#and actually if they were going to plant something surely it would be more vague and not so HARRy STYLES

[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 2 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

maknae line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: choi san x f!reader, song mingi x f!reader, jung wooyoung x f!reader, choi jongho x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

author's note: MERRY TEEZMAS! Here's the maknae line, finally! I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Once again found myself writing much more for the maknae line but sue me, it's where 2/3 of my bias line lives!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Choi San: “Are you sure you want to do this? My family really wouldn’t mind coming to Seoul instead.” San fixed you with a worried look.

“Choi San,” you rolled your eyes, “I promise you, I’m not only happy but excited to see Namhae. It’s where you grew up, it’s important to me. I don’t care if everyone there knows your name, I don’t care if I’ll get dirty glares in the grocery store. As long as you’re with me, everything will be fine. I want to see every part of you and the town you grew up in is part of that.” 

San’s troubled expression softened, his lips curling into a small smile, dimples revealing themselves on his cheeks, “I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He picked you up before you could protest, spinning you in a circle before gently letting your feet meet the ground once again, pulling you into a swift, tender kiss, “I’m going to make it worth it for you, I promise.”

“Spending time with you is always worth it, Sannie.” You kissed his left cheek, unable to hold back any longer, his dimples having tempted you for too long. 

“Stop being so sweet or we’ll never get on the road.” He teased, planting one last kiss to your forehead before gathering your suitcases into his hands and heading outside towards the Uber. There wasn’t a great way to drive there from the city, so you’d be taking a very quick flight, likely spending just as long in the airport as you would on the plane. At least your days in economy seating were over since having started dating San. 

Airports gave you mega anxiety, and you were soon reminded of several reasons you loved your boyfriend so much. The way he could sense your nerves, keeping you close to his side, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, holding onto your ticket and boarding pass for you so you didn’t have to panic every time you thought you misplaced it, speaking softly in your ear to help distract you from your surroundings. 

He guided you in front of him through security, knowing you didn’t like feeling left behind. He was caught up with security for a minute as his bag passed through the sensor. You could see him trying to remain calm, speaking to the workers in a rushed but polite tone and wondered what the hold up was, but as soon as you were about to approach to check in, he was being waved through, an understanding seeming to have been reached. 

“Everything okay?” You asked as he approached.

“All good,” He smiled at you reassuringly, “Just couldn’t figure out what my razor was I guess.”

“Ah, yes, because you definitely wouldn’t be more dangerous with just your bare hands.” You joked.

“Exactly.” He laughed.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch, and soon you were waiting on the curb outside of the small airport, excitedly waiting for San’s parents to arrive to take you to their house. 

You loved his family, and they were always so warm and welcoming to you. It was so nice to see them in this context, the town they knew so well and loved. 

Once at their house, you got to see something you’d been dying to witness since you met the man, “Byeoli!” San squealed as his cat trotted out and began rubbing on his ankles, purring loudly, “Hi, baby! It’s so good to see you.”

You knelt down beside San, and Byeol approached cautiously, sniffing your finger until finally deciding she approved, rubbing her cheek on your hand. 

“Look at that. My two girls meeting at last.” San beamed at you, “She likes you. But I always knew she had good taste.”

“He has the best taste, isn’t that right, Byeol?” You addressed the cat rather than San. 

After unloading your luggage into San’s childhood bedroom (still decorated the same, much to your amusement), the two of you were sent on a grocery run for some last minute things San’s mom needed for dinner that night. 

San had been right to warn you. No less than ten people in the grocery store recognized him, assessing you in varying degrees of approval, ranging from polite acceptance to obvious, poorly hidden distaste and jealousy. But the latter didn’t hurt your feelings as much as you thought it would, easy to ignore with how proud San looked when he introduced you to them. 

You adored hearing San wax poetic about his memories of his hometown as you drove around, taking an unnecessarily scenic route back home, how his face lit up when he saw that his favorite old ice cream shop was still open, the billboard with his face on it, which he blushed at the sight of, his high school, the park where he had his first kiss, his dad’s taekwondo studio. All of it was so distinctly him, painting the picture of the man with whom you were so deeply in love with as you put images to places you had only heard described to you before. 

“San,” You grabbed his hand as he parked the car back in the driveway, “Thank you for showing me.”

“It’s not much to show,” He shrugged, “But it’s part of me.”

“It means the world to me, baby. You mean the world to me, and this town is part of you. Don’t undersell its value.”

He picked up your hand that was holding his, bringing it to his lips, kissing each knuckle gently, “I don’t think I realized how important it was for you to see it until we were here.” He sighed, “So thank you, jagi.”

“Any time, my love.” You smiled at him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the look he was giving you, amazed that after all this time, he could still elicit that sensation within you so easily. 

You pulled him into a quick, deep kiss, pulling away before the two of you got lost in it, knowing everyone inside was awaiting your return. 

San's older sister and brother-in-law arrived shortly after and you couldn't stop smiling at how happy you were with these people. You were all but estranged from your own family and before you met San, the holidays were spent either with friends or alone and it never really bothered you too much, but now, experiencing what this was like, it was making you emotional. 

As you sat by San's side on the couch in their living room while everyone got caught up, you felt a tear escape your eye, rolling warm down your cheek.

San caught on immediately as you went to wipe it away, “Hey,” he squeezed your hand, “Everything okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “Sorry, I just really love your family. You know how mine is…”

“Oh, honey,” San wrapped his arm around you, pulling you securely to his side, “I know. You never had this, huh?” 

You shook your head. 

“Well they're your family now, too, jagi.” He assured you. 

San's sister overheard the last part, “Oh, did you already-” 

San cut her off before she could continue, ignoring the confused look on your face, “Let's do gifts!” 

Later that night, you had assured San you could be quiet when you couldn't take his teasing any longer, but you were having a hard time keeping that promise as his tongue lavished your core with expert precision, clasping a hand over your mouth as he carried you over the edge, other hand clasped tight in his hair, desperately trying to keep your movements small but unable to control your hips bucking against his face as you reached your peak, waves of pleasure rolling over you. 

He pulled back, crawling towards you again, settling in behind you, kissing all over your shoulders and neck, “I will never get tired of that.” He whispered, and you could hear the smile on his voice. 

“I hope that's true, because I sure as hell won't.” You turned to catch him in a lopsided kiss, “Let me help you, too, baby.”

“Jagi,” he kissed you sweetly, pulling away to yawn, but lining his cock up to your entrance nonetheless, “How did I get so lucky?” 

“If you're too tired-”

“Never.”

He started rolling his hips slowly, knowing the exact motion that drove you crazy. You were still coming down from your last orgasm and he built it back quickly. Soon, you were clenching around him and his hips stilled as he followed. You tried to adjust to pull yourself off of him, but he wrapped an arm around you, stopping you, “Mmh, no, just stay. You're so warm.” 

“I-” You chuckled as you heard him already breathing heavy, falling to sleep, “Yeah, okay. Anything for you, baby.” 

You awoke a little while later to the feeling of San hard inside you again, unable to stop from clenching at the feeling, realizing he was awake and was obviously trying to stay still. 

“Go ahead, baby, use me.” You whispered. 

He grunted in acknowledgement, rolling you to your stomach and fucking you slowly and carefully into the mattress, your face graciously buried in the pillow to muffle any noises that may have tried to escape. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were falling apart once again. This time, once you had ridden your orgasms out, San pulled out and allowed you to get up and go to the bathroom. 

When you returned, he was sitting up in bed, a wild look on his face as you climbed in beside him, “Jagiya, I lied earlier at the airport.”

“You what? When?” You were racking your brain for anything he had said that might have been false. 

“It wasn’t my razor that confused security,” he pulled a ring box from under his pillow, “It was this.” He opened it, revealing the ring of your dreams, “I was serious earlier though, when I said you're family now. I already consider myself the luckiest man on earth having you by my side, and I want that to be true. Permanently. Take my name. Join my family. And let's start our own someday. Please, love? Marry me.” 

“Choi San.” You felt tears well up again, “Yes, God, yes. Nothing would make me happier.” 

“Choi Y/N.” He whispered it like a prayer. You were his family now and he was yours. You could hardly sleep in your excitement afterwards, making out with your fiance into the early hours of the morning. 

Song Mingi: The bed dipping with added weight roused you from a deep sleep. Blue early morning light streamed in through the curtains as you blinked open your eyes. 

“Mingi?” Your voice cracked as you sat up, bleary eyed and disoriented, reaching for the bottle of water you kept on your bedside table. 

“Baby!” Mingi’s deep voice rattled your sleepy brain as he pounced on top of the suitcase he had just hefted onto the bed, “Can you help me out real quick?”

“What time is it?” You groaned. 

“7am! Come on, we need to be on the road at 8!” 

“Song Mingi. Once upon a time, you and I bonded over the fact that we're not morning people.” You grumbled as you tossed the comforter aside to assist your goofy boyfriend. 

“I know, that's why I was very brave and got up early to pack for us. There’s coffee on in the kitchen, cutie.” He kissed your temple hastily as you came around to help hold the pieces of the suitcase together for him to zip. 

“Okay, I forgive you- wait, is this all games? Do you really think you can get the guys to play Catan again after what happened last time?” You eyed him skeptically. 

“Wooyoung and Jongho made up a week later!” He defended himself, “You know I've gotta at least try.”

“I know, I know.” You rolled your eyes, “It's your favorite.” 

“No, baby.” He grunted as the zipper finally closed all the way, “You're my favorite.” He tackled you back onto the bed, peppering your face with kisses, ending with a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, “I love you a whole lot, have I said that recently?”

“Hmm.” You pretended to consider it, “I mean, not in the last business day, probably.”

Mingi gasped, “Inconceivable!” He practically shouted in your ear, resuming his attack. 

“You're the silliest goose on the whole pond.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

“As long as it's your pond.” He replied, hopping to his feet and pulling you up behind him, not awaiting your reply, “C'mon, go get dressed! I'll go pour you some coffee.” 

“You're acting more odd than normal and I'm going to figure out why.” You mumbled as you trudged over to your dresser, finding it nearly empty, “Wait, Mingi, did you pack for me, too?” You called to him in the kitchen.

“Yeah! I just grabbed everything!” He called back, “I laid you out an outfit, it's on your desk chair.”

You looked over to find a pair of his sweats and one of his oversized t-shirts with your bra and a pair of underwear laid on top. “These are your clothes!” You yelled through a chuckle. 

“You look so cute in my clothes,” He reentered the room, handing you your favorite coffee mug, “Plus, I kinda packed everything I've ever seen you wear.” 

You rolled your eyes as you began changing in front of him. 

“Ugh, baby. That's no fair.” He whined.

“What?” You asked, confused, as you pulled on clean underwear.

“You're so hot and I don't even have time to have sex with you about it.” Mingi pouted, ogling you from his position on the bed. 

You laughed, crossing over to him with only underwear on, “Not with that attitude.” 

Half an hour and three orgasms later, Mingi came up for air from in between your legs, licking his lips like he had just eaten the most delicious meal in the world - he probably would argue he had, if you'd asked him. 

“Jagi,” You gasped, still breathing hard as he kissed up your torso, “We have to get on the road.”

Mingi pouted but didn't protest too much, letting you up to get dressed and pack your toiletries. 

Yunho's lake house had become a yearly tradition for the eight of them, everyone heading there a couple of days after Christmas to stay through New Years. Plus ones were prohibited except for “serious” relationships, which they typically defined as at least engaged. You had thought Mingi might propose on Christmas, but you were even more excited at the thought of it happening on New Years Eve. 

Christmas this year had been lovely. He had an uncanny ability for gift giving, you suspected he kept a running list of every thing you mentioned vaguely wanting throughout the year, and this year was no exception. His mom had the two of you over for Christmas, feeding you far too much and giving you knowing glances like she knew what laid ahead for you in the very near future. You were so grateful with how welcoming she had been since you started dating Mingi, knowing how big of a momma's boy he was, her approval meant everything to you. You would have been happy had he proposed at Christmas, and as much as having his mom's approval meant to you, you absolutely adored the seven other members of his group, considering them to already be like brothers to you, and by how they treated you, you figured they considered you similarly. Truth be told though, you would be thrilled no matter where or when he proposed. 

Road trips were one of your favorite things to do with Mingi. They were always filled with silly made-up car games and singing along to music at the beginning, turning to comfortable silence with his hand on your thigh as he drove, talking intermittently about anything and everything and nothing at all towards the end. Most of all, you loved the uninterrupted time you got just to simply stare at him and take him in. You thought he was the most beautiful person on the planet, every detail of his face and body a work of art in and of itself. 

“...and that's why I don't think you'd ever remember it even if you had been abducted by aliens.” Mingi concluded his thesis as he pulled the car into the driveway of the lake house at last. 

“Hmm.” You considered, “I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one, my love.” 

“I'm taking a vote when we go in.” Mingi shot you a challenging look as he got out of the driver's seat, darting around to your door to open it for you before you could do it yourself. 

“Good, I can't wait to win the vote.” You teased him, leaning in for a kiss, gasping as he pulled a fast one on you, leaning in to return it only to turn away and deny you at the last second. 

“Song Mingi!” You chastised him, “Fine. No more kisses ever again since you don't want them.”

“What!” He pouted, rushing back over to you with pleading eyes, taking your empty threat seriously, “Baby, no! Please, forgive me, I'm so sorry, don't deprive me!” 

You snickered at him, “Aw, princess.” You pulled him close, giving him a chaste peck on his pretty lips, “I would shrivel up and die if l couldn't kiss you.” 

“You guys are disgusting, I take it back, no plus ones.” Yunho bullied you from the porch, “Mingi, go ahead and go home.”

“Hey!” Mingi barked, offended by his best friend's words. 

“We missed you, too, Yunho.” You rolled your eyes, strolling over to him as he waited with open arms for a hug. 

“It’s been too long, noona.” Yunho crushed you to his chest. You weren't exactly petite, squarely on the tall side and you could wear Mingi’s jeans pretty easily, filling them out similarly in the ass and thigh region, but he and Yunho still made you feel small in comparison. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You answered through constricted lungs, “I do have to breathe, though.” 

“My bad.” Yunho chuckled as he released you, “I just have to make sure you know you're my favorite. But don't tell anyone.”

You crossed your heart, “It's our secret, Yuyu.” You winked at him. 

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, ending with all of you in the spacious living room, pleasantly buzzed. Wooyoung sat curled in San's lap, relaying a story you all had heard a thousand times but indulged in letting him tell regardless, mostly due to the entertaining way he reenacted it. Seonghwa sat on the floor in front of Hongjoong, building the Star Wars Lego set the latter had gifted him from Christmas as his husband stared at him with an endless depth of adoration in his eyes. Jongho, who was pretty perpetually single by his own choice, sat in front of the fireplace with his guitar, humming and singing quietly. Yeosang leaned onto Yunho's shoulder, letting his boyfriend play with his hair absentmindedly. You hadn't realized the two of them were dating, but you had to admit, it was rather cute. Roommates to lovers, a tale as old as time. You supposed the “engaged at minimum” rule didn't apply to the host himself. 

You felt so at peace, so at home with everyone there, so full of love for all of them. Honored to have been let in to this sacred circle and welcomed with open arms. 

