as he’s still squeezing you tightly with one of his arms while his free hand’s just sort of resting against your core inside your underwear. You make a move to turn around and he releases his hold immediately. 

“Lumos,” you say once more that day and the soft white light illuminates the small room. You put your wand on one of the empty shelves. “Oh, Merlin’s beard,” you chuckle again, running your hand through your hair, your cheeks still blushed heavily, “As much as I enjoyed this little play of ours, I don’t think I can take it seriously now, not when I’m being called barn animals.” 

“Alright, first of all, it was a barn animal, singular, and second of all, I mean… It’s not the worst barn animal one can be called, lambs are cute.” was Aesop’s facetious answer, as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, much gentler now. “Meh, true enough,” you relented, letting yourself be pulled into his embrace. 

“Thanks for not calling me a cow, by the way.”

“Oh, come off it, you!”

You kissed his lips slowly, teasingly. “Is there actually a powdered erumpent horn in here? Should I be worried?” you asked then. “There is, but it’s fairly safe without the explosive fluid. Still, best not to take down any shelves while we’re at it” Another long, passionate kiss.

“Speaking of which, do you want to continue, or shall we retire to my chambers?” The potions master offered after a while, and you could feel that his throbbing need had not subsided in the slightest. Neither has yours. “No more barn animals,” you said cheekily then, pointing your finger at him and admiring his features in the soft light of your wand on one of the shelves. His eyes, darker than two bottomless pits, twinkled momentarily as he lifted his hands in surrender: “No more barn animals, promise.”

After another heated kiss, during which his fingers kneaded the flesh of your behind, one of your hands moved to his front to return his previous teasing, easily slipping into his trousers and underwear and finding the hot stiffness there. Your first sexual adventure was still fairly fresh in both of your memories, but you already knew how he liked being touched, you knew what made him groan, what made him throw his head back. He knew the same about you, and he promptly proved such, when his hand disappeared into your drawers again to resume fondling your cunny. 

You played with each other for a little, sharing open mouthed kisses and a single breath. “How would you like me then?” you asked before a whimper was forced out of your mouth by a particularly delicious twist of his fingers. He responded by giving you a wolfish grin, and you suddenly found yourself one pair of drawers poorer, as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the otherwise silent room. “Oi!” you protested, “those were perfectly fine underwear!” “I’ll get you a new pair,” replied Aesop dismissively, shoving the ruined piece of garment into his trousers pocket. His smug little smile was so handsome, yet so infuriating, it made you want to kiss it off his blasted face. So you did.  

The potions master hummed against your lips, his hands coming to squeeze and fondle your now bare backside, massaging the cheeks in his large palms for a little while, before dropping them lower, to the back of your thighs. 

Your feet suddenly leave the ground, and your surprised sound forces your mouths to part, as you scramble to grab onto both of his shoulders, and wrap your legs around his slim hips in an instinctive effort to not fall. He chuckles slowly. His teeth are illuminated by the glow of your wand, making him appear slightly predatory, and forcing a shiver roll down your spine. Once again, you are sandwiched between the door and his body, except this time you’re facing him.

Using the door and his body for leverage, Aesop lets go off one of your legs in order to hurriedly tug his straining trousers and underwear down, finally revealing the throbbing erection he sported since the moment he originally pinned you to the door. Maybe even before that. You feel your lover push your skirt up as much as he can, his engorged tip teasing at your soaked folds. He gives you one more heated look, and his voice is clouded with lust when he speaks: “Alright?” 

Despite being quite fond of the occasional rough play and wild passionate coupling, one thing about Aesop was that he always made sure you wanted it too. And how could you not?

“Alright, love.”

And with that, Aesop gave you one last smile before positioning himself. He let gravity help him, loosening his hold on you just enough to make you sink on his throbbing prick fully. You gasped at the intrusion, your back arching against the door. Even after quite a few fun escapades together, your lover was still a lot to take in, not to mention a force to be reckoned with. He licked hotly into your mouth while your body adjusted to his considerable size. The searing arousal combined with the thrum of anticipation, as well as the blissful feeling of intimity, made you feel lightheaded. The potions master was breathing hard, being enveloped in your tight heat making him tether on the edge of sweet madness.

Aesop pulled out then ever so slightly, before plunging back in immediately, the movement making both of you shudder and groan into your still loosely connected mouths. He set a slow rhythm at first, savouring the delicious friction, your walls stretching around him, squeezing him. Both of his hands moved to your bottom, fingertips digging into the plush flesh as his mouth left yours in order to attach itself to the tender skin of your neck instead. The sensation of his rough, prickly stubble only served to heighten your desire, and a trembled moan poured out your lips.

“Good heavens, lass, the things you do to me…” he slurred between thrusts, voice cracking with pleasure, “making me feel- ah! like a bloody teenager. Making me- hngh… crave to be inside you with a single look.” His current libido was most likely only a bit bigger than that of any other man who was in a fairly new intimate relationship, however, after years of dry spell, Aesop genuinely felt like his yearning suddenly went from below zero to red-hot. You weren’t exactly making it any easier for him - you weren’t a stranger to the act of bringing pleasure to oneself before, however, that first ardent, lust-filled night has awakened what felt like a sexual renaissance within you. It made you long for him as much as he longed for you, and the two of you always connected in a searing inferno of mutual desire and the sweet surrender to it.

Your fingers knotted into his hair, pulling at the locks near his nape perfectly, while simultaneously sinking your teeth into the edge of his jaw, right under his ear. You knew this particular combination of sensations drove him wild. His hips stuttered mid-thrust and his hands squeezed you harder, a low growl reverberating around the tight space. The snapping of his hips increased in speed and his large manhood throbbed within you, his heightening need evident. You moved against each other with increasing desperation, your previous activity having left you feeling the first faint hints of an upcoming climax, which were becoming more and more pronounced under Aesop’s relentless pounding into your willing body.

One of the potions master’s hands dipped down between the tight fit of your bodies and he began rubbing harshly at your lovenub in time with his thrusting. The double stimulation, his hot ragged breath on your even hotter skin, the wonderful ache of your current position, and his groans turned short moans made the knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. You were rushing straight towards that peak, tugging at your lover’s hair and pushing his face closer to your neck, your eyes closed and mouth opened in a consistent stream of wanton sounds. However, before you could reach it and jump straight off to claim your release, all of the wonderful sensations suddenly stopped.

You were left trembling and breathing hard, imprisoned between the door and your beloved, your sex aching and screaming at you. You couldn't move, couldn't buck your hips, couldn't arch your back, couldn't do anything to bring that sweet friction back - Aesop was holding you too tight. Your upcoming climax got fainter and fainter until it became nothing but a blurry vision. You threw your head back against the door, as it was the only thing you could move, ignoring the pain and the banging sound your movement caused, too busy letting out a very unhappy whine. 

“Why?!” your voice was high and desperate, unwanted tears of frustration gathering behind your screwed shut eyelids. So close, you were so close! Why would he stop? You were suddenly angry with him for ripping your orgasm away from you and you took a breath to give him a mouthful, when a pair of hot lips pressed against your own. 

Aesop's hold lessened and you regained some of your freedom to move. He started a slow rhythm once more, and your anger slowly dissipated. The pleasure began coming back, but it felt different. More intense. It felt like it was rippling under your very skin, as if every single nerve ending was connected to your core by an invisible string. Aesop’s hands, his mouth left a scorching heat in their wake, one that spread throughout your flesh a sweetly invaded and imprisoned your mind, taking away from you all of your higher mental functions.

