#abandoned the prompt entirely i'm too exhausted

[spacenintendogs]

siiiiiiiiiighs

30 days of wolfox: day 6

[sirxlla]

The Difference Between Red & Blue

-------------------------------------------------

Warnings: 🌸 fluff

Prompt: accidentally overhearing him gush about you to the 118 (requested by @scorpiobabino )

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said, it's all under the cut-

Finally, a day off...you had been working overtime at the dispatch center after a massive earthquake hit the city. Several call centers had gone down, and calls were redirected to you. Limited computers, traffic, several collapsed buildings, power issues, and all meant they had tried to get people in to cover the spots of the current dispatchers, but it took almost fifty hours straight until they finally did.

Fifty hours doesn't sound like a lot in the grand scheme of things, but it's so much worse when you're awake the entire time. People needed help, and just like your golden retriever boyfriend, you had the need to help people regardless of how tired you were.

Thankfully, since you were in the call center so long, they had had time to clean up the streets a bit, and traffic was a lot more normal. It had been a hot minute since you'd eaten, so you decided to pull into a fast food place for some food. Evan was on the way back to your apartment at the station, probably wishing he could also go home like you. You bought some food and coffee for the guys and gal at the department.

You were about to shout out to them about the food and coffee in the arms until you heard Buck speaking.

"No, she's just perfect. I really do feel bad for her, they still haven't got other dispatchers in. They're all slammed."

"Yeah, Maddie said it's awful, they just let her go home, though. Thankfully, Jee's sitter is just the neighbour." Chimney replies to Buck as he sits down, the entire group of them look exhausted, but that spark of happiness still shines in Buck's eyes when he speaks about you.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you if you knew any places to get a really unique ring. Like something that says 'I love you and get you completely.' I really love her, and I want something that looks more like it came out of an ancient, abandoned elven cave or like something Smaug would hoard."

"Is that Game Of Thrones?"

"Lord of the Rings!"

"There's a difference?" Chimney asks as he's almost falling asleep, his palm pressed against his face, his elbow agaisnt the table.

"There's a difference?" Buck asks as if Chimney's mixing up the colors red and blue, his nerdy side coming out quite a bit.

"That's like asking if Star Wars and Marvel are the same. Come on! My girlfriend and I watch this stuff together all the time, and I just want her to have something no one else has, but I'm looking for an affordable ring."

"I don't know, man, try that Etsy website Maddie keeps buying things from, I think I saw some rings on there-" Chimney immediately stops talking, which prompts Buck to turn around. He sees you and he's happy to see you, of course, but now you know he's planning to propose.

"Hey!" He tries to play it cool, like he wasn't talking about engagement rings, as he sees you enter the room with your arms full of drink carriers and your backpack full of sausage biscuits. "Please tell me you didn't hear all that."

"You don't have to go to the mines of Mordor for me, Baby." You teased as you heard it, he figured, but was hoping you didn't. You place all the coffees down as well as the food, which prompts the rest of the 118 to scramble for it, mainly the coffee, they all shout thank yous and terms of appreciation.

"I want it to be perfect, you're gonna have it forever, and all your other jewelry and clothes and everything is so unique, and your ring needs to be too. Almost as perfect as you. Not generic like most other people." He smiles and pulls you closer. "I didn't even know you were off work....You look exhausted."

"Yeah, I forgot to text. I'm sorry, I'm awful especially when Im tired."

"Stay here, you're much too tired to drive. The couch is pretty comfy, and you can borrow my headphones to block out the sound." He rubs your hips and hugs you gently. He's happy you're safe and that you don't seem too upset about the idea of being married to him. Evan smiles to himself and sways you both back and forth for a while, just being in the moment with his now soon-to-be fiancée.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[justnatoka]

Haunted

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: This started as a drabble. Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: mention of injury

Prompt: "I'm pretty sure it was a ghost." / "I'm pretty sure it's not." / "Oh really?" / "Ghosts don't bleed."

Summary: After days of running you finally find shelter, both literally and figuratively.

Your panting filled the silence of the empty room, echoing back from the walls of the run down house you were hiding in. It was clear it has been standing abandoned for many years, decay and nature slowly sneaking in through the cracks and taking over. Lucky for you, one of the windows in the back was shattered, probably adventurous teens exploring the place since the door has been boarded up. It was a good enough hiding place for now.

A wave of pain shot through your shoulder as you tried to find a more comfortable seating position against the wall of the kitchen, a nice reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. You had been running for days, your body growing more and more exhausted. It looked like you finally managed to lose the hunter chasing you, at least for now. Hopefully, you can spend the day here sleeping.

The next big problem was your shoulder. You had no idea what he shot you with, but it wasn’t healing, not like you usually do. You were more resilient than humans of course, but if you didn’t find some help and soon, you would bleed out.

As you were thinking through your options, trying not to lose yourself to the fear gripping your lungs like a vice at your hopeless predicament, you heard gravel crunch outside. You were instantly on alert, quieting down your breathing, fight or flight taking over once again. You got ready to run if need be. It was possible that it was just some critter scurrying away in the dark, you thought, but then the sound came again and it was clearly something bigger, walking on two feet. As they got closer, you could make out three, four different pair of footsteps. It was not your pursuer, but that didn’t mean they were friendly. In your current state, you didn’t want to risk getting into an altercation with four people, even if they were just ordinary humans. Finally, you could hear them talking too.

“You think it’s haunted?”

“What’s the matter, Paul? Are you chicken?”

���Shut up, Marko. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, really? Then why don’t you go in first?”

“I will! I’ll show you!”

You heard wood splintering, and it became clear that they were ripping off the wooden planks from the door.

“It looks like no one has been here for a while. I wonder why the humans avoid it so much.” It was a calmer voice that spoke up next, and your brain subconsciously picked up on his word choice.

‘Humans’? Is it possible…?

“I heard that there has been a murder. A man slaughtered his entire family. They probably think it’s cursed.” This one sounded amused, like he was laughing at the fear of others.

“You hear that, Paulie? It’s definitely haunted.”

“Man, shut up!”

They finished dismantling the barricade and the front door swung open with a loud creek. You didn’t take your eyes off the opening connecting the kitchen to the hallway, just a few doors down from the main entrance. As you were slowly and silently backing up to another door behind you, leading to the living room with the broken window, your only escape route, you bumped into a small dresser. To your horror, a glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. Your senses were probably dulled from exhaustion, otherwise you wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it was a ghost. Let’s go and say hi.”

The footsteps approached and you quickly turned the corner into the living room, just in time to hear them step into the kitchen. They were too close. Then you heard a high-pitched screech, and someone fell over laughing.

“What the hell, Marko? Not cool, man, not cool! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You should have seen your face! Ow! Stop punching me!”

“What’s going on, boys?” The other two arrived to the kitchen as well.

“That glass broke, and I think I saw something move through that door over there. I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” The voice belonging to ‘Paul’ said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” It was the calm one this time.

“Oh really? How do you know, Dwayne?”

“Ghosts don’t bleed.”

Silence. Shit. Some of your blood was probably smeared on the wall you were leaning against earlier. You eyed the window. If you could make it there and get outside, the way is clear to the tree line. You can hide in the woods. But if you make a run for it, they would definitely hear it. Oh well, it’s not like you had anything to lose. You glanced back one more time towards the door to the kitchen before quickly turning around to bolt. You didn’t even make it two steps before bumping into something solid and someone grabbed hold of your arms. You panicked, clawing and scratching and hitting any surface you could reach, struggling and hissing, but you couldn’t overpower them. Myriad thoughts were running through your terrified brain. How is this possible? Why can’t I get free? I’m injured and exhausted, but I should still be stronger than an ordinary human. What are they going to do to me? Is this where I die?

“Look what we have here, boys,” came an amused voice from above you, and as you looked up, you stared into the striking blue eyes of the stranger. You quickly took in the scruffy face and the bleached blond mullet before trying to get away once again. You could sense the others stepping into the room behind you. You were surrounded. In your last desperate attempt you vamped out, baring your sharp teeth and hissing in the stranger’s face. His expression changed instantly, the smirk melting off his face. But instead of jerking away from you in fear, his brows furrowed, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

“They are one of us,” you heard from behind. The man holding your arms was looking you over more carefully now, his scowl deepening at the sight of your frantic eyes and torn clothes, gaze immediately drawn to your wounded shoulder, still oozing blood through your shirt. His eyes finally met yours once again, now full of concern and, to your amazement, glowing yellow in the dark.

“What happened to you, sweetheart?” His voice was so gentle. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and slowly running down your cheeks as you collapsed in his arms, relief flooding your body. They were like you. They can help you. You’re finally safe. The word safe ran through your head over and over again. He wrapped you up in his arms, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner, letting you cry into his shoulder.

After your sobs quietened down, he led you over to the beaten up old couch, letting go of you in the process, but staying close. As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your vision becoming clearer, you saw three guys standing over you, all of them full of genuine concern. The one next to you spoke up again.

“I’m David, and this is my pack,” he motioned to the others. One of them, a blond with a friendly smile sat down on your other side.

“I’m Paul, this is Marko,” the one with the colorful jacket and curly hair waved, ”and the big, brooding fella is Dwayne.” He nodded at you in greeting. “What’s your name, dollface?” You muttered out your name, voice still thick from crying. Paul’s smile brightened, immediately making you at ease, your body finally starting to relax.

“What happened to you?” It was David who spoke up again, his voice somber and his face serious.

“Hunter,” you whispered out and they went rigid. You continued. “He’s been chasing me for days. I finally managed to lose him a few towns over, then I found this place. I thought I can hide here for a bit, get some sleep.” Your hand went to your shoulder, their eyes following the movement. “He shot me with something two days ago. I don’t know what it was, but I’m not healing.”

Paul drew in a sharp breath beside you, and you could see from the corner of your eyes as Marko started pacing around, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger. His steps echoed loudly in the silence following your admission.

“What do we do now?” Dwayne asked, his gaze full of determination.

David looked straight at you, his voice calm as he started speaking, but his eyes echoed the same sentiment you saw in all of them. They were not going to let anything happen to you.

“We’re taking you to Max, our sire. He will figure it out what you were shot with and how to deal with it.” He softened a bit as he added. “You’re safe. You’re one of us now.”

This brought fresh tears to your eyes and for the first time in many days, a smile tugged up the corner of your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice full of emotion.

As you moved to stand up, your legs gave out. Your body has been running on pure adrenaline for a while, not being able to feed while being chased, and it looked like it finally has caught up to you. Before you could collapse to the floor, steady hands took hold of you and you were hoisted from the ground. Looking up, you were met with Dwayne’s warm brown eyes.

“You can rest now,” he said, sending you a small smile as he carried you out the front door, away from the house, away from the fear and desperation. Listening to the murmuring of the others talking, exhaustion finally took you over, resting your head against Dwayne’s solid chest, his steps lulling you to sleep. The future looked just a little bit brighter.

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[neongalaxiie]

Could you write Prompt #217 by @thepenultimateword

I love your style of writing!!!😭

Thanks Anon :D Your wish is my command...