The next few days were spent playing games - including, much to your surprise, an oddly civil game of Catan - or with Wooyoung and Mingi in the kitchen, San, Yunho, and Seonghwa fighting like siblings in the snow, Hongjoong and Jongho writing and singing songs together, you and Yeosang watching movies and discussing the quirks - some endearing, some harder to stomach - of your significant others, the two of whom had known one another since middle school. You were so excited for this to be your family, you could hardly wait for New Years. 

When the night in question finally came around, though you knew it was coming (Wooyoung had barged in as you were getting dressed earlier, making sure your fingernails were painted), Mingi’s proposal still managed to surprise you. 

Right before midnight, champagne flutes passed out, all of you dressed in cocktail formal, excited for an excuse to get dressed up after a week of sweats and pajamas, Mingi tapped his flute with a knife to get everyone's attention, “A toast! To my friends, who have been with me through everything, the ups and downs of being idols and just life in general, and most importantly, who have listened and advised me on my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend. It means the world to me that you all love her so much. I consider us to be family,” he turned to you then, fishing in his pocket, “But I'd really like us to be family officially. If you'll have me, sweetheart. Nothing could make me happier.” He knelt down, opening the ring box with one large hand, showing you the most perfect ring you could have dreamed of. 

“Mingi,” you beamed at him, “Yes, of course, baby. You better fucking marry me, you goose.” 

“As long as I'm your goose.” He rose, removing the ring and guiding it gently onto your ring finger. 

“Always.” You promised. 

“Ten!” Wooyoung began the countdown to midnight. 

“Nine!” The others joined in, yourself and Mingi included, waiting for the clock to strike twelve before you sealed the moment with a kiss. 

“Eight!” You all chanted. “Makes one team!” You added in between, garnering laughter from the group. 

“Seven!”

“Six!” 

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!” 

“Happy New Year!” 

It wasn't your first kiss, obviously, but it might as well have been, the way the butterflies in your abdomen danced at the contact, face going warm as several of the boys wolf whistled at the display. It only served to egg Mingi on, and he swung you down into a deep dip, never breaking your kiss. 

“Okay, okay, ew. Enough. Save it for the wedding.” Jongho pretended to complain from across the circle. 

“Booooo!” Wooyoung shot back at him. 

“Be nice, baby.” San half-heartedly scolded him. 

“He's being rude!” Wooyoung defended himself.

Mingi brought you back to your feet as the bickering escalated in the background, wiggling his eyebrows at you conspiratorially. 

You nodded, grabbing his hand and sneaking away as the other seven continued their nonsense, too absorbed in it to realize the two of you had made like bandits for the bedroom. 

Mingi didn't even scold you for getting distracted by your new ring as you straddled him and rode his cock for the first time as an engaged couple. In fact, you're pretty sure he only fucked you harder for it. 

The two of you eventually collapsed onto the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs after round three, completely blissed out on the love you had for one another and excited for the future together that awaited you. 

Jung Wooyoung: Sure, introducing your Harry Potter-obsessed boyfriend to the Lord of the Rings trilogy was a calculated risk. They had always been your favorite Christmas break movies and you wanted to share that tradition with Wooyoung. You had predicted he would like them, but what you hadn't been prepared for was just how much he liked them. You would be spending a belated Christmas with his family, postponed a few days due to his older brother's work schedule, so Christmas Eve and Day would be spent just the two of you at your apartment together. 

Little did you know, Wooyoung had been planning. 

The unmistakable noise of clattering pots and pans in the kitchen served as your alarm that morning, followed by a hushed curse under Wooyoung’s breath. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you dragged your still sleep-laden body out of bed, donning Wooyoung’s discarded sweatshirt on your way into the kitchen. 

“Everything okay, baby?” You asked, your voice still gravelly with sleep. 

Wooyoung jumped at the sound of your voice, clearly deeply concentrated as he stirred the pot on the stove, “Ah! Fuck! You scared me!” 

You chuckled, coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his sinfully slutty waist, “Sorry, kitten,” You apologized, “I just heard a noise and wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung pouted, “I wanted to wake you up with breakfast, I’m sorry.”

You kissed his cheek, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Want me to go back to bed so you can do your original plan?” 

Wooyoung turned around in your embrace, kissing you on the nose, “No, baby, not unless you want to. It’s almost done and I love your company.”

“Okay, but, um…” You trailed off, hating to ask for something when he was already doing so much, “Nevermind, I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung grabbed your wrist to stop you, “Absolutely not! My baby is not lifting a finger today. What did you need, jagi?”

“I just wanted some coffee.” You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Say less.” Wooyoung beamed at you, planting a swift kiss to your lips before breaking off and moving to make you coffee. 

An hour later, three cups of coffee in, Wooyoung was placing the last pastry on the table after putting a different dish he was preparing for later in the oven. 

“If you want me to die in a food coma, just say so.” You teased him as you sat down to indulge yourself on his delicious-smelling baked goods. 

“No, sweetheart, I just want you to enjoy yourself.” Wooyoung couldn’t contain his smile as he watched your eyes roll back at the first bite of his creation. 

“Baby. No offense but I’m breaking up with you for this danish.” You joked.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped in fake offense, “But wait! That danish can’t get you off!”

You shrugged, “Ah, well. Good thing I have a vibrator.”

Wooyoung stuck his bottom lip out, “You know good and well you like my dick better.”

“Hm…” You pretended to consider his words, “My memory is hazy, maybe I need a refresher before I can answer that completely honestly.”

The Fellowship of the Ring played in the background as Wooyoung fucked you over the back of the couch, but neither of you were paying attention to the movie. 

“Admit it.” Wooyoung growled in your ear, “My cock is the only thing that can truly satisfy you.”

“God. Fuck, yes, Youngie. Your cock is the only thing now please fuck me harder.” You begged, sweat dripping down your brow as your boyfriend pounded into you painstakingly slowly, knowing he was driving you crazy. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Wooyoung obeyed, picking up his pace until the two of you were panting as you were finally able to release. 

The rest of the day passed much the same way, between eating, fucking, watching movies, exchanging gifts, and nodding off in between. Hours past sunset, the two of you were back in the kitchen, lethargic from your day of consuming calories and quickly turning around to burn them in the most hedonistic ways possible, washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Wooyoung paused after he put away the last plate you handed him, “Oh, wait! I forgot! I have one more gift for you!”

“Wooyoung!” You protested, “You got me more than enough!” 

“I really think you’ll want this one, though.” Wooyoung winked at you before darting out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later, hands behind his back, kneeling down in front of you, revealing the ring box he had grasped in his hands, “Baby, you’ve been nothing but a bright spot since you came into my life. I want to spend the rest of it teasing you, spoiling you, and making you laugh. Will you make me the happiest Hobbit in the whole Shire and please marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly proposal, “Yes, but try again without the references.”

“Oh, if that was an issue, I’m afraid you’ll hate what I engraved the ring with.” Wooyoung blushed. 

“You didn’t.” You buried your face in your hands, “Good Lord. I should have never introduced you to Tolkien. Yes, Jung Wooyoung. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

“Yeah?” He stood up quickly, opening the ring box to show you the most intricate, most you ring of all time, sure enough, engraved with “one ring to rule them all” on the inside of the band. 

“Yes, honey.” You pulled him in for a kiss before he could fit the ring onto your finger, “I never want anyone else.” 

“I’m the happiest man alive.” Wooyoung’s smile reached from ear to ear. 

“I’m incredibly happy, too.” You returned his smile, “But we are not having a Lord of the Rings themed wedding.”

“Right. Harry Potter themed.” Wooyoung nodded, like this was the only answer. 

“Hell fucking no.” You tickled him, “We can plan later, though. Right now I need to show you my secret cave.” 

“Ooh, is Gollum in there?” 

“Only if you’ve decided to call your dick ‘Gollum’, then I guess so, yes.”

“I prefer to think of it as more of a Smeagol.” Wooyoung took your hand dragging you to the bedroom. 

“Just please don’t try to do the voice.” You pleaded.

He didn't oblige. You were going to marry the fuck out of him anyway. 

Choi Jongho: You could always tell when Jongho was up to something, and this week, the week leading up to Christmas, was turning out to fall directly into that category. A mischievous glint sparkled in your boyfriend’s eye all week. The two of you had been dating for a few years now and you suspected he would propose at some point in the near future, but you honestly had no idea when. The man lived to keep you on your toes. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with your family. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with his family. 

He didn’t do it as the two of you opened your gifts to one another late at night on Christmas Day. 

No. Why would he? He just spent the entirety of both days tricking you into thinking he might do it. He had handed you a conspicuously sized square box wrapped in paper. Earrings. They were beautiful, of course. He knew your taste well. 

He had taken you on a scenic walk, kneeling down at the overlook, only to tie his shoe, laughing at your face, poorly disguised in shock, disappointment, then frustration, all in quick succession. 

He had asked to make a toast at your family’s Christmas dinner. Didn’t propose.

Your boyfriend might be a little evil. 

Christmas with him had always been somewhat like this, with him feeding you false leads about what gifts he was getting you, especially as it got closer to the actual holiday, only to have gotten you something better than what he was alluding to the whole time. On top of everything, of course he was an annoyingly good gift giver. 

It was December 27th and you were nearly at your wit’s end. The two of you were still off work and with everything temporarily back open between holidays, Jongho had planned something incredibly special for the two of you, much to your surprise. You honestly had no clue how he was so damn talented at hiding things from you. Maybe you just weren’t as observant as you thought you were. 

Dinner at a nice restaurant turned into a carriage ride around the park, ending with the two of you slow dancing in a gazebo to a song that he had written just for you. 

“I mean every word, you know.” Jongho whispered as the gravity of his lyrics rushed over you. For as often as he was impish and playful, he was at other times, equally as genuine, vulnerable, and honest with you. It nearly broke your heart every time he shared that side of himself with you. 

“Jongho…” You didn’t know what to say, “You mean so much to me, baby.” 

“And you to me.” He answered, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

You waited with bated breath, thinking that this might be it, it might be time for him to finally pop the question, but instead, he simply carried on dancing with you. 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, throat constricting with your frustration. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Jongho looked at you, concern evident on his face.

“Nothing.” You lied. “Sorry. Today has been wonderful, I just feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Crazy?” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Yes, Jongho.” The tears fell genuinely now, “It’s probably stupid, I don’t even know if it’s where we’re at, I thought I did, but now I’m confused and I feel stupid for ever thinking it-”

“Thinking, what, baby?” Jongho pushed the hair off of your forehead. 

“All week you’ve been doing little things that I keep misinterpreting as you being about to propose. It’s stupid. I’m probably just delusional.” You sobbed then, pulling away from him. 

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Jongho pulled you back to his chest, “I’m so sorry. I was just being a problem to mess with you. I never should have gone this far. You’re not crazy, though. I promise.” Jongho kissed your forehead before kneeling in front of you, reaching into his jacket pocket, “I’ve had this for about three months now. It’s just a weird tradition in my group to propose on Christmas so I wanted to make our anniversary different from theirs. I’m so sorry, darling. I want nothing more than to call you my wife. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since our first date. I’ve worked to be the man you deserve every day since then and I never plan on stopping, though I don’t see myself as ever reaching that goal, because you deserve better than I can ever give you. But I never want to stop in my pursuit. If you’re not too terribly mad at me, will you please consider? Marry me, my love.” 

The tears streaming down your face took on a whole different meaning at his words, “I feel so silly.” You sobbed, “But yes. Yes, please, Jongho. I’d be so happy to.”

It took the loud clearing of a passer by’s throat to break the two of you out of your public makeout session, both of you agreeing that your activities should move back inside your apartment. 

The way he took you apart so devotedly, so lovingly, bringing you wave after wave of pleasure on his mouth, his hands, and his gorgeous cock that night made you more sure than ever of your decision to marry him. He kept you on your toes and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[statementlou]

So you think he didnt know he was going to be asked that question? To me it looks like both the interviewer and Louis knew what the next question would be about

I don't know and we never will! I tend to automatically bristle a bit at people saying everything is planted planned fake etc because I really just... disagree. So so much of the time. And I don't find it remotely unlikely that an interviewer in LATAM (where like... everyone is a larrie) would ask that and I don't find anything about any of it strange, including that he would be able to answer the question the way he did and without a reaction. But who knows? If they did plant that now I wouldn't find it weird at all (though I don't think they did); however it came about I'm sure they're very interested in taking the temperature of the fanbase around this, seeing what the response is. The fanbase is going through a lot of growth and changes, especially around this stuff! I'd give a lot to know what they're seeing tbh to have that data, it would be truly fascinating. I will say however that I really do not think they arranged for this to drop at the end of his press tour as I've seen suggested (and I imagine there are still more interviews that haven't dropped yet so it isn't even the end? I'm not keeping track but probably?). It was recorded on the very first day of the junket- and having seen this I would guess that NOT knowing when it was going to drop is why Louis has been so very Online these last days monitoring the progress of his little junket tour, knowing that at some point things were going to blow up with this and checking to see if it was happening yet (especially as he probably thought it was going to drop while he was still face to face interacting with fans every day and he'd certainly want to know when it had dropped for that.)

[ohmygraves]

ghost, but as your fake boyfriend.

you were panicking.

your mother had called earlier, asking if you could come home for a few days. apparently, your brother had returned from overseas, and she called to let you know that every single member of your family would be there. a small family reunion, if you will. of course, she expected you to show up too, perhaps bring that boyfriend of yours you always told them about.

which was a problem because one, you don't have a boyfriend, and two, you have lied to your family for years and now it's come to bite you in the ass.

you didn't even know why you did it in the first place. perhaps the constant pestering and questions about "when will you get married?" is starting to bother you, especially when it came from so many of your relatives, wondering if you'd settle down already instead of being out there in danger all the time. perhaps you just want them to leave you alone and stop worrying about your wellbeing. after all, you're an adult, and it's just annoying to hear the same thing over and over again every single time when you went home for christmas.

so, you created this narrative of a "boyfriend", who you'd talk about when your parents called. a boyfriend who is tall, handsome, and loves you for who you are. a boyfriend who you'd live with and maybe plan on marrying too in the future. a boyfriend that is so much of a textbook nice guy that your family would approve of even if it sounds too good to be true.

you're not sure who to ask. soap would be your best bet, but he would be away on a mission at that date. which was unfortunate, he seemed really excited to play fake boyfriend with you. gaz just ran out of leave for this month, so he's out too. price is too old, your family would question it.

that leaves just one person...

"lt, can you do me a favor? please, just this once."

ghost turned towards you, leaning back and letting you explain. you told him that you need him to be your fake boyfriend for a family event.

unsurprisingly, he was very quick to stand up and leave you alone, not wanting to deal with your bullshit. still, you catch up to him, trying to convince him with whatever it is you could offer.

after a few rounds of convincing, tailing him for three days and nights, constantly pestering him, and some offers of the finest whiskey and whatever he wanted, ghost finally relented. it didn't take long for the two of you to fly back to your hometown two days before the family reunion, the two of you taking a week of leave from the base with very little trouble. you assumed that ghost had something to do with it.

before you arrived, you had to give him a rundown on what to expect, what questions will be asked and how to answer them for it to make sense in the web of lies you've created. he was definitely not thrilled, telling you that he got this... whatever "this" was supposed to be. you were nervous, hoping that things will actually go well.

surprisingly, ghost did keep true to his words. walking into your childhood home, he held your waist, keeping you close to him, even would act nicer to your nosy relatives (which, of course, was not surprising when you feel his grip got tighter around you).

dinner was quite cozy, everyone seemed to enjoy his presence and kept asking you if you two will end up married. ghost said something vague that made you blush, and while it embarrassed you, it got everyone to stop talking about it.

when the crowd dissolved, you took ghost to go see your childhood bedroom, closing the door behind him as you thanked him for doing you a good favor, and that you won't forget all about this. you didn't even realize that he stepped closer to you, too absorbed in gushing how successful the night has been, pulling you close and planting a kiss on your lips. it shut you up.