The climax came back into view, even though Aesop was moving considerably slower than before, and the fingers on your clit retreated. With every single second, every deep thrust, your abdomen tightened, body preparing itself for its unravelling, and when both of his hands grabbed your hips again, his own speeding up, you felt about ready to beg. And so you did.

"A-Aesop, p-please… Please don't stop now! Please," you were long past any actual coherent speech, tears were still running out of your eyes and your body ached and tensed for release, feeling like it might burn to a crisp if it's denied again. 

It wouldn't be.

With a dark chuckle that turned into a groan, Aesop continued his deep thrusts, angling you slightly to find that very special spot inside you. He was successful in his endeavour merely a few seconds later, and if you weren’t currently in the midst of releasing a frankly pathetic wanton sound, with your nails clawing at his back, you would’ve surely made a remark that bringing you pleasure was his greatest talent. 

He pulled away slightly to watch where his thick cock kept pistoning in and out of you. “Dear Merlin,” he growled between his harsh breaths, his voice an octave lower, “look at you. Taking me so bloody well.” He leaned back in, releasing shuddering puffs of air against your now perpetually open lips. “You are mine… No one else’s. Say it.” He was close. Aesop quite often doubted himself and his deserving of you, however, when he was close to his peak, he got deliciously possessive. He got selfish. Nobody else was going to have you, nobody else was going to be allowed to do to you the things he did, nobody else was going to make you feel this good. 

“Y-yours,” you whimpered out, your answer the same as it always was. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and your thighs were beginning to quiver around his pumping hips. However, the potions master wouldn’t quite allow you to hide your face from his sight like this. One hand came to grab it and pull it right back with gentleness that contrasted the roughness of his voice. The knot in your stomach was growing heavier with every snap of his hips, it was glowing brighter, becoming red-hot. Your eyes fluttered as you were forced to look at him. His own eyes were bottomless dark pits of molten lava, and you craved to fall into them and burn. You could see his pleasure, his love, his utter devotion, even as his voice came out a strained growl: “Say it again.”

Time stopped. There was nothing but him. No Hogwarts, no blasted ingredient cupboard, nothing but him loving you, and bringing you to your edge. It was over, you felt yourself tipping over and plummeting down. “I am yours, Aesop,” spoke a voice you barely recognised as your own, before a loud cry forced its way out of your throat and two more tears fell from your eyes. 

You felt yourself being ripped out from your body by some unseen force, only to return a fraction of a second later to a gratification so overwhelming, it was nearly too much. The orgasm he denied you earlier came back, and it shook you to your very core. Your head trashed against the door, your legs were shaking violently, and your walls were clenching and unclenching around his prick tightly, the proof of your pleasure squirting out and staining his trousers.

It was like a hurricane rolled through you, and you weren’t exactly aware of the sounds you were releasing, nor the sight you were making. However, Aesop absolutely was. And it forced him to grab your hips harshly and increase the speed of his rutting: “Oh, fuck…f-fuck, sweetheart…” When Aesop Sharp began cursing, he was either extremely mad, or mere seconds away from an earth-shattering orgasm. 

His cock pulsed heavily, getting even stiffer as he repeatedly rammed it into your trembling body, precum leaking out in a constant drizzle by now, before finally - Aesop’s strong hand closed around your silky locks, and he tugged. You moaned at the sensation, still lost in the throes of your own explosive climax. The professor pressed his forehead against yours, his wavering gaze desperately locking onto your own, and his choked out moan falling against your lips. His hips stuttered as he emptied himself within you.

You were vaguely aware of the hotness that spread inside of you as your lover reached his peak, still very much out of it from your own thunderous release. You did take notice, however, that the professor’s body began trembling slightly. His orgasm left him slightly weak, therefore holding you pinned against the door was quite the effort. He used the last of his strength to lift you off the door, turn so that his own back was leaning against it, and slowly sank down onto his bottom with you in his arms.

Aesop let his head rest against the cool wood, his ragged breaths mingling with your own in the tight space, his tired arms having released their vice grip on you and closed around your waist loosely instead. Your brain has been masterfully turned off, unable to comprehend any concept more difficult than 'pleasure', 'gratification', 'love' and 'exhaustion'. You reposed in the storeroom quietly, basking in the heavenly afterglow of your shared ardour. 

You stirred slowly, fatigue making your eyes strangely heavy, while your limbs positively felt like they were made of lead. It was quite curious - not you feeling a little tired after a lovely culmination of your lovemaking, but the fact that this was no ‘little tiredness’. You felt about ready to ignore absolutely everything in favour of just closing your eyes and dozing off. Then again, your release today has been a particularly thunderous one…

“What the devil did you do to me…” you slurred against the heated skin of his neck, fighting to keep yourself awake. Aesop, still coming down from his high as well, took a few moments to answer. “Oh… that. Sorry, I should have warned you beforehand. I did mean to tell you, but then… you know. With the lamb…” Despite your tiredness, a chuckle broke out from your lips, one Aesop soon joined into. “I really am sorry, though… Are you alright?” You thought for a while. While you really could’ve used the heads up, you supposed the result was quite worth it, even if it meant your energy levels had dropped to almost zero. “Hmm…” you sighed, snuggling further into his neck: “I’m great… Though, I might just fall asleep on you.”

Your lover chuckled once more. “As much as I’d like to let you, I’m afraid that you wouldn’t be able to get me back onto my feet afterwards. I’m not twenty anymore, napping on the floor has severe consequences.” It was your turn to laugh. You sluggishly moved your hands to his shoulders and braced against them as you got up, releasing a tiny groan as you found yourself empty, your combined releases running out. Still, you extended a hand towards Aesop and aided in pulling him up and to his feet. 

With a flick of his wand then, you were both squeaky clean of all bodily fluids, the door clicked unlocked and the silencing charm was dropped. He languidly tucked himself back into his pants with a content expression, slightly leaning back against the door. “You owe me a pair of drawers,” you reminded him. 

“I’ll happily buy you a hundred of them, as long as I get to watch you try them on.”

“You utter beast, Aesop!”

You stuck your head out of the door after making yourself a bit more presentable, and, unsurprisingly, found that the corridor was completely empty. It was a Saturday after all, the majority of third years and up were in Hogsmeade, many students were enjoying the sunny day on the banks of the Black Lake, and some were simply in their common rooms or out on the school grounds. First and second years had no business around here, unless they were looking for trouble or very very lost.

You made your way to the nearest floo flames, Aesop’s hand holding your own cautiously, ready to let go immediately in case anyone popped out from behind the corner unexpectedly. However, it seemed the Faculty tower was similarly deserted, and the two of you walked hand in hand all the way to his chambers, sharing quiet banter, your yawns interrupting the conversation every few moments. Sweet Merlin, you really were beat…

The door of Aesop’s chambers closed heavily behind you, locking itself promptly, and you leaned back against it, happy to finally be in the comfort of Aesop’s rooms, with nobody else but the man himself. 

“One would've thought you’d have enough doors against your back for one day,” Aesop teased quietly. You didn’t even bother answering his remark, or opening your eyes for that matter. There was nothing but silence coming from the potions master for a while, but then a very gentle pair of lips brushed against your own. Despite your fatigue, your mouth stretched into a little smile, and you returned the kiss, your arms trailing up to wrap around his shoulders on their own accord.

After a series of little kisses and pecks, you felt Aesop shift, and suddenly one of his hands was placed at the back of your lower thigh, the other curled around your side. You opened your eyes just as your beloved lifted you into his arms, and, with utmost care like you were something incredibly precious, carried you over to his bedroom. You stifled another deep yawn against his throat, prompting Aesop to chuckle softly. “Aren’t I usually the one who wants to rest afterwards?” he quipped again. His face took on an expression of mild worry when his little jab went unanswered once more. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked once he gently placed you upon his bed, your head and body immediately nestling into the soft, clean sheets. He sat on the bed’s edge beside you, his hand placed on your hip. “Hmm, alright…” you mumbled, looking at him through your lashes, “Please tell me I actually did finish that polyjuice two days ago… I don't think I'd be able to brew even a Wit-sharpening potion right now.” 