Prompt is here. Credit to @thepenultimateword for it.

~~~

Hero crawled up the corrugated metal roof of the abandoned warehouse to where a stray laser had torn a hole. They snuck their fingers over the warped, jagged edges and peeked inside. Their team was down there in a heated battle, fighting against Supervillain.

And despite being severely outnumbered, Supervillain seemed to be holding off well, although the heroes were steadily pulling over the rope.

"I need to help them," Hero muttered. They pulled themselves to their feet and jumped neatly through the hole, landing in a dramatic pose in the middle of battlefield. Several daggers flew past from behind, slicing the air just a few inches away from them.

"Hero?" Leader puffed, exhausted and exasperated as Hero turned and shouted a friendly greeting. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to help!" Hero spread their arms out wide, oblivious to the multiple attacks aimed at their unprotected back, and deflected by their teammates. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Leader fended off another attack, grunting with the effort it took to protect themselves. "Weren't you kicked out of the agency? You're not part of this team. Now leave, before you get hurt."

"But--"

"Now, Hero." Leader shook at finger at them. "That's an order."

Hero stomped, balling their fists. "I'm a hero, and heroes don't just abandon their team." Hero ran off to the side of the room before Leader could reply, joining in the chaos.

They integrated easily, getting into the rhythm of the battle. Dodging lasers, shooting force fields, and... spotting an unsuspecting Other Hero about to get fried. On instinct, Hero dived toward them, knocking them down and taking the hit instead. Hero rolled near the wall, in pain. Other Hero rolled away gracefully, risked a glance in Hero's direction, and returned to the fight.

Hero spun onto their back, groaning in pain. Their breaths came in short gasps, and their vision blurred. The ceiling looked kinda woozy. That hole in the ceiling kept moving, and... something else outside was moving as well.

That something was pointing another something into the room.

A gun?

Hero's eyes widened as the figure came into focus, tracing the sniper's aim to Leader. Hero raised a hand, and a blue force field appeared high above Leader's head, just as an explosive hit and jarred everyone's attention. The shield dissipated and Leader stared up at the panicking sniper.

"It's an ambush," Leader shouted, turning to the team. "Go, go, get out of here!"

Some of the heroes blasted holes in the walls and ceiling, escaping however they can. More henchmen were waiting on the other side, armed to the teeth although no bullets were flying. The heroes made their getaway without having to fight for it.

Supervillain stood at the back of the room with a smirk, unmoving, watching the heroes flee. Then they noticed Hero.

Hero had turned onto their stomach, mouth open as their team left them. Once the heroes left their field of vision, Hero realized that now they were left alone with their bruised body, armed henchmen.

And Supervillain.

Hero swallowed, wanting to push up to their feet, and feeling entirely too weak to do so. Seeing their feeble attempt, Supervillain snapped their fingers and pointed to Hero. Several henchmen rushed over to drag them across the floor, depositing them in the center of the room. Hero stopped moving, opting to fall onto their face instead.

"Well, well, well," Supervillain chuckled, clasping their hands behind their back. They sauntered over, slowly circling Hero's wounded figure. Hero let out a confused whimper and raised their head to look at Supervillain. "Poor little Hero, all alone and no one to turn to. Abandoned by your team, kicked out of the agency..."

Supervillain stopped and bent over in front of Hero. Hero's eyes widened as a wolfish grin took over Supervillain's lips. "What's your next mo--"

Supervillain was interrupted by Hero's lips on theirs. It took a moment for Supervillain to realize what happened before they stumbled back, ears burning.

"W-what...?" Supervillain clapped both hands over their mouth, exclaiming muffled, "What are you doing?"

Hero cocked their head. "You leaned in. Weren't you leading to the 'join me and I'll give you unimaginable power' speech anyway? I'm just speeding it up a little."

Supervillain's hands slid down their face, uncovering a confused expression. "What the hell?"

"Well, y'know, after all that happened," Hero tried again to push themselves up, and managed to get into a sitting position. "I'm kinda in the market for a new job."

Supervillain hummed, raising a hand to their chin in thought.

Hero continued, "I don't know what you'd do with me otherwise. I mean, it's pretty obvious no one's gonna come for me or pay a ransom if you decide to just take me hostage, and I'm not really sure what else a hostage is good for. Also, I think..."

"Okay, can you just stop talking," Supervillain said, showing both palms. "You're sitting here, suggesting that I hire you, but are we really ready to ignore the fact that you just kissed me," Supervillain swept their hands across the room, "in front of all my henchmen?"

Hero's eyes darted to the floor, and back to Supervillain. "Yes?"

"Good." Supervillain's hands dropped to their side. They stepped forward and extended an arm to Hero, pulling the latter up to their feet. Supervillain turned the contact into a handshake and smiled. "You're hired."

Hero's face broke out into a grin. "Amazing! Where do I start?"

Supervillain's smile morphed into something darker. "Oh, you're about to see very soon."

[kayharrisons]

I was a child before the day that I met Eleanor [Tyler x fem!Reader] [part 1 of 2]

Upon the birth of Kay's baby, your boyfriend comes to the realisation that he wants one of his own with you.

A/N: I'M A TYLER GIRLLLY it's ab time I did a fic for him 🫶 fluff ahead!!!! Title is from A Father's First Spring by the Avett Brothers! V sweet song ab fatherhood:) this chapter is mostly just build up, next chapter will be actual pregnancy stuff!!

Series warnings: childbirth, pregnancy, cousin incest (Kay x Bjorn), fertility issues

Kay's son is born on one of the coldest nights on Yvaga.

You, Rain, Andy and Navarro sit outside in the waiting room, wincing at every scream, every curse from your dear friend as she brings her baby into the world.

Tyler couldn't be pulled from his sister's side, and... interestingly enough, neither could Bjorn. He'd damn near throttled the doctor who'd tried to remove him.

You don't know how long you all sit there before Tyler comes back out. His eyes are tired, his hair sticking to his forehead, but his smile is beaming, proud.

"It's a boy," he grins, glancing back behind him to the door. "Kay and the baby are doing great. You guys can come through in a little bit but... she wanted a minute alone, first."

None of you bring up the fact that Bjorn is still in the room with her, so technically it's not alone... but you move past that, moving over to your boyfriend with a gentle smile, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

"How's unclehood feel, Ty?" you grin, leaning your chin against his arm as you peer up at him. He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Insane. Surreal, actually, he's here, now. Kay's a mum. My little sister..." he blows out a sigh, shaking his head. "Bizarre, but like, in a good way, I guess."

You grin wider, leaning up and pecking his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze as you bask in his warmth, his joy.

It isn't long before you're all let into the room. Kay is still abed, naturally, her skin slick with sweat, her bangs plastered to her forehead. She's dressed in the standard issue hospital gown, her hair tied back into a lazy plait, her face exhausted.

But she's glowing with happiness, rivalling the warm glow of Yvaga's sun.

Bjorn is half perched beside her on the bed, eyes red rimmed and glued to the bundle in Kay's arms, as if he's afraid it will disappear.

"Guys," she begins, finally breaking her gaze away from the baby in her arms. "This is Felix," she whispers, beaming back down at her son, who coos and wiggles against her chest, letting out a squeaky yawn.

Needless to say, the entire crew's hearts grow three times bigger.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Felix is a cute kid; chubby cheeks, Kay's dark curls, a beaming smile, and alert blue eyes that look ever so familiar to-

"I'm telling you," Tyler insists, hands on his hips as he beams down at his nephew. Felix beams back at him. "Saw him crawl earlier! Go on, Fel!"

"Fucksake, he'll do it in his own time." Bjorn rolls his eyes, though there is a fond grin on his face. He's sat not too far from Felix, leaning back on his elbows as he keeps an eye on the infant. "Won'tcha, bud? Don't need no one dictactin' whatcha do, hm?"

Felix squeals, reaching over and yanking on Bjorn's nose.

You giggle, setting your datapad aside as you turn to the infant, quite contentedly pulling on Bjorn's nose, the man dramatically crying out and making faces at the baby as he does. "Fel," you coo, crouching down and holding out your hands. "Come to auntie, c'mon, sweetie!"

With another squeal, Felix abandons Bjorn, who collapses onto his back with an overdramatic cry as Felix promptly leaves his side in favour of crawling over to you on wobbly hands and knees.

"Yes!" Tyler cheers, fists in the air. "I knew it! Fuckin' knew it!"

"Don't swear 'round him," Bjorn tuts, shooting his cousin some side eye.

"You've got a bloody cheek."

You ignore them, just grinning wide as Felix stops by your feet, prompting you to scoop him up with a cheer of your own, pressing a smattering of kisses to his cheeks. "Such a clever boy!" you coo, laughing along with his sweet baby giggles.

Bjorn hops to his feet, standing and scooping Felix from your hands, keeping a careful grip of him as he lowers him to the ground, then holds him up high again. Felix shrieks with delight, and Bjorn repeats the motion a few times with a matching beam on his own face. "That's m'boy!" he cheers, holding Felix close and pressing a kiss to his forehead, his little nose. "Such'a clever lad, aren'tcha?"

"Gets it from Kay, clearly." You remark, smirking at him as he pouts at you from over Felix's head, his son's head.

He and Kay haven't officially said anything yet still, but it's obvious. Felix's eyes, his cheeky smile, they're both so completely Bjorn that even Tyler can't look past it.

Add in the fact that Bjorn practically lived with Kay, damn near spent every day with her and Felix... yeah, didn't take a genius to work it out.

You shake your head with a fond grin, turning to look at your boyfriend and gage his thoughts.

Tyler is already staring at you, cheeks a shade darker and eyes so unbelievably soft as they gaze upon you. You cock your head in confusion, smile softening the longer he looks at you. He moves past Bjorn and Felix, coming over to your side as if a magnet is guiding him. He reaches up, gently cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb oh so gently brushing back and forth over your cheek.

"What?" You ask, question in your tone, as your boyfriend's eyes search your face, trailing over your features one by one.

Felix squawks, and Bjorn hums back at him, glancing between you both with raised brows. He looks down at his son, blowing out a little huff of air. "Well, c'mon, then, let's go find'ya mummy, yeah?" and with that he swiftly exits, Felix quite contentedly chewing on the collar of his t-shirt.

Tyler opens his mouth to speak, before closing it with a shaky exhale, sheepish as he ducks his head down. "I really love you, y'know that right?" he asks, voice hoarse.

"Yeah, course I do," you say softly, carding your fingers through his hair. "I love you too. What's on your mind, Ty-"

"Iwannahaveababywithya." he blurts out, before wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fuck- fuck, I'm sorry- that just- it just hit me, when you were holding Felix and-"

You blink at him, stomach swooshing and heart pounding in your chest.

"I mean, I love you to death, y'know? I'm gonna marry you," he says, oh so matter of factly. "I just... I look at you with Felix, and you're just... fuck, love, you suit it, being a mum. And I think about us, and us havin' a..."

"Tyler," you breathe, lips quirking up again.

"Yeah?"

"Okay." you whisper, and it's his turn to freeze. "I feel the same way, babe-"

You break off into a shriek of laughter as he scoops you into his arms, twirling you into a tight hug as he laughs nervously against your ear. You cling onto each other tight, your face buried in his neck and his in your hair.

"Shit, shit-" he laughs, setting you down and clutching your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. "Fuck we... we're really-?"

"We're trying." You breathe, smile hurting your face with how wide it gets. Tyler's smile matches your own, and he laughs again before leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Months pass. Felix hits his first birthday, Rain and Navarro show up to family dinner holding hands one evening-

("Are you okay with us?" Rain asks Tyler, awkwardly, hesitantly, her eyes wide with fear.

"Hey, why wouldn't I be?" he asks, smiling fondly and giving her shoulder a squeeze. "You make each other happy, that's all that matters, alright?")

-and Bjorn is promptly chased around the block when Tyler finally pieces together just who had fathered his nephew-

(You'd never seen him so mad, as you held onto a sobbing Kay, as you watched Tyler and Bjorn scream at each other. Thank god Felix was out for a day trip with auntie Rain and uncle Andy, honestly.

"You fuckin' prick-" Tyler shouts, shaking his cousin by jacket collar. "Should fuckin' kill you for- fuck, did you even fuckin' THINK about what you'd done to her, huh? You, what, fucked your cousin and LEFT HER-"

"It's not FUCKIN' LIKE THAT-" Bjorn roars back, shoving Tyler away from him. "We've loved each other for years, not my fault your head was shoved way too far up your own arse to fuckin' NOTICE-"

Tyler shouts some more choice words, rearing a fist back to punch his cousin again. Until, that is, Kay breaks away from you and rushes between the cousins, eyes full of tears and chest heaving.

"Stop it, Ty!" Kay shrieks, arms protectively keeping Bjorn behind her and away from her brother's fists. "Stop! Fucking- I love him-"

Your boyfriend laughed, hiding his face in his hands. "It's- It's fuckin' weird-"

"I know, I know," Kay soothes, hiccuping softly. "And I'm sorry we never said anything sooner but- but this? It's exactly why I was so scared to tell you.")

Things had been tense, for a little while. Tyler and Bjorn didn't speak for a while, not until Kay had sheepishly announced her second pregnancy when Felix was nearing three. It was only then that the cousins reconciled, returning to how they used to be (even if Tyler narrowed his eyes every time he caught Bjorn and Kay kissing, or even merely holding hands).

You marry Tyler, shortly after Felix's third birthday. It's a small ceremony, moreso a signing of a document at a small colony office. But you return home, have dinner and drinks with your family, and he even carries you over the threshold, the pair of you giggling like two dumbass teenagers.

One thing, however, is missing.

Your birth control implant had been removed a week after you and Tyler had talked about having a baby. You'd both gotten tests, fearful of Jackson having done something to your fertilities.

According to those tests, you were both damn fertile myrtles.

It was baffling, the fact that three years later you still had no baby, your cycle was as regular as ever.

Until, that is, it wasn't.

[substantial-exposure]

The Arrangement

Crosshair x Tulip Caulfield || @clonexocweek

Previous Prompt|| Next Prompt

Summary: The first time any of his brothers had seen Tulip or even known about her was because of Crosshairs own emotional immaturity. When Crosshair starts to catch feeling he takes it upon himself to ghost Tulip. She doesn't take too kindly to it.

Warnings/Tags: modern au! Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Lowkey abandonment issues, Shitheads in love, Crosshairs emotionally constipated self,

-

Tech was sat downstairs at the kitchen table with his tablet and his notepad. He was working diligently as he heard a loud screech. It was the sound of a car engine revving and quite possibly the loudest exhaust he'd ever heard in his life. The sound grew closer and closer until it sounded like it was right outside. A deafeningly loud music seemed to be escaping from the car too.

He stood up and crept to the front of the house curiously. All at once the noise stopped and was replaced. He could hear the sound of a car door slamming and a harsh cry of his brother's name from their front lawn.

Tulip cut across the lawn, black boots crushing grass beneath them. "Crosshair!" She yelled. Those same boots stomped up the walkway to the house and its front steps. Her ring clad fist pounded against the front door.

Tech didn't want to answer the door but he did it reluctantly. His hand wrapping around the handle as his other turned the lock. He opened it slowly, looking at the woman in the doorway. Tech had never been more confused in his life.

Some goth chick from the looks of it. One he had certainly never seen before. He hadn't heard anything from his brothers about someone coming to the house and he certainly hadn't heard Crosshair mentioning it. Not that Crosshair mentioned anything.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry-" he began to say. He was starting his inquiry on who the hell she was and what the hell she wanted. "What seems to be-"

Tulip didn't give him the decency. "Where is he." She demanded. Her hand was still pressed against the door, pushing it open further.

Tech was still stumbling. He was adjusting his glasses as a blur of black and blue hair rushed past him. The girl had shoved the door open and forcibly made her way inside the house. This woman that he had never seen before, was barging into his house and demanding that his brother come forward. What the hell had Crosshair done now?

"I really must insist" Tech said aloud to her. Her voice stern and serious as he followed her further into the house.

"Where the fuck is he." Tulip demanded.

"Crosshair isn't here." Tech was almost yelling. He was lying through his teeth, trying to protect his brother from whatever chaos was about to wreak havoc.

"Bullshit his cars out-" Tulip had begun to argue.

Techs mistruth came to light within seconds. Footsteps echoed from upstairs as the man leaned over the banister and looked at them. Crosshairs heart lept into his goddamn throat.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked aloud. He began to make his way down the stairs.

"I think you fucking know." She said raising her voice the moment she saw him.

Tech looked between the woman and his brother up the stairs. He wasn't entirely sure what to do. He didn't want to just leave it up to Crosshair but another part of him was cursing for him to just throw her out. Who the hell was she to come in here like that?

"Can't you just-" Crosshair didn't finish his sentence. He let out a loud huff and held the bridge of his nose. "Get the fuck up here."

"Oh with pleasure" she grumbled. Her platforms echoed as she met him at the top of the staircase and followed him into his room.

Crosshair could feel his heart beating inside his chest. He could hear it inside his fucking ears. He was barely dressed, his lounge pants being the only thing that covered him. Crosshair tried to keep his cool but he was about to bug out.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked her, crossing his arms over his chest. He had a feeling he knew, he hadn't imagined she'd find out so soon. He didn't think it would warrant a reaction of this caliber either.

Tulip looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Her eyes had been burning from crying half the night. She was missing her signature eyeliner and dark brooding makeup. There was no hiding how pissed off she looked.

"I'm sorry?" She asked him ironically, she stared right through him. Her tone angry and sharp. "You blocked my number." She told him as if he didn't know. "You blocked me on everything actually." Tulip watched the rise and fall of his chest, he was forcing himself to keep a steady breath.

Crosshairs thoughts were loud. He felt like he was about to start shaking. He always played it off like he didn't care about anything. Like he didn't care about her. But recently, he'd been thinking about her nonstop.

He let them get too close. He'd hold her hand while fucking her, when he kissed her he wondered if she actually felt something, when she smiled his stomach fluttered. He couldn't do this anymore. He was going to crack under the pressure. He was going to ruin everything.

"I think our arrangement needs to end." He told her flatly.

Tulips brow furrowed. "You couldn't just tell me that?" She asked him. Her hands rested on her hips. Her tone never changed and her volume stayed the same. "Was that so fucking hard?" She swore. Tulips breaths came out in small pants. She'd almost been yelling.

Crosshair shook his head. "I'm not doing this." He said exasperated. He didn't want to deal with this part of it. He didn't want the confrontation. Nothing had been explicitly wrong for him to cut her off so harshly.

"Crosshair, I don't care. You didn't have to do anything, I'm not stupid!" She declared. "I know what's going on! I know what we were doing. You're not my fucking boyfriend. But you don't get to just not tell me!" She berated. Her hands were out now as she gestured and practically spoke through her hands. "You don't get to just fucking drop me and ignore me like that. That's fucked." She stressed her words looking at him. She watched the look on his face, it almost pissed her off more.

Crosshair looked back at her, to the anger and hurt in her eyes. He deserved as much. The man swallowed the lump in his throat. "I didn't want you to get the wrong impression." He told her. It wasn't the whole truth but that had always been the truth of it.

"So why didn't you just talk to me? Like a normal person?"

"I don't.. I don't know."