"... did you just kissed me?"

"mmhm. i reckon i deserve at least that, huh love?"

"i suppose you do..."

he kissed you once more. well, at least you won't have to lie about your fake boyfriend anymore.

[spider-ghoul]

Babysitting <3

Percy Jackson X gn!reader (fluff)

In which: a call from Sally Jackson leads you to help with her youngest, and spend the night with her eldest son. Lingering glances and sleepy confessions only to be forgotten by morning.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to be smaller than Percy once, kissing, none I can think of but as always lmk if there's anything!!

this might be complete shit lmao I finished this at like 3:00 am last night but I wanted to get something out to feed the beasts of this website

~~𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧~~

At six o'clock on a Friday, normally I'd be rotting in my bed after the week of school. And that was the plan, until Mrs. Jackson mom called.

"Oh- (y/n) I'm so sorry for asking but do you think you could watch Estelle tonight? Me and Paul had a date but Percy was going to the movies with Grover tonight and we-"

"Mrs. Jackson, yeah, it's fine. When do I need to be over?"

"Six is when we're leaving."

"I'll be there at five fifty."

"You're a savior."

This was perfectly fine. Me and Percy were friends and i was the only half-blood who lived around here. I watched Estelle a few times before too. No biggie. Except for the fact I'd been in love with Percy Jackson for...a while.

I mean, he was  kinda my friend. But god, he was Percy Jackson.

At five forty, i headed out. I grabbed my backpack, making sure i had the baby sitting essentials for any four year old: nail polish, beads, and my old rainbow loom (i also spent a extra minute making sure my hair looked okay so that if i saw a certain older brother) I figured that and the t.v. would be more than enough to keep us occupied till her bedtime at eight.

I got there right on time (surprisingly), and Sally greeted me with another thank you. She tried to hand over a few bucks cash, but i pushed her hand away.

She rushed out of the door with Paul after a few more (failed) attempts of paying me, leaving me with an excited two four old. And before too long, she had me watching Bluey (Though i do thoroughly enjoy that show), and making bracelets for us.

She watched as i showed her how to bead the string and make sure the letter beads where on the right way, and then she helped me choose colors.

To start i made one with her name in purple and white. She giggled and slide it on her wrist. I started working on a second one, and she told me to tie hers. It was all blue and had me spell out 'Percy' with beads for her.

"Is this for your brother?" She nodded excitedly, "well, we'll give it to him when he get here, okay?"

I got a solid hour with the beads before she got bored, and by the end both of our wrists had a fair share of bracelets littering them, and a small pile of three bracelets for Percy.

I seriously hope she's awake when he gets here, I can imagine the teasing that would come with handing him bracelets and saying, "oh yeah sorry I'm at your house haha baby sitting- oh me and your sister made you bracelets-". Or i could imagine our hands touching causing me to panic. I could imagine a million things actually.

I think this whole crush is really getting out of hand, especially with me becoming his mom's go to sitter now a days.

Estelle broke me from my thoughts with requests to watch 'Nemo', her favorite. We've watched it every time I've babysat. Part of me wonders if Percy likes it too, I mean with the whole sea god thing. 

As for her request, I made a bag of microwave popcorn and set her down in front of the TV.

I vaguely remember the opening, and Estelle fell asleep next to me before i dozed off myself.

I woke up a bit later, maybe half an hour? The movie wasn't finished, but Estelle was already fast asleep. I took the liberty of scooping her up and placing her in her own bed before going to clean up the main room.

It wasn't bad, just putting away my beads, and getting the popcorn bowl out of the way. I was tired enough, school was rough this week. I just planted myself back on the couch, finding Nemo not quite finished as I did.

I'm not quite sure when i feel back asleep, just that i did.

I'm also not quite sure when Percy Jackson sat down next to me, but he did.

I woke up, curled around a throw pillow, the end credits were playing. I rolled onto my back, and that's when I saw him.

Maybe i was too tired, or maybe he was just smiling, but i didn't feel all that anxious. At least not like i normally do around the son of the sea god.

"Do you always fall asleep to Nemo or is this a special occasion?"

"Do you always watch me sleep or is this a special occasion...?"

He laughed and my heart fluttered.

"Uhm, sorry your mom had me come over to babysit, I didn't know you'd be home yet." I say awkwardly smiley as i sit up, yawning. 

"It's fine, y/n. She texted me, sorry to have you waste a Friday."

"Oh its fine, better than doing nothing. Your sis was an angel, like always." I say, shifting, my shirt bunched up around my waist while I was sleeping. I was also pretty positive my hair was a mess. 

"Oh and speaking of my mom- before i forget." He pulled out a twenty, "now I figure you aren't gonna want to take it, but it's sally's orders."

"I'd feel bad, its just a favor. Your mom is always so nice, she patched me up after a monster attack once, this is just me repaying her."

"She did? When?" His eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with concern.

And i felt my face getting hot again.

"A few weeks ago, your house was closer than mine, it's fine." I mutter, looking down. 

He sighed, "what happened?" he said, reaching out to put his hand over mine. I short wire for a moment, looking back up at him. 

"Just something on my way home from school, it wasn't bad."

After a brief moment of silence, i wanted to crawl out of my skin.

He sighed, "as long as you're fine." he lifted his hand off of mine, though I could still feel his warmth. 

I smiled weakly, "oh uh..what time is it?" 

"Uh.. ten-ish?"

"I should be getting home." I say, sighing turning away from him. 

"It's pretty late, I wouldn't want you to walk back alone."

"It's not far-"

"I'm sure my mom would say the same thing, you know."

I sighed, knowing he was right, "i don't want to intrude." 

"Neither me or Sally would care."

"...."

"...can i bribe you to stay with waffles?"

"...yeah you can." I sigh, any of Sally's food was enough to make me do just about anything. 

Percy smiled, making my heart melt.

"Great, it'll be like a sleepover. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah, that uhm- that would be great." I mutter, pushing myself up off the couch. My neck was sore, who would have guessed that a throw pillow wasn't great for sleeping? I stretch my arms out over my head, yawning again. 

"tired?" He chuckles, raising his eyebrow. 

"well you did just wake me up-" I resort, rolling my eyes. I always forget how nice Percy is. I always worry about stupid things, but when I'm with him none of it really matters.

"You woke up on your own- I was simply..." He trails off, and I laugh:

"Watching me sleep?" 

"What can I say? You looked so.. pretty." He look down at me, and I could swear my heart stops, but I don't look away.

"...Yeah, whatever." I mummer quietly,  staring into his eyes and blinking a few times before finally breaking eye contact.

After a short moment, He mumbles something about getting me to bed. I nod quickly, following him to his room, which is surprisingly clean. He digs though his dresser drawers for a moment, pulling out some old band tee, and blue plaid pants. He hands them to me. 

"Is this fine for you? might be a big big, just let me know-" 

"it's fine. No worries." I say quickly, taking them, making sure to avoid his hands. "Thanks." 

He smiles again, and I leave for the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. 'pretty'? it's nothing, Percy is just nice like that. 

I change into his clothes, the smell of ocean engulfing me as the soft fabric hangs from my body.  I can't help but to push my head into my shoulder. It smells like him. 

I ball up my jeans and tee shirt, shoving them into my backpack. I slipped out the bathroom once I calmed myself down enough to talk to him again. 

I walk up to Percy's door, "Hey, I'm gonna go lay down do you have a blanket or something I can use..?" 

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me from where he was laying on his bed, "You don't seriously think I'm making you sleep on the couch-?" 

"Well I kinda assumed..?" 

"Get over here you dork." He said, scooting over on his bed, "Plenty of room- you don't mind, do you?" 

Part of me lit on fire, and part of me was desperate to put it out. My ears got hot, but I managed to nod.

"No, I don't mind.." 

I place my bag on the floor by the door, walking up and sitting on his bed, sliding my legs under the covers and sliding down to lay next to him. I was stiff, worried to so much as touch him. But eventually, I relaxed, turning to lay on my side, facing him. 

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes, my body already starting to sink into his bed, ready to get a proper night's sleep. My eyelids slowly drifted shut. 

I was woken when Percy broke the silence. 

"Y/N?" Percy whispered, almost silent. 

"Mhm..?" I mumbled back, not bothering to open my eyes. 

"I really like you, you know that?" 

If I wasn't half asleep, maybe I would have said something different. If I had the energy maybe I would have been flustered. 

"... I really like you too." 

I only heard him chuckle before he placed a hand on my hip. 

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll confess my undying love when you'll properly Remember it." 

I must have frowned, because he laughed lightly and pulled me a little closer. 

It didn't matter though. I slipped back to sleep, and when I woke up I didn't  remember. 

I remembered waking up some point in the night, but I didn't know what was said. 

And in the morning, I got the promised waffles and left the Jackson's apartment. 

The ever chivalrous Percy Jackson (who I woke up cuddling with), offered to walk me home. 

We took the long way, and when we reached my door step, he pressed his lips to mine and told me he couldn't wait for me to babysit again, though he wouldn't mind me coming around before then. 

He left me breathless and giddy, and so so happy to have accepted Sally's offer.

[delopsia]

honey | bob floyd x reader

Word Count: 13,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Succubus!Reader, Virgin!Bob. Shapeshifting, elements of magic, blood, parties, first-time blow jobs, cunnilingus, first-time sex, virginity loss, vague plot twists despite the severe lack of an actual plot. This was a crack warmup that just became...this Brief Summary: "Rich, hot, and a virgin. What's wrong with you?" Or, Bob's coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included.

Well...

This is new.

"It wasn't me! I promise!" 

"Well, someone drew my symbol on the floor." Folding your arms in front of your chest, huffing. All that for this?

"It wasn't—" He freezes, teeth flashing through an awkwardly stretched smile. "I...my coworkers were playing a prank on me."

Lovely that you learn that after you've planted your ass in his lap. "So you don't want me here, pretty boy?"

Because he is cute. Floppy brown hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen, hidden behind a pair of wireframes that perch on his freckled nose. His partner must be an incredibly happy person, having someone like this walking around their house. 

"N-no!" He blurts. His face falls. "—wait! Well-well, I...uh, I...I don't wanna be rude, but I mean I-I..." Your index finger presses against his thin lips, silencing whatever he had left to say. If history is anything to go off of, you wouldn't have been able to understand what he's trying to tell you anyway.

But...well, you are stuck here, so you'd might as well ask. "What's your name?" 

"Ro-Ro..." A short pink tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Robert." 

"Well, Bobby," you can't help but say it, a little too eager to watch the blush in his cheeks deepen. "It's a shame that you didn't. You're pretty cute."

Even in the dark, you can see how his face reddens, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his words. 

"But! I'll be on my way," lifting yourself from his lap before you can become too comfortable there. Something bumps into your ass; you think that may have been his cheek. "Do me a favor and tell your partner that they're a very lucky person, would ya?"

"Partner?" Squeaking.

Your feet freeze. There's no way he's... "Don't tell me you're single."

But Bob nods his head like it's the simplest confession he's ever made. "That's half of the reason why they went through the trouble of making you come here." He pauses, his left eye twitching as a thought visibly crosses his mind. Whatever it is, it's got him looking away from you entirely. "Said I'm...said I'm too old to be a—" 

"Wait, wait, wait." Holding your hands up. Need a moment of silence to understand what the hell you're hearing. "Your coworkers summoned a succubus to take your virginity?"

His lips flatten into a line. "...yeah."

"Well, that's shitty!" That's a new one. Finally, something to top the time a sorority summoned you to party with them for...some reason. Bragging rights, you think. "Do they pay you enough to put up with those assholes?"

It's been a minute since you've run into someone so nonchalant about a demonic creature standing in the room with them, never mind hold a casual conversation with you. 

But here Bob is, shrugging his shoulders like this happens to him every Tuesday. "You learn to deal with it when you're paid a hundred sixty-thousand a year."

"So you're a rich virgin." It shoots out of your mouth before you realize the thought crossed your mind.

Again, Bob is too calm about this. "I...guess?"

"Rich, hot, and a virgin." Modifying your statement. "What's wrong with you?"

Those blue eyes widen. Blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

"Well, there's gotta be a reason why you don't have a line of people out the door." You say, crouching back down in front of him. Sure wish he'd let you do something about that tent in his pajama pants. "If it's not the looks that reel the ladies in, it's the charm, and if it's not the charm, it's the money. And you've got all three, pretty boy."

It's not supposed to be a serious topic, not as if you're about to go and write an article about his non-existent sex life to publish in the weekly paper. But this guy is actually thinking about it. His brows furrowing as he mulls over his thoughts, mouth parting, only to fall closed once more. 

"I think it has something to do with the nature of my job and my severe inability to start a conversation," he concludes, with a little nod of his head. 

You wonder if you could put him in your pocket and take him home.

Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you're standing on some a ship right now. Is he some kind of cruise captain? "That'll do it." 

Bob doesn't have anything else to say about that, awkwardly closing his legs before you can get another look at what he might be packing under there. Whether or not he caught you staring or he's just become aware of his current state, you're not sure. It's such a shame that someone else summoned you on his behalf; he would have been a fun one to toy with.

Hm.

"Do you wanna fuck with your coworkers before I leave?"

He blinks at you. Not a thought behind those eyes. "Huh?"

"Well, you've already got me here," an excited lilt in your voice, maybe a bit too eager to present your totally thought-out idea. "Believe it or not, I double as a poltergeist on Tuesdays and Thursdays." 

Or whenever you feel like, really. 

"That would be mean," shaking his head. What is he, some kind of saint? 

"They just summoned a demon to fuck you in a locked room," deadpan. 

For a moment, it's quiet, and then.

"...that's a fair point."

As it turns out, Bob lives on the world's shittiest cruise ship. A ship without a pool, a dimly lit cafeteria without a single Michelin-trained chef in sight. Long, narrow, colorless hallways. There aren't even individual rooms, just even smaller hallways stacked high with bunk beds. On the thinnest mattress you've ever seen, might you add. 

Worst of all, rather than allowing personal clothes, everyone is dressed in clothing provided by the ship. Whoever picked the color schemes needs to be introduced to a fucking color wheel. 

How do you trick the head of the United States Navy into summoning you? You have a few choice words about this place. 

You appear in the mirror first. A little flash of your face, and then you're gone, nothing but a figment of the imagination. Again, later in the night, those two coworkers of Bobs have convinced themselves that they had made it up. 

The plan was to end it there and to come back in the morning to turn it up a notch, but there's a chair sitting in the bunk room that's just so comfortable. So what if you lounge there all night, poking through a book Bob had on the foot of his bed? The room just dark enough to allow them to see your vague silhouette, air so quiet that every turn of the page seems to echo.