This made him grin impishly: “You can’t seriously think I’d leave such a potion unattended after it’s finished stewing, can you?” 

“Oh, and here I thought I made you stop thinking altogether.”

You look at each other fondly for several seconds.

“Really, though, are you-” “Yes, Aesop, I promise I’m alright, just get in here, you beast!” You laughed out loud and pulled at his hand until he was forced to climb into the bed behind you. You immediately nuzzled into his arms, relishing in their warmth and comfort. Aesop hasn’t stopped grinning. “So… I know ‘lamb’ and other barn animals are a no-go, however, you definitely cuddle into and purr against me like a kitten." You groaned lightly, no actual annoyance in your voice.

“Hmm… ’Kitten’ I am pretty alright with,” you said eventually, opening your eyes to look up at him in good humour. “Is that what we’re doing now, by the way? Animals? Because if so, you are absolutely a big bad wolf. Always trying to eat me right up…” 

“Eat you up, you say?” is all Aesop said with a positively wicked grin, before descending down on you, his teeth immediately going for your neck, pinching the skin there and scratching it with his beard. You squealed softly at the feeling, hands going into his hair, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him off. He eventually pulled away himself and settled on the bed once more, pressing himself to you. “I’ll stick to the more human terms of endearment, I think. Nothing wrong with ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’,” he said quietly then. You smiled against the material of his shirt: “Hmm… I love it when you call me that, Ace.”

Aesop froze momentarily. Ace. It was Ashley’s, his Auror partner and oldest friend’s nickname for him. Nobody has called him that in more than a decade, by his own wish. The last time he heard it was in that godforsaken harbour.

“Alright, Ace. Lead the way.”

The potions master swallowed audibly. It’s been so long. He blinked his eyes rapidly and suppressed a shaky breath. The strangest thing was - while his heart panged at the memory of his late partner, the nickname that fell from your lips caused it to speed up and flutter.

When you said that one simple short word, it felt like a wave of warmth rolled through him. And while he was reminded of the past, what he felt most of all was… a strange sense of elation. The word rolled from your tongue so naturally, as if it’s always been there, as if you never called him anything else.

And he wanted to hear it again. 

“Aesop? Love, are you alright, have I said something wrong?” The professor realised you had been looking at him with equal parts worry and confusion. “No, no…” he breathed out and his mouth stretched into a little smile. 

“Not good? The nickname? I just thought, you know… Aesop - Ace. Sorry, I guess it’s a little silly.”

“It’s not. You’re not the first person to call me that, but I couldn’t stand the nickname for the past 12 years. You though… You can call me that, if you want to… I'd like you to.” Aesop said quietly, his large hands drawing little circles against your back where he held you. You looked deep into his eyes, before taking his face in your palms. 

“Are you sure, Ace?” 

His breath hitched again, but he couldn't deny the pleasurable shudder that overtook him when he heard the word in your tender voice once more. He closed his arms tighter around your form, pulling you against his chest. You curled up into your lover once more, nosing at his throat and caressing him wherever you were able to reach.

“Will you tell me someday?”

“I will. One day, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Hiya! I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also find this story as well as all of my other stories on AO3. I love feedback <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

When your requests are open can I request a fic where the reader is dating Sebastian Stan and someone online or in person says something rude to her and so Seb stands up for her?

I Will Always Stand Up For You » Sebastian Stan

Pairings: Boyfriend!Sebastian Stan x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Someone says something rude to you and Sebastian stands up for you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, insecurities, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @marvelobsessed134 🩵

A/N: I used Google translate for the Romanian translations. My apologies if I got anything wrong.

Translations: Dragă: sweetheart | Prinţesă: princess

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You walked in a coffee shop you and Sebastian always meet up with one another at when one of you is busy. You sat down at yours and his usual table and waited for him. Sebastian is currently in a meeting. You decided to send him a text.

You: I’m waiting for you in our usual spot🥰

Sebby🩵: That’s great. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you❤️

You: I love you too❤️

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet message. All of his messages to you make you smile and blush. You and Sebastian have been dating for a couple months and it always feels like the first time when he says “I love you” to you.

You got up and ordered a coffee for you and Sebastian while you waited for him. You then sat back down and decided to scroll through social media. You were so focused on your phone that you didn’t hear someone sit down at the table you’re sitting at.

“Hi.” You heard a girl say.

You looked up from a phone to see two girls and a guy sitting across the table from you. They look college aged. You shut your phone off and gave them your full attention.

“Uhh hi?” You say more like a question.

“You’re that girl.” The second girl says.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. The girl made it sound like her and her two friends knew you.

“Do I know you guys?” You asked.

“No, but we know who you are.” The guy says.

“You’re Sebastian Stan’s girlfriend right?” The first girl said.

“Yes I am.” You answered with a smile.

You assumed they were fans so you didn’t think much of it.

“We have a question for you.” The guy says.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Why is Sebastian dating a girl like you?” The second girl asks.

“Excuse me?” You rose an eyebrow at their question. “What do you mean a girl like me?” You asked.

“You’re not his type.” The first girl says.

“Plus you’re not that pretty.” The second girl says.

You didn’t say anything. You stared at them silently. You watched them stand up and move to a different table, sitting at a table on the other side of the coffee shop. You glanced over at them, seeing them pointing and giggling at you. That was enough to tell you they were still talking about you.

You faced forward and stared at the table, your fingers playing with the necklace Sebastian bought you for yours and his one month anniversary. You were so caught in your thoughts that you didn’t realize tears were rolling down your cheeks. You sniffled and continued to fiddle with your necklace. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sebastian texted you.

Sebby🩵: I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes

You: I’ll be waiting🥰

You sighed shakily and shut off your phone. To distract yourself, you decided to play with the sugar packets in that was in a little container. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks and you sniffled every now and then.

“Now she’s crying like a baby.” One of the college kids says in a mocking tone.

You felt yourself getting smaller the more you heard them. A few minutes go by and Sebastian walks in the coffee shop, going straight to the table you’re sitting at.

“Hi, baby.” Sebastian greets you, kissing the top of your head before sitting down across from you.

“Hi, Seb.” You say quietly.

Sebastian noticed your cheeks were wet with tears and you were unusually quiet.

“What’s wrong, prinţesă?” He asks with worry in his voice.

“It’s nothing.” You mumbled, picking at the plastic lid of your coffee cup.

Sebastian moved the cup to the side and held your hands in his.

“Talk to me.” He murmurs softly.

You continued to stay quiet and looking down. Sebastian didn’t miss the way your bottom lip quivered. That was enough to tell him something was wrong.

“Dragă.” Sebastian tilted your head up so you were looking him in his eyes. “Tell me please.” He says softly.

“A little bit ago, a few college kids asked me why you were dating a girl like me cause I’m not your type and I’m not pretty.” You tell him, feeling your eyes tearing up again.

“Who said that to you?” He asks.

You were about to answer him when you heard the same giggling from across the coffee shop. You looked over at them. They were still giggling and pointing at you. Sebastian followed your gaze to the three college kids who were rude to you earlier. He seen the pointing and heard the giggling.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, standing up.

You didn’t even protest. You watched him walk to the other side of the coffee shop to the table the three college kids were sitting at.

“What’s your problem?” Sebastian asked them.

“What?” One of the girls asks.

“You three have been pointing and giggling at my girlfriend since before I got here.” He said.