Tulip was growing more frustrated by the second. Her skin was alight with anger. She could practically feel it itching beneath her skin. This was unbelievable. Why wouldn't he actually say anything? Anything that actually meant something. A real answer, a real reason, anything.

"Crosshair you can't fucking do this to people!" She yelled at him. "Showing up three nights in a row, what, just for a fuck? You can't just show up, use me and.. and cut me out with no warning! You don't do that to people." She looked at him, demanding an answer. "What the fuck did I do? What did I do to warrant that. Fucking tell me." She spat

The man was beginning to nurture a migraine. He had nothing to say. He had no answer to give her. Just a guilt that sat heavy in his gut. "You didn't do anything. Not necessarily." He started to say. He was struggling to find words. To tell her.

"Then what gives?" She asked tiredly. Tulip had been up half the night. Ever since he left her apartment.

Crosshair grinded his teeth. He was about to lose his fucking mind. At the same time he wanted to tell her to leave, he wanted to run up to her, grab her and just kiss her. He didn't do either. Instead all he did was tell her two simple words.

"I'm leaving." He swallowed dryly. "Notice came last week" Crosshair muttered. He watched as her face fell. Crosshair watched her process the information in real time "I just... I don't know how to do this, Tulip." He told her. "End of the month I'm gone." He paused. His brows furrowed as he looked the girl in the eyes. "I don't want to miss you. I don't want to think about you. I cant.. I cant do this." He told her.

Tulip only stared at him. He was leaving. That was what this was about? She wanted to yell. She wanted to tell him how shitty this was and how much of an asshole he was for putting her through this. They were as much her rules as they were his. He was the one who never shut up about them. And this was what this bullshit had all been for.

"Then don't." She muttered. "I'm not your girlfriend, remember." Tulip took a few deep breaths. Trying to process everything that was happening before her. She clicked her tongue quietly and shook her head. This was unreal. What did he even want from her at this point?

Crosshair had said that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore, he also just confessed to a hell lot more than he was leading on.

"I'm not gonna sit on my hands waiting for you to make up your fucking mind, Crosshair." She sighed and picked herself up back together. This was beginning to get so tiring.

It was Tulips own fault that she grew so attached to him. He wasn't her boyfriend and she knew that. This was turning into a headache and a half. The stress this was putting her under was enough to make her want to scream. The only reason she'd dealt with this bullshit for so long was because she was so attached. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to leave this.

The man groaned in frustration. This was infuriating on every level. This kind of shit never worked for him. He was stupid to even begin to entertain the idea that maybe things would be different just once. Then again he hadn't even tried. He practically burned the bridge before he even actually crossed it.

"That's fine... I wouldn't" he sighed and looked at her. His stomach turned at the thought. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Tulip was turning her back to him. She was just about ready to wash her hands of this whole affair. She was ready to pick up her heart and her hurt and just march out that door.

She was growing sick and tired of this back and forth. The way he'd ask for more and then immediately pull back. Tulip was exhausted and done trying to be cool about this. If he was so torn up that he was willing to ship off where ever to get away from it, she was done. The dream had died.

"I will write you, though." He promised her, narrowing his eyes. He looked almost as surprised by his words as she was.

She rolled her eyes and reached for the handle on the door. "No you won't." Tulip said knowingly. "I'll believe it when I fucking see it."

This made me so sad but it's part of their canon. It needed to be done :(

[killdivine]

a heads up! but my activity on this blog is probably going to lessen for the foreseeable future. it has already sort of been adaptive to people ftmp since, activity here has always been dependent on other people and how they feel. it sucks to say but i just don't feel as good here as i have in other spaces. and despite my attempts to fix it, or address what may be causing it. my feelings on things haven't really changed a whole lot, and i feel it's because of me, and my own headspace overall when it comes to my ocs. it isn't due to anything anyone has done really, but it's hard to articulate my feelings on it without sounding a certain way. but i will try...

did i need to make a post for this ? no. i definitely didn't.

but i want my feelings to be known, and i hate just vanishing without a word. please do not think i'm abandoning wuya, or that i have any less love for the plotting i have here. there are dynamics on this blog that mean a LOT to me. and have shaped wuya into the character she is at current. i just don't like writing ocs as much as i used to in public spaces. and this has been an issue for a long time, since wayyy before now. of course i will keep her blog, and i will interact with people and do things when i can, but i feel uncomfortable with my personal ideas and my ocs and designs. tumblr has overall done a lot of damage to my self esteem, my confidence, and my comfort creatively overall. and i think there are some things here that just make me feel like anything i've received is out of obligation or pity. mind you, it is entirely on me that i feel this way ( or so i think ). it's something i can't help. i feel guilt easily.

this has nothing to do with... feeling like i am not given enough. that even one person cares about my ideas is enough for me. i am so appreciative of what has been given to me by my interested mutuals and friends. but i feel like logging in here has grown to be less of a joy- and more of a form of upkeep. like if i don't do things here, then i will lose what i have. and it's made me feel like a burden, a card in people's pockets, or one of many with nothing unique or special to offer. and it is entirely because i have allowed my poor coping mechanisms, and my mental health to effect my space here. it is slowly ruining wuya for me, and making me feel guilty for even asking for things. or taking up people's time with my thoughts and ideas.

again, just to be clear!! i am still going to be here, i am still going to write and explore wuya's dynamics + interactions. i am going to reply to my threads and will likely reply to asks i send if im allowed. i will just be putting her as low priority or more accurately ig interaction based priority. i'm sorry if this upsets people, or if it makes anyone lose interest in my oc as a whole. i am just exhausted with trying to be here consistently, when i feel as uncomfortable / insecure as i do. and i want to put up some of these boundaries, for myself and for others- before wuya is warped into a source of stress and anxiety for me. i love her too much !!!

all this said. i love writing my ocs on discord a lot. i don't get to very much but i'd be more than happy to if you'd like more consistency. as well as a wider variety of ocs i have to offer. i think i do a lot better with my personal projects / creations in a more private space. my discord: kerokroppi

if you read all this, please know i appreciate you immensely. and i hope it comes across clearly as i've never been good at sharing my thoughts and feelings without being self conscious or second guessing my own thought process. and god i know it's a lot to ask, but if i miss anything when i'm not here- if you post something you want me to see, please let me know. i will send prompts if i catch them when i'm on dash, but i will now mostly send things unprompted to folks from here. and even if i'm not here, i highly encourage sending me things if the muse strikes!! like i said i wont leave, i just wont be here as much!!

in the meantime. a lot of my time will be going to my canon muses. because i feel a lot less pressure to create things, or be something for other people that i don't have the confidence to be. so you can catch me in those spaces if and when i feel like being on tumblr at all. i think publicly writing and feeling like i have to be there in order to matter has... been very bad for my health of late. so i'm trying to fix that.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Request for Admin Ren! Could I request a NSFW/explicit scenario for Gale to react to his gender neutral crush accidentally saw him shirtless? - eclipse anon

I've been sitting here thinking of situations where someone can walk in on someone else shirtless and it always goes back to either walking into their room or similar to the "gotta gather clothes" or something like I wrote for you in another prompt. Gale specifically just doesn't strike me as someone who just randomly takes off his shirt like other people in the group would (looking at you Halsin).

Basically what I'm saying is that I'm recycling something I've used for you before and hopefully that's alright!

~*~*~

You'd grown up in the bustling city of Baldur's Gate but after having tasted the wilds of the Sword Coast and the Shadowlands, the amount of people seemed so...much.

Probably didn't help there was a giant brain somewhere in the city, the entire government was overrun with tadpoles, and your little group of misfits were the only ones able to stop it.

Exhausting. All of it.

So it really shouldn't have been much of a surprise when your brain thought it'd heard Gale's response to enter when you knock on his door one night. Shouldn't have been a surprise to find your eyes locked on his chest, shirt who knows where as he turns with eyebrows raised, unintentionally showing you more of his very nice physique that your gaze refuses to waver from.

"Did you need something?" you hear him ask.

"Yeah, I uh..." Shit, what did you come here for again?

Following your line of sight and glancing down, his chuckle reaches your ears. "My eyes are up here, you know." A hand breaks your uninterrupted ab sight and moves up toward his face.

With much self control, you follow that hand to meet a gaze dancing with entertainment.

You shift, embarrassed. "You really shouldn't surprise someone like that. Naked, in your own room?" A playful scoff. "Scandalous. Not befitting of a great and powerful wizard."

He laughs, the sound dragging a smile from you. "You do not want to know the stories Elminster has about his time in his rooms."

"Ew."

"If you're going to accuse me of scandalous behavior..." His voice drops and a gleam enters his eyes, his feet taking him closer to you. "I might as well make things scandalous."

Fire simmers in your veins at the look he gives you, heat wrapped in a playful glimmer. Your eyes battle between drinking in that gaze or dropping down to drink in his body. "I did come here for a reason."

"Enlighten me."

Gods, he knows what he's doing to you and you love and hate him for it. Grasping for that long lost thread of why you came here, you cast your mind for a believable story and come up empty.

Especially when his hands find your hips and you're thighs bump against the desk behind you. That confident smile on his tempting lips makes your breath a little harder to get, abandoning you entirely as those lips find your throat.

As his tongue teases your skin.

Embers boil your veins as he explores your throat, teeth nipping and tongue lazily trailing the sting. Your fingers trail up his thigh on their own volition, a smirk of your own pulling your lips as you feel his need. His shaky exhale as you palm him ignites a fire that has you driving him back until his knees hit the bed, until he's seated on the edge and you're on your knees.

He helps you draw his pants down, his fingers gripping the bedsheets in anticipation as your eyes drop to him. Letting just your fingertips trail up his hard velvet, you gently circle his head before trailing back down.

His hips shift, and you decide to not tease him too much.

Running the tip of your tongue along his head, you hear the hitched exhale and you smile, looping your fingers along his base as you dip down, shaft running down your tongue as you take him, feeling it hit the back of your throat before backing out.

You do it again, a little more slowly, never able to resist the urge to tease. Squeezing with your fingers, you set a slow, steady pace, determined to make him a writhing mess by the time you're done.

Gasps and hisses and delicious sharp inhales fuel your rhythm, fuel your own need as you work him. At some point your other hand comes up to cup his balls, massaging gently as you slowly up the pace on his cock.

"Please," you hear him whisper.

Raising an eyebrow, you let his cock go with an audible pop. His hips shift in protest. "Please what?"

"Enough with the teasing," he breathes, blankets in a death grip to stop the urge to touch himself, anything to bring back the friction.

You hum, taking in his flushed cheeks and heaving chest. Pride turns your lips up as you take him in once more, sliding so agonizingly slowly down and up before giving him what he wants.

Adding your hand to the motion, you're surprised he lasts longer than you expect as he finally spills down your throat, his groan vibrating into your very bones as you swallow, fingers gently pumping his twitching need until his arms give out and he collapses onto the bed.

Crawling onto the mattress next to him, you prop a head on your hand as you look over your results, burning the look of a tired and satisfied Gale into your memory.

"Well?" you ask, smiling as his eyes slide to yours. "Was that scandalous enough for you?"

His lips slide into a smile as he turns to you, fingers dancing on your hip. "Well, I wouldn't say we're quite done, would you? You have yet to be satisfied." Those fingers slip between your legs and he grins at what he finds. "We have quite a night ahead of us, I think."

[temporary-gentleman]

For the WIP asks - I could still write a book about Free Jazz it was auGh, but I'm curious about Deep Down? 👀

Thank you for asking!! (and for being so enthusiastic about Free Jazz too!)

So, Deep Down is a sort of AU where Vander and Silco's reunion (as seen in ep. 3) goes much differently. It happens before the kids' heist in Piltover and really focuses on their relationship without the whole drama from the show's story around it (I mean they got plenty of drama of their own so...)

It doesn't take place in the infamous cannery, but rather in a location that rekindles all sorts of memories for the both of them: the coal mines where they used to work in their youth. Mostly because I have a weird fascination for abandoned industrial aesthetics and these kinds of places in particular; and for the opportunity it gives me to use dark and ominous imagery in the writing itself.

There isn't much more I can say without diving too deeply into spoiler territory, so I will leave it at that, but there will be a fair share of angst in there. That's not all there is to it, though.

Good thing is, it's almost entirely written (3 complete chapters out of 4: hopefully I'll get back to it sooner rather than later) 👀

So here's a lil' snippet without too much spoiling material:

"The mines, they smell like a peculiar sort of death. A slow one, tinted with gaseous hues and a metallic aftertaste. No more sweat, though, now that they’re nothing but deserted, desecrated cathedrals made of raw stone. No more foul-scented breaths coming out of half-drunk foremans’ mouths.

No more life.

Still, behind the veil, a sound.

Not a voice, but close enough. The bartender keeps on walking, keeps on scraping his boots against dirt and mud and tiny rocks, keeps on going forward without really seeing what awaits. And something murmurs in his ears. It flows like a current and recedes, a chanting tide waving back and forth as if addressing him and him only.

Is it a song, or a prayer?

Then he remembers. Everything slides into place, and his tense shoulders allow themselves to relax ever so slightly. Of course. It’s only the natural music of the underground, for years obscured by exhausted groans and occasional shanties. The caves have regained their otherworldly tones. All is as it should be.

Silco has not even flinched once. It prompts Vander to ask himself— has he been here already before tonight, walking the familiar tracks of his youth? He has never been the kind to wander too far off along memory lane. But, as one can bitterly suppose, a near-death experience might change anyone’s perspective.

This is all nonsense, screams another throat at the back of his mind. He claims that you don’t owe him anything, and yet— you owe him the world.

You’d bring it to its knees if only he dared to ask."

[snowmuttgetsweird]

04.19.2025, like 1AM technically Easter

Just kinda chilling in bed.

Today was a hard day. Not really for any one reason in particular, I just had one of those days where the reality of my situation caught up with me and I just kinda... Remembered/Noticed/Became aware of how tired and overworked and stressed out I am All Of The Time. It happens now and again.

Sometimes it just dawns on me how, like, I'm literally always working. I wake up, make some coffee and/or breakfast, start looking at finances, talking to clients, drawing if there's actually time to do so before my work shift, then off to the day job, then home, and depending on when I get off, either more drawing for the evening or immediately skipping into cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, and then bed.

A lot of my time is pretty regularly, like... Spoken for. Like I have standing appointments with other people in my life, and depending on how I respond, my day can either get a lot better or a lot worse, and a hearty "yes" is not always the correct answer.

Sometimes it feels better and more correct to just keep busy non-stop. If I step away from working for a moment, I suddenly feel how tired I am, but if I keep going hard enough that I can stay distracted I don't notice and I'm fine.

When I DO get time off- like genuine time to myself, no plans, no work, no other obligations, actually taking a day off whether planned or impromptu (and impromptu is usually bad- like too sad or tired to get out of bed and just bouncing between youtube videos for several hours bad), I usually find I have no idea what to do with myself. Like... I don't have money- that all goes to rent, or has to be saved because I have debts to pay and bills coming up- so I can't really do much. I usually end up just binging something on Netflix for a while. The Witcher is pretty good. I have a lot of movies to catch up on, too- stuff my coworkers have recommended to me, etc. Anyway, I end up just doing that the entire day, and then by the end I usually get the feeling I just... Wasted all that time. Like, maybe I only really took half the day off and now I feel like I don't have the time to really dig into X game I've been wanting to play, or maybe I just don't have the energy for it to begin with, or maybe I'm tired enough that I can't focus on X book I've been trying to read, or maybe I just feel Guilty that I have work I probably SHOULD be doing instead of sitting around doing Nothing. Like, I can't even enjoy time off anymore.

It shouldn't be this hard to just... Feel happy and relax.

I actually like working, and I actually like my work, I just wish it didn't occupy ALL of my time- but if I'm making the time, I don't have the money, and if I'm working hard enough to have the money, I don't have the time. It's... Very frustrating. I dunno how some people seemingly draw ALL the time- both taking commissions and also doing personal work. Sometimes I FEEL like I wanna draw for myself and then realize I don't know what I want to draw without a prompt anymore. Creativity has abandoned me. Ideas are fed into me by other people and I shit them out as drawings, but that's about all I can manage.

So yeah, today has been hard. Same pattern as above- wake up, draw (spending too much time on a piece I earned a whole $30 for, ergo disappointing myself greatly and setting the tone for the rest of the day), go to work already feeling exhausted and miserable, come home at like 11 PM, cook dinner for three, clean the kitchen, and then here I am at like... *checks time* 2 AM, screaming into the void.

Cooking dinner was nice actually. Made some smothered pork chops, and sweet potatoes to order (one with butter, salt, and pepper, one with butter and cinnamon, one for myself with butter, salt, and pepper), and some zucchini noodles out of a steamer bag. Kept my earbuds in and listened to sad music the whole time (and while cleaning the kitchen after). The noodles sucked, but the rest was good. I like cooking- kinda feels like an extension of making art. Organized chaos. It's something I can do alone, I'm providing people with nutritious, filling, and comforting meals. Even if I'm doing it exhausted after a hard day, I still enjoy it at least some. People usually appreciate it- and I like feeling appreciated.

Food is at least a little easier to quantify than art I think- or something like that. Art is something people glance at while scrolling, Like to add to the spank bank for later, and then move on without thinking much. Food you have to chew on for a bit; it leaves an impression at first bite, as you chew, as you swallow, leaves a flavor and a sensation in its wake, a sense of anticipation for the next bite, and a satisfied feeling of fullness when you clean your plate. Art- at least mine- feels much less... Digested. I guess because I don't get a lot of comments. When food tastes great, people say so, but when they like your art they give a Like without really SAYING anything at all. When I post art it's like I'm asking everyone who sees it "how's the food taste?" and the audience saying "fine" and then moving on in silence. It's nothing. It's unsatisfying. It's not really appreciated- only further expressed by my abysmal follower count and general lack of engagement.