Not one of them sleeps, but Bob does, snoring away in his bottom bunk. He sounds like a little cat, tiny little noises that sound closer to grumbles than snores.

When morning comes, you show up in their showers right as they turn around. You appear on opposite ends of crowded rooms and in high-stakes meetings with fancy-dressed higher-ups just to get a reaction. Tapping on their shoulders when they think they're alone. Somehow, you managed to get away with swapping the labels on the mustard and hot mustard. Effectively ruined several breakfasts in one fell swoop.

One, this loud-mouthed blonde you forgot the name of, wakes up to you sitting on his chest. Who would have thought that he had such a shrill scream?

But you might take it too far when you chase them down the narrow hallway—five grown adults shrieking like they're in a haunted scream park and not a Navy ship. 

Or at least, you thought you did. 

"I can't-I can't believe you just—!" Bob's laughing into his palms, keeling over with it. His mouth is moving, but he can't get anything out. Bubbly, loud giggles that travel around the tiny little fan room, bouncing off every corner. 

"And here you said it would be too mean," gently mocking, unable to fight off the smile that works its way across your face. So big you can hardly speak through it. 

That should technically be the last of your encounters. 

You should be heading back through your portal and off on another job, but Bob doesn't utter the proper incantations to make that happen. He starts to, but then you ask about his book, and he squeaks at you for spoiling the ending, and then you begin to second guess if you're recalling it correctly.

Then the conversation starts, and suddenly, you've been bound to him for three weeks. 

If it were anyone else, you'd complain and force the portal to open by yourself. There's more than one way to break the spell and go back to where you came from, but there's something about Bob Floyd that keeps you lingering. Maybe it's the way he blushes when you get too close. Maybe it's because you can't remember a time when someone kept you around solely because they liked talking to you.

Maybe it's because he has a fantastic taste in literature. Anything he's reading somehow becomes glued to your hands, unable to be put down until you've reached the final page.

"I can't believe nobody has gotten bold enough to comment on the strange figure reading a book in the corner every night," you giggle, nothing but a misty haze hovering over his head. 

His lips curl into a smile, toothpaste spilling over as he fights not to bite his toothbrush. "I think they're afraid of another hallway incident."

"Are you afraid of another hallway incident?" Appearing in the mirror, if only to get your message across.

"Nah." 

If you had known that the Admiral would be the final person you would get to scare before Bob left the ship, then you probably would have gone all out on it. But at the moment, all you're thinking about is how unfair and rude it was to pin Bob for the mistakes that his pilot made up in the air. The guy can't even fly a jet. How is it his fault that the pilot confused their lefts and rights?

So you show up in the mirror, jump on him, and spiral about the room in a foggy haze before rustling down the hallway in such a storm that it creates a draft. There seems to be a growing trend with men having high-pitched screams on this boat.

If Bob ever catches wind of the incident, he never brings it up.

Hell, maybe he thinks he's left you behind because he sure is surprised to turn around and find you sitting on his kitchen counter one morning.

"Did ya forget about me?"

"Please." Clenching at his heart. "Knock first."

Wordless, you tap your knuckles against the cool marble. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

Those pretty blue eyes roll, their color a little more vivid now that he's wearing that deep blue button-down, the sleeves pulled back just enough to reveal the thick muscle of his forearms. They're still swollen from his workout; you wonder if he knows you were watching.

"Got a hot date tonight?" Kicking your foot at him, brushing against his slacks. The last thing you're expecting is for his hand to wrap around your ankle, lightly squeezing, as if to test out the feeling. 

"I got invited to a party and can't get out of it," he hums, letting your leg slip free of his grasp. Then, after a moment. "Wanna come?"

"You're inviting a demon to a party?" Slipping off the counter, batting your eyes at him. 

All it takes is one step forward for him to stumble back, wide-eyed and stuttering. "Is that... am I not supposed to do that? I'm sorry." 

"Hey, I never said no," your hands find their way to his chest, gently pushing—his back thumps against the fridge. "What color do you like?" 

"R-red?" That cute mouth of his wobbles, the slightest hint of facial hair coloring his upper lip. It'll be gone by five, but it's nice to see it for once. 

Red it is.

You think this party was thrown by the same sorority who invited you up to party with them because this is...not what you were anticipating. Shot glasses, shitty beer, and flashing lights, the thump of the music so heavy that your bones really with it. You don't even know where the speakers are, lost to the swarm of people crammed into this tiny bar.

All of a sudden, your long, sultry dress has shed into a short little number that blends in with the rest of the crowd. You can't see him, but you can feel Bob's eyes jump onto your frame. 

"How did you do that?" Tilting his head to the side like that will somehow help him find an answer to his question. 

"Magic, I suppose," there's an actual explanation for it, but you've long since forgotten it. Something about manifestation and energy and a word too big for your tongue to pronounce. "I actually have zero idea how it works."

There's so much going on that you find yourself vanishing for a few minutes. Nothing but a misty haze lingering over Bob's head as one of his buddies shoves a drink into his hand and pushes him down into a cushioned chair. You haven't the slightest clue what kind of golden liquid is swishing around in that cup, but it's got a flavor that has Bob's nose wrinkling.

"Someone's not a drinker," observing aloud, a sudden presence in his lap, your knees caging his hips.  

"Was it that obvious?" Sheepish, with that little sideways smile of his. Whether that's from admitting to his inability to drink alcohol or from where you've chosen to sit, you're not sure. 

"Your little nose wrinkle gives you away," your little tap on his nose makes him blink. "You're almost a little too clean-cut for this place." 

There's nothing special or different that he's done about his appearance, but the aesthetics of the crowd make it look like he's walked into the wrong party. A little bit too put together when you compare his ironed button-down and perfectly gelled hair to the half-drunk faces, trendy, cheap outfits, and that group of shirtless men over in the corner.

At least you have the luxury of changing clothing at the drop of a hat. Otherwise, you would be in the same boat.

"He said it was only gonna be a dozen of us," Bob lifts the glass to his lips once more, his nose twitching at the bitter flavor that greets his tongue. He's trying to hide his reaction, but you can still see the disgust in his eye.

"More like twelve dozen," plucking the glass from his hand, setting it on the little table next to the chair. "You could've convinced me this was a high-end frat party."

Looking around is enough to make you question if 'high-end' was just you being generous because this is looking more like an average party by the second. A myriad of nameless faces lost to the flash of the lights: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, a cycle that never loses its pattern. But even the strain it puts on your eyes isn't enough to distract from the sloppy grinding of bodies against each other, hands in the air, writhing to a beat that definitely does not match the music. 

Something is starting to press against your inner thigh. An insistent pressure that almost feels—

Damn, how long have Bob's cheeks been bright red like that?

"Are you good?" Pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, clammy to the touch. "You're red as a balloon."

"Yep," his voice strained, so tight it may snap at the slightest hint of pressure. And he's looking over at the painting on the wall, one of those uninteresting things with only a few paint splatters to stain the pure white canvas. Not the kind of thing worth staring at so intently.

You shift forward, thumb swiping at the sweat beading at his temple—

"You sure get hard easily." Teasing. You hadn't even been trying, but that's definitely a heavy bulge pressing into you, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks. 

A muscle in his jaw flexes, swallowing hard. "Please don't say it out loud."

"I can fix that, you know." Perhaps curling your hand around his jaw is a little bit too bold, but he isn't making any moves to push you away or tell you to stop. "Some say I'm pretty good at that."

"No, no, that's okay," Bob shakes his head, gently dislodging your hand from his face. "I don't wanna make you do that."

"You're not making me do anything," leaning the slightest bit closer, tapping him on the chest with an index finger. "I'm volunteering. There's a difference."

He swallows again.

Someone calls out his name, waving a hand in the air as if to guide attention to himself as he emerges from the crowd, drink in hand, smile so big that it ought to blind someone. You vaguely recall seeing him back on the ship; name starts with an 'f'.

...shame that you don't remember anything more than that.

But Bob is uttering some Navy jargon that you don't have the capacity to keep up with, and your knees are starting to hurt, skin stuck to the cheap leather cushion. It's much easier to turn yourself around, back leaning against his chest, now free to scan over and watch the part of the room you couldn't see before. 

It's not that you don't feel him pressing into the curve of your ass; you just...well, you kind of forget about it. The moment you lay eyes on the game of beer pong happening behind the pool table, you're invested. Straining your neck to try and get a better look at who is winning, crossing two fingers as a lady in a little white skirt goes up against a guy who looks two beers away from a total blackout. 

Neither of them are good at it. Far from it, actually, but the girl's friends are cheering her on, and the man has missed the cup thrice now, stumbling over his own two feet. He misses. She scores two. He gets another point while she's trying to catch a ball that has rolled off into her crowd of friends.

You don't realize you've been squirming until Bob's forehead thunks against your back, shoulders rising with his inhale. 

"Where did your buddy go?" Chirping in the lightest tone you can muster. As if you're blissfully unaware of what's going on.

"Maybe we should get up," entirely evading your question.

It's a worthy idea that goes down the drain within the same minute it's suggested. What you couldn't see from the couch was how big the crowd actually is. It's a swarm that swallows you whole, someone's shoving into your back, and Bob's stumbling into you, and it's all you can do not to explode into a plume of mist. 

You're only distantly aware of his arm curling around you, cinching you to him as if to anchor you in before the storm can wash you away. Your leg slotting between his is far from intentional. But it happens, and you're nose to nose with him, and the corner of his eye is twitching, and you swear you can hear a dam breaking.

You don't entirely know how you wind up here. Squeezing into this sorry excuse of a bathroom stall, your hands greedily dipping beneath his shirt, chest to chest. Every little meet of your lips has him gasping against you. His tongue tastes like the honey biscuit he was nibbling on earlier, the one that dripped on his shirt and left little white crumbs all over his lap.

You could eat him.

"We shouldn't..." He's whispering. A secret meant for your ears only.

Everything screeches to a halt. "Do you wanna stop?"

Shaking his head. "No." 

He makes it so damn easy. Legs parted just enough to allow your thigh to slot between them, immediately squeezes down around it the moment he recognizes it's there, drawing you right up into—

A shiver wracks through him. So intense that you can feel it.

You don't need to worry about taunting him. He's reacting as if you've already made a remark. Nose scrunching as he tries to steel his face, warding off the softness that once lingered there, taken aback by the sudden pressure between his legs. Such a strong front. Shame that it folds the moment your hand curls against the bulge in his slacks.

"You're bad at this," a teasing lilt in your tone, lazily working your hand against him. No real rhythm or method to it, simply a shifting pressure that you can already feel his hips beginning to follow. 

"It's been a while," muttered like a confession—a sin of the past.

Now that has your attention. "You've done this before?" 

The bathroom door squeals open, the handle cracking against the tile so hard that some of it tears off the wall entirely, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. A chunk of it rolls under the stall on a one-way track to strike the side of your shoe. You don't recognize the too-loud voices that enter the room, but Bob seems to, eyes rolling for a fraction of a moment. 

"Something similar...once," hardly audible over whatever the hell is being discussed by the sinks. 

You'll have to get the full story out of him when there aren't extra ears lurking mere feet away. Right now, though, you're tugging at his zipper, yanking it down as far as it will go, your hand darting through the gap. 

Good lord.

It's always the quiet ones.

"I'm surprised you can get through security with this thing," there's so much of him that you've got to use your other hand, fumbling to pop open his button. 

"With what?" Bob's brow furrows. You lightly squeeze the base of him. "...oh." 

One of the men shouts. Two laughs chime after it in hot pursuit.

There's a considerable weight to him that you hadn't anticipated until just now, his pretty, flushed cock throbbing in your hand. Muscle memory kicks into gear without much thought, gradually gliding up from his base to his tip—ruby red, almost angry in appearance, such a sharp contrast to your fingers.

His hips follow your motions, subtle little backs and forths that you nearly miss at first, keen on chasing your touch but too shy to allow himself to do it. Teeth sink into his bottom lip, pressing so hard that they leave an indent behind. Breathing hard through his nose, eyes screwing shut like he's fighting something back. 

You know what he's doing. Can't let a single noise escape for fear of it reaching the other ears in the room, but there's no way they can. Not with all that racket they're making. 

It's fifty-fifty if you still remember how to interrupt electricity, your one sure-fire method of making sure nobody can see what you're doing, but there's only one way to find out. 

Getting on your knees in a bathroom stall might be a new one for you, but here you are, blindly sinking lower and lower. Can't quite see what you're doing, your eyes hopelessly locked on Bob Floyd and his pink cheeks. Hasn't even realized what you're doing yet.

There's probably a good minute or two where you just hover there, waiting for the moment he realizes that you've moved. Eye-level with his cock, lazily thumbing each and every bead of precum across his plush head, a little routine to decorate the loose up-and-down of your hand. But his eyelids remain closed, and you're just so damn impatient.

The greet of your tongue has him jumping up onto his tiptoes. His head smacking into the flimsy stall wall. 

"What was that?" 

It's as if the room has morphed into a library. Complete, utter silence. Nothing but the faint breaths of the men gathered outside of the stall, Bob's, and your own. From the gap, you can see a black and yellow shoe taking a step forward. Silently inching closer.

The whites of Bob's eyes are so big that you can hardly see the color that decorates them. Drowned out and lost to a wave of fear that you can feel prickling through his body. If only those stupid yellow shoes would turn around and walk away; you wanted to play this card a little bit longer. 

The bathroom plunges into darkness. 

So you do still remember how to do that.

Someone screams. You're not sure who, but it was far too high-pitched to be the man right in front of you. Maybe it was the loser with the yellow shoes. Audibly stomping across the tile floor, shouting at each other as they fight for the door. The hinge squeals. Someone accidentally kicks the corner of it on their way out. 

And then it swings closed. The room falling quiet as the sliver of light peeking through the gap disappears entirely. 

Your mouth opens, gently drawing Bob into your mouth. Thicker than what you anticipated, uncomfortably stretching your lips around his head, but it's only a slight inconvenience. You can hardly think about it. Especially not when flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit elicits that sort of noise. Pitchy and drawn out, slipping out of him before he can stop it.

"That's—" his palm finds its way to your forehead. Pushes lightly. Jerks away. Lands on the side of your cheek instead. "A lot." 

You have very different definitions of 'a lot'.

You're actually moving rather slowly, gradually working your way down his length. He's only just beginning to touch the back of your throat, but Bob sucks in a sharp gasp of air as if you've just sprung this on him. You'd complain if he didn't taste so sweet. Just can't help but take him as far as he'll go, the tip of your nose kissing the cold metal of his zipper, throat so full of him that your head spins. 

He's trying to say something. Little fragments of words that might or might not be your name. Breaking apart the moment they fall into his mouth, shattered pieces raining down upon you and your eager ears. 

Maybe you're too quick about this. A fraction too eager to draw all the way back, only to fall upon him once more, lazily letting yourself gag around him if only to hear him groan low in his throat and to feel his thighs shudder beneath your palms. 

"I'm—I'm already, I..." Bobby's panting. Pawing at the side of your face. Doesn't know if he wants to pry you off or push your head back down. 

You expected this. You knew he would be a little bit quick, but all of a sudden, he's twitching in your mouth, a rope of cum decorating your tongue and...

Honey.

Why does he taste like honey? 