“That’s because she’s ugly and it looks like there’s something wrong with her.” The guy said.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. Overprotective boyfriend mode took over him. He doesn’t like it when people talk about you or to you like that.

“I’m only going to say this once.” Sebastian begins. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with her. You guys just decided to pick on someone you guys don’t know. You guys just like to judge people who you all don’t even know. She’s the love of my life and the most beautiful woman I know. I’d appreciate it if you guys would stop being rude to her and leave her alone.” He says.

The college kids stayed quiet and then left. Sebastian walked back over to you and sat down next to you.

“You don’t have to worry about them again, prinţesă.” He says, wrapping an arm around you.

“Thank you, Sebby.” You muttered softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, dragă. I will always stand up for you.” He says softly, wiping your tears away.

Sebastian then caressed your one of your cheeks softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone. You stared in his blue eyes, a smile forming on your lips.

“There’s the smile I love.” Sebastian says, making you blush and your smile grow wider.

Sebastian kissed you softly. You melted into his touch like you always do.

“I love you, prinţesă.” He says softly with a smile.

“I love you too, Sebby.” You say, smiling up at him.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[cloud9gojo]

salt & the sea

consider this a one-shot for now, i really just wanted to get this prologue style chapter for my self-infsert suguru fic out there it was eating me alive. this is so on a whim, i don't have a header, nor do i expect anyone to actually read this lol. if you do like it, hmu @peachygf

pairing: geto x f!reader if we ever make it there

words: 4.2k

warnings: sfw they're kids bro, sign language, synesthesia, kid awkwardness, me being awkward, there ya go

also made a playlist for this but it's on apple music 😭 lmk if you're into that and i can convert it or smth

______________________________________________________________

December 1997

The morning of December 27th in the Inumaki household was chaotic.

Some months prior, it was decided that the disgraced, elder Inumaki son, Miharu, and his family would be offered redemption through certain means. During July, in the southern part of Japan, a sorcerer with the potential to become a special grade was discovered. They had no family lineage and the powers-that-be would have your family introduce them to jujutsu society. The order had been passed down that they would train alongside the son's eldest child, in both theory and practical study, until they attended Jujutsu High at fourteen years of age. That is if they survived that long.

So when your parents sit you down and make you promise to be on your best behavior, to not antagonize, make fun of, or laugh at your guests or there would be consequences, dirty dishwater-related consequences, you say yes. You promise them you will be good, nice, and welcoming.

At first, it was easy because it was exciting! Everyone (except Akari, who was drooling in her crib) was bustling with frantic energy, cleaning, and then going over the entire house. Making sure everything was in its place; flowers in the foyer, record playing in the living room, new sake ready to be opened on the counter. You even tolerated your little sister's incessant babbling and following afternoon tantrums with a great attitude. Granted, you couldn't hear her cries at full volume, but still, you were a good sport about the whole thing. You were more focused on the idea of training with another sorcerer your age and what gifts your parents might bring back from their visit to Jujutsu High in Tokyo next month. It was going to be a good new year.

When your guests arrived, your family had arranged themselves at your home's entrance. A poised, respectable sorcerer family welcoming a newly awakened sorcerer and their parents. Who you knew from peaking at your parents' signing during movie night, were normal humans, not a trace of cursed energy on them. (Your parents should really be more careful where they sign.)

Greeting the couple was nice and normal enough, you were bright and of course, the perfect host. You interpreted for your parents perfectly, like you had been doing for the majority of your life, "The Inumaki's are honored to be coordinating your child's sorcerer training."

"The honor is ours, thank you for allowing us into your home. Why, it's so beautiful!" Mrs. Geto's voice was soft to your ears, but the color of it radiated a light pink that settled neatly in the air around her. Her smile was sly, but inviting. She reminded you of a fox, especially with the way her updo gave her two bumps on her head that looked like little ears. You pursed your mouth to match hers and decided to keep that happy little thought to yourself.

You spared a glance at their son who had at first sight seemed ordinary like you. His bow was short and curt, his name lost to your wooden flooring. Only when prompted by his mother did he repeat it, "Geto Suguru. Pleased to meet you." The sound waves around him bent the light strangely, making the shadows curl around him even though the foyer was well-lit.

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, soft like his mother's but not at all like the soft pink she gave off. The color of his voice was deep indigo and unnerving. The waves refused to settle, creating a dark corona around the boy. It had you straightening your back, setting your shoulders up, back, and then down at attention.

"Inumaki. Pleased to meet you." Your bow wasn't as low as it should have been, but you had your eyes trained on him, making sure you saw every single movement.

The Getos, you're sure, were impressed with you either way. Especially with how grown up you were for a child your age (it's what every other adult seemed to say after meeting you). It was only natural, you were a jujutsu sorcerer after all. Or at least on your way to being a first-grade one. Right now though, all you were was a seven-year-old being told to make nice with some stranger.

"Go play, try to be friendly. You're going to be spending more time together soon." Your father's usually composed signing was rushed as he ushered you both through the backdoor and hurried to get back to where your guests were seated in the living room. His anxiety was visible, he had been going on and on about this day for a month straight. Finally, he would be respected again. (Or something like that, you tried not to peer in on your parents' private conversations in their bedroom. Most of the time.)

You were pretty sure he was happier to share his special sake and show off his vintage record collection than to talk about jujutsu society, those poor, poor people. They would have to get by on pen-and-paper conversations and charades with your tipsy parents while you were exiled outside with their son.

Alarm bells start ringing in your head finally being alone with him. He was just a little kid like you, all knobby knees and awkward limbs, but you could tell he was powerful. You don't know whether to run from him or fight him. You struggle, momentarily stuck to your spot, but ultimately decide against fighting. You would be going in blind and set a bad first impression.

Both of you stand apart, facing out into your backyard. A small garden that your mother keeps up is in the center, while the rest grows tall and wild around an old patio set towards the far right corner. A desire path is starting to form along the edges from your many trips back and forth from the beach that was just beyond the green belt of tall grasses at the end of your property. You let your eyes trace it as you chew on your lip, considering how to befriend this boy beside you.

You don't know what he can do exactly, only seeing your parents discuss it once in passing; Cursed Manipulation. What things he could manipulate was a mystery, all you knew was that you didn't want it to be you. Your mind screamed danger! but you had to get to know this strange boy, now that you were going to start training with him in the new year. After your eighth birthday, so you could still have time with your family before getting serious.

You pout and think of how your father had made you promise to be nice this morning. But you didn't feel like playing outside with this weird, jittery kid now! You wanted to cry, it was either this or dish duty for a month and you would rather die than touch nasty dishwater. So you make down the steps into the yard two at a time, in a huff, only partially caring if Geto follows you or not. (He does, with his hands in his pockets, taking his sweet time.)

Walking into the garden, you watch the air ripple with little bursts of color in every step. When you reach the patio set, you plop down facing the tall grasses at the back. It gives you a view of the sunset peaking through the blades, pale yellow into a muted blue sky.

Geto wiggles his chair out from under the table and positions it to face the same way as yours. He all but falls backward into it, releasing a long sigh when he settles. You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye. He's slouching so much, you're surprised he's still on the cushion, but he looks content to be watching the sky. You turn to watch little bugs flitter through the evening air. The beating hum of their wings gave off tiny warm yellow waves. At least they were a nice distraction from your present company.

"So, are you going to tell me your name?"

His voice almost makes you jump out of your seat. When you face him, he has his cocked to the side, a bored expression on his face. You masterfully pull yours into a kind expression, no dirty dishes for you. "Inumaki, remember?" You say it sweetly, to make up for the fact that it's not the answer he's looking for. You're not dumb, you know what he's asking you, but you don't want him to know your first name. Not yet, at least.