I like the night time too. I'm exhausted and very much ready for bed, but that's my only obligation at this time of night- myself and my own comfort. Otherwise, I can just relax, watch videos, listen to music, type up my inane bullshit that no one will ever really read, let alone care about. That's kinda the shitty part though- I've read that people like me who feel cheated out of time for themselves by the obligations of their day-to-day lives often "reclaim" their time by giving up sleep, because it's the only other part of their day they can "reasonably" steal time from without directly harming the activities or people of their daylight hours. It's not really true, obviously- by staying up later and waking up at the same time, I'm probably going to be tired, and it'll affect my work and my mood, but idk what else to do really. I mean, I'm at least going to go to bed right after I'm done with this. I planned on making this the last thing I do tonight.

That said... Idk I guess I don't really have much else to say.

I desperately need a new book. I was thinking about impulse-buying something to read- anything really- but I have debts to pay, so that would be irresponsible. Decided against it.

Considered buying some weed gummies or something on my way home, but same thing. Debts. Plus weed's not exactly conducive to productivity, even if it's fun and relaxing and kinda... Lubricates me against the abrasive, enclosing walls of my life.

I miss having a nice bottle of whisky or scotch to nurse. When I had more disposable income, I'd have a bottle of Johnny Walker that I'd pick at for months. Like, two fingers a glass a couple times a week in the evening while enjoying a book or a show shortly before bed. It was nice.

I think I'm starting to talk in circles a little, so it must be time to sleep.

Good night world.

[queers-gambit]

Midnight Calls

prompt: your Dragon Prince summons you to the throne room late one evening.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.1k+

note: oh, this fucking guy is doing something to me.

warnings: not edited because wonky brain gave up, poorly written Iron Throne smut (too lazy for specifics), Daemon's a simp in this, too, cursing, descriptive language and situations, allusion to domestic abuse, murder plot? ... murder plot.

next: part two: High Noon

"My Lady?" You heard from the front of your room, turning mutely away from the newly-stoked fire to spy a handmaiden sheepishly standing in the cracked doorway. "I'm sorry to intrude, but your presence has been requested - "

"By whom? It's well after midnight, Mary," you snipped, exhausted from the day's events. Your husband laid in a separate bed with his company of whores, and you? You were chosen as witness for the Princess' marriage to the Heir of Driftmark, and after the excitement of the feast, you were ready to take yourself to bed. "I am retired for the evening, for I am beyond my wits in exhaustion, so, please, go inform whomever that I am not available at this - "

"Prince Daemon has sent for you, Lady."

These words made you come to something of a screeching halt; where your heels actually skidded over the stone floor of your bed chamber. Your hands instantly fiddled with each other, slowly turning to stare at the maid as if to sus out her lie.

Truth was, years ago, when you were young and stupid, you and the Prince Daemon had something akin to a love affair; though you had never coupled before, it was something grand. Mary knew of this due to the fact that she has been your handmaiden for as long as you had been apart of court - going on some decade now.

Your father had pushed for you to marry the Prince of the City, and in fact, Daemon often liked to entertain the idea of a wedding, and putting babes in your belly, and living a 'simple' life with you. He courted you royally, loved you wholly, and never once made you feel as if you were anything less than your status - yet still lit a flame of desire in your stomach that made you feel like a dirty whore. Everything was good, the court - and most of all, the King, Daemon's grandfather - seemed to approve of the love-match and would often show their support by addressing the pair of you together as one.

And then... The Queen, his grandmother, had struck a bargain with the Royce's of the Vale, and the second son, Daemon, was wed within a fortnight after his knighthood - where you had celebrated with him lovingly. Supportively. Protectively.

You had held his hand possessively through the entire reception (not that he let go, either), kissed his cheek with desire pitting your stomach, and played your part of dutiful Lady well. You celebrated the Prince with love in your eyes, before those same eyes filled with tears when you stood in the same throne room, watching him repeat vows to a woman he'd never love.

He was different after that, distant and stoic; cold and calculating. He became brutal and unpredictable, and after his wedding, he wasn't to be seen with you - as you were still unwed.

But you held no quarrels with that because seeing Daemon in court, even, weighed your heart to your feet. His absence was always noted, and you were never sure if you were more on edge when he was present or not; yet, when he was banished, nothing ever truly stuck, as he would always return, making your stomach and heart flip.

This time around, Daemon Targaryen had strut into the throne room of the Red Keep and was offered a chair at the King's table - his brother's table - during the wedding feast of his Lady niece, the Realm's Delight and Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra.

You were in the crowd, a grimace on your face from your husband's heavy, greasy hands, and your heart turned to stone after Daemon's 'abandonment'. Sure, you understood he had no choice, but you still hated that he actually married her, and now, years later, he just pranced back into everyone's life following the news of his wife's untimely demise. And how tragic, for the young couple did not have any children, and therefore, no heirs to Rhea's home, Runestone.

To say you were suspicious was an understatement, but curiosity burned a fucking hole in your mind over what the Rogue Prince wanted with you now - after all this time - at this very late hour.

Huffing, your hands smoothed over the skirt of your evening gown, and your throat constricted with emotion to see no lie in the maid's eyes; only nervousness, and fear, as if she knew what would become of her if she did not produce you to the Prince.

Nodding, you assured, "Thank you... I will find the Prince soon."

"He's waiting for you," she glanced to the hallway; confusion knotting your stomach.

"He's out there right now?"

"No, no, Lady, but he lingers in the foyer for you," she nodded, watching you nervously pace in a small circle.

"Very well," you relented, sighing once more as you came to a halt. "Take the night off, Mary, you've worked all day. I will see you in the morning."

The maid nodded and sighed with relief, "Thank you, Lady. Yes, yes, I will see you soon for the tournament begins in the morn. Sleep well, my Lady, do not let the Prince plague you greatly."

"He's just a headache to the court, I can handle the Prince," you waved, slightly rolling your eyes; feigning passiveness while the idea of seeing the Prince again made hair on your neck and arms stand rigid with excitement.

It didn't take long for Mary to leave and for you to slip from your room, most of the castle already fast asleep from the exhaustion the day warranted. You moved along the darkened halls, still in your evening gown with heels clacking over the stone floors; thoughts and wonder over what Daemon wanted now - as you were married, and it was uncouth for him to call upon you like he was.

Yet, curiosity shot through your blood like an arrow through a pheasant.

You rounded the last corner to the foyer, slowing your gait as you glanced around; wondering where the hell your caller could've been, and why the hell you had so easily agreed to meet with him. Your hands joined in front of you again, twisting in anxiety as your head turned on a swivel to try and spy the white-haired-devil you had loved since you were a young girl, new and fresh to the courts.

You saw nothing to give any indication anyone was there, until your gaze caught the double doors to the throne room - where only one was cracked a sliver to allow a dusting of lighting to flood into the room. With as much bravery as you felt you could muster, you neared the doors, checked once more for anyone watching you, and pushed the door open only a hair more to allow you to slip inside.

The door clanged shut as you pressed your back against it.

The stone of the throne room floor was still wet with blood from the murdered Velaryon Knight, a few candles still alight to provide an outline of the room's furniture. Your eyes scanned the room before finding your caller, sat lazily on the Iron Throne - staring you down with a knowing smirk, fingers curled to toy with his bottom lip.

"My Prince," You greeted smoothly, dress fluttering as you descended the stone stairs into the lower landing of the throne room.

"What do you think?" He asked in his native tongue, having taught you what felt like a lifetime ago. And like muscle memory, your ears understood his words, and your tongue formed a response without needing to be reminded,

"Of what?"

He smirked when he heard you slip into Valyrian. "Of me, my sweet Lady, here, on the Throne," his other hand opened in a lazy gesture.

Your head cocked, shrugging, "Doesn't suit you. You look unnatural up there, my Prince."

"Is that so?"

Your smirk grew only a fraction, "It's a chair to grow old and fat in... Hardly becoming to a knight of your stature."

"My Lady knows how to flatter me," Daemon smirked.

Your feet stepped over the pooled blood, skirts of your dress dragging through the tacky substance to streak across the floor. "Why did you call me here tonight, Daemon?"

"Is that malice in your voice that I detect, my Lady?"

"You expected me to be happy?" You wondered, eyes casting to the half-burning candles around him. "Tonight has not been what I ever could've imagined - and then you send for me after midnight? I am not happy, Prince, but should you call, I'd be a fool to refuse, yes? Or so you've had it known."

"I am not the same as before," Daemon sighed patiently. "I am newly single, my Lady."

"Right. My condolences for your late, Lady wife, my Prince."

He waved your words off as you finally came to a halt at the base of the Iron Throne's pedestal. "Her passing matters not - "

"Especially since my husband still draws breath," you quipped, cocking your head; reminding him that you were not his.

Daemon sighed tiredly, "Oh, you bore me with talk of marriage to the wrong people. Come, my Lady, you know I would have you - "

"From what I've seen tonight, you'd have me, your niece, and her cousin, too! Lady Laena is truly a rare breed, a beauty beyond this age."

"Is that jealousy?" He mused, still speaking to you as if in Valyria itself. "First malice, now you are jealous? I must admit, it is not becoming on you, Lady."

"Matters not what I feel, for I am owned by a man. Who is not you, I'll remind."

This time, Daemon's head cocked, "Is that right? Never thought I'd see the day someone 'owned' you - you had the most spirit of any Lady in court - "

"Funny how things change, my Prince. Now, is there a reason for you calling on me tonight?"

Daemon leaned forward to press his elbows to his knees, gesturing you forward, "Come."

"Daemon - "

"My Lady, do you not trust me? Is that where our friendship has gotten us?" His head cocked naughtily, smirking deeper than before.

"Our friendship has brought us nothing but heartbreak, Daemon," you refused, standing your ground.

"And my wife is no longer around - "

"Leaving only one obstacle?"

"An obstacle I would gladly cut down - if it meant I could have what is owed to me!" Daemon snapped, standing to his feet in anger. "You would blame me for what was never within my control!?"

"You did not fight for me! You did not fight for us, Daemon, and now you want me to believe - that what? After all this time, you love me still?"

"I never stopped - "

"Yet you couple with your niece!?"

"ENOUGH!" Daemon roared, panting heavily.

"No!" You raged in return, stalking up the stairs. "No! You don't get to shut this down because you are uncomfortable or ashamed! For years - years, Daemon - you let me feel this! We've never spoke of it - let alone been alone to have such a conversation since the Queen Mother broke our engagement!"

His eyes turned hard, "I did not do that, dove, you do not - "

"Yet, you did nothing!"

"And what did you do?" He demanded. "Hmm? Why must this only be on me? We were both powerless against her, so, tell me - what did you do?"

"I plead," your voice wobbled, tears brimming from your confession. "I begged my father to do something - anything. I even took an audience with the Queen..."

This caught Daemon's attention, making him step closer, "What?"

"I took an audience," you repeated, emotion clawing at your throat, "to beg her to let us marry, that you were... You were all I ever desired. She spat on me in return, and married me off to Lord Tytos out of what I assumed to be vengence."

Daemon's jaw steeled at the mention of your husband, "You did not mention this before."

"When would I have? She married you within 12 days of announcing the end of our and the start of your new engagement! I had no time with you, we could not do anything - there would never have been a difference!"

His head shook as he slipped back into the Common Tongue, "You do not know that."

"I do know that you did not fight for us," you repeated, following suit and changing the way your tongue formed words. "You left me... Like it was easy to forget me..."

He stepped closer, a hand raising to your cheek and jaw, "I did not want to leave you, ever, my dove, and trust me when I say that walking away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Makes no difference now," you sniffled, allowing yourself a weak moment to enjoy the feel of his warmth. He always ran hot, like the fire in his blood warmed his whole body. You never could sleep properly, feeling far too cold at times - and with Daemon, you were always at ease.

"Tell me to do it," he growled, tightening his grip on you; tugging you into his chest to press closer. "Tell me to cut him down, my Lady, and I will. In the tournament, I will ensure your Lord husband meets his end," he spat the word 'husband', like it was acid on his tongue.

"Daemon," you breathed, his lips ghosting over your own, "I cannot ask that of you, I know you'd do it."

"And? You'd be mine again - "

"You are after too many, after too much! What? Did the other ladies already reject you? I know your niece married tonight, did the Lady Laena reject you, too?"

Daemon's body was pressed to yours, hovering over you in the dim candlelight of the throne room; the Iron Throne looming beside you both as Daemon kept your head tilted back.

"Watch yourself, Lady, I am still your Prince," his breath fanned over your lips and chin. "I could take you and make you mine, for you will never belong to another man. Tell me, my love," he purred sinfully, "has he consummated your marriage?"

Tears sprung to your eyes as you were forced back to your wedding night; gaze dropping to his chest as your lips pursed to keep emotion behind a mask of neutrality that had long since been perfected. But the change in body language, where you tensed under his hands, did not go unnoticed by Daemon.

"What is it?" he asked when you remained quiet, stroking your cheek. "What did he do?"

"Daemon," you breathed, begging him to stop without needing to say the words.

"Did he bring you harm?"

"Don't."

"Has he put his hands on you, Lady?" Daemon demanded, almost jostling your chin as he pulled you to look at him directly. "Tell me," he asked again, petting the apple of your cheek as you choked on your words. "Your Prince asked you a question."

"Daemon, w-what happens between a man and wife behind closed doors... That's sacred - that's not something we should discuss."

His lilac iris' bore into yours, staring straight into your soul, and as if watching it happen in his mind, seemed to understand, "He has brought you harm."

"It matters not," you swore, nudging closer to his chest. "You cannot help me now, Daemon, it's done."

"Tell me something?"

"Like it's a choice," you whispered, his lips pulling into a smirk. Gently, his forehead met yours, and time suddenly stopped as if you were young again.

"Why has his seed not taken?" His voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the glass illusion you had fallen into.

Your shoulders shrugged meekly, "He has other heirs, from earlier marriages. He... He does not share my bed often."

"No? He neglects the one duty a husband has?" He toyed, but your eyes fell from his again. "It is not welcomed, is it, my dove? You do not welcome his touch, do you?"

Sniffling, you answered, "In truth, my Prince, you have the only welcomed touch."

"Then ask me, and I will cut him down, and nothing will stand between us, my sweet," he pet the skin of your cheek, down to your pulse point - like he was drawn to the rapid beating of your heart. "There is no Queen left to tell us what to do, and we can be together."

"We speak of conspiracy, deceit, and me, of mutiny against the man I am sworn to..."

Daemon sighed, "What has he done to you?"

You huffed through your nose, "Only what you have allowed to come to pass. Tell me in truth, is my House so lowly that the Queen sought to undermine the King?"

"In truth, pet, I believe she saw the power we stoke in one another and feared for it," he licked over his lips, gently wetting yours in the process. Relishing in the smallest of gasps that fell past your lips, Daemon continued, "Knowing you and I had each other, she feared the hold we might have on the kingdom. She sought to undermine us, dove, because we showed promise to be stronger than she ever was with the King." Both of his hands seized over your hips to grind into his, hissing, "How powerful our children would be."

"Daemon - you speak dangerously," you whispered, gasping when his teeth gnashed over the sensitive skin of your neck. Your hands jolted to grab onto his biceps, squeezing in temptation as the Prince's mouth salivated from the feel of your breasts pressed against him.

"I speak only the truth," he breathed, forehead to yours; one hand now wrapped around your hips to keep them anchored to his, as the other slithered up to cup your jaw and cheek. "Give us the chance we had stolen from us," his mouth taunted your own, dancing over one another as you breathed one breath. "Let me love you, as a husband properly should."

Your resolve was crumbling, "'S improper."

"The only improper idea is that we are not together now," he all but hissed, frustration evident. "Why do you push me away, Lady? Do you not want me anymore? Say it - tell me you don't want me, and I will walk away. I will leave you alone, the only formalities being that of court."

The idea of Daemon being so far from you, and being someone else's husband again, drove your stomach into your throat. Your heart was his, and had been since you were all but 14; leaving you hardly any room to resist him, and yet duty and honor screamed in your head.

Your hand rose to pet fingertips down his face, catching his bottom lips as your mind waged war with your heart. "What if it's not the same?" You wondered, unable to draw yourself from him even if he asked you to.

Perhaps he needed to push you away - literally and physically - for you to truly let him go. But now that you were in his arms again, you did not want to stray far from them.

"You are still you," he murmured, "and I've always loved you as you are."

And like that, you were done for; rocking to your toes to press your mouth hotly against his, both releasing instant moans from the long-overdue kiss that's haunted both your dreams. His hands were everywhere at once, petting through your hair; over skin; over clothes; and gripping you in ways your husband could only imagine. Yet, your heart tugged, and your mouth muttered against his, "Tell me again."

He chuckled, pulling back to pet over your loosening braids, curling a portion behind your ear; staring beyond your soul, and into your very heart before speaking with the most conviction you've ever heard, "I love you, my dove, and I always have after all this time."

You groaned onto his lips, arms moving to coil around his neck and breathe him in as his hands squeezed your hips tightly. Daemon let his teeth rake over your bottom lip, trapping it, before suckling it wetly into his mouth; making your knees buckle some.

He breathed heavily against you, reaching back, and hissing when his palm was sliced by one of the sword points making up the Iron Throne. "See?" You mused, glancing back to the (stupid idea of a) chair and nudging Daemon. "Not suited for you, my Prince."

He chuckled, "Still... I bet you'd love to fuck me on it."

You nearly hiccuped at his words, "Daemon, if we're caught - this is already risky enough. I'm married..."

"Not for much longer," he rolled his eyes, stepping back to lower himself into the seat of the Throne; eyes never straying from yours as his legs spread almost casually, "and everyone is in bed after tonight's excitement. Wouldn't it be grand for us all to wake in the morning, to another wedding?"

You scoffed lightly, his hands holding yours tightly and easing you forward to his lap; never forcing nor rushing, but encouraging you. "Wouldn't it be a funeral first?"

Daemon cocked his head, smirking as he took hold of your hips to guide you into his lap, musing, "Technically, two of them, my dove."

With knees planted on either side of his slender hips, your cunt was pressed directly over his bulge; foreheads pressed together again, simply existing in your new position. You blinked once, then thrice, asking, "Daemon? Would you lie to me, my dragon?"

"To you?" He repeated, tutting after with a shift of his hips. "Dangerous woman, you know I cannot."

"Then tell me..." You paused, whispering over his lips, "Did you kill your Lady-wife?"

His hands tightened over yours, "Careful, dove. Those are heavy words."

"Do not lie to me, my Prince, I only wish to know the waters we are wading into," you purred, gently rolling your hips forward to test the waters of uncharted territory. Judging by how he stiffened some and held you in a bruising grip, you wagered you were doing something right as you were never charged with another man's pleasure.