It feels like a fluke at first. Has you drawing all the way back, sucking gently on his spasming tip, but it doesn't change. Overwhelmingly sweet and thick on your tongue. It doesn't...since when did human men taste like this? Good lord, what took you so long to find one like this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bob's abruptly pulling out of your mouth with a sharp 'pop,' the toilet paper roll audibly spinning as he grabs at it. 

The overhead light flickers back on. Damn near blinding. You nearly miss the shade of cherry decorating his cheeks. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?" 

"You can't be serious."

"No, something's gotta be wrong. I've picked something up somewhere," Bob doesn't seem to realize that he's started pacing again, striding back and forth across the room. "That doesn't...it shouldn't taste like honey!"

Your leg kicks off the edge of the exam table, taping him on the hip as he drifts past. "And what? You think a mystery STD will?"

"Maybe there's one I'm not considering," he stops dead in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye. "You should get tested too."

"Hard to catch a human virus if you aren't human," dragging your foot up the side of his thigh, "maybe it's just a succubus thing."

Bob's hand curls around your ankle, bringing it to rest comfortably against the side of his hip. "Huh?"

"I mean, like...maybe I taste it differently based on how much I like the person?" You're already grasping at straws as it is, but it's so hard to think when Bob is rubbing the back of your ankle like that. Diligent fingers pressing into strained muscle, drawing the tension away with every loose spiral.

"No," shaking his head as if to add emphasis to an already firm word. "I don't...no, that wouldn't make sense." 

That was your one and only theory, but, well, if he insists. "Alright, honey cum."

"Please, don't."

You're gone by the time the doctor decides to come back. Doesn't have a whole lot to say, but a few weeks later, there's a neatly folded paper on the counter with a whole bunch of negatives on it. 

Bob catches you looking at them, but he doesn't have anything to say about it. He's more intrigued by your appearance than anything else, brushing the pads of his fingers against one of your horns as he drifts past.

"Have you always had these?" He chirps, on a one-way track back to his coffee maker. His poor heart might stop if he pours himself anymore, but that doesn't seem to be stopping him.

"Technically, yes," it's a lazy reply, but you're not sure what else to say. "I didn't think to hide them today. What is that, your third cup of coffee today?" 

"Fifth," he corrects, unashamed about finishing off the pot. There's just enough left to fill his mug to the rim and then some. How he doesn't spill it, you'll never know. "Do all demons have horns?"

"Depends on the race, really," shrugging. "Succubi have short, narrow horns with vibrant colors, crossroad demons have horns similar to a Texas Longhorn, fallen angels don't have any at all..." You could keep going, but you would be talking for a long, long time.

You probably shouldn't be lingering around Bob's apartment, invisible to the naked eye as you lounge in the soft red couch and gaze out the window at every rise and fall of the sun. He seems to know that you're still here; hums something that sounds like your name when the cushion sinks beneath your weight. 

It's a cute apartment, really. A thrifted coffee table and an oversized bookcase that has already run out of room, excess books spilling over onto the shelves that were once reserved for figurines, and clever callbacks to movies. 

There's a stash of DVDs lurking inside of the TV stand, and in the ottoman, a pair of signed and framed Star Wars posters decorating the hallway. He thinks that he's spread out the anime enough to pass undetected, but you can clearly see the manga lurking in the smaller bookcase in his bedroom. There's a Naruto sticker hiding on the side of the fridge, a Pokemon in the bathroom cabinet, and so far, you have counted four Trigun figurines. 

Five, if you include the one you just watched him unwrap and place next to his model jet. This one kind of looks like him...

"Are you still in here?" Bob calls out from somewhere on the other side of the apartment. It might be the first time you've heard his voice rise above a mutter since he left the doctor's office. 

You're not entirely sure where he is. Haven't exactly moved from the couch now that the sun has fallen again, blankly gazing at the distant ocean as if it's a home you once knew like the back of your hand. 

He appears in the hallway. Fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, his eyes squinting as he tries to scan the room without his glasses. You're still waiting for him to realize that he left them next to the stove again.

"Come out?" He tries again, ambling forward. "Please?" 

"Looking to terrorize your boss again?" Dissolving into solidity, the chilly air nipping unpleasantly at your skin. Invisible was better. You couldn't feel the temperature when you didn't have a body. 

Or...maybe you're feeling the temperature incorrectly because Bob looks like a shrimp mid-boil. Red in the cheeks, so flushed that it crawls down into his neck, and the sliver of chest showing through the collar of his shirt. 

"Bob?" Tilting your head to the side. 

"I wanna return the favor." Deadpan.

Blink.

Blink again.

Blink one more time.

You don't follow. "Pardon?"

"I mean, I..." his eyes skip around the room. Bouncing off of the coffee table to the poster behind your head, the miscellaneous figurine shelf, and the refrigerator. "You did something for me, and I...don't...like the idea of it being so one-sided?"

"Bob, I'm a succubus," there's supposed to be an underlying hint there because this is kind of the very reason for your existence, but Bob doesn't seem to pick up on that. Or maybe he does and just doesn't react. "Do you even know how?"

A beat passes. 

His head shakes. No.

"I'm a quick learner?" Offering it up like he's bartering. You wonder if you can get him to start offering crops and livestock. "Is that...okay?" 

You're not sure if it's the novelty of the idea or if it's because of that soft, doe-eyed expression he nails you with, but something has you agreeing to it. But just because you're on the same page together doesn't mean you'll be the very next sentence that he reads. 

You're gone the moment he's in front of you. 

"Where did you—"

"But you'll have to catch me first." Reappearing behind him. Walking your fingers up his spine. 

He turns. 

You're gone. Drifting behind his back again. Blowing at his nape. 

"Hey!" He squeals. So shrill and pitchy that it nearly throws you off. Only manage to dissolve into a plume of mist when he reaches for you. 

Bob is already spinning around. Blocks you from getting to his back again. And there must be some kind of 'tell' of where you are because his eyes follow you every which way. You'd might as well be fully human because this isn't working. 

You don't know how you get into the kitchen. But you're on one side, and Bob is on the other before you've even become solid. You stumble three steps to the right; he's already there. You go left. But then he goes left. You dart right—corner to corner to corner. Shit, you've put yourself in a corner. Either way you have to get past him. 

"Why are you so damn quick?" Giggling. Your feet slide against the hardwood. Not as fast as him. This will only last so long.

"Did you forget." He jumps left. "I'm in." Right. "The Navy?" Left again.

"I thought that meant you would be good at swimming!" You're slipping. Grabbing at the countertop before you can hit the floor. "Not—this!"

He breaks the pattern first. Shoots around the corner so quickly that you nearly don't have time to spin back around. His fingertips graze your back as you turn. You're tearing off around the corner. Dissolving bit-by-bit and—

There's a pressure around your waist, and the room is spinning, and you don't remember when or how your feet left the ground. 

"Bobby!" You're squealing, throwing your arms around his shoulders before you can slip. 

It's hard telling when or how things escalate the way that they do. All you remember is the coldness of the floor as he sets you back down, the heat of his arms around you, and the bump of his nose against your cheek. And melting. Fuck, you remember melting into him like snowflakes in July, meeting him halfway, his soft lips melding with yours so easily. 

You do remember when you fall against the couch. Nothing but ruby red cushions and the lingering pink in Bobby's cheeks, settling between your legs with such ease that you almost wonder if you've done this with him before. 

Christ, he could probably convince you that you've already had a few nights together. 

There's no reason why or how he should know that you're sensitive beneath your ear, mouthing at the skin there but never making a move to mottle it with bruises. Respectful. Irritatingly so. Never leaving behind a mark, not even when he bites at the collar of your shirt and grazes the skin that lurks beneath.

He wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. Is he sure that he's never done this before? Because he gets your lounge shorts off surprisingly easily. His waist dipping between your thighs, swollen lips finding your lower belly once more, working down, down, down...

"Shit," his tongue has you jolting, entirely caught off guard. "A little sudden there."

It's hard to feel any sort of annoyance when he peeks up at you from beneath his lashes, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "'m sorry."

Your hand curls into the back of his hair, a fraction longer than it was when his so-called friends summoned you right into his lap. Only takes the slightest pressure for him to dip his head back down, licking a slow stripe against you. He misses your clit on the first try, pulls away a little too soon. But he finds it on the second, visibly perks at your sharp inhale, and retraces his steps until you do it again.

Learning should imply that he doesn't know what he's doing beforehand. You're gonna need to steal his dictionary off the shelf and look up the proper definition because you're pretty sure he was lying. 

There's no damn reason why he should know how to point his tongue and trace it around your clit, teasing until your hips lift off the mattress. Temporary relief comes in the form of the hum that rumbles out of him, vibrating through your nerves like electricity. He's settling into it now, laying flat on his belly, arms curled around your thighs as ifhe belongs there.

Fuck, and he's working his way down. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses into your dripping pussy, stopping to lap at your entrance before pressing inside. His tongue isn't even all that long, but the wet heat and the tip of his nose pressing against your clit yanks a gasp out of your throat, eyes snapping shut. 

Your thigh squishes against his cheek, leg looping lazily over his shoulder as if that could somehow possibly bring him closer. Fingers twist in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp—

"What the hell?" Your own voice sounds foreign. Detached from your body.

Bob lifts his head, and good lord, his lips are glistening. "Hm?"

"What is this little bump on your head?" Tapping your nail against it, uniquely bony compared to the rest of his scalp. Feels like a perfect circle.

"I don't know what they are," nonchalant, already dipping back between your legs, "'ve had 'em since I was born."

You can see them when you push his hair out of the way, little indentations beneath the skin, solid as can be. One on each side, a few inches above his ears. These kind of look like...

No, that's not right. 

That sweet tongue of his finds you again. Drawing lazy shapes that transform into shock waves on impact, rumbling up your spine and down into your fluttering thighs. Letters. He's drawing letters, and you can hardly decipher what they are, but the voice in the back of your head whispers that he's writing is name into your cunt. Over and over until he's certain that you'll never find pleasure in a name that isn't his. 

"Bobby, I..."

He hums, hands curling around your hips, pulling you in. Doesn't let go of that same lazy pace that he just set for himself, curling through an 'R' and into an 'O' so intoxicating that you find your own mouth mimicking it, too. You don't mean to cum so soon. You really don't, but your eyes unintentionally lock with his, that tiny smile curling the corners of them, and shit—

Your back twitches up off the bed. Crying out so sharply that it rips right out of your throat. Your head might just tumble off your shoulders. Floating up into the clouds, heaven-bound. Weightless. 

The hands on your hips tighten. Anchoring you back down. Bob's burning tongue working you through it like he's done it a hundred times until your body is tensing and jerking away from every little lick.

"Jesus," sucking in a breath, "Christ." 

Bob lifts his head, swollen lips twisting into a cheesy grin. "Wrong name." 

"Nerd," tapping him on the nose.

"Demon," biting the inside of your thigh. 

It's hard telling who sputters into a laugh first. Giggling like school kids as he climbs up the bed, his mouth clumsily finding its way to yours. It's so much easier to hold his face when his glasses aren't in the way; don't have to worry about smudging a lense or accidentally knocking them off his face entirely. 

If you thought that you were bad, then Bob Floyd is another monster entirely because once he's gotten a taste of you, he can't get enough. 

Because he's on you again in the morning, kissing at your shoulder and working his way down your naked belly before his final alarm goes off and forces him to start getting ready for work. His sweet tongue working over your clit, chasing down a vastly different zig-zag pattern as he eases a thick, curious finger into you. Lazily searches for a little spot that steals your breath away and has you babbling for another.

In the evening, he's nibbling and kissing at your thighs while you wait for the pizza delivery guy is on his way. Leaves behind sporadic little marks that gradually acquire a delicious tenderness that makes you gasp when you try to cross your legs later. 

You answer to the sound of your name on an average Tuesday afternoon. An unapproved presence in a top-security Naval building, perched up on the edge of a locker room bench like you belong there. Like you, too, are a pilot with a willingness to perform and just the right amount of crazy flowing through your veins. 

Bob doesn't utter a word about it, but you know that one of his superiors has chewed him out again because his cheeks are pale as can be, eyes only softening at the sight of you appearing before him. And maybe he's a little bit too eager to fall to his knees, peppering your skin with kisses that make their way to where you crave them the most. 

Again and again. An addict who seems to need his fix every time he's overwhelmed. It's your purpose, the very thing you were built for, but the invisible string that draws you into him is unlike any other you've been wrapped up in before. An undescribable something-else lurking behind the charm of those wireframes and his warm, dizzying voice. Never asks for anything in return, all too content with eating you alive.

Your favorite might be the night that he pulls a muscle in his shoulder blade. One little misstep in the gym is all it takes for a night and a half of overwhelming soreness, binding him flat on his back, minding his left side. But even the mix of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a dash of pain isn't enough to keep him grounded.

"I have an idea." It's been forever since you last heard him speak. The last time you recall hearing his voice was last night when he asked you to pass him his toothbrush.

"Uh oh," not in any particular hurry to lift your head from his chest, naked and oh so warm to the touch. 

"What?" He's trying to act offended, but the attempt dies mid-air. Won't be making a living in acting any time soon, that's for sure. 

Tapping your finger on his collarbone, overtop a thin white scar you've yet to learn the story of. "Don't 'what' me." 

His laugh sounds like thunder. Deep and rumbling into your ears, a tune you didn't know you craved until just now. 

A familiar warmth settles against your cheek, diligent fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. "What if I told you I had another idea?"

One of these days, you'll learn to quit being surprised. 

Today, you're shocked that he asked you to ride his face. 

Shit, but here you are. Knees precariously resting above his head. Trying your best not to let your thighs clamp down around his face as he dips his tongue between your folds, half-lidded gaze fixated on your expression. You've long since lost count of how many times you've felt this. The soft whisps of his short hair tickling your skin, the way he hums when he hears you gasp.

"You've got," raking your fingers against his scalp, anything to distract from the calculated zig-zag across your clit, "a problem." 

"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," muffled. His every word rumbling through your core and reaching up into your chest. 

"Yeah, well..." drinking in a shuddered breath, "you being addicted to eating me out was not on that list."

It's his fault for laughing again. Should have known that the vibration would have twisted into your nerves and sent them firing, thighs impulsively clamping down around his head with no regard for him or breathing. 

Fuck, it takes a moment to remember how to move them again. 

"I'm sorry," and you're about to lift yourself up, let him get a full breath of air, but his hands find your hips, anchoring you into place. 

"'s okay," pausing to lap at your clit, wet and messy, and god, the sound. "I don't mind."

He'd say that if you accidentally suffocated him to death, too.

Your nails drift across his scalp. Dragging just enough to feel the shift of hair beneath your fingertips, disturbing the hardened bump lurking just a few inches above his ear. You know that it's probably because of the swelling, but you swear it feels bigger than it did a few days ago. And maybe it's sensitive too because, for the briefest moment, you catch the whisp of a gasp. A sharp little intake of air punctuating the way he drifts down to toy with your entrance. 

They're worse the following morning.

He's only just beginning to settle between your legs, diligently kissing down the inside of your thigh, when the brush of your knee sends him reeling. Pawing at the sides of his head. Wincing. Yelping at his own touch.

"Did I—"

"No!" He blurts. Pitchy. "I'm sorry, it's, I—it hurts."