Geto scowls before turning away from you once again.

You sigh in frustration, you had been looking forward to having a friend, someone like you who wasn't three, stinky, and drooling. (Sorry to your sister, but she was just not very fun right now.) You were fighting an uphill battle of social awkwardness with Suguru Geto and losing. You weren't used to failing, ever. If this is how it's going to be between you both, then what would training look like in the spring?

Your parents believe you're being a good host, so that's some good-daughter points for you. Ugh, but if you don't try, then nothing is going to change between you both and you'll be stuck with your stinky sister your whole life. Yuck! You conclude that you can't rely on him to make the first move. You're the host, you make the conversation. It doesn't mean that Suguru Geto is going to be your best friend, but maybe you can get a powerful ally out of him. You perk up in your seat, yeah, you could make that work!

Working together with other sorcerers is important long term, if you're going to persevere in and preserve the jujutsu world. Maybe, if you tell him about when you first got your cursed technique, it'll make him feel more comfortable.

The thing is, you don’t really remember when your technique manifested.

You remember the heat and stickiness of the day. It must have been late summer, in the rainy season. A rare sunny day, no clouds in sight, spent at the park near your home. Your very pregnant mother sitting down watching you, laughing along with your high-pitched giggles. The red of the picnic table was a streak in your vision as you flew through the air on the swings, pushed higher and higher by your father. Silent, wearing a mask to cover his clan markings, but happy.

It was so, so hot that day, and the humidity had turned your hair into a frizzy mess. Sweat caused it and your clothes to stick to you uncomfortably, but you didn’t care. The sky was so blue and clear, and the air so crisp. You could see the expanse of the horizon at the top of your swing and the urge to jump was too great, you were weightless when you threw yourself from the seat.

You remember how the sky burst into color halfway down, how everything thrummed with color and strange vibrations. It was so pretty that you screamed with joy at the sight of sound waves emanating from everything. It was exactly how your mother described how she saw the world through her technique. The overload of visual information then clouded over the fact that everything was quieter. Like the volume set at full was dialed down quicker than your little brain could register.

You were only four or five when that happened. Suguru Geto, seven, is a late bloomer by jujutsu standards. The thought makes you want to laugh, but you hold it in and then calmly release it as a breath of air. Whew, that was close.

The evening was turning into night and the wind was cold against your arms causing goosebumps. Pieces of your hair were flying around your face, getting caught in your glasses and mouth. You sputter and push it back behind your ears for the hundredth time, even now it refuses to stay in place. You notice the indigo of Geto's sneaky giggles more than you can hear them.

"Are you laughing at me?" Geto, looking unashamed about being caught, meets your eyes only once before turning to watch the swaying grasses. You frown and follow his gaze, yup, still grass and sky. Beyond that was the color of the distant sound waves from the water crashing against the sand, although you know Geto can't see them like you could. You turn to face him once more, wishing he would at least try to keep eye contact with you. Or make conversation. Or do anything besides stare at stupid beach grass!

"You sound kinda funny." He tells you this very casually, like it's not the first thing he's said that wasn't a greeting or a question.

You blink at him, incredulous. "I don't get to use my voice that often." You're fully facing him now, bracing yourself on the patio chair's arm.

"Is it because your parents use their hands to talk?"

Did he really just ask you that?

"Yes."

"Oh."

Be nice, be nice, be nice. "My father can't speak because of his technique and my mother and I have some hearing loss from our own so it just makes sense for us to use sign," you manage, after a lengthy pause.

“Oh.” 

He’s still not facing you, have you done something wrong that you missed? Your family wasn’t exactly the most social, maybe it was you. Were you the one being weird? You can’t tell if he's being mean or not, but you also don't know why he would be mean to you in the first place so maybe you're overthinking it. You've never made a friend before, but surely it can't be this hard.

"When you see curses, are you afraid of them?" When he says it he doesn't face you so you have to read his lips to make out the parts you miss.

You take a moment to mull it over. "No, I already know some defensive techniques so I think I could protect myself. Low-level ones I feel like I could kill easily." You smile at that, remembering how your parents said your barrier technique was very strong for your age. It made you happy that you had a sound-related technique like your mom. You liked being like her, strong and beautiful, but also kind. (You were still working on that last part.)

"What about the stronger ones? Would you run or fight?" This time when he says it, Geto's gaze is so steady, you couldn't escape it if you wanted to. His pale face was open and honest.

"I'd fight." You try to keep your face earnest and keep eye contact, you want him to know you're being truthful. When you focus on them, his eyes are a dark amber framed by straight, long eyelashes. (Annoying, how boys always got pretty lashes without even having to try.)

Geto presses his lips into a thin line before casting his eyes back to the horizon past the grass. "I'd run."

You giggle at that, trying to imagine this string bean of a boy running from some scary curse. "I guess we'll have to work on that when we see each other again in the new year. Right?" You smile when he looks back at you. If you relax and keep making conversation, then training will go well the next time you meet. Having him warm up to you also means a boost to your strength, in the end.

Which means you have to be good at this making friends thing. You want to be good at it, for your parents who rely on you to carry on their legacy. For your sister, who will look up to you as you both get older. And for this new kid, who has no one else in his family like him. Who was assigned to the closest sorcerer family available so that he's prepared for jujutsu society—your family. Maybe, you think, you could be good for him and whip him into shape by the time you both attend Jujutsu High and start taking missions.

He blinks a few too many times before slouching even more than you thought possible, (looking at his posture was making your neck ache) and giving you a small, "Sure."

Another beat of silence, and you think he's going to let this one stretch out before he asks another question. "So why can't your dad talk?"

You laugh at his bold line of questioning this time, "My dad comes from a long line of cursed speech users. That's why his mouth has those little markings, even though they're a little faded. They're the symbol of our family, the Inumakis." You decide not to tell Geto why your father's marks are faded or why he jumped at the opportunity to sponsor him. That's all stressful, adult stuff.

"And your mom? She can talk, but doesn't?" Geto arches his eyebrow at you and you wonder, does he know that it lets you know he's asking a question? He's already good at nonverbal communication, you don't have to think too hard about what he means when he's facing you.

You shake your head and lift yourself up from your seat with great effort, ready to head back towards your house. "My mom and I can talk, but it's easier when we can all just sign what we mean, together." It's a simple explanation, you hope he accepts it.

Geto pulls himself from his seat to follow you, this time side by side. "What's her technique like?"

You suck air into your cheeks, making a big show of contemplating your answer. "My mother has control over sound and pressure waves at the molecular level." You take your time sounding out the complicated words, you don't actually know what pressure, let alone molecular means. "She can create barriers with sound the same way I can. We can also see the sound waves in the air. My brain is so used to it though that I don't even focus on that anymore. Like when your brain ignores your nose, you know?" You crinkle your nose at him, twitching the tip of it like a bunny. It makes him laugh and you smile, you like the color of it much more than normal conversation. "But because we can see all that stuff, our hearing isn't as strong as other peoples. It doesn't feel any different though, I don't remember a time before it."

You've never had to say all these big words out loud before, you catch Geto laughing at the way you're pronouncing some of them. You tut disapprovingly at him but laugh with him also. You probably do sound a little funny.

He hums and swings his hands back and forth, the effort making his t-shirt sway on his frame like a big pillowcase. "Is it only barriers you can make with sound?"

You hum, thoughtful. "I haven't really tried anything else, but that's why I'm excited to train with you in the spring!"

"Is that what you think we'll be working on when we see each other next?"