You were barely charged with your own.

However, without Daemon, you felt no life in you - no reason to touch yourself, save for the few times in court he had made meaningful eye contact with you before and in-between his banishments.

Now, you had time to show him your adoration, and how perfectly ready for this you felt after the realm's biggest event of the year - a Royal Wedding. Your previous words added with your ministrations caused Daemon's brain to fog a bit before clearing when your teeth nipped his bottom lip. He confessed, "I did not kill my Lady-wife, but by the Gods, do I wish it were me. To get rid of that which stands in our way."

"She is not all," you reminded, his forehead slick against your own.

"I will handle your husband," Daemon promised, helping your hips roll into his at a more practiced pace. "Leave it to me, dove, just give me permission, and he's done for. You and I can finally be together, like we were meant to be, hmm?" he nodded against you, panting lightly as his experienced body felt like a virgin's again by the very idea of having the woman he loved - finally.

You whined against his lips, clinging to his body as your hips moved with his as if with a mind of their own; a wet patch forming under you from how aroused you were, and evidently, how much he was, too. Feeling bold, your hands clamped over his shoulders, and you pushed and pulled your hips with more of a swirl; gaining friction and speed.

"Shit," you cursed, the feeling indescribable. "'S always like this?" You slurred a bit, mouth at his ear as you were focused on the feeling of his hips under yours.

"Can be," he promised, pulling your face to his, licking against your lips; pressing a few searing kisses against your mouth.

"Fuck," you moaned, dry-humping Daemon like you were being paid for it; but not a single fiber of your being cared for how fucked-out you already were. He was the man of your dreams, someone you'd never move on from - and here he was, all yours.

How powerful you felt in that moment.

Daemon even hissed lightly in appreciation when your hand grabbed around his throat to hold him still as your lips and teeth nipped his. "Dove," he panted your old nickname like a prayer held at an alter, bliss coating every syllable; lips licking over the shell of your ear, "I'm not gonna last, and I'll be damned if I don't finish in you tonight."

The notion knotted your stomach, "And if your seed sticks?"

"Then we know who the Gods favor," he purred, biting his bottom lip as he fought off a knowing grin; hips hoisting yours up to hold, allowing him to reach for his trousers to find them already unlaced. "How'd you do that?" he asked with a small laugh, freeing himself from the fabric.

You only winked, leaning in to capture his smiling lips in another kiss as both his hands returned to your hips to squeeze. He let you grind over his lap once, twice, and a third time before lifting you gently again so he could gather the skirts of your soiled dress. "Oh," you gasped when your bare cunt came to settle over his glistening cock.

"Mh," he sighed out, holding you against him. "Just the smell of you is enough for me, dove."

A shiver raked over your body, wondering what the hell was wrong with the Lady Rhea Royce to not bed her husband... Or was that more his doing? "Daemon," you moaned wantonly against his ear, letting yourself squirm on his lap.

"Gods, dove," he hissed, grabbing at your throat to lift your head, "fucking soaking me." He groaned and tossed his head back when your hips swirled to coat his cock with your gathering slick. Another moan fell from your mouth as he reached between you to swipe his fingers down your slit; causing you to jump in slight panic as a fingertip dared to round the rim of your puckered hole - forcing a strangled moan from your throat. "Shhh," he crooned, "'s me, dove. Just me," he soothed, easing a finger down again, into your wanting, pulsing, hot and slick hole; licking his lips, "and you know I've got you. Hmm? Say it, my love."

The sentimental term of endearment was not lost on your ears, yet you only replied, "I know you've got me, my Prince. Only you - only ever you, fuck."

"That's right," he praised, adding another finger as your back arched and thighs quaked a little from straining in order to give him room to work. "There's my good girl, fuck..." His teeth nipped at your ear lobe, humming in appreciation, "Always were such a good girl for your Prince, weren't you, my dove?"

One of your hands was laid along his shoulder to hold the back of his neck as the other cradled his cheek; hips held at an angle as you pressed to him in an arch. "Only ever wanted you," you affirmed in his ear, rocking your hips as his fingers increased speed, "and I always want to please you."

He groaned lightly, your slick arousal causing his fingers to squelch in an echo across the throne room - both moaning at the explicit obscenity. "Fuck - you do, sweet girl," he whispered, voice hoarse from want. "Always fucking please me - just looking at you - fuck," he licked a bold strip up your neck, ending at your ear, "always were the prefect minx for me - no matter how broken you think you are, my dove, you're still so fucking perfect to me. Hmm?" His voice grew steadier as he held you up; legs giving out as his fingers found that spot within your walls, and focused all his energy on that single spot. "Know what you are to me? Know how I will spend my life worshipping you? Never want you to change, dove," his fingers curled inside you, "always want you wild, and free - " He trailed off with a taunt breath, gathering your wetness in his palm as if milking you for your nectar. "Such a good girl, making a fucking mess, mhmph, yes."

"Daemon," you whimpered in a broken whisper that told him more than your words could right now.

"Cum on my fingers, dove. Fuck - I wanna feel you. Fuckin' everywhere, just wanna be with you," he almost deliriously admitted as your cunt contracted around his fingers and he had to hold you close as your hips stuttered to trap his hand between you two. "Fuck, that's it," he praised you, "that's my good girl, such a pretty little thing. Gods, look at you," he teased lightly, looking down at you splayed against his chest as he retracted his fingers and hand from the warmth of your caverns. "My pretty princess, huh?" He slipped back into his native tongue.

You chuckled breathlessly, almost rolling your eyes. Instead, you hummed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his pale neck and encouraging his head backwards for you to explore his flesh. "Only for you, my Prince," you promised, reaching between you to grab him in full. And oh, how delicious he felt in your hand - hot and heavy, like all those rumors whispered.

Daemon stiffened slightly as you acquainted yourself with the feel of his cock; the velvet softness a sharp contrast to that of the wrinkled displeasure your husband bestowed you with. "Yes, that's it," he whispered as your hand worked over him; letting your sopping-wet cunt roll in tandem, "oh, that's my good fuckin' girl."

"Daemon," you whined lightly, boldly smearing your thumb through the gathering pre-cum leaking from his engorged tip.

"What's my princess want? Hmm?" He taunted lightly through a thick tone, still very much in control of the situation despite letting you feel somewhat like the boss. A red flush was creeping up his chest and neck, making your mouth salivate as he demanded, "Tell me, sweet girl, and I can give you - "

"You," you whined, still rocking against him with your wrist rolling to accommodate the sheer size of him, "jus' want you, my Prince, please."

He growled, both hands now tightly fisting the ends of the arm rests of the Throne you were sat upon, "Beg for me again."

"Please," you whispered, "been so patient, please - want you inside me, my Prince - my love - please. Show me that what I dream of every night is truth, that those rumors I was forced to listen to after your marriage are right."

He stiffened lightly, knowing the rumors you spoke of - the rumors of him in bed, how whores would literally line up when he showed up at any pleasure house, how he fucked through most of the city by now all in an effort to avoid his Lady-wife.

Truth was, he couldn't get you out of his mind, and if he couldn't have you, he'd have anyone who reminded him remotely of you. Anyone with the color hair, eyes, skin tone - same smell - same height - or body shape. Anyone he could imagine being you, and occasionally, would pay a little extra if his bed companions would let him call them your name. He figured it was the only way he'd have you, but now, he knew what he had to do to ensure you never slipped through his fingers again.

"C'mere," Daemon growled, lifting your hips to position you; and with his eyes locked with yours, lowered you. Your mouth opened in a gasp when his cock rimmed the seam of you, holding on tighter as he pressed you further, pushing inside, and kept lowering you until seated fully in his lap. "No," he nodded when your hips went to move, "just take a moment, dove. Feel it - feel everything. Become friendly with this feeling," he instructed dutifully, uncharacteristically patient as his hands squeezed the fat at your hips. "'S pleasure, fullness, my dove. 'S me you feel," his breath was hot on your ear, "and it's me you'll feel for days more."

"Oh, fuck," you breathed, unable to think rationally as he guided you in gently rolling your hips to grind your clit against his pubic hair. "Daemon - oh, shit."

"Yeah?" he grinned wickedly, letting your movements naturally increase as your pleasure spread. "This is what it is, my dove. This is," he paused to groan when your hips lifted to glide you up and down his shaft. "Shit - this is what fucking is. A duty to a marriage, yes," he agreed against your lips, pressing a searing kiss there after, "but a primal pleasure few come to understand and enjoy."

"Th-This is how it should be?" You wondered, instantly hating the Queen Mother for breaking your engagement and robbing you of experiencing this feeling for years.

"Yes, dove," he groaned, both arms wrapped around you as a sheen of sweat broke out across your skin. "This is what it will be like everyday for us," he grinned, eyes locked with yours as he kept you bouncing in his lap; well-aware of the strain to your thighs, "because a husband's first duty is to his wife, ensuring her pleasure outshines his."

You whimpered.

"You close, love?" he muttered, feeling your tempo turn desperate, and groaned. "Fucking use me, that's right, my love, go ahead - ah! Shit!" He hissed, planting his feet to meet your thrusts now; fucking up into you, and making your mind stutter to a halt. The feeling and sound of his balls slapping against the wetness of your cunt was enough to fill a brothel; making you feel like Daemon's prized whore.

"D-Daemon," you begged, unsure of what you wanted; but he understood none the less.

"C'mere, I'm here," he promised; resting your forehead to his. "That's it, my sweet, yes, yes," his thumb dropped to your clit, "just fuck yourself on me, I've got you. Shit," he huffed, "all of this beauty, this wet, tight little cunt wasted on that fucker - waste of a man - fuck!"

"Tell me what you're going to do, Daemon," you moaned in his ear, feeling your climax approach rapidly. "Tell me how you're going to make me yours."

Daemon all but bared his teeth, "First, I'll kill that fat-fuck of a husband you have. He's all that's in our way, dove."

"Shit," you nodded, bracing your hands against anything you could reach; trying to ignore how the thrill of his warmed blood from his cut hand sent ripples of pleasure straight to your core. It felt wrong, but so fucking right since it was Daemon's blood on you - the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. "Keep going," you moaned, "tell me, my Prince, what you'll do."

He held your face to his, grinning, "You were never not mine, dove. But I will kill him first, then take you to Dragonstone, and make you my wife. Long overdue, my love, for you should've been mine this whole time."

"And now?"

"I'll never let you go," he grit his teeth, thrusting faster when your whimpering echoed around the chamber. When you came, your eyes screwed tight and your mouth latched to his shoulder to muffle the way you cried almost anomalistically. "Yes, yes, yes," he praised, milking you for all you had, before allowing his own pleasure to take hold; hips stuttering to eventually pause against yours as he bottomed out, spilling his seed deep in your womb.

And now, the only thing heard was the two of you panting; room much darker as a few candles had finally burned out. Daemon held you close, not wanting to let go now that he had achieved what he had considered 'impossible'. Your throat contracted as your swallowed, his eyes soft as they gazed over you, prompting your whisper, "Everyday of that, you said?"

He chuckled through his nose, nodding a bit, "Multiple times a day if you wanted."

"Oh," you bit your bottom lip, eyes scanning over him in haste. "That sounds most enjoyable. But where would we live?"

He smirked, "Wherever we desired. I'd take you anywhere, my Princess."

"Even Essos?" You smirked in a small tease.

"Anywhere, my dove," he reiterated, "so long as I am at your side."

"I don't want you anywhere else," you admitted in a whisper, still sat on his lap as his cum was plugged only by his softening cock that still kept you feeling full and stretched. Your eyes blinked back tears, turning so he would not notice, and laying against him, "Would you stay with me tonight, my Prince?"

He smirked, "What would your husband think? To find me in his marriage bed?"

"That it's just practice," you whispered in a gentle tease, slowly lifting to find his gaze.

His brows furrowed when you did not speak, asking, "Love? What is it?"

"Daemon... I fear I must ask you of the impossible..."

"Name it, sweet Lady," he purred, leaning forward to pepper a few kisses to your neck.

It was quiet, your lips moving only above a whisper at his ear, "Kill my husband for me, make me your bride after."

Daemon's hips shifted, groaning a low, "Fuck."

"Hmm?" You hummed, face hovering over his; his eyes scanning you up and down.

His bottom lip was trapped and released by his teeth, answering, "Think I just got hard again. That was music to my ears, dove."

"Promise me you will not make it conspicuous. I could not bare it if anyone suspected you, or foul play. Though I have never been openly fond of my husband, I do not want to see you suffer for his passing as I will have to play the part of mournful widow."

He huffed, "How long after can I wed you?"

Your shoulder shrugged, "When my Prince wants to."

"I'd take you now," he swore, shaking his head lightly. "Though, I respect you too much to let such gossip at court take place." He sighed, "Fine... Yes, all right," he sniffled, "I'll do away with him, my dove, and in six months, ask for your hand. Hmm?"

"Think you can wait six whole months?" You teased lightly, palm pressed to his cheek; thumb petting over his smiling lips.

"So long as you play widow well, and keep other suitors at bay," he joked, cocking his head, "then I do not have to wait six months to have you - just to marry you."

Your head shook lightly, snickering under your breath. "You'd do well not to sire your heir yet, as it would bring trouble before we need it."

"I'll have the Maester bring you tea," he sighed lightly. "But when we are married, you're not to take the tea again, my love."

"The moment we marry, it will be done away with," you promised in a whisper, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. When you pulled back, Daemon was content to just stare down at you; making you humm lightly, "Well, tomorrow fast approaches and I need sleep, my Prince."

Daemon nodded and just stared at you for a moment longer before sighing heavily, "Off to bed, then. Where does your husband sleep?"

"In a different wing so I do not hear him fucking his whores," you answered, wincing when Daemon helped you stand on shaking legs.

When on your feet before him, you gasped as his hand shot out to slither under your fallen skirts, scrape up your thigh to gather his cum that had dripped out before shoving up into your cunt. "Keep that there," he whispered, kissing your navel before standing and withdrawing his fingers. "And perhaps we should be grateful for his sleeping arrangements tonight."

"Oh?"

"He won't have to listen to me fuck his wife... Yet," Daemon smirked, hands all along your body as you moved from the Throne Room - knowing the next round of servants was sure to be up in a couple hours and not wanting to leave any traces, nor be caught. "We'll let him enjoy his last night on this earth, for tomorrow, my dove, you will be a single Lady."

With a small shudder, your head nodded before his hand caught your own and laced together as a gentle and simple sign of affection. "You would make it quick, right?" You wondered, keeping up with his longer strides; chin pressed to his bicep as you leisurely walked the castle's halls, starting towards your bed chambers.

But Daemon scoffed, "Oh, my dove, no, not after what I've learned tonight. No, he will suffer, and he will know why he suffered. The atrocities committed against you will not go unpunished."

Shock colored your system, nearly gaping at him like a gawking child. "You cannot - "

"I can," he assured with a firm nod, giving your hand a squeeze, "and I will, for he has acted with dishonor and that is intolerable. Now," he pulled you to your chamber door, looking up and down the hall, "which maids do you think will find us first? Or hear us?"

Your eyes rolled as you gently smacked the back of your hand to his chest, "You act as if we will fuck all night."

"Why would we not?"

"You need rest to keep your wits about you - especially for tomorrow," you alluded, his eyes softening. "There is too much at stake, we cannot afford any mishaps."

"Hmm, all right," he relented, watching you open your door. He sighed lightly, "This will have to change - your quarters should be with mine."

"Not separate?" You asked gently, watching him crowd into the room. The door shut firmly under his hand, eyes staring straight into you.

"As my wife, you would not be far from me, as I would not want you to be," he purred, slowly stalking forward. When he reached you, his hands physically held you in place while his gaze held you hostage, assuring, "You would not go a single night without the warmth of my body. I would do it all differently with you, my dove... Let me show you that I should've been your husband the first time."

Your head nodded, guiding his lips to yours in a frantic kiss; never truly registering what you had asked of him, nor what this might entail for the future. But you were damn sure - with Daemon, anything could've been handled. Though all that stood in the way now was faking the accidental death of your husband, publicly mourn him, wait a period of time, and then announce your engagement to the Prince - which sounds easy enough, right?

... Right?

part two: High Noon

Midnight Calls masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[yournameoneverypage]

If It Isn't You

Shawn Mendes x female reader.

Secondary (anon) prompt: "There are two steady heartbeats."

Word Count: ~6.2k ( HOLY CRAP! )

Warnings: Angst to fluff.

A/N: You should all know by now that I can't seem to write a short story, but even I'm shocked! 😜 This is the first time where I’m fusing two requests because they work well together. I always proofread, always more than once, but if I’ve missed anything, please forgive me. I hope you all like it!!

/// ❤️ \\\

You weren’t sure how to feel as you looked at the little window of the third pregnancy test you had taken, only to see a third plus sign. Granted, the first test you took you may have taken too soon after missing your period so you couldn’t be certain it was a true positive. Or maybe you were just too terrified at the time to entertain the thought of what it would mean.

When you started puking up your guts one morning a week later, and then again every morning thereafter, you took two more. And now you had no choice but to accept your fate.

You had always been safe. Or thought you had. You tried to recollect if there had been a time when you had been careless or impulsive, or if there had been any concern about a broken condom.

There was no question you would be keeping your baby. That was the easiest of the decisions you would have to make going forward. The most difficult? Do you tell Shawn?

Your globetrotting, world famous, now ex- boyfriend. The man you had believed, with every ounce of your existence, was meant to be your happily ever after. You had even made it to the stage in your relationship where you thought he was close to proposing.

You had weathered so much together, navigating his fame and everything it had entailed, including periodic bouts of social media brutality. You stood by each other through it all because it was worth it. Or so you promised, whispering affirmations of love and devotion into the skin and mouths of one another in those quiet moments when you shut the world out.

You still couldn’t comprehend how it all went so wrong, so quickly. You had had your share of healthy arguments and fights, but you had always worked through them after a brief cooling off period, neither of you wanting to ever go to bed angry, and it had only made you stronger. But this fight, the fight that had ended you, was something else entirely.

Abrupt, dizzying. Sharp, and unceasing. Surging, spiraling, and climactically, an explosion. He had stormed out of his condo, fiercer than a hurricane, your condo, after he had asked you to move in five months earlier, and you had been left alone with your anger and anguish, and exhausted to your very bones. He hadn’t returned that night, and had stayed gone for another 24 hours without so much as a text to tell you where he was or when he would be home. It was Brian who’d had the decency to let you know that Shawn was at least alive.

By the morning after that your things had been packed and you had left to stay with your ex-boyfriend, the ex before Shawn, and still good friend, Luke, in his guest room.