Even the delicate pressure of an ice pack is too much for him to tolerate, hissing like a cat the moment the material touches his skin. You're not entirely sure what to make of them. Dissolving into the air around him for a better view, drifting around his head, twisting every which way as if discovering the perfect angle will reveal the secret.

It doesn't...look infected. Strained is the best descriptor you can come up with. As if something is trying to claw its way out from beneath the skin. 

"And you said you've had these since you were born?" Musing aloud, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

Hands find your waist as you settle into your human shape once more. "That's what I'm told." Then, tilting his head to look up at you, not making any move to get out of his chair. "Why, what did you see?"

"The same thing you're seeing," you can't help but push his hair back, watching the short strands gradually slip free from your fingers. "Must be a really odd birth defect."

He hums, blinking up at you without a word, perhaps not as concerned about his situation as he should be. Not a trace of worry clouding his features, though the corner of his eye twitches when you unintentionally drift over one of the bumps. 

It's the same kind of gaze that gets you into trouble three nights later. 

He doesn't seem to realize that he's doing it, drowning you in pools of ocean blue every time he looks your way. You don't understand how you make it through the night. He's just so damn distracting. Tapping his foot against yours beneath the table, legs tangling as a nameless mid-forties man in a fancy suit rambles on about the honor of working in the Navy and things you don't care to follow. 

You don't know how you get to the hotel bed. Only vaguely aware of the sensation of your feet leaving the ground, thighs clinging to the sharp bone of his hips. One of his hands is on your ass, and the other is smoothing up your back. Presses just hard enough to have you arching, chests bumping together hard enough to break your kiss.

"Bobby—"

"I know."

The room collapses into a world of pristine white clouds—or maybe you've just fallen onto the bed. You can't tell for sure. Can't be bothered to. Not when a familiar pressure appears against your lips, his firm body settling between your legs with a weight you can't possibly ignore. 

He tastes like the hot chocolate they poured into his cup when he turned down the champagne. Sweet and so warm that you can feel yourself melting, and you must be made of chocolate, too, because he moves as if he's going to eat you alive. Hands rising to cradle your face, settling into a lingering liplock that has you gasping for air.

Your head is spinning. One hand curling around his bicep. The other smoothing up the side of his burning neck. Hardly aware of how your hips lift up from the mattress, but all too aware of him meeting you in the middle. A new pressure forms between your legs. The not-so-subtle bump of a growing bulge against your cunt. 

Curse the layers of fabric separating you from each other. Can't do anything but meet him halfway. Mewling into his mouth like a cat in heat. Legs curling around his hips. The heels of your ankles digging into his ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

Something trickles across your fingers. Smearing across his neck. 

"What is that?" It's sliding down your palm, scurrying past your wrist and beyond. Water? No, where would it have come from...

Bob draws away, an unusual chill filling the space he once occupied. "What is what?" 

Your hand is crimson. 

Why is your hand...?

"Oh my god." Reeling back. Hands held high as if that can possibly stop the blood that drips from your fingertips, so fresh that you can still feel the warmth of it. 

It's everywhere. Staining the fresh sheets, smeared across the back of Bob's neck, pooling at the shoulders of a brand new uniform that will never be the same again. It's on the shell of his ear and in his hair and—

"Oh my god," you sound like a broken record, but it's all you can say. "Bobby, your head."

Looking back on it, you're thankful Bob booked a room with two beds instead of one. 

There's no salvaging or rectifying the utter disaster going on in the bed that he claimed as his when you first got here. The sheets and comforter torn clean off, lying in a messy pile, waiting for the front desk to call back and tell you what to do with them. From here, they look perfectly fine, still the same shade of pure white, as if nothing has ever happened. 

Your attention meanders across the floor, tracing the lines of geometric shapes, following them on their journey between the beds until they disappear beneath the mattress. Bob's foot still hangs off the edge, a smidge too lazy to try and readjust himself now that he's found home here on your chest.

It's almost strange being here. Snuggling on a hotel bed with a man who didn't even summon you wasn't on the job description. Hell, the last time you even set foot in a place like this was probably years before you realized what you were and fully committed to the whole demonic entity thing. 

"Why don't you ever leave?" Bob's voice rumbles into your collar, a smidge deeper than it was the last time you heard it. 

"You never said you were satisfied with me," darting from your mouth before you can realize what you're about to say. A script so rehearsed that your tongue needs no instruction to utter it.

The room is quieter than it was before.

Which...is odd because nothing about it has changed. The cheap air conditioner still rattles to its own mechanic tune. You can still hear the girl talking on the phone in the hallway. Through the wall behind your head, the neighbor's television still plays the rerun of what sounds like a football game. 

Bob's eyes are open. Can feel the flutter of his lashes against the side of your neck. If you didn't know any better, you would mistake it for the dustings of tiny butterfly wings.

But he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry, I...that may have come out the wrong way."

"'s okay." Says it so quickly that you wonder if he's listened to your apology at all. 

Antsy, you reach for his hair, fingers coming through the still-damp locks. A little bit fried after two full washes, but it was the necessary sacrifice to get all of that blood out. 

You've got to crane your neck to see the culprit, but it's still there, in the same state it was the last time you laid eyes on it. Scabbed over. No longer as swollen as it once was, but there's still something solid lurking beneath the surface. You could have sworn you saw a flash of white in there before it had closed up again, but looking at it now, there's nothing. 

"I think I just like being around you," concluding, after a long moment. 

'Like' may be an understatement, but...

The corner of his mouth is turning upward. You know it is because you can feel it against your chest. "I like being around you, too."

And here you thought you'd figured out what Robert Floyd defines as a party. 

Bubbling glasses of golden champagne, the same shade of the delicate chandelier sparkling overhead, crystals cascading down like a spiral staircase. Enchanting. Beginning three stories up and only ending mere feet away from where you stand, you could probably touch it if you tried. 

Such a stark contrast to the midnight peeking through the windows, twinkling city lights of every color in the rainbow drowned out by the blinding white and gold palette you've found yourself in. Unfamiliar faces and dresses worth more than a car fresh off the lot, wrapped up in the whimsical tune of a live orchestra off to your left.

So many things to look at. Luxury desserts and vivid red couches cozied up beside the fire. There's more to be discovered, entire rooms you have yet to venture into, a custom theater, a cocktail bar...yet, your eyes continue to drift to the only familiar thing here.

And his appear to do the same.

Locking from opposite sides of the room, the buzz of the crowd melting into a distant hum, as if you've just plunged into the very crystal oceans that color his irises. The heat of his gaze is the only thing keeping your head above water, burning across every inch of your skin. It's a wonder you don't go up in flames right here and now.

Glass shatters somewhere to your left. A lady yelps. Someone swears. But you can't bring yourself to look to see what just happened. Captured in a never-ending trance as you move about the room, only able to look away for milliseconds at a time. 

One of Bob's friends are talking to him, mouth moving a mile a minute, but Bob doesn't seem to be listening—Fireball or...something. The name should come to you easier than it does. Bob's told you so many stories of them together, but you fear you've spent too much time lingering on the sound of his voice to actually store and remember the fine details. 

The music swells. 

Heads turn toward the melody, and with it, feet begin to move. It's as if one-half of the party has vanished, opening up the floor enough for you to walk without worry of bumping into anyone. You wouldn't even be in this position if filtering through different forms was socially acceptable and not the quickest way to give someone a heart attack. 

It's like drawing too close to a fire, the flames so bright that you can hardly look at them without being blinded. Except the flames are the open buttons at the very top of his long sleeve, milky white skin peeking through the gap. He's grown a bit since this was fitted, the fabric hugging a little too tightly around his chest, straining already weakened seams. Two of the buttons have already snapped off, unveiling more than he would ever willingly show off. 

He would catch your staring if he weren't already doing the same damn thing. Knows he's been caught, too, cheeks dusting a cherry red the moment he tears his attention away from the slit in your dress, showing off your upper thigh. 

But Fanbase is still talking, rambling on about the subplot of a movie that you've yet to see, and you're simply not interested enough to linger any longer than you have to. Gliding past Bobby as if you hadn't just made eye contact with him, your hand trailing up the side of his arm on your way past. 

The door couldn't come quickly enough, and you disappear through it with nothing more than a wayward glance over your shoulder.

He's still looking at you. 

It's so much quieter in the hallway, all that noise and music vanishing the moment the door swings shut behind you. You're not sure where you're going; didn't plan this far ahead, but you can already see a floor-to-ceiling window that looks interesting enough. A decorative fountain rests in front of it, the water sparkling with the city lights.

The view is better at night. Still breathtaking during the day, but...god, something about the velvet black and twinkling shades of neon really bring out the charm of a city like this. Though you've still yet to figure out why a Navy event is all the way up here, in the tallest building they could find. One of their own venues would have sufficed; then they wouldn't have had to rent all these hotel rooms. 

"Your dress looks awful familiar." Maybe Bob is hiding magic powers of his own because there's no way he could have snuck up on you without floating here.

But there he is. Shoulder resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The rolled sleeves are struggling with his forearms, fabric so tight that the threads silently scream. 

"Does it?" Coy. You entirely stole this idea from the front cover of the magazine he had sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You don't mean to step forward at the same time he does, but you do. Nose to nose in the blink of an eye, so close that your vision goes a little blurry and out of focus. 

A door slams down the hall.

The invisible string snaps.

Your hands are in his hair, and his are on your waist, and mouths are clattering with all the grace and elegance of a car crash. The back of your leg hits the fountain. Sends the thing jumping as you all but slam into the window. It's a wonder you don't go crashing through it, plummeting through miles upon miles of midnight neons. 

Because it certainly feels like you did. 

Head spinning as if you're in a free fall. Fingers twisting in his hair before unspoken forces can peel you away, sloppily falling into tune with the bold dance of his lips. Fuck, it's so much more than what you've spent the past fifteen minutes picturing in your head. He tastes like cola and honey, so dizzyingly sweet that a sugar rush buzzes through your veins.

What is it with you and this human? 

It's as if you're one half of a magnet, hopelessly bound to him by forces that you can't quite identify. Yielding to the subtle pressure of his hands, allowing him to gather you into his chest as if you aren't close enough as it is. Heaven, Hell, and Earth could collapse right here and now, and it still wouldn't be enough to drive a wedge between you. 

"And here I thought you weren't the PDA type," that thought was supposed to stay in your head, but it's far too late to do anything about it.

"I think this is a little beyond PDA," Bob's mouth twists into a smile too soon. Teeth smash together with a sound that makes you wince. 

There are voices down the hallway, familiar, but you don't care to try and identify them. Whoever they are, they don't get a chance to see you here because Bob's taking hold of your wrist, and you're falling into the clumsiest run imaginable. Arms awkwardly tangling together. His boots too new to grip the floor. Giggling to yourselves as you slide to the right, fighting to get around the corner before he can be recognized. 

You're already crashing into each other again. And again. And again. Stealing kisses as if you need one for every few steps taken. Can't function otherwise. Winding through the hall, no regard for where you're going or if it's even the right direction, barging through a door and racing up the stairs. You trip on one. Bob falls on his ass on another.

It's a damn wonder how you find the correct door. 

At least, you assume it's the right one because your back all but slams into it; don't even hear the noise that rattles down the empty hall. How are you meant to pay attention to such meaningless things, when a soft pressure appears at your lips? Greedily leaning into it as you all but melt into one another, his breath running ragged.

The key. You need the key. 

It's somewhere on him, your hands blindly smoothing over his chest, searching for the outline of that thin plastic key card. And so what if you momentarily hook your fingers into the top of his shirt? It could have been hiding there, for all you know.

Bob finds it just before you do. Plucking the hunk of plastic from his front pocket, and you can feel the heat of his arm as he reaches past.

Beep.

Gravity tilts on its head. Falling backward. 

Toned arms loop around your waist. Force you to remain upright. Pulling you close like there's a risk of you blowing away. Stumbling backward. Through the door. You don't know how your arms got around his neck, but you're not making any move to let go. Clinging to him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Nose bumping into his cheek as you find your way to his mouth once more. 

One fleeting, accidental brush of his teeth against your lip has electricity bolting up your spine. Shades of gold explode in the depths of your frenzied mind. Fireworks. Tongues tangle for the briefest of seconds. But then he's licking at your bottom lip, and it's parting with a gasp, a little too eager to let him in. Twisting together in a fashion entirely unfamiliar to you, an exquisite dance that has you melting like snow on a summer day.

The mattress greets the backs of your knees, a gentle nudge that has you falling backward without ceremony. He's on top of you within a second, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, chests pressing together, and—

"Mmh."  His legs spasm around your thigh, only to push it up into him again, pressing against the growing tent in his slacks. Heavy. 

"What was that?" In the lightest tone you can conjure up, rubbing your thigh against him once more. 

His face flushes red. Eyes darting away like he'll catch on fire if he keeps looking at you, but there's no hiding the way he twitches at your touch. And he knows you've felt it because, somehow, his cheeks get even redder. 

"What, don't like being teased?"  

"I might die if you keep talking." 

You'd like to see how true that statement can be. But that's an experiment for another night; you can only take your mind off of the throbbing heat resting against your thigh for so long. 

Fuck, and it seems he's on the same page. Spit-slicked lips find the corner of your jaw, one of his hands smoothing down your side as he works his way beneath your ear. One kiss after the other, only lingering long enough to lightly suck on the skin there. Teeth scrape against you, and you absolutely shouldn't shudder at such a simple feeling, but it happens anyway.

Just like how you wander to his shirt, perhaps a bit too eager to start fumbling with the buttons. They're just as stubborn as you thought they would be, angrily wedging themselves in the gaps designed for them to fit through. Stupid things. Who ever thought these were a good idea?

Bob reaches past you, his wrist bumping your hand away—

Buttons scatter. Rolling across the floor. Bouncing across the bed. One strikes your chin. Another thunks against the headboard.

"I didn't know you had it in you," giggling. Only have a handful of seconds to admire the broad expanse of his pale chest before he's on you again. Picking up right where he left off, somewhere beneath your ear, where you're most sensitive. 

His hum sounds like it's wrapped around the shape of your name, vibrating up your neck, rattling around in your skull like an earthquake. It's a wonder you don't fall apart. Fingertips biting into his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as you can. And he just keeps kissing on you. Working down, down, down to your collar, only stopped by the fabric of your dress.

You can make it disappear.

He knows you can make it disappear.

And yet his hands slip behind your back, tugging down the tiny zipper that runs parallel to your spine. 

Takes the time to ease the soft material off your body, impossibly slow, as if he's afraid of ripping it. Past your hips and over your knees. Folds it in half and sets it off to the side. And for a moment, he pauses. Lips shining with the same light that reflects off his glasses, hardly distracting from the sparkle of his eye. 

Kisses find the inside of your knee. Working across the joint and delving into the delicate territory of your thigh. It's a tune he's played so many times that you already know where he's going and what thoughts are lurking in the back of his quiet mind. Tempting, but...

The dog tags hanging from his neck are too perfect not to grab. Why he's wearing them, you're not sure, but they reel him back in so damn easily. 

But Bob freezes the moment you're eye to eye with him, not entirely sure how to tread this newfangled path he's found himself on. And that must be what makes it so easy to push him around. Flipping your positions with a skill you forgot you had, your ass snug in his lap, knees straddling his hips.