You focus on the way he shapes his vowels, how they stretch and flow, before looking back at his eyes. "Mmm, probably not. My dad will make us start with the basics of cursed energy and breathing techniques. Prepare for lots of meditating, my dad loves to put on his jazz music every morning for stretches and quiet time, it's awful. Let's see what else..." You tap your chin, thinking. "Then we might move on to basic fighting forms, which I've barely gotten to practice." You see the familiar notes of your father's records seep from the house as you get closer to the steps of your porch. When you reach them, you each take a seat next to each other.

Geto smiles at you, like his mother it's sly, but more smug than anything. More music escapes into the air behind him as faint swirls of color. Pretty, you think. "I'm already pretty good at fighting, I take after-school lessons. Or, at least I used to." His brow furrows at that last sentence. Suddenly displeased, he turns to stare at the ants crossing near your feet.

You note the shift with a frown. You've never been to a regular school, you've been taught by your mom and dad your whole life. Math, science, reading, all that boring stuff. You've never experienced public school, so you don't know exactly what it is that Geto might miss.

This is an exciting opportunity for you and your family, something you were looking forward to and happy about. Getting to introduce someone to jujutsu society is a great honor, but it doesn't seem like that's how it is for Geto. You lean forward to try and catch his eyes again. "Are you going to miss it?"

He eyes you from behind his dark hair, debating his answer. "I'm going to miss my teacher and my friends. I thought we would all be together until high school or something like that." He closes his eyes and takes a breath. You see his lip shake more than you can hear the quiver in his voice. "I didn't ask to be a sorcerer."

Something hard has formed in your throat watching this boy you were just laughing with almost cry in front of you. You force it down and take a moment to think about what it was like moments after your technique manifested. Chaotic, too bright all at once, and then quiet. You definitely started crying at some point after your joy turned to fear. But your parents had never hid their culture from you, so curses and cursed energy weren't anything new. It was more overwhelming than scary.

Before you can try to comfort Geto, the backdoor slides open and a flurry of color fills your vision. Your mother stands in the doorway, jovial and laughing until seeing Geto's expression.

"What's going on?" She steps forward, displeased.

You jump up to try and rectify the situation. "We were just talking about his school!"

Your mother purses her lips and looks between you both now that Geto is standing on the step above you. "We'll discuss this later. Come inside and say goodbye."

You whine and hang your head in defeat knowing you can't sway your mother. "Yes, ma'am."

You look at Geto and motion for him to go inside first. "Mom says that they're finished. Let's go."

You suck in your lip, chewing on your unspoken words, and trudge into the house behind him. You watch the trail of indigo his footsteps leave behind, he must scuff his feet along the floor. Something pangs in your chest, you don't want him to leave you sad or mad at you. Before that mess about school, you started to get along.

Before he can get too far away from you, you reach out to tug on his shirt. "Geto, wait."

His hands are in his pockets and he's slouching so much you're surprised he's still upright, but he gazes you over his shoulder with an arched brow, a silent acknowledgment.

You drop your hand back to your side, letting go of his shirt. "I just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to seeing you. Next time, you know? This is all new for me, I've never trained with anyone my age so I want this to go well. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings asking about your school." You cringe at how it all spills out. Much too fast and eager, you're not used to speaking out loud so much. But, it gets him to turn fully towards you before entering the foyer.

"I know, Inumaki-san. I'm happy to be training with you too, but leaving my friends and everything else behind isn't easy. Not for me, anyway."

You stare back at him, wanting to comfort him all over again, but all that comes out is, "Okay." You want to smack yourself, you are so lame.

For some reason, he lets a hint of a smile come over his face. "Okay." He nods before continuing, "I'll see you in the new year." 

With that, both of you enter the foyer to be with your parents. You skip past Geto so you can be by your parents' side to interpret their goodbyes. You preen as your father smooths your hair back with his hand. Its warm familiar weight settles on your shoulder. You did a good job tonight, making Geto feel welcome to the best of your ability. However socially awkward you were, you got him to have a solid conversation with you. Next time will be even better.

The three of you walk them out and down the steps of your home. It's later than you thought it was and you're starting to get sleepy. You return Geto's little wave through the glass window of his parents' car.

When you get back inside, you make your parents wait with you until you see the lights of the Geto's car fade from view before you turn off the porch lights. Your father carries you to bed, and your mother tucks you in and sings you a lullaby. Your sister is already asleep in her bed next to yours. It was a good night, you think before letting your heavy eyelids rest.

When you finally drift off into sleep, your dreams are full of inky indigos and soft pink clouds, with little foxes jumping between their misty hiding spots while you giggle watching them.

[neptunescore]

zak brown hater anon here and heheh. I can’t explain how happy I am seeing Zak Brown look of disappointment after the race. Literally giggling and kicking my feet. I think I’m thriving. McLauren and RedBull were pretty equal but of course McLauren had batter pace at the end. Honestly I’m not mad about this race but also not too happy because this is a triple header. As a McLaren hater I pray on their downfall but as an Oscar fan if they must be successful I hope he’s the one winning.

ANYWAY, while I’m here I guess I’ll talk about the recent drama with Mercedes. My personal opinion, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time but I think Mercedes wasn’t pushing Lewis aside. Did they make questionable decisions? Yes 100%. But at the same time I don’t think they’re purposefully disregarding him just because he’s moving to another team. He’s been with them for years and while I heard Mercedes didn’t offer a promising deal to him in the end it was up to him. Lewis is getting older and it’s his career. Like what he said in DTS to Toto that Toto can continue being in the sport but he can’t. That’s just not possible.

It’s great progress that Mercedes is finally picking up the pace but I do not think the reason the car “magically got better” is because of the recent drama. Some people may have been joking but to those being serious, improving a car does NOT take a weekend. It takes weeks- months- even until the end of the season- to improve the car. We have seen that over the past few races Mercedes have been increasingly faster and a better race pace but it is not because of Lewis and his fans saying he’s being sabotaged. They are still a team and they have their morals and competitiveness- they want to win- why would they push it all away just because their driver is moving to another team?

One thing to note, I do think the social media admin was feeling a bit goofy and was not paying attention to Lewis as much as George. In one way, it’s reasonable with their standings but in the last few races I think it became apparent that the admin is just not paying attention to what’s happening with Lewis. So I understand people’s a very towards that.

I think it’s important to factor in that most of this escalated mainly because of the fanbase. And it kinda disgusts me how everyone is joking (and agreeing with the person who wrote the email) about the email that proceeded to defame the crew in Mercedes (especially Toto and George). If there were any members that WERE against Lewis, I believe it still shouldn’t excuse putting it up against the entire team because then it’s punishing the entire team for a few people that might not even hold important positions to make a difference. (In this scenario I’m talking they aren’t on the same level as who’s on the pitwall). Everyone saying “oh, car is better and not f**ked because of the email” is kinda bs. I will say Mercedes is now making sure they equally support both Lewis and George on social media but on track, the car was always the same. Strategy made the difference and you can argue that George gets the better strategy than Lewis but in the end they are a team. Whoever is in a better position to gain more points will receive the better strategy.