There were other friends you could have asked to temporarily house you, but you knew choosing Luke would aggravate Shawn the greatest, and at the time you had been enraged (and worried sick) by his… abandonment.

Shawn had never forbidden you from having certain friends or for spending time with who you wished to, he wasn’t that kind of man, but Luke had frequently been a point of contention between you, even though you had always taken Shawn’s feelings into consideration and limited your interaction with the other man who loved you.

The longer you stayed in Luke’s house, the guiltier you felt. And once enough time had passed where you realized Shawn wasn’t coming to apologize and bring you home, that’s when you knew it was over. You blamed yourself then, wondering if you had found anyone else but Luke to take you in, would Shawn have come for you then? Had you made the biggest mistake of your life by throwing that in his face?

Luke would have let you stay indefinitely, but you couldn’t offer him even a sliver of hope that your feelings for him might regress to what they were before Shawn, now that you were no longer with Shawn. You had loved Luke, but never like you loved Shawn. You would never be able to love anyone the way you loved your tall, curly-headed, big-hearted, Canadian boy.

So, you had quickly, fortunately, found a sublet, a small studio apartment, which would do until you figured out what your future would look like without Shawn in it.

You sighed heavily, wearily.

Shawn deserved to know he was going to be a father and to choose how much he wanted to be involved in your child’s life, but you were still hurting, aching, and keeping it from him, as spiteful as it might be, would serve him right.

He had moved on so fast. Faster than anyone should have after ending a significant, more than two-year relationship. Your heart had not only been broken but had been ripped from your chest.

Shawn was only two weeks into the first leg of Tour, and he already had some girl trailing after him all over Europe. That should have been you, was supposed to be you.

Tears fell from your eyes, streaking your cheeks; you didn’t even bother wiping them away. You had already cried so much, you were surprised you had any tears left.

You told yourself you had time to decide when and how to tell him, for you would wait until he returned from Tour. This was something he didn’t need distracting him until he had time to truly digest it.

Six weeks. Six weeks to summon the courage to face him without falling to pieces.

In the meantime, you would need to make an appointment with an obstetrician, and then start looking for something bigger than a studio.

///

Your best girlfriend in Toronto, Mia, who you had confided in and sworn to secrecy, sat beside you, rubbing your back in soothing circles, while you held your face in your hands. Your obstetrician’s words continued to play on a loop in your head.

There are two steady heartbeats… There are two steady heartbeats… There are TWO steady heartbeats…

Twins. Of course. Damn Shawn’s little swimmers for being so strong.

You were going to be sick. Again. Morning sickness, in part, but also from the realization which had finally struck its mark. You rushed for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time.

“I can’t do this,” you sobbed to Mia, while she held your hair back. To yourself, heartsick and trembling with despair. To Shawn, who should be there but wasn’t.

You collapsed onto your bottom, your back thudding against the wall, your nausea having passed for the moment.

Mia retrieved a washcloth and ran it under the warm tap. Pressing it to your face, gently wiping away tears and snot and vomit, she whispered, “You know he would never let you do this alone.”

“I want him to want to be with me because he loves me, not feel obligated to be here because I’m pregnant.”

“He loves you.”

“Does he?”

“How can you even question that?” she huffed. “What you have-”

“Had.”

“Have. It’s still there.”

“Is it?”

“I’ve seen your love story unfold, bubs. There is no way in hell he doesn’t still love you and want you with every breath he breathes. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

When you couldn’t, she continued, “Exactly. Call him. Tell him. Don’t wait.”

“He’s touring.”

“The hell with Tour,” she grumbled.

“I won’t do that to him. I can’t. It means too much to him.”

“You and your babies mean more.”

“And his fans. I don’t want to take him from them. They’ve waited so long to see him again.”

Mia handed you a glass of cold water and glowered until you took a long drink. When satisfied, she sat down on the floor beside you, hip to hip.

“And now there’s that… girl...” you quavered.

“I’m gonna rip his sac off when I see him again,” Mia seethed.

You puffed out a small laugh. “No you’re not.”

She rested her head atop yours, which had found her shoulder, and took your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.

You sighed then, covering your budding baby bump with your other hand. “He isn’t missing much right now anyway. This isn’t the fun part.”

“Damn Shawn and his super sperm.”

You snorted, and you and Mia dissolved in a fit of giggles.

You were lucky to have her.

///

Tour had ended and you had swelled around your middle like a balloon.

You had made it through the first trimester and were into your second. Your morning sickness and fatigue had abated and you were feeling well and energetic. There had been no other complications.

Your little blueberries were now avocados, and healthy and strong, especially for twins. Your obstetrician was pleased. You were carrying high and had only gained eleven pounds thus far thanks to a healthy diet and moderate exercise.

It was a blessing, your pregnancy, in the sense that it simply was, but also because it had forced you not to languish in the aftermath of your breakup. You wanted to give your babies the best start in life as possible, which meant it was essential that you take good care of yourself.

You had been given the option of learning their gender at your last appointment but had declined. It didn’t feel right without Shawn, none of it did, but especially that. Even if you and he reconciled enough to only co-parent, you felt he should be at the appointment to discover if you were having boys or girls or one of each, for you had at least been told they were fraternal.

Shawn would be back in Toronto soon, if he wasn’t already, and you could no longer keep your pregnancy from him. You just weren’t sure the best way to go about telling him.

A text first, asking him if he’d be willing to see you. And you’d go from there, depending on his reply, because you knew he would. You knew even if you had texted him while on tour, which you nearly did, a million times, that he would have responded.

Afraid of what his response would have been is what had kept you from hitting send, every time.

You were still staring at your phone, rereading the text you had composed for the third time, when there was a knock on your door. You were too preoccupied to wonder who it could be.

You hadn’t expected Brian to be on the other side.

Brian, who had been a wonderful friend to you while you and Shawn had been together, who had stayed in contact after the breakup to see how you were doing and to let you know how Shawn was, and how Tour was going, even when you didn’t ask.

“He always delivers, you know that, and onstage is the only place he’s been happy since…” He cleared his throat. “But his spark is missing.”

You had been Shawn’s spark. That’s what Brian had been importing, how your significance in Shawn’s life had been felt by everyone around him; the unadulterated joy and solace you had brought him was now absent.

You had been trying to avoid seeing anyone from Shawn’s life, especially now that you were unmistakably showing. You didn’t want him to learn about your babies from anyone but you. You were careful when you went out, even though photographers usually left you alone when you weren’t with Shawn.

One glance at your extended stomach and Brian was cursing his best friend. And then he was cursing you, but in a much gentler way.

“Aw, damn it, bub,” he breathed, entering your apartment. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“He left. And he didn’t come back.” Tears fell, unbidden, from your eyes.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” he soothed, brushing knuckles across your cheeks to wipe away your tears. “You still should have told him.”

“I didn’t want to ruin Tour.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined Tour,” he attested. “Maybe you two would have gotten over yourselves a lot sooner and made up already.”

“My pregnancy would’ve been nothing but a distraction and you know it,” you said, leading Brian further into your living space. “Shawn would’ve mother-henned me to death instead of focusing on the shows.”

“He definitely would have,” Brian smirked, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

You swiped the remaining tears from your face. “I don’t think all the international travel, insane levels of activity and excitement, punctuated by long tour bus drives, and the fan frenzy would have been good for the baby, do you?”

“Probably not,” he agreed. He couldn’t help but wonder, “How did you manage to keep it a secret?”

“Extreme caution and luck?”

Brian’s eyes grew serious again, reiterating, “You have to tell him.”

“I was about to. I mean, I was getting ready to,” you said, showing him your phone, still open on your as of yet unsent message.

“Sweetie, you don’t need so many words so carefully arranged. Just tell him you miss him. I miss you. Three little words. And he’ll come running. He’s destitute. Put him out of his misery, would you? Put all of us out of our misery. He’s pissing everyone off. Insufferable bastard,” he mumbled, before wrapping you in a hug and kissing your cheek.

“Brian?” you spoke, as he was walking back toward the door. He turned to you. “Why did you come, and not Shawn?”

He returned to stand before you. “It’s not because he doesn’t want to. He’s beside himself, believe me, but he needed to know if you still loved him, if you might take him back, before he came groveling.” He offered you a tender smile with that.

Your heart ratcheted and your face grew warm. “I still love him.”

Brian’s smile grew. “Of course you do.”

“Do you have to go so soon?”

“The sooner I get back to Shawn, the sooner he’ll be on his way over. I’ll hold him off best I can while you freshen up. Not that you need to, bub, you’re as lovely as always, but I just thought maybe you’d want to.”

You found yourself nodding at that.

“Be easy on him, eh?” he appealed, looking again at your belly, which he absolutely wanted to touch. After all, he was basically going to be your child’s uncle. But if he got to feel Shawn’s kid move before Shawn did, his brother from another mother would have his nuts. “He’s going to be a little overwhelmed.”

///

Brian had been able to buy you an hour and half, barely. Apparently it had been quite a struggle. Now, sweets. Now would be a really good time, he had texted. He might very well kill me.

You had showered, shaved, and exfoliated. You had left your hair down and had applied only a light moisturizer to your face. Your skin had been so nice lately, you didn’t really need makeup, - one of the advantages of pregnancy, - and Shawn had always told you how beautiful you were without it anyway. You chose to dress in a dark green, wide leg, no sleeve, maternity jumpsuit because it was cute on you and incredibly comfortable.

Finally, you had sent your text to Shawn. It wasn’t ‘I miss you’, as Brian had suggested, even if you did, desperately, and it wasn’t nearly as brief, but it was certainly shorter and less complicated than the first one you had considered.

What would you say if you could say everything you needed to, to the one you needed to?

I’m on my way, had been his immediate response. If his emotions were even as half as chaotic as yours were…

Get here safe.

Now you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You rearranged the pillows on your bed as well as the smaller ones in the corners of the couch, you straightened things that didn’t need straightening. You cracked open your balcony door to allow fresh air into the suddenly stifling room.

Shawn only needed to take one look at you to know. But you couldn’t do this just anywhere, especially not in public. People couldn’t see you together until Shawn and his team figured out how to spin it. You had always hated that part. How Shawn lived his life outside of his career shouldn’t be anyone’s business or concern but his own, and yours when you had been together.

When you weren’t in Europe with Shawn as you had planned to be, he and his team let the speculation stretch that you had only been delayed. You wondered if Andrew had been waiting to see if you and Shawn reconciled and for you to join Tour before deeming it necessary to release any sort of statement, for you had been soundly together for two years and had been unafraid to show your love.

When the rumors of Shawn’s… indiscretion surfaced, social media erupted, and suddenly you were being pursued by entertainment reporters and shutterbugs for a statement, for photos, for any sort of reaction. When you wouldn’t give it to them, they disappointedly withdrew.

It became more important than ever for you to stay out of the public eye once you could no longer hide your baby bump.

So this was how it had to be.

The knock you had been anxiously anticipating finally came, and you almost couldn’t answer. You paused too long with your hand on the knob, until you were startled by another set of knocks, more urgent. You heard your name fall from his lips, followed by a desperate plea to open the door.

Shawn had imagined he would draw you into his arms and beg and plead, his lips against yours, the moment he laid his starving eyes on you. Instead, his face paled, his eyes clouding with utter devastation, when he looked upon your slightly rounder figure.

He pressed a hand against the door jamb. “Were you even going to tell me?” he exhaled, voice cracking.

“Of course,” you breathed. “You’re here. This is me telling you.” You wanted to touch him, more than anything, wrap your arms around him and have him hold you to his chest. It’d been too long since your senses were filled with him. “I know you're… surprised, to say the least, and- and upset, and I’m sure you… have questions, and I- I would understand if you just want to start yelling-”

He was quick to shake his head. “No,” he whispered, his chest tightening, as memories of the last time he had seen you resurfaced. “That won’t get us anywhere good. But… yes.”

“Then maybe you could stop white-knuckling the door and come inside?” you asked softly.

He relaxed his grip, stood tall, and trailed after you into the kitchen. You were aware of his nearness at your back and were reluctant to turn around. Maybe if you didn’t, you’d feel his hand on your hip or his breath on your neck.

You sensed when he had retreated, even before he quietly cleared his throat and murmured, “You should have called me the second you knew, the moment you even thought you might be…

“Please don’t tell me you knew before Tour,” he wheezed.

You turned to him then, and met his eyes so he could see the truth in yours. “No. You had already left. You were a few days gone when I realized I had missed my period.”

“You should have called then.”

“I wasn’t even sure then. Maybe it was the stress of all that had just happened between us, and nothing more.”

“When you were sure…”

“You were four thousand miles away, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone; it didn’t seem right, something this important.”

“Instead, you chose to keep it from me. Something this important.”

“I didn’t want to disrupt Tour.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“You’re saying I should’ve called my global pop star ex-boyfriend and said, ‘hey, you knocked me up, what are you going to do about it?’, right before he’s supposed to meet and greet one hundred fans who are only asking for two minutes of his undivided attention, and then get onstage to play a show in front of thousands of people?”

“Yes.”

You could feel the tension rippling around him.

You were getting too close to how your last fight had started, that prickling of negative emotions. There was still too much to work through to allow it to happen again.

You dared to reach for him, to place your hand gently against his chest. His breath caught and he instinctively, yet cautiously, covered your hand with his.

It had been too long since his last touch and your emotions were raw. You withdrew your hand before it became too much.

“Do you want to sit?” you stammered.

He shook his head, but at least your touch had focused him, settled him, like it always had in the past.

The pregnancy fatigue may have ebbed, but you still had days where you tired easily. “I’d like to sit,” you said softly, absentmindedly rubbing your hand over your stomach, making for the couch.

“I’ll get you something to drink- or, are you hungry?”

Mother hen indeed. “Shawn. Sit down.”

He obeyed, sinking into the other end of the couch. You angled your body toward his and he mirrored the action. It wasn’t a very big couch, not much more than a loveseat, and Shawn was a very long guy, so it wasn’t surprising that your knees touched. Neither of you shifted away. That small point of contact was familiar and grounding and would help you through the rest of your conversation.

“I should have told you the moment the tests came back positive. I’m sorry. I am, truly... And you’re right, not wanting to tell you over the phone, even though it felt honest at the time, was a really bad excuse.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to disrupt Tour. I didn’t want to distract you from what you’d worked so hard to put together. And you were so excited; to travel again, to see the ‘boys in the band’ and your fans. And for the shows. Especially for the shows. I didn’t want you preoccupied with thinking about me, and being torn between Tour and wanting to be here for this pregnancy, because even though we had broken up, you still would’ve wanted to be here.”

Shawn’s hands twitched. He wanted to get on his knees before you and touch his child, cry into and kiss your stomach, but he held himself back.

“How did we get here, Shawn?” you murmured. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a thought spoken aloud. “It’s been you and me against the world for two years. We’ll go down in history together, remember? This never should’ve happened.”

“It’s my fault,” he croaked.

“You have a tendency to take more responsibility than your fair share. We’re both to blame. I’m not innocent in this. It was something I had done that began that horrific fight in the first place, and I’ve never been sorrier.”

This is where it had gone so wrong.

You had had a lot of time to reflect on that night. You had found your way to the realization that you should have been the one to apologize to him instead of stubbornly waiting for him to come crawling after you.

That’s not to say he didn’t have anything to apologize for, you both had huge amends to make, for all the hurtful things you had thrown at each other out of anger and frustration, fear and exhaustion, but you should’ve been the one to reach out first.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying so very hard not to cry before you made it through everything that needed to be said. And you were. So sorry. The sorriest you’ve ever been.

Shawn’s voice wavered. “You confided in Luke when you should’ve come to me.”

“I know.” You felt wretched. “I was wrong.” Your heart was twisting in your chest, but it was necessary to sit with that guilt, to accept it, if you and Shawn had any chance of coming out on the other side.

“You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you… Why couldn’t you trust me?”

“I do,” you wheezed, reaching over and putting your hand on his knee that was touching yours.

He covered your hand with his and slid his fingers between yours. “For Luke to come to me to tell me what you were going through,” he whispered. “For Luke to tell me what was happening in our relationship…

“It tore me up.”

Your eyes fell, repentant. Shawn tipped your face up with a finger under your chin. His eyes met yours. His softness with you affected you more than his temper had.

“Recording, touring, none of it mattered- matters more than you. You know that. I would have made time to put everything else aside if you would’ve just said something. My love, you need to tell me when you need me.

“As angry as I was with you- no,” he quickly corrected, “I wasn’t angry, not with you, not really. I was disappointed, crushed… My anger- I was more angry with myself for not paying better attention. I felt like I had failed you.”

“You have never failed me. Don’t you ever think that. It was a difficult time. You were overwhelmed and stressed out.”

“Don’t make excuses for me, please. This is the part I need to take responsibility for.”

You nodded then.

“I know I wasn’t easy to live with those few months before Tour, with long hours in the studio working on the new album, the bad days when I came home upset, having made no progress. And then with Tour itself getting all twisted up... I know I took my frustrations out on you- that never should’ve happened- and I will forever be sorry for that.

“And that damned night- Everything I said came out… wrong.”

“I said some ugly things, too,” you whispered.

“I never should have left.”

“I understand why you did. We've had fights before where we’ve needed to walk away and calm down, but that night… you didn’t come back, Shawn. I waited, but you didn’t come back. Not even a text to tell me when you were coming home.”

“I know,” he trembled.

“So I did the absolute worst thing I could have done and went running to Luke.”

“He was there when you needed someone…”

“Now it’s your turn to stop making excuses for me.

“I shouldn’t have confided in anyone who wasn’t you, let alone Luke. If I could go back and change things, I would, without question. And I should have waited longer. I should have waited for as long as it took for you to come home, because I knew you would. I was just hurt. It’s a reason, but it’s not an excuse. You have never failed me, Shawn. I failed you by doubting you.”