The back of his head thunks against the headboard, unnamed shades of red rising to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"You're sure?" He croaks; for a split second, you're on the ship again, meeting for the very first time. 

"Are you sure?" Countering. The bridge of your nose bumps into his. 

You don't necessarily remember what happens after that. 

It all melts into a blur. Starts with you bouncing a button off his bare chest and ends with the sound of his pants hitting the floor next to you. You don't know who got the lube out. It must have been him because you still don't know where it even came from, but it's the sensation of his slick fingers pressing into you that catapults you back into reality. 

"You remember that I'm a succubus, right?" The intended sarcasm doesn't so much as reach your vocal chords, nothing but a breathy whisper of the obvious. 

A smile is all that he gives in return. "I know."

It's been too long since the last time you felt this. The pressure of thick fingers slipping into your already drooling cunt, knuckles catching on your entrance as they drag past. Coarse fingertips drag against your walls, crooked, running across a bundle of nerves that he has no business knowing about. Knows he's found it too, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your whine. 

Yeah. 

It's been too long. 

That's why you're so sensitive all of a sudden.

It's certainly not because of the heavy cock resting against the swell of your ass. Has nothing to do with the pools of blue that lurk in his eye; you reckon you'd drown in them if you were to fall forward. No, you only feel like that because of the never-ending city view that sits just past his head. Broad and expansive, just like...just like his shoulders...

You don't realize what your hand is doing until you overhear his sharp inhale. His body jerks, shocked by the sudden trace of your fingers running up the underside of his cock. 

Impatience will be the undoing of both of you. In such a sudden hurry that lube spills onto the bed in your rush to slick him up, and it's only after that he realizes he's forgotten about the condom. Doesn't matter. The damn thing flies out of his hand when he tries ripping it open with his teeth, landing somewhere on the floor.

"Again," lifting your hips, lazily smacking his blunt tip against your cunt, "succubus."

"I'm sorry," he's yet to realize you're merely messing with him. Condom, no condom, you don't care either way. "I don't wanna make a mess of you."

"Maybe I want you to make a mess of me," countering. And it's the last thing you can say before the pressure of his cock shuts you up. 

If you asked, you're certain he would humbly refer to himself as average, but this is...this is so much better than average. Thicker than usual and wonderfully curved, fitting that a man so intent on pleasing you would also have the perfect cock, too. Stretches you just enough to make your jaw go slack, his fat tip dragging against every little nerve it can find. 

Bob tilts his head back, his chest rising with a heavy inhale, and that may be a whine that you hear. His lashes flutter, visibly fighting to keep them open as you sink down on him. Inch after inch, and it's been so long since you last felt this full. 

And maybe they've sucked all of the oxygen from the room because neither of you can seem to catch your breath. 

"That's..." his eyes drop down, fixating on the sight of him disappearing into you, "shit, that's..."

He doesn't get to finish that thought, and you don't get the chance to bother him about it, entirely distracted by the overwhelming sensation of him bottoming out. Your ass flush with his thighs, so damn full of him that your heart has risen into your throat. 

You've already found the strength to lift your body again. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage as your hips lift, the city lights seeming to twinkle when he rubs into those soft nerves. Can only manage to raise yourself by an inch or two before collapsing down into him once more. 

The warmth of Bobby's gaze crawls up your naked body, slow, like he's trying to take his time before he meets your eye. And when he does...

"You still in there?" Winding your arms around his neck. Can't seem to get him close enough.

His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, dry from panting, "uhuh." 

You suppose he's telling the truth because he's present enough to remember how to tilt his head up and catch you with a kiss—breathing hard through your noses. His hands squeezing your hips. Holding them through every rise and fall. 

Lube squelches between your legs. His cock head driving directly into that bundle of nerves again, your pussy helplessly spasming around him. You fear you're going to shatter into a million pieces if he does that again, but there's no attempt to shift your angle. Chasing that sensation again, crying out as a shock bolts up your spine. 

"Bobby," it slips out so easily. Riding on the coattails of a gasp. 

Foreheads knock together. So close that the sight of him goes a little bit fuzzy. Noses bumping when his hips twitch up, snapping into yours so swiftly that it knocks a whimper out of you. Just makes him do it again, and you are not living up to the whole succubus thing by collapsing into his shoulder. 

"Fuck, I can—" he grunts, punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, "can feel you clenchin' around me." 

And you can feel him twitch inside of you. Such a simple feeling that has you getting wetter around him, can only imagine what kind of mess is forming between your bodies right now. You'd look, but it's hard enough pulling yourself back, thighs burning, desperate to work back into the rhythm you just...built up...

Is...that...?

"What's wrong?" Bob has stopped moving at...some point. You don't know when that was. The concept of time passing is a little bit irrelevant right now.

Words don't necessarily come to you. Fleeting chunks of vaguely related sentences that you can't quite stitch together. You don't...that's not...when did...?

The only thing you can think of is to touch one of them. 

His back jerks off the headboard. Sucking in a gasp. Eyes going wide. But then, twitching at the corners, pretty blue irises rolling back, his cock spasming despite your lack of movement. For a moment, not a sound seems to escape him, but then it's all shattered by a barely muffled whimper. 

"So that's what's wrong with you." Deadpan. 

Touching them made him cum. That's... somewhat familiar, actually. 

Bobby's eyes can barely tear themselves open, fighting against them as he blinks up at you. "What?" 

You're almost hesitant to touch them again. Two tiny horns, no more than an inch tall, poking out from where those pesky bumps once resided. 

Horns. Of course. Why did you think you were wrong when you considered that earlier? They're identical to yours! A few inches above the ear, wide at the base and growing narrow as it nears the tip. Jet black for the time being, but they'll develop their color with time. 

The one upside to being a succubus. Uniquely colored horns. 

"Not to bring up family while all seven and a half inches of you are inside of me," because you're not sure about how to start this conversation, jumping on the first half-baked plan that comes to mind. "But are you entirely sure your folks are human?"

His head tilts. "Why?" 

The only thing you can think of is to take a picture. Those two tiny horns poking out like they're part of a cute headband, so ridiculously small in person and even smaller on his phone. As you pass it off to him, you catch yourself wondering if he'll see them at all. 

"...huh." Is all that he can say. 

They're far too sensitive for him to touch, not after what mess you just caused, but he tries. Winces the moment his fingertips make contact with the fresh new bone; you can only imagine this is how you reacted the first time your horns made their appearance, too. 

You wonder if there's anything behind them. You've seen a few variations where a second pair sprouted behind the first, but you can't see anything from this angle. If you just lean a little further to the right—

A whimper twists through the air. Pretty blue eyes squeeze shut.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no, no, don't," his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back down into his lap before you've even moved an inch, and oh, you can feel his cum beginning to spill out of you. Fuck, there's so...there's so much of it. It'll make a mess of the bed if you're not careful, but you can't move. Not with those big hands anchoring you down. 

But he's not done talking. 

"Keep going," he blurts, his chest shuddering with a breath. Horns be damned, those aren't on his mind right now. "Please, I just, I want, I want you to—" 

A swivel of your hips shuts him up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already too late to stifle the pitchy little noise that sails out of his throat. God, that's a hell of a sound. Combined with the way his half-hard cock twitches in you, it's almost too much to bear. He can hardly handle it himself, squirming, not sure if he wants to push into you or away from you. 

"There!" Stardust twinkles behind your eyes. "Right there. Don't move."

It's as if the room has exploded into a galaxy. Midnight black and the deepest shades of navy, decorated in a rainbow of distant, twinkling stars. You and him and this big, oversized hotel bed. Weightless. Floating round and round, further and further away, until you're lost to the Milky Way itself. 

The fat tip of his cock drives up into those nerves again. Space nearly swallows you up once more. "Bobby..."

Your eyes must have been closed because you don't remember his head tipping back. Dazed, flushed cheeks, so entirely focused on you that the rest of the world ceases to exist at all. Pitchy whimpers, stumbling off his drooling tongue, overstimulated but making no move to push you off of him.

His lips seal. Hardly manages to muffle his noises, but it's already too quiet for your liking.

One of your hands curls around his cheek. Thumb pressing against his bottom lip, hardly takes any pressure for him to give way, allowing you in. And his poor tongue is right there, practically begging you to pin it down, and who are you to deny such a request?

Heat twists in your belly. Pussy clenching tighter around him. Your motions growing jerky. Sporadic. Sparks of color flash behind your eyelids, growing heavier by the second. And it's so fucking loud in this room. Whimpers. Cries. Blending together so seamlessly that you can't tell who makes what noise. Every motion punctuated by an all-too-loud squelch of cum and lube, fuck, this bed is going to be ruined after this.

"I-I'm—" Bob whines, tongue flexing beneath your thumb. Eyes glassy, one blink away from tears spilling over the brim. 

"Close." Don't know if you're finishing his sentence or speaking for yourself. 

It washes over you with all the strength and violence of a tidal wave. Hips stalling. Head falling back. Cumming on his cock with an unexpected cry, heat racing through your veins, skin prickling, breath hung up in your throat. You think your eyes cross. Can't really figure out how true that is, too busy floating through the cracks in the universe to think about anything but the spasm of his length inside of you. 

And you're vaguely aware that he's cumming, too, his cries vibrating through your thumb and deep into your bones. 

"Still in there?" You find yourself asking after a moment. 

Bob hums and you're only now realizing that his glasses are gone, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. Where they've gone, you don't know; don't think you could get up and look for them if you tried. 

All of the strength has left your legs. Thighs trembling as you lift yourself from his lap. And they can only hold you up for so long before you find yourself collapsing next to him, greeted by the significantly cooler sheets. 

Those horns are still there. All too present as he tries to snuggle down onto a pillow, inconveniently brushing against the fabric. You're both a damn mess. His lower belly glistens in the light, and you can already feel his cum beginning to spill out of you onto the sheets. 

Sheets that you don't want to change for a cleaner set. 

But the shower is so far away...and Bob is curling his arm around you. Pulling you closer to him as if the six inches of space between your bodies is too much for him to handle. Your nose bumps into his chin, the slightest hint of stubble growing there.

You should hide his razor and see what happens.

"How do I make them disappear?" Bob's voice cracks in the middle, sporadically skyrocketing in pitch. Water might do him good, but...damn, the fridge is by the bathroom. 

"I'll teach you, eventually," your voice isn't doing much better; you can hardly get it above a whisper. "I wanna see them on you for a little longer first."

His eyes roll, shaking his head all the while. Almost like he expected you to say that. But he doesn't call you out on it, content to tilt his head down and shut you up instead. Swollen lips crashing together, lazily tangling. A small explosion would be less messy, tongues licking into each other's mouths and teeth clacking so hard that your even bones recoil at the sensation. 

...but there's pressure on your shoulder, and you're rolling onto your back, his comfortable weight settling on top of you. Half hard against your thigh. 

"Satisfied?" You murmur, though you suppose you already know the answer to that.

His lips curl into a smile. Devilish, even. "No."

You're beginning to think you've swapped roles in this relationship.

[milswrites]

Hobbies Part 5.

~Azriel X Reader~

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Lots of fluff. Tiny bit of angst (I can’t even tell at this point). Very vague references to sex. Cliffhanger (Whoopsies)

Five hours later, once Azriel had planned out the date and bathed the sticky multicoloured icing from his skin, he had begun pacing his flat in anticipation of Y/N’s arrival. Shadows swirling around him, sensing their masters spiked anxiety. Should he have offered to pick her up from her own place? Does she even know this is a date? He had asked her to go out but he had never explicitly said the word date.

He was sweating profusely under the black dress shirt he had adorned for the occasion, glad he had one packed. Azriel had been with plenty of women over the years but taking one on a date? This would be the first.

It was only after she had left his flat that he realised he had never even given her a definite time to meet, just a vague promise of seeing her later. Azriel blames Y/N for this lack of communication, planting the kiss on his cheek and leaving him speechless.

So here had been for the last hour, moon now high in the sky, waiting for her to arrive. Having far too much time to overthink about everything that could go wrong. He had to stop himself from anxiously walking over to the mirror in his bathroom for a sixth time to make sure his hair was in place and question whether he should wear other clothes than all black, not wanting to look like death personified next to Y/N’s radiant self. No, he would stick with what he was comfortable with, Y/N wasn’t one to judge. That and Azriel didn’t own anything other than black clothes and he was sure if he ran to the shop now he would miss Y/N.

Finally, a soft knock at his door broke his pacing. His shadows all flew to the door whispering in excitement, waiting for it to be opened so they could be blessed by her presence. Straightening the collar of his shirt, Azriel took in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let his fluctuating attitudes ruin tonight. He would allow himself to have fun.

He grabbed the handle of the door, looking up to the ceiling and praying to the Mother that tonight would run smoothly, and slowly pulled it open.

~~~~~

If Azriel was the personification of death, Y/N must have been that of life. As she stood there in his entryway, mouth slightly open as her eyes drifted over Azriel’s form, he couldn’t help but think that everything in his life just felt like it now made sense.

He looked from her dress, a soft pink which Azriel thought complimented her oh so beautifully, the entirety of which was patterned with hand embroidered flowers of a deeper shade of pink, and forced his gaze to move to her face where a nervous smile was resting.

“You look…wow” he finally spoke, gulping as he took in the sight of her. A rosy blush that matched her dress crossed her face, “Thank you. You clean up nicely too”. A matching tint formed on his own cheeks.

“So what’s the plan?” She asked curiously, looking up into his eyes which were still trailing the length of her body.

“Uh well I realised I don’t actually know anywhere nice to eat in this Court so I’ve kind of planned something else” Azriel tried to keep it vague, hoping to keep the true plan somewhat of a surprise.

“Sounds perfect! Lead the way!” She grinned, before stepping to the side to allow Azriel and his wings to fit through the doorway. Before he could even step out, his shadows rushed towards Y/N twirling around the skirt of her dress. Fearful that his shadows would scare her, Azriel went to angrily call them back. But he was stopped in his tracks by a melodic laugh slipping from her lips as she began to spin round with them as if they were dancing.

It was at this point Azriel made the decision to not stand there stunned like he usually does in situations where Y/N makes his heart pound and he doesn’t know what to do. Instead, trying to find some semblance of confidence, he reaches out to take Y/N’s hand which was outstretched for balance as she spun. He grabbed it in his own scarred one, and raised them together, allowing her to twirl underneath him, shadows in tow.

Their surroundings forgotten, this little dance continued for a few minutes, smiles on their faces as they were absorbed into the moment. Spinning and moving together fluidly. Wanting to feel her even closer, Azriel reached out his other hand hoping to come into contact with her waist, only to be interrupted by a squeak from the end of the corridor which caused him to draw his hand back.

His head snapped towards the sound, eyes viciously landing on the neighbour who earlier that day had witnessed him standing there in his frilly yellow apron. A low growl came from Azriel’s throat as the neighbour awkwardly rushed forward to pass them in the corridor, Y/N’s hand leaving his to make space for the neighbour to get past with a high pitched “sorry” coming from them as they sped round to the other stairway.

Azriel’s shadows had stopped dancing, electing to disappear during the awkward moment. The moment was gone much to Azriel’s disappointment, the embarrassment of being caught creeping up his spine was testament to that.

Noticing his red ears, Y/N placed a calming hand onto his chest, which of course made them even redder. “Come on! I’m excited to see what you’ve planned!” Of course Y/N wouldn’t be phased after being caught dancing in the corridor.

“Yeah” Azriel sighs, dejected. Annoyed at the lack of control he had over his body prior to being caught, and so when the pair walked out of the building he made sure to leave some space between them, not wanting to do anything else rash that would undoubtedly lead to further embarrassment.