Lewis will always be Mercedes champion but it also doesn’t mean Mercedes can’t win without him. I’ve seen some recent tweets defaming George and- hate him all you want- but he’s a competitive driver. He may not have the skills to make up for it like Nico, but he’s consistently gaining experience and has shown his growth. A good example being the amazing start in the Spanish GP. Yes, he complains a lot, but don’t all drivers? People forget George looks up to Lewis and even if their relationship may have changed over their years as teammates it does not change that Lewis was and still is his role model.

anyone can disagree with me on this ofc. You can think Lewis gets the short end which is totally fine (I can understand your points, don’t get me wrong) but at least do not praise the email for defaming multiple people that might not even be involved if there is anything happening behind the scenes. I love Lewis and I was giggling and kicking my feet seeing him on the podium. I’m super excited to see what else Mercedes can bring to the table and try to fight for wins in the upcoming races. I’m a max fan but Lewis is really close up there (funny, isn’t?) so I can’t wait to see them fighting on track again soon. I feel like I my lifespan extends whenever I see them together on podium and fighting on track.

thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫶

ZB❌️ ANON!!! I missed you pookie😔✋🏽

God, SAMEEE. Like after his comment on how lando could be winning championships if they had the best car, the visceral and pure need that arose in me to see him swallow his words, literally none of u will understand how deep it went😭. BUT LOOK AT MY MAXY FULLFILLING ALL MY DESIRES AND SHOWING THEM THERES A REASON HES CONSIDERED ONE OF THE BEST!!! I LOVE HIM!! And I agree on the oscar part as well, like I'm the biggest mclaren hater to exist (the TEAM, NOT the drivers, please don't come at me ppl😭), but if they're doing anything successful I'd love to watch oscar bring it, acc... ugh, I don't know, I never wanna see that ugly orange on the podium (this is NOT me hating on the drivers, if they're on the podium then they deserve to be there, I just hate mclaren alot guys😔✊🏽)

Moving on to the mercedes drama, I've already made so many posts abt it, but ur ask summarises my opinions perfectly (as always🫶🏼). The main thing pissing me off is the fact that some fans genuinely believe that email, or if they don't, they still joke abt the things that were being said in it. Like, do they not understand how VILE the whole email was?? It literally accuses george of SLEEPING WITH HIS BOSS, says they're plotting to KILL LEWIS, and then makes the most indirect threats against George's own wellbeing. That's absolutely batshit crazy. There's no way anyone should believe/ joke abt that.

As a young POC girl (and just as a fan in general), I literally adore lewis, but the fact that when he was asked abt the hate george was receiving, he just chose to brush it aside and say how 'he's never heard of it' rlly got me irritated. Like, at least tell ppl that any kind of hate, in general, towards any driver is just straight up wrong❌️ and should not✋🏽 be a thing they do.

Anyway, fans that r saying lewis ended up on the podium bc they finally stopped sabotaging his car after the email are just a new level of delulu. I won't even explain this because no f1 fan needs an explanation on how long cars take to be built/ adjusted🙂. Also, in the end these comments are just taking away from lewis' efforts, bc despite the shit car, he STILL managed to put it up on the podium (tho the car rlly did seem to suit this track)

Overall, I personally (none of u need to agree with me) think merc is NOT sabotaging lewis (why would they, the team needs points so bad😭) but they ARE acting shit towards him, especially the social media team.

I love ur Ted talks ZB❌️ anon, come by whenever u want❤️ (what's ur opinion on the carlos and charles situation btw)

[fruitcoops]

Slowburn

Fic O'Ween Day 12: Goosebumps, with part five of the firefighter/ EMT AU! Coops, Leo, and Layla belong to @lumosinlove, fest header belong to @noots-fic-fests!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

TW extremely brief mention of bodily fluids (one sentence at the beginning)

Five hours and forty-four minutes. He had been bled on, puked on, grabbed, yelled at, and nearly toppled. His only spare pair of pants was now bound up in a plastic bag. Miracle of miracles, Sirius’ shirt was the only thing that hadn’t been damaged in the miserable afternoon. It made a great undershirt. It would also need to be washed at least four times before he could even dream of returning it.

Layla stared at a spot above his shoulder in the opposite jumpseat. One side of her eyeliner had been completely smudged away; the other, smeared sideways to her temple in a smoky trail.

“Nice job today.”

“Thanks.”

“That was a lot.” Layla nodded mutely. His heart pulled for her, a little bit. Even if their cases had been run-of-the-mill, nearly six hours of back-to-back calls would wear anyone down. He nudged the tip of her shoe with his own. “You’re learning fast. I saw some good work out there.”

“I’m…” She blinked slowly, then shook her head. “Wow, I think I fell asleep sitting up for a minute.”

“It happens.” In time, she’d learn to sleep wherever she could catch it. “When does your shift end?”

“Seven.”

“Almost done, then.”

“Mmm.”

The ambulance went over a bump, rattling the near-empty shelves and bashing Remus’ tailbone against the back ledge. “Sorry!” Leo called through the small window to the cab.

He had mostly given up hope that he’d see Sirius in the next twelve hours. His shift wasn’t over until midnight, and Sirius’ started at six the next morning. If he made time between his dentist appointment and calling his parents, he might be able to stop by in the afternoon, but it would be a stretch if he wanted to get any laundry done. And, Christ, that was a chore he couldn’t delay for another week. He liked those pants. More importantly, he now knew just how much Sirius liked them.

Something stirred in his belly at the thought. Warm hands cupping his ass and sliding over his flanks with astonishing care. Sirius had felt him up enough that he could probably make a Model Magic version of Remus’ body on touch alone—and wasn’t that a thing to picture. Somewhere between rounds two and three, Remus remembered kissing the backs of Sirius’ thighs. Pale skin and dark hair above the bare, sensitive bend of his knees. They slotted so well in his palms. Sirius had looked like glory itself when he peeked over his shoulder to look.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Remus jumped. “What? Nothing. Sorry, nothing, why?”

“You’re all frowny.”

Thank god for that. “Just…the day.”

A vague and reliable excuse. Layla snorted. “Tell me about it.”

There will never be a day when I tell you about this. Remus hoped his laugh didn’t come out too strained. “Seriously.”

They took the next turn a little wider, sending their final two ointment boxes sliding out of place. He fixed them blindly while the city center rolled past through the back windows. Did Sirius still have scratch marks on his upper thighs?

Another bump knocked the thought from his head. “We’re home,” Leo singsonged from the driver’s seat. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers, wondering why I chose this life path.”

“Mood,” Layla mumbled.

“I’m also Grubhubbing a sundae, and you can’t stop me.”

One of the last functioning neurons in Remus’ head lit up. “Get me one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Get your own.”

“I’m your boss.”

��You make more money than me.”

“Yes, let me flaunt my extra fifty cents an hour,” he countered dryly. “Every night, I rub my quarters together, just to flex on you. That beautiful sound of a handful of nickels.”

“…I’ll see what they have.”

“Good rookie.”

He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop before opening the doors. The familiar ka-chunk of the lock coming free was music to his ears—a sweet, sweet anthem of freedom, the promise of a lukewarm cup of coffee and a maybe-stale donut from the break room.

And Sirius.

Sirius, sitting on one of his packed and labeled inventory bins.

Remus stared.

“Remus?”

“Go ahead,” he said absently. “I’ll catch up.”

Layla hopped out with a groan. Six hours was a long time to be up and down. Remus was sure his feet would ache the same when he stood. If he stood. Sirius’ hair stuck up at the back, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Remus loved when he did that.

He just. He really did like him, quite a lot.

Keep me.

What had he been thinking? Six hours was a long time to wait. He had told Sirius he’d be right back. It was his day off; why hadn’t he left after it was clear Remus wouldn’t return?

He supposed he could ask the same question about that morning. God, could it really only have been a few hours since he felt Sirius’ bare chest against his own? They had practically been spooning with how tight they were tangled in each other when he woke. Remus hardly remembered falling asleep, only aware of the pleasant ache in his muscles and the humming pleasure in his belly. Pure satisfaction. Pure comfort, at having Sirius hold him like more than a friend.

He watched Leo wander off. Sirius didn’t seem to have noticed. He didn’t so much as flinch when Remus stumbled off the rig and beelined for him, not until Remus stopped in front of him, unsure what to say. I want you I like you I’m sorry please kiss me again, I still get goosebumps thinking about the way your mouth tastes with adrenaline.