“I fucked up.”

“We both fucked up,” you exhaled.

“When I got home and most of your things were gone…

“And when you wouldn’t answer my texts, I called Luke and begged him to ask you to give me a chance to apologize.”

“What texts?” you gasped.

“Wanting you to come home- pleading-”

“I never got any texts.”

“What?” he wheezed. “But- you blocked me.”

“I would never block you- I was desperate for you to come and get me… Every day I woke up I prayed for it to be the day that you would stop punishing me and just call.”

Suddenly it occurred to you what must have happened, Shawn too, if the way his eyes darkened was any indication, and you bristled.

“I don’t understand why he would do that.”

“You’re not that naive, darling,” he voiced gently.

No, you weren’t. You huffed. You just didn’t want to believe Luke would ever have purposely sabotaged your relationship with Shawn. Especially not after two years. You would never be able to forgive him for what he’d done.

As if reading your mind, Shawn said, “He told me I didn’t deserve you.”

“What?” you choked.

“And, I thought, maybe he was right, maybe I didn’t deserve you… after the way I had treated you.”

“You know that’s not true,” you breathed, instinctively reaching out to cup his face. If anything, you didn’t deserve him. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

Your voice wavered when you implored, “Can we fix it, Shawn? Can we fix us? Do you want to?”

It pained him that you would even ask that. He eased away, you withdrew your hand, and his eyes looked deeply into yours. “Of course,” he vowed.

“Who was the girl? In Europe?”

His eyes fell and he stood from the couch. He took a few strides away, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.

You found yourself standing from your own sudden restlessness, and stepping closer to him. “So, the rumors were true?”

He turned to you with beseeching eyes. “She meant nothing to me,” he promised. “I didn’t even entertain the thought of her-” he tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged, “at first.”

You shook your head and held your hand up to stop him. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I want to. I need to…

“I never encouraged her. But she kept showing up in every city, at every show, outside every hotel. And I was lonely, and missing you, so damn much; it was unbearable. I regret it. I hated myself, berated myself for it when it was over.

“It only happened once.”

“You were gone for two months.”

“It only happened once.”

“Once, with her?”

“With anyone. I never took anyone else to bed; please believe me.”

He had never lied to you before. The tightness in your chest eased. You could forgive him for one indiscretion. Even if there had been others you would have forgiven him. You weren’t together when it happened. It wasn’t as if he had cheated. He had never been unfaithful to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” you whispered.

“Yes, I do. We may have not been… together, but I was still yours. I will always be yours.”

You wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes. Mine. He’s still mine. Your breath trembled.

“You’re the only one who means anything to me, everything to me. You, and… our child.” He almost reached for your stomach but tightened his fists instead.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shawn,” you muttered quietly, affectionately. “Just touch the belly already. You’re making me crazy with your indecision.”

Shawn laughed then, a full, happy, relieved laugh, a song you had fiercely yearned to hear those past two months, and finally he reached out and placed his large hand over the swell of your abdomen.

“Oh my God,” he exhaled, reverently.

“For the record, you can take responsibility for this.” You pointed to your stomach. “This is all your fault,” you smirked.

He laughed again. “I’m proud to take all the blame for this…”

You dipped the pad of your thumb in the cleft of his chin and smiled tenderly.

“When is he due?” he wondered.

You quirked an eyebrow. “He?”

“She?”

“They.”

“They?”

“Twins.”

“Twins??” He stumbled a step back and reached out to place his hand on the countertop to steady himself.

“You’ll be a daddy in twenty, twenty-two weeks.”

“The second I put them in there, I was a daddy.” Before you could even groan, Shawn laughed. “Okay, I heard it… But now you can call me ‘daddy’ and it doesn’t have to mean some weird kink.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you chortled.

“But you love me?” he asked, as if he was afraid you’d say no, reaching out to capture your hand and drawing you closer, closer, and into his arms.

“I never stopped loving you,” you breathed, sliding your hands to the nape of his neck.

His arms around you tightened, his hands splaying across and moving tenderly up and down your back, as your lips fell together. Too long. Too long without his kiss, without his touch, without his scent, which engulfed you as your embrace and kiss deepened.

When he began to lift you, you shrieked his name and laughed and tightened your arms and legs around him. You knew he had you securely; he was strong and you trusted him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d picked you up to carry you somewhere. You blushed.

He chuckled into your neck and placed you atop the kitchen counter. Standing between your legs he simply allowed his eyes to roam over your features, his hands along outer thighs and hips.

You drank in the sight of him as well, heart swelling. Your hands trailed down the front of his shirt and you whispered, “That had to have been the worst of us, right? If we can get through that, we can get through anything...”

His grip on your hips tightened. “I don’t want to be your ex.”

“I don’t want you to be my ex.”

He smiled adoringly. ���I want to marry you.”

“I want to be married to you,” you smiled back, cupping his face, guiding his lips to yours for another soft kiss.

“Do you want our wedding to be before or after you pop?” he smirked.

You began to cry.

“No, no, my love,” he wheezed, trying to catch your tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Was it what I said about popping? I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re more beautiful than ever.”

“That’s not why I’m crying,” you wailed.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m pregnant, Shawn, I’m always crying!”

He tried not to laugh and you feebly shoved at his chest.

“Does two mean you’re going to be twice as hormonal?”

“I hate you, and your little swimmers!” you grumbled.

His eyes and his smile softened. “We’re having a baby,” he exhaled. “Two babies.” He crouched down enough to again caress and press kisses to your bump. He wouldn’t be truly satisfied until your very skin was under his lips. “What are they? Boys or girls?”

“I don’t know,” you said, running your fingers through his curls. “I didn’t want to find out without you.”

He surged to his full height, and cupped your face, and kissed you again, fiercely at first, but then softening, becoming unhurried, as your arms slid along his ribs and your hands fisted in the cotton stretched across his upper back.

When you parted, your cheeks were wet, as were his, from a mingling of tears that had fallen from both your eyes. You wiped the wetness from his face, as he did the same.

Shawn finally, truly glanced around at where you had been living for the past month. It was a beautiful space, if too small.

“Let’s go home,” he breathed, easing you from the countertop and setting you again on your feet.

Home.

“What about my stuff?”

“This isn’t your stuff, Love. Your things are in our home, with me.”

“I’ll need my clothes, at least.”

“I’ll buy you new clothes. All the jumpers, and stretchy leggings, and oversized shirts you want, and cute little dresses that will show off your belly this summer,” he beamed. “I want everyone to see what we’ve done.”

“Shawn,” you breathed, tears beginning to gather again.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

You nodded.

“I’ll run you a bath, with bubbles. Maybe make you something to eat while you soak in the tub. You should tell me all the things you’ve been craving and I’ll run to the store.”

You silenced him by running the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip. “That’s not what I need.”

He pecked your thumb. “What is it you need?”

“You. Just you.” You kissed him again. You would spend all night kissing him to make up for lost time. “Although,” you murmured when you eased away, “a bubble bath in our tub does sound incredible.”

“I’ll get in the bath with you then; you can have us both,” he grinned. “And after… we’ll curl up in our bed that’s much too big without you and I’ll spend some time getting to know our babies. I’ll introduce myself and then sing to them and tell them how the past ten weeks without their mommy were the absolute worst of my life.

“And finally, maybe,” his voice soft, eyes imploring, “you might allow me to relearn you, and… your body… to discover all the little changes I didn’t get to see happen as they happened.”

“I missed you,” you professed, breathless with your happiness.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed, his eyes reflecting his devotion, “you have no idea…”

///

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida @weedangel-x @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @hiding-behind-a-flower @silverswallow @chocochipcookie305 @misti-ka

[arcane-writing]

“Got in trouble again?“

A/N: Heya! This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I'm just a tad bit nervous about this ^^' I don't know if I'll write for the whole cast or not, but I knew I just had to start with everyone's fave girl 💞 I hope you'll like it! I honestly don’t really know where I was going with that, but I have a headcanom that after her time in jail, she despises people touching her without seeing it coming and wanted to write a sad Vi (of sort). So yeah, here you go!

Probably gonna have some typos too, sorry!

Vi x GN!Reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Vi x reader, platonic with implied romantic feelings

Word count: 1200 +

Triggers: None

Summary: After she saves you from Silco's men, you notice she's feeling down (more than she should, you think). You take matter in your own hands to help her feel better.

16. massaging them

37. putting their head on the other’s chest

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

Here is the prompt list!

Chest burning, sweat running down your back uncomfortably, you struggle to catch your breath as you hear the withdrawing footsteps behind the walls of your shelter.

When Vi saw you get cornered by Silco’s henchmen, she knew she had to do something. You might not be a fighter, but her years in jail taught her how to take a punch that should have knocked her out, so she knew she could take care of them, even if they outnumbered you two againt eight. She loved a good fight, but not only the mood just wasn’t there today, you could also have gotten hurt in the crossfire. So instead, she grabed your hand, whispered a quick and almost inaudible ‘Run’, and took off.

You both sprinted away for a good 20 minutes, jumping above trash cans, around carts, toppling over people, but during the entire chase, she kept an iron grip on your arm. It had started to hurt only a few seconds in, but the adrenaline numbed you. She hurriedly dragged the both of you inside an abandoned building, and you both did your best to catch your breath without letting your followers hear you.

You knew you needed to get your breathing under control quickly, but blood was pumping loudly in your hears, your entire body was sore and sweating, your lungs screaming for air as Vi shut you up by pressing a hand to your mouth. Her intense gaze was grounding you as you focused on your breath, instead of your impending dirt biting session.

It took a few more minutes before enough oxygen was back into your brain for you to notice how closed you were. She was completely flushed against you, never breaking eye contact even though you knew she was listening to what was going on outside. She just didn’t want to loose sight of you.

You know you're safe when she slowly let you go as you manage a hoarse ‘thank you’. A nod and side grin that you translate as 'you're welcome' and you sit down, hoping that the room will stop spinning soon.

She slumps down on the remains of the stone wall behind her and rubs her hands on her face, letting out the most tired and frustrated groan she can muster. The ache in your legs after you little run was a clear indicator that you’re more out of shape than you thought.

"How's your wrist, cupcake?" She asks and sends a nod your way.

You didn't even notice you were holding it. It hurts. She's a lot stronger than she looks, and she already looks like she could break mountains with her bare hands.

"I've had worse," you whisper back. You force a smile out, still trying to swallow the lump of exhaustion and what remains of your earlier panic, but you know it comes out as a weird grimace.

While Vi doesn’t seem shaken up at all – frustratingly so –, you can see how her shoulders slump forward, how she keeps her head low when she looks around, how uncharacteristically quiet she is, and it suddenly dawns on you.

She’s anxious. Vi' never anxious.

You let out a resigned sigh. You’re exhausted. Your entire body is screaming in pain, you still haven’t recovered all of your breath. But… she dropped  whatever important thing she was doing just to help you out, and you know she could have severely hurt herself during the chase. You remember seeing her throw herself between you and walls during a few hard turns that you couldn't make.

Gathering the little courage you can still fuel with adrenaline and guilt, you get up – not as gracefully as you'd hoped –, and walk up behind your friend. You hesitate just a second before you put your hands on her tense shoulders, and give it a light squeeze. She tenses up even more, grabs your wrist, and spits, “No.”

“No?” You repeat, hesitation in your voice. She immediately let go of your wrist when she hears you wince, still sore from the hold she had on you a few minutes ago.

She's never been that harsh before. Not with you.

You lighten your touch but don’t remove your hands yet. You want to let her make the call. You feel her take a shaking breath under you, hear her swallow, and exhale slowly. "You looked tense, but if it makes you uncomfortable –" she cuts you off with a hurried, "No! Sorry, I just – I wasn’t expecting that. You can, uh, you can keep doing that. It feels nice.”

She throws you a reassuring smile before she turns back and press herself completely against you. Not without a flushed smile, you start kneeding her broad shoulders in tight circles, careful not to hurt her. The regular movements start lulling you in, and you let your head empty itself as you start lowering your massage into her back. You work on the knots carefully and while her strong musculature isn’t suprising, it doesn’t leave you unnaffected.

You focus entirely on the task at hand and almost miss her relieved sigh as you drag your hands lower.

You slowly go back up, kneeding between her shoulder blades before pressing into her shoulders again, and make your way up her neck. You’re a lot more gentle than you were on her back, and start pressing small circles on the sides of her neck. Her head rolls back and she press it against your chest. You can see her eyes close, her feature softer than you’ve ever seen them, and her full lips slightly part open, curved upward on one side in a contented half smile.

Seeing her like this is enough to bring you back in the moment. You’re suddenly painfully aware of how her warmth reachs you despite your clothes, how close she is, and how she seems to melt under your touch.

You only notice you stoped working on her when she cracks an eye open to look up at you and ask, "Why d’you stop, hon," her voice sweet and smooth, like the rest of her.

Heat flowing up your neck and face, you tried to focus on what you were doing, knowing full well she would never let you hear the end of this if she knew how flustered she made you. You’d be lying if you said you never thought about being close to her like this. You just weren’t sure if you could get used to the hold she has on you, and pray for her to put your rapidely beating heart on the account of the chase.

You ignore the fact that you’ve been here for at least twenty minutes now. You know she knows. You don’t want to think about it, so you get back to work.

It took you another fifteen minutes before you really got tired and sat down next to her. A shame, really. She threw her arm around you before you even fully sat down, resting her head on yours.

“Thanks, boo. I really needed that,” she says, her voice ever so soft as she nuzzles your hair.

“That’s the least I could do after you saved my ass,” you chuckle together, but her laughter dies down quicker than usual. “Hey, um,” you start. “I know you don’t usually talk about feelings and stuff, but...” you turn to look at her and wrap an arm around her waist, holding her close.

“Look, I noticed you’ve been... kind of down, lately. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't feel like it, but if you need to talk, I’m here for you,” you squeeze her waist and her features soften.

She brings you back against her. “I know. I don't really feel like talking right now, but... I trust you”

"Okay. I've got you."

"I know you do."

[princessfbi]

If it inspires, “just be honest with me. do you want this?” from the sacred romantic prompts.

“Just be honest with me. Do you want this?”

Buck froze as Eddie held up the very bane of Buck's existence.

Listen, Buck loved his boyfriend with all his heart. He loved every part of him that came into existence the moment Eddie decided Buck was trustworthy enough to peek behind the curtain. He loved the way Eddie smiled like it surprised him. He loved the way he laughed and tried to hide it. He loved the way when Eddie got nervous he cleaned and rearranged furniture like he was trying to nest for the spring. He loved the way he was quiet and kind and gentle and firm and strong and charismatic and charming and shy.

He loved everything about his boyfriend.

But Eddie couldn't pick out a Christmas present if he tried.

And he tried. Buck knew exactly how Eddie's thought process had gone. He would've started his Christmas shopping with the hardest people on the list first and left Buck for last because Eddie would've been totally sure that he knew exactly what to get him. Then he would've started to panic and doubted himself for even considering his first idea. Then he would've pivoted to something over the top and romantic only to realize he didn't have time and that said gift would be over the top and romantic and entirely impractical. But then he would've turned right on his heel and settle on something practical.

No romance. Just practical.

Buck loved that about him too.

But that also didn't mean he wanted a cup holder phone clip... thing for Christmas. Not when his Jeep automatically connected to his phone via bluetooth.

Buck had thought he'd done a great job acting surprised when he'd opened it but apparently Eddie had seen right through him.

He held up the phone thingy with such annoyance that it was almost adorable if Buck also didn't know Eddie well enough to know that the creeping frustration at himself was crawling up Eddie's neck too.

"No," Buck said and admitting it felt like a punch to the chest but Eddie had asked for honesty and Buck was trying to get better at that. "No but it was... It was super thoughtfu—"

"Boring. It was super boring." Eddie sighed as he dropped the... whatever the hell it was onto the table where the remnants of their dinner was still sitting, waiting to be scraped into Tupperware.

"I'm sorry." Eddie groaned as he shoved a hand across his face to rub into his eyes. Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year but for a parent it was also the most tiring and Buck had seen how the exhaustion had started to creep into Eddie's expression. That's why his gift had consisted of some expensive oils that Buck had gotten Eddie with a promise of a deep back rub later that night. "I panicked and I just—"

"Hey," Buck said, crossing the space between them and abandoning the dishes easily. "Hey, no babe. C'mon!"

He scooped up Eddie's cheeks into his hands and let Eddie lean his weight into him.

"Hey, I love the thought." Buck promised as he pressed a kiss against the corner of Eddie's mouth where he was still frowning. "I mean it."

"You like to drive around when you can't sleep." Eddie all but pouted and Buck kind of regretted his honesty.

"I do. The fact that you know that means more to me than a present," Buck said before he leaned down and kissed Eddie over and over again until he felt him sigh. "I promise. It's okay. You could've gotten me nothing and it would've been okay because you came here to hang out and eat dinner."

Eddie dipped his head to duck into the hollow of Buck's throat and Buck curled his arms around him to hold him tight.

"I panicked." Eddie bemoaned, still kicking himself and Buck couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"I know. But I mean it, babe. I'm fine."

"Should've just stuck to what I had planned first."

And it was only because he was curious that Buck even asked.

"What did you have planned?"

Eddie squeezed Buck tight against him and kissed the spot on Buck's throat that always made him shiver beneath the touch of Eddie's lips.

"Was going to give you a key."

Buck's heart thumped once against his chest before he snorted. Okay he could see where Eddie's problem had started.

"I already have a key."

"I know!" Eddie groaned. "But I—"

Buck got it. Eddie had wanted to do something special. Wanted to give Buck the next step in their relationship because Eddie knew that would've meant the world to him. But they'd already skipped so many steps before they even started dating that the sentiments had already been bulldozed over by them.

"How about a drawer?" Buck countered. He already had half of one technically but there was something about Buck's things meshing with Eddie's that made his heart flutter in his chest. The way Eddie could just sneak one of his shirts on like it was nothing. The way Buck didn't have to plan when he stayed over or leave early to get some clothes for his shift.

Eddie hummed as he considered it before he nodded.

"Drawer is a much better present than a phone cupholder."

Then he inhaled where his nose was pressed against Buck's throat and slipped his hand up the small of Buck's back, dipping beneath his t-shirt to sear his touch into Buck's skin.

"Merry Christmas. I got you a drawer." Eddie said, his voice still thick with a hint of a pout that made Buck bark out a laugh in surprise.

"Best present ever. I love it," Buck said before his breath hitched in the back of his throat as Eddie slipped his other hand down the seat of Buck's pants.

Eddie pulled himself away from Buck if only to lean up for a kiss that had Buck swooning into the sway Eddie was setting.

"I love you," Eddie said before he captured Buck's mouth again for another kiss that took Buck out at the knees.

And maybe Buck lied. Maybe that was the best Christmas present ever.

Send Me A Sacred Romantic Prompt

[cellophaine]

Home With You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3003

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I figured I should give you guys a break from my smutty contents lol. And I just wanted to write an indulgent fluff piece.

As always, every likes, comments, reblogs, feedbacks and ask submissions are greatly appreciated! My heart goes into cha-cha-cha mode whenever I receive notifications from you guys (it's a happy mode)

Prompt requested by: Anonyomous (love you anon <3)

------

"Matt?!"

You called out as you walked into his apartment; the exhaustion crept into your voice. His name echoed back to you in the empty place, a tell-tale sign of Matt's absence. You huffed out a frustrated sigh as you stepped out of your heels, padding into the living room on bare feet, much to your relief. You dropped your briefcase to the floor with abandon, planting face-first onto the couch, releasing another weary sigh. This was the third night in a row you missed him on his way out, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point, it had become a regular occurrence. You felt like you barely saw him as of late. All you had was the little time in the mornings with Matt's body wrapped around yours in the bed. And it wasn't enough. How could it be?

Your workload as a paralegal at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz had picked up in the past few months. The pay was more than decent, but it resulted in more time assisting Jeri Hogarth in cases and less time spending with your boyfriend. The immense amount of guilt you felt kept building up, as you knew Matt was not happy about your situation, but he always knew what to say to make you feel better. You had spent time running around New York for researches, staying late at the office at Hogarth's requests.

The days would always end with you worn out to the bones. Matt hated how the job was clawing at you, chipping away a piece of you every day, leaving you stressed out and exhausted. But he was supportive anyway, understanding that it was your choice in the matter. And so, Matt was the only constant, comforting source in your life. He would be there every time you woke up, cuddling and kissing you, making sure that you had all your meals throughout the day, taking care of you when you couldn't do it yourself.

You dragged your enervated self into the shower, lathering yourself up with Matt's shampoo and body, indulging in his scent under the hot water. The clean smell of his soap in the shower steam helped relieve the ache of missing him in your chest. You had slept over his apartment every night. Still, ironic enough, you felt like you drifted away further from him, not of your own volition. Matt was the anchor that kept you close, but how long would it last? How long would he be willing to stay?

You patted yourself dry, walking into his bedroom, the air cool on your exposed skin. You opened the closet, pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You hugged it close to your chest, dropping your head low to inhale the smell of him. You pulled the shirt on along with his too-big sweatpants, tightening the strings at the waistband. You put on his socks, too, tucking them over the hems of the sweats, just like how he always did it. A habit of his that you had absorbed. A bittersweet thought struck you. Despite being in his apartment, often living in his space more than your own, you wore his clothes just to feel closer to him. He was close but never close enough.

You found your way to the couch again, plopping your head on the pillow. You curled into yourself, settling in a comfortable position. You didn't bother with dinner, for you craved something else. You just wanted him here. You wanted to spend every second you could get with him to make up for the time you had missed. You tried to stay up, waiting for him to come back. But the toll of the day pulled on your eyelids, luring you into sleep with much resistance from you.

A weightless feeling woke you from your sleep. You blinked sleepily; your hazy vision revealed Matt, still in his Daredevil suit, the helmet was nowhere in sight. His unseeing eyes radiated the comfort and affection you loved, and you hummed happily at the blessed sight of him. A smile pulled on the corner of Matt's lips as he laid you down on the bed, pulling the soft blanket over you. He brushed your hair off your eyes before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled sleepily at his gesture, tilting your face up as his warmth left your skin. Your lips met his halfway, and you sighed into the kiss that you craved with the entirety of your being. You needed this, needed him; you yearned for him. Your hand found its way to him; his light stubble tickled your fingertips. You caressed his face, needing to touch, to feel him, as the kiss grew heavy. Finally, he pulled back from you with much reluctance, within your reach, just enough so you could hear his whisper.

"Have you had dinner? I left you your favourite in the fridge."

You pressed your head into the pillow before shaking your head, along with a muffled confirmation of his suspicion. His brows furrowed, and you quickly pulled on his jaw, drawing him closer. You resumed the kiss, and once again, Matt was the one who broke away. Lowering your voice in a soothing tone, you asked in the hope of distracting him.

"Do you have any injuries that needed to be looked at?"

"It was a pretty uneventful night. I know what you're doing, and it's not working."

He responded at once; his head shook slightly in disapproval. He knew you too well. You knew that. But you didn't want to get up while all you wanted was to bask in his familiarity, his warmth again.

"I had a very long day. I just want to go back to sleep, with you. Please?"

Your desperate plea tugged at his heart. His eyes softened as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Alright. But you will have a big breakfast, first thing when you get up."

You bit your lip, brows waggling at him, even though you knew he couldn't see that. A playful, suggestive tone glided into your voice.

"Oh, I definitely would like something 'big' for breakfast."

He let out a small laugh at your terrible tease.

"I'm serious. I was gone for a few hours, and you already neglected yourself."

"I promise. I'll be yours for the entire weekend. Now, can you get your ass in this bed, preferably naked? Pretty please."

He chuckled, standing up to pull his protective gear off. A few rustles later, the mattress dipped as Matt climbed into the bed behind you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing butterfly kisses on your hair. You turned onto your back, giving him easier access to your lips. He eagerly took you on your offer, pulling you in for a soft kiss, so soft that it made you melt into his embrace. He moved to kiss your cheeks, making his way to your eyelids, ending the kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

You turned to your side to cuddle into him, curling your hand behind his muscular back. You nuzzled your face into his firm chest, kissing and nibbling sleepily on the naked skin. You fell asleep promptly, grateful for the weekend ahead of you.

Your phone buzzed again and again on Matt's bedside table. You groaned, burrowing your face further into Matt's chest. The faint scent of blood and sweat, of Matt, infiltrated your senses through a daze. However, whoever on the other side stayed persistent; calls came in after calls. Finally, you untangled your limbs from Matt's with frustration, answering the call to hear Hogarth's voice on the other side.

"Where the fuck are you? Why didn't you pick up your damn phone?"

"It's… it's the weekend."

"And? This case won't go away itself. Come in now, or you're fired."

Your ears met with the dead tone from the other line. You fell back onto the warm bed, feeling like you could burst into tears. Pressing your face into the pillow, you muffled a silent scream. Matt propped on his elbow, caressing your back with the other hand.

"Stay here. Quit the job. You deserve so much better than how Hogarth's treating you."

You murmured.

"I can't. Her words have weight. She can really help me with my career. The pay isn't bad either."

"I know, but it's not worth it. I don't like seeing you bend over backward to every of her demand. I can feel your exhaustion every night. I hate seeing you so harrowed and stressed out."

You sighed heavily.

"It's not like I can quit right away. Not until I can secure a better job somewhere else. Rent in Hell's Kitchen is crazy. Until then, I'm stuck with her."

You moved around in the place, talking to Matt as you got ready. When you stepped out of the bathroom into the living room, dressed in your work attire, Matt walked over to where you stood, offering you a cup of tea. You smiled sadly at him, stroking his cheeks. Then, you raised on your tiptoe, kissing him swiftly before picking up your briefcase, making your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I can't drink the tea. I'm already late. I'll see you later tonight?"

Matt fell into silence; his head turned away from your direction. The mugs of tea in his hands stayed still and abandoned. You felt an awful jerk on your heartstring for leaving him like this. You spoke softly.

"I love you."

One moment of silence, then two. Matt reluctantly spoke, his voice small, barely audible.

"Love you, too."

You gnawed on your bottom lip in defeat, walking out the door. Your heart grew heavier with every step you took, carrying you further away from him.

When the elevator opened, you were working at your desk, just outside of Hogarth's office. You looked up just in time as the infamous P.I of Hell's Kitchen walked past your desk, sparing a glance towards you. You sprang up from your seat, running after her.

"Ms. Jones, I'm sorry, but you can't go in there. Unfortunately, Ms. Hogarth is not available at the moment."

Jones reeked of alcohol, but there was no sign of intoxication. She scoffed.

"I don't care if she's fucking another secretary in there. Step aside. I don't want to hurt you."

You stood in her path, taking your stance. Although preventing Jessica Jones from entering your boss' office wasn't your job, Hogarth made you do it anyway. She made you do many things that went beyond your responsibilities as a paralegal, as she always held her power over your head like an invisible sword, readied to strike at any given time.

Jessica rolled her eyes, sidestepping you. You stuck your foot out in her path, making her boot catch on your heel. She stumbled lightly, whirling around to face you.

"Seriously?"

You swallowed, shrugging.

"A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do."

"Maybe that girl should get another job and stop working for that monster."

Jessica quickened her pace, pushing the door open as you chased after her.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hogarth, but she …."

"… tired of your shit, Hogarth. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Jessica gritted out the words. Your boss sent a deathly glare at you.

"Leave us."

She flicked a wrist at you, and you closed the door behind you as fast as you could. You went back to your desk, speeding through your mountain of paperwork. About half an hour later, Jessica walked out with a menacing expression on her face, heading straight for the elevator. Jeri walked out about two minutes later, looming over your desk.

"If that happens again, I will personally destroy your little, pathetic career. You hear me?"

You nodded solemnly.

"Have them on my desk before 5."

Hogarth left you alone for the rest of your time there. You were done with the work at a little over 3 PM. You dropped it off, and it was refreshing to see a surprise expression on her face for once instead of the usual scowl you received. Then, you headed straight for Matt's place, couldn't wait to get back to your boyfriend, despite the little not-an-argument you had earlier that day.

He wasn't home when you got there. You sighed, afraid you had messed things up with him. After changing into something more comfortable, you sat down on Matt's kitchen table with your laptop open and a steamy plate of food Matt left you last night. You sat there, your fingers tapping away on your device for what felt like hours until you heard the sound of the door being opened. Matt walked in, dressed in his usual gym clothes with a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His face was flushed, his hair stuck out adorably. You stood up, lingering at the chair. You cleared your throat.

"I'm… sorry for this morning. Are we … okay?"

You ached to hug him, to be gathered into his arms, to kiss him. Your bottom lip trembled slightly. You wouldn't know what to do if he said no.

He could sense your uncertainty with every word. His face softened at your vulnerable disposition, his arms opened wide, dropping his cane and bag to the floor with little care.

"Of course we are."

You lunged into his embrace, holding him tight as he picked you up easily, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You found his lips, pouring your heart and soul into the kiss. Eventually, you pulled away from each other as you gasped for air, your foreheads touching.

Matt lowered you down to the ground, still holding you in his arms, his hand caressing your spine in a soothing motion.

"I'm looking up other jobs. Hogarth is … horrible, and I'm always stressed out. You're right. It's not worth it."

"You know … Nelson & Murdock can use a helping hand."

Matt raised his brow at you; an endearing grin pulled at the corner of his lips. You smacked his chest playfully.

"As if I'm not helping you guys in my free time already."

You trailed a finger from the waistband of his sweats, ghosting over his abdomen and chest, ended your way at the pulse on his neck, stroking the delicate arc of his throat. Matt let out a small groan of pleasure.

"That means you already have an in with the firm."

You squinted your eyes at Matt while he feigned innocence.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I would love to have you there. We still have to discuss this with Foggy, but I think he'd be thrilled."

The earnestness in his voice was unconcealed. Working for Matt and Foggy was a tempting proposal, but you wanted to give it some thought first.

"Let me think about it."

The week started anew, with another visit from Jessica Jones. Only this time, you didn't cease your work pace, even as she walked past your desk. Jessica halted, looking at you skeptically.

"Why are you not stopping me right now? Did Hogarth call of her little guard dog?"

You looked up from your computer screen, giving her a nonchalant shrug.

"Nah, the order is still in effect. But I don't care."

The P.I gave you a nod and headed for Hogarth's office.

Before the workday ended, you were summoned by your fuming boss. Hogarth stood at her desk, a glass of whiskey clutched tight in her hand. She looked upon your entry, sneering at you.

"What part of preventing Jessica Jones from entering my office that you didn't understand? Do you —"

"I understand. I just don't care."

You dropped off the folder on Hogarth's desk. She narrowed her eyes at the manila envelope.

"This is my letter of resignation. I quit. I would say it was an honour to work with you, but that would be a lie."

You left the office that day feeling so much better than you had felt in months. There was a spring in your steps as you climbed the stairs to Matt's place. You walked in as an aroma of mouthwatering food being cooked engulfed you, welcoming you home. Matt was in the kitchen, facing the stove. You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Matt lifted an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. Then, he turned off the stove, fully angled his body to you and gave you a warm embrace.

"So you did it? How did she take it?"

"She was furious, Matt. She threatened to make sure I could never practice law ever again. Over and over. But I'm not worried. She can threaten me however she wants. I know the law."

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You're better off without her. And if she dared to do that, you wouldn't be alone. Foggy and I will have your back."

You hugged him even tighter, pressing your ear to the steady rhythm of his heart. You stayed like that for a moment as the sound of Hell's Kitchen played in the background. Matt buried his nose into your hair, peppering your face with kisses. Then, at last, he spoke up.

"So, have you given more thoughts on working for Nelson & Murdock?"

You made a tsk sound, tapping a finger against your lips, pretending to be in deep thoughts.

"I don't know. Wouldn't it make quite a scandal since I'm dating one of the bosses?"

"Considering the other boss already knows about the arrangement, no one else has to. We can keep a secret -"

Matt dipped his head; his lips brushed over the curve of your ear purposefully. The mere contact sent a shiver down your spine in anticipation. Finally, he released the last part of his sentence; his voice dropped dangerously low, dripped in an alluring invitation.

"- and have fun with it."

[doyelikehaggis]

yay! could i request a dialogue prompt 26 with creddie, please? :) thank you!! <3

Of course you can! I'm so happy you chose Creddie as I haven't been able to get them out of my mind since the new season came back. Hope this is okay!! <3 (Talk of endometriosis and period symptoms, just in case that kind of thing puts you off!)

A quiet groan from behind Freddie has him rushing to finish filling the glass in his hand with cool water, throwing a glance over his shoulder. For a second, he has a terrible image of destruction, a broken leg, head colliding with the coffee table. He abandons the glass entirely.

Carly's barely managing to push herself up into a sitting position, so there's really no reason to worry, but he still kneels himself at her side by the couch. For one, it at least puts an obstacle between her and the coffee table.

"Oh god," Carly groans and lets her entire body flop back down into a crumpled heap. She closes her eyes and shakes her head into the couch cushions. "I'm gonna throw up."

"Do you want help to the bathroom, or do you want me to get a bucket?" Freddie asks gently, resting a hand lightly on her blanketed leg. He tries to keep his face a mask of reasonable concern on the off chance that she opens her eyes.

She shakes her head again, pressing her face further into the cushions. Some hair covers her face and she makes no effort to fix it, so he does it for her as it gets in her mouth while she mumbles.

"What was that?" he asks. "Sorry, didn't quite catch it."

"False alarm, I think," she mumbles again, though somewhat clearer.

She takes a deep breath in through her nose and some of the lines of pain ease from her forehead. Finally, her eyes open, slow and blinking like a sloth, and only a slit enough for her to look at him.

He swallows hard and tries to smile. Moving his hand to take one of hers, he squeezes it gently and presses a kiss to her knuckles as he, too, takes a deep breath. It's definitely not relief he feels -- that'll only come when he knows for certain that she's okay -- but he's at least glad that she's able to talk now, which definitely wasn't the case an hour ago.

When he looks back up at her face, he finds her gaze fixed on him, simply watching. Her lips twitch as though to smile but she doesn't quite manage.

"Can I get anything for you?" he asks softly, trying to ignore the helpless feeling that's been tying him up in knots all day. "Is the heat pad helping at all?"

Carly hums, which Freddie takes as a yes. Then she shakes her head.

"I'm just exhausted from it," she tells him. "The painkillers are doing nothing either. Not surprised. They never really do. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, going through it every month and all."

"It's okay that you're not," Freddie says, gazing up at her. "Endometriosis is a bitch. I'd fight it for you, you know, if that didn't mean I'd have to fight you. We both know I'd lose, then."

Carly laughs, which is exactly what he was hoping for. She immediately groans and curls into a tighter ball, and he feels bad, but a smile lingers on her face.

"Yeah, you would," she says fondly. "I should probably just sleep it off but I... I don't know, I feel weird. It's kinda freaking me out."

Freddie presses another light kiss to her hand. "It's okay, Carls. You can sleep, you'll be fine. And," he settles himself properly against the couch, lacing their fingers, "I'm right here. I won't leave your side. Okay?"

He carefully drags the back of his fingers across her cheek as she hums again and lets her eyes flutter a little. It's obvious she wants to give in; the more she sleeps, the less pain she'll be in.

"Go back to sleep, darling," he says softly. "I'll keep an eye on you, make sure you're okay. Promise."

She jokingly runs her pinky finger up the side of his with a small smile, and while she's too tired to say the words, he knows what she's asking.

"Pinky swear," he says as her eyes finally close again.

Taking a deep breath, he rests his head in his other palm and watches her quietly drift back into what he's hoping is a peaceful sleep. He means to keep his promise and not move until she wakes again, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb so that she knows he's still there even in her subconscious.