Sirius blinked up at him, full lips and glossy lashes. His bone structure was fucking criminal. “You’re back,” he said, so soft and sweet and genuinely happy that Remus’ stomach flopped over itself. Sirius stood, tucking his phone into his pocket without a second glance at it. He was just—big. And tall. And gorgeous. Remus now knew precisely how solid his chest was, and how nice it was to kiss. “Did you have a good day?”

Remus stepped forward and planted his face directly into that chest.

“Oh,” Sirius laughed. It vibrated against his forehead; he closed his eyes. Arms came up around him, hands settling at his nape and the small of his back. He knew he smelled awful. Sirius didn’t seem to care as a tentative kiss nestled on the top of his head and melted Remus’ insides out his throbbing feet.

He sighed. Sirius smelled all warm and spicy. Detergent, cologne, or simply the way he was? Remus couldn’t wait to find out. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” The delight was back. Sirius pushed the breath from his lungs on a squeeze. “Yeah, it is. I like this.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Remus mumbled. “Gonna kiss you so good. Just…two seconds.”

“You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Two seconds.” It was so dark in his new haven. Sirius’ lungs moved calmly, steadily. His heart rate was a little fast, but nothing to worry about. Remus let his ears go foggy and pressed closer, nuzzling into the space between his collarbones.

Sirius kissed the top of his head again, less hesitant this time, before resting his chin there. “Long day?” he asked after several seconds. Remus hummed. “Sounded like you guys didn’t get much of a break.”

“Mhmm.” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek over Sirius’ sternum. He couldn’t count the number of times they had sat together on the couch or at the table or in the window seat, legs intertwined while they worked through their days. Separate snacks at first, then a single bowl to share once they knew each other’s favorites. It had been nice, to have someone there. Someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone who understood.

But this…this was so much better.

Sirius’ thumb stroked a short path along his spine. It zinged all the way into the base of Remus’ skull. “I sweated through your shirt,” he muttered, pushing his head further beneath Sirius’ chin. “After I stole it from you by accident. Sorry. I’ll wash it.”

He felt Sirius’ smile on his temple. “Keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Think I left mine at your place.”

“Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it,” Sirius whispered playfully. Remus couldn’t help a grin, raising his head despite the pounding drowsiness behind his eye—he had barely opened his mouth to retort when there were lips brushing his own, a wordless request. He granted it easily.

This was different than the rushed promise on the ambulance. Different than last night’s smoky, need-fueled passion. He let Sirius lead, tender and questioning, then pushed into it a little more. Have it, he tried to say. Take it all, it’s been yours for a while. The words may not work, but he was willing to bet Sirius would understand anyway. His lower lip was chapped on one side when Remus ran his tongue along the seam, giddy and dizzy with the kiss-buzz of chasteness.

“Hmm.”

That was good. It was all good, if Sirius would keep making noises like that. He brought his hands up to rest on narrow hips (marked with a tiny scar just above his thigh, which Remus was so fucking glad he knew now) and gave a little more, pushed a little harder. Sirius’ hand cupped his jaw and the right side of Remus’ brain powered down.

“Hm—wait, wait.”

His attempt to lick forward into Sirius’ mouth was stymied by sudden distance between them. Not far—he could still pick out each fleck of quicksilver in Sirius’ unfocused eyes—but far enough to be frustrating for the part of him that was enjoying turning his thoughts off. Remus went up on his toes for more, but Sirius pulled away. “What?” he whispered, though they were alone. “Did you—are you mad at me?”

“No,” Sirius said hurriedly. His hands soothed down Remus’ sides in a long drag that sent tingles through each cell. “God, no, I’m trying to—” His cheeks went a touch pink as he glanced around them and coughed lightly. “Uh, I’m trying to calm down.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Remus hadn’t even thought about that. He was pretty sure he was too tired for his body to consider arousal, aside from the inevitable spike of desire for a soft place to land for two to eight hours. Sirius’ mouth was so nice, his body so warm, that it was all too tempting to get lost in it.

Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Well. Remus supposed he might be able to feel something other than pure exhaustion, if he tried. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want me to,” Remus answered immediately, then felt himself redden at the arch of Sirius’ brows. “Fuck—sorry. Midnight. My shift’s done at midnight.”

The fingertips on his back had become an extraordinary distraction. Sirius looked almost shy, so at odds with the animated boy he knew against this backdrop that Remus wanted to memorize every inch of it. “Can I…” Sirius began, then trailed off as his blush darkened. His thumbs hooked around Remus’ hipbones and paused there, lingering on bare skin. “Can I maybe take you to dinner? Or a diner?”

“At midnight?”

“I know a couple places.”

Remus frowned. “You have work tomorrow.”

Sirius gave a sheepish half-shrug. “We could nap together. Today, I mean. If you want.”

“I smell horrible.”

“You smell fine.”

“I’m soaked in dry sweat.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I—” That was it for excuses. That was all he had. Every defense against Sirius was dust in the wind. He smiled, and stood on his toes again to kiss one scruffy cheek. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me wash my face and grab some water. I’ll meet you in the bunks.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled, and Remus fell for him all over again. “I’ll be waiting.”

[wrestlesource]

Thank you for your gorgeous work!

I think one reason people may be asking for icons is simply we can't easily visualize other content concepts, hence why you're so great for providing them! A Catch-22.

Could you provide some more detailed examples of things you'd like to make as prompts maybe?

Beyond icons and headers what would you like to do? Phone screen and backgrounds maybe?

I think people also don't want to ask for something that feels Too Big as a free labor commission, whereas icons feel Safer to request compared to say a large ship gifset or some kind of full size graphic edit.

TL;DR: What are the size and shape of your dream requests for this blog going forward?

hi angel !! first off thank you so so much for this! i was hoping somebody would share different sides to just the whole “you’re rude” and that’s that. - so again, thank you !!

i’ve made a couple responses to a few questions and even gave some ideas previously but that’s on me for not keeping it pinned / not updating my ‘what i offer’ list.

as cliche as it is, i want to help in any way i can; i’d love to do more shape icons for people ( yes- it’s still icons but there’s more to them ), maybe even written prompts, dividers. anything. 😌 essentially, anything that regular / non-wrestling rp / fanpages may need. it’s more up for y’all to ask? in a way if that makes sense

[aoikitty]

Hi Aoi! I'm Luna- I know it's been a bit since you first posted your art, but I wanted to say welcome to the Lu fandom! It's a great place :)) we like arson

I am curious- where is your pfp and header from-is it your art?? It is very pretty :D

Also you seem very cool and I like your name. I envy your pinned post and with your tags-I'm still trying to figure all that out XD

I think you are amazing and you matter /gen

<33

Oh my gosh hello and thank you!! Sorry for responding 2 weeks late- I totally missed this in my notifications o(-(

And yes it is my art! Pfp is a drawing of my Sona I did a while ago in my sketchbook (highlighters & ballpoint pens, my most beloved art supplies <3), the header was a mixed media piece I did for an art show with my class!

Not sure how well It shows up on photo, but it has two separate layers of canvas for a 3D effect! Unfortunately the colours aren’t nearly as vibrant in person (water colours just aren’t made for super neon colours 😔) but im still super happy with it!

I have a bunch of other misc art from my sketchbook & such that I’ve been meaning to share so maybe I’ll start posting that here if people are interested

And yeah I totally get it with the tags and such- i wanted to make sure I keep things organized here right from the start. I never made a proper art tag on Twitter so my media tab has become a fucking MESS & it drives me crazy- I can’t let that happen here too LMAOO