~~~~~

Azriel led the way, walking towards the location of the date. He wanted to talk, but after what had transpired outside the flat he was afraid to and so he had to put up with walking in silence. Y/N clearly wasn’t bothered as she hummed happily, either having not noticed the arm length of space between them or choosing not to comment on it.

Azriel was kicking himself, he was on a date with a beautiful woman and he couldn’t bring himself to find the words to speak. He wished he had his brothers with him. Cassian would have prepared him for the date, he would have made sure his friend was filled with confidence and prepped lots of things for Azriel to talk about. Rhysand would have fussed over his clothing and given him tips on how to flirt, how to complement a woman and make her blush until her knees wobble.

Yet his family had abandoned him here. But now weeks later after the fact, Azriel couldn’t help but feel grateful for the events that had transpired otherwise he would have never met Y/N.

Y/N who was walking next to him, eyes full of love and admiration as if she was taking in the moonlit surroundings for the first time even though she undoubtably walked these streets daily as she headed to and from work.

On and on they walked, Y/N’s humming being the one thing that kept Azriel earthed, preventing him from freaking out and flying off in fear that he couldn’t do this right. Fear that he didn’t know how to act on a date. Until finally they approached the garden Azriel had found during one of his nightly flights around the city.

Azriel had originally landed in this hidden piece of paradise because he was searching for a little trace of Elain, a reminder of what he was missing out on from being away from home. Only once he had entered the gates to be greeted by garishly bright sunflowers his thoughts were only on Y/N.

He had spent hours walking around the garden on the first night he had discovered it, appreciating the hundreds of plants and flowers that grew inside of the gates. It was only after his third visit here during his nightly outings that he pictured Y/N here with him, walking along the trailing path, smiling up at him as she smelt the flowers, admiring their beauty as he admired her. It only made sense to Azriel that he had to bring her here. See if Y/N reacted to it in the same way she did in his dreams.

Her reaction did not disappoint. Azriel held open the gate for her, allowing Y/N to enter with a gasp upon her lips.

“Oh Azriel it’s beautiful! However did you find this?” Y/N was whispering, her awe at where she was overwhelming. Azriel silently watched on as tears filled her eyes, trying to cement this moment into his mind forever. Y/N in her pretty pink dress, standing in the garden.

It was only after he was certain the picture of Y/N, surrounded by flowers as beautiful as she was, was permanently fixed into his brain did Azriel then allow himself to talk. “There’s more” Azriel too spoke in a quiet whisper, afraid of interrupting the perfect moment that was occurring.

Y/N’s eyes which were filled with an emotion Azriel couldn’t place, looked to his expectantly. Gently, Azriel placed his scarred hand onto her back and led her through the garden, allowing her to stop whenever she wanted to appreciate a flower she found particularly beautiful. Until finally the plants broke away, revealing a clearing in the middle of the garden where Azriel had set up a blanket, jars of faelight holding it down and twinkling under the light of the moon. A wicker basket was placed on top, filled with goods he had bought from the market earlier in the day.

“Oh Azriel!” Y/N cried out, taking a step towards the picnic. His hand moved from the small of her back, tentatively grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the blanket to sit down.

“I know it’s not fancy, I should have probably taken you for a meal out. And don’t worry I didn’t do any of the baking, wouldn’t want to poison you again.”

Y/N didn’t even laugh at Azriel’s joke, she just threw herself over the basket on the ground and latched her arms around his neck, pulling him in tightly for a hug. It took three deep breaths before Azriel responded, wrapping one arm around Y/N’s body which was pressed against his, whilst using the other hand to brush the hair that had fallen from behind her ear back.

She pulled away, wincing in pain from the basket that had been digging into her stomach. “It couldn’t be more perfect Az” she smiled, resting her hand over his.

The two ate the food Azriel had bought, making light conversation about the garden they were sitting in and the food they were consuming. Until finally, stomachs full, they both laid back onto the blanket in order to gaze at the stars shining above them.

“What’s it like? In the night Court I mean” Y/N shyly asked, as if afraid of talking about the spymasters home might set him off.

Azriel felt no spike of anger as she mentioned his home court. In fact he didn’t even feel the painful longing he usually did at the thought of it, wanting to be nowhere else but in the present with Y/N.

“It depends where you are. The Illyrian camps are no paradise. But there’s some places…a city that is so magnificent it still takes my breath away every time I see it. That’s where I live. Sometimes I spend hours flying above it and no matter how many times I do I always see something new.” Azriel said whilst closing his eyes, allowing himself to picture it.

“Ah Velaris, the secret city,” Y/N teased, causing Azriel’s eyes to snap open as he sat up and looked at her in shock, “Helion’s a talker” she shrugged as if it was common knowledge.

Azriel laughed and settled back down, head resting onto his hands behind his head, gaze once more returning to the stars. “I’ll take you one day” he confirmed, wanting nothing more than to share his home with Y/N.

He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling as she replied, “I’d like that.”

“Maybe you could make a dress just for the Night Court” Azriel mused, imagining what Y/N would look like in all black before deciding he wasn’t sure if he would want to see her with her colour taken away.

“I’d make you a matching tunic so we could wear them together, only I’m not too sure how to make clothes for Illyrains.” Y/N brushed his wing lightly with a finger as she said this, causing Azriel to stiffen as they twitched responsively.

Obviously he didn’t expect Y/N to know about the sensitivity of an Illyrians wings so he did his best to calm himself, nervously stuttering, “yeah the wings are really something.”

“It must be the best feeling ever, flying.” She said wistfully, staring at the night sky as if imagining she was up there. “I can think of some better feelings…but yeah it’s definitely up there” Azriel spoke, turning his head to admire Y/N. The moonlight making her skin shimmer.

“If I were born with wings I’d travel the whole world. I would see everything Prythian has to offer.”

Azriel wanted to burst her bubble, tell her most of Prythian wasn’t even worth visiting. Yet he held his tongue, not wanting to dampen her dreams. Instead he encouraged them, “where would you fly to first?”

“To Velaris,” she said, finally turning her head to meet his eyes, “I’d have to pick you up first before we go.” Her hand creeped over to Azriel’s which was laying on the blanket before entwining their fingers. “I have a big wingspan, what makes you think you’d be able to keep up?” Azriel warned, smirk on his face. “I think you’d wait for me” Y/N said knowingly, matching smirk on hers. “I’d wait forever for you if I had to” Azriel squeezed her hand as he said this.

“Just you and me and the whole world to explore. Sounds like a good dream.” Y/N smiled sadly, no doubt referring to the fact she didn’t have wings like Azriel’s and reminding him their planning was all based on fiction.

Adamant he didn’t want to see her sad, Azriel shot up onto his feet, hand held out to Y/N to pull her up, “Come on!” He ordered.

Y/N sat up on the blanket, eyebrows creased in confusion, “What?”

“Come on!” He pressed, pushing his outstretched arm even closer to her impatiently, “We’re going flying.”

Y/N released a sound of disbelief, grabbing onto his hand and jumping up from the ground excitedly, “Brilliant! So how do we do this?” She asked, referring to how she would be carried.

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, “uh well it would probably be easier if I just…” and with that he grabbed her and swept her into his arms, one going behind her back for support and the other holding up her legs.

Giggling in anticipation for the flight, Y/N once more ran her fingers down Azriel’s wings in admiration as he spread them wide and shook them ready for flight. He flinched abruptly, almost dropping her in shock before he stuttered, “It’s probably best you stop touching them or I don’t think we’ll ever get round to flying.”

This time instead of just her cheeks flaring red, her entire face flushed, clearly now understanding the implications of touching an Illyrians wings. Finding himself liking her response, Azriel bravely sent her a wink before shooting into the sky. Y/N’s arms flying around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder with a squeal at the speed he had launched from.

Azriel steadied out once high enough in the air, but Y/N still kept her face tucked into his neck in fear. “You can look now” he teased, urging her to lift her head but all he felt was the firm shaking of it against his shoulder so he continued, “We can’t go flying the world together if you won’t look at it? You won’t see much like this.”

That got her attention, Y/N’s head raising, but her eyes didn’t take in the view. Instead they found their home on Azriel’s face. “But I don’t have wings” she pouted up at him.

“But I do” he said with a laugh, batting his wings a little harder so they blew her hair into her face playfully.

“You mean it?” She asked in disbelief that he’d be willing to carry her just so she could see the world.

“Only if you take a look” he whispered into her ear, daring her to break eye contact and take in the view. And so she did and Azriel couldn’t have been more in love than he was in that moment.

Y/N beamed as she looked down on the city. “Look you can see the palace!” She pointed out the large building that towered over the rest of the city, “and my house! This is amazing!”

Azriel didn’t move his gaze to take in any of the sites, instead it stayed locked on Y/N as he replied, “yeah it is.”

“I’m going to want you to fly my everywhere!” She cheered excitedly.

“Wherever you need” Azriel replied, taking his focus off of where he was flying so he could rest his head against hers while she sat happily in his arms, “I would never put you down if you asked me not to.”

Azriel could see the struggle it took for Y/N to pull her eyes from the stunning sight of the twinkling city at night but she managed to, turning to Azriel and shifting slightly in his arms to face him better.

“And if I asked you to hold me forever?”

“Then nothing, no one, would stop me from holding you until the day the Mother takes me.”

Y/N released a small strangled cry at Azriel’s words before she leaned forward in his arms to softly place her lips onto his. Responsive, Azriel meets her halfway, their lips moving together in a passionate dance. Y/N went to deepen the kiss, drawing her tongue languidly against Azriel’s lower lip and in his surprise at her need to take control he completely forgot the two were in the air, relying on the beat of his wings to keep them afloat.

And so they fell.

Y/N releasing a scream as their lips tore apart and Azriel struggled to regain his grip on her flailing body as he turned his attention back to flying. Once she was secure in his arms one more he spread his wings out wide to level out, stopping their freefall.

Y/N panting slightly as her adrenaline at being dropped slowly evaporated, bravely placed her lips near Azriel’s until they brushed before pulling away as he eagerly tried to meet them once more. She shakily spoke against them “I think we’re going to need a rule about kissing while flying.”

Barking out a laugh, Azriel agreed before asking her which direction her home was in. He held her even tighter as he flew in the direction Y/N had pointed in, not wanting to permanently scar her so she never wanted to fly with him again.

He landed as gentle as he could, pulling her closer against him to make her feel safer as he did so, before he carefully placed her back onto the ground, a large hand around her back to ensure she didn’t stumble as she regained her footing.

“I think it’s safe to say this has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She grinned up at him, her hand finding his once more.

Azriel opened his mouth to reply but was interjected by one of his shadows moving up to frantically whisper in his ear, causing a frown to adorn his face. In her euphoria Y/N failed to notice this, instead she led him by their interlocked hands towards her front door.

“Would you like to come in?” She asked, dropping his hand to unlock the door. He cursed under his breath at the untimely appearance of his shadow. “I’d love to really but I’m sorry, I best go home. It’s getting late after all” he had to force the words out, throat closing tightly to try and stop him from saying them.

Y/N’s smile stayed on her face, Azriel knew if she was disappointed she wouldn’t let it show.

“That’s alright”, she said perhaps a bit too overly happy, “you’re right it’s late. Besides, I have something fun planned for us tomorrow, I should get that ready.” Azriel released the breath he didn’t know he was holding at the fact she wanted to meet him tomorrow, Y/N mustn’t be too hurt.

“Oh yeah”, he smiled back at her, batting away the shadow that was still whispering in his ear, “what fun things have you got planned?”

“That’s for you to discover tomorrow” she chided before her lips came to meet his once more. Azriel kissed her back, deeply breathing in her vanilla scent and gripping her waist tightly to avoid his hands wandering elsewhere. His shadow, annoyingly still chittering away into his ear, causing him to reluctantly pull back from the kiss.

“Tomorrow” he huffed, disappointed he had to leave and couldn’t come inside as he wished.

“Tomorrow” she confirmed before retreating into her house for the night.

~~~~~

Azriel was growling the whole flight home. His perfect night had been interrupted, he tried to brush away the thoughts of what could have happened if he had entered the house with Y/N. Best not to dwell on what he couldn’t have. He had tomorrow to make up for that.

Roughly landing outside his flat he stormed through the buildings corridor, where he had danced with Y/N, to his door, flinging it open in anger and stepping inside.

His shadows alerting him to the presence in the corner of the room.

“Hello brother,” Rhysand purred, “ready to go home?”

Part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: (oh my there’s so many of you now! Thank you guys for all your continued support xx)

@minnieoo @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

(If I’ve missed any of you off I’m so sorry please let me know)

[alwritey-aphrodite]

head first, fearless

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x single mom!reader

Warnings: swearing, motherhood

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: here she is!! I also have ideas for a little follow up if anyone’s interested! And a very big thank you to @sokkigarden for being so lovely and helping me so much with this one

Some days you’re convinced Keeley Jones was put on this Earth simply to make your life better. When you’d moved next door to her five years ago, you never would have thought that the brightly dressed, brightly smiling woman would become one of your closest friends and your go-to babysitter.

It didn’t matter if it was a Wednesday or a Saturday, twelve in the afternoon or twelve at night, Keeley would take five-year-old Stella into her home with open arms and a bright smile.

“Anything you need, babes, I’m always here,” she’d told you the very first time you’d asked her to babysit at the last minute with tears in your eyes, and you’ve come to learn that she meant it.

So today, when you received a call from your boss at nine in the morning on a Saturday, you didn’t think twice before bringing Stella next door. Stella was settled on your hip, chattering away about how excited she is to see Keeley and all the fun things they’ll do together while you knocked on the door.

“You aren’t Keeley,” you say, confusion clouding your face at the man in front of you. He seems vaguely familiar to you, like you’d met in passing before, but you couldn’t place him.

“Jesus, Jamie,” you hear a voice from behind the man and he moves out of the way to reveal Keeley rushing towards the door, “sorry about him, he doesn’t know not to answer the door at other people’s houses,” she tells you as she rolls her eyes before reaching out for Stella with a bright smile.

Stella wriggles out of your arms and rushes towards Keeley’s plush couch with barely any time for you to plant a kiss on her forehead. You sigh with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, gathering yourself mentally before you head into the disaster zone that is your job.

“She’s been doing this thing where literally all she eats is strawberries,” you tell Keeley before you rush off, “but I’m sure you could get her to eat anything.”

“I’ll try my best,” she tells you with a wink before she all but shoves you away, “now don’t you worry about us, we’ll be just fine.” You smile at her one last time before you rush off to work, knowing Stella will be safe and happy for the whole day.

“Who was that?” Jamie asks, trying to seem nonchalant as he watches Keeley pour juice into a sippy cup as the little girl uses her chubby little fingers to turn on her favorite show.

“Oh that’s my neighbor, she’s a single mum and her boss is a total dickhead so I watch Stella whenever I can,” Keeley explains, leaning against the counter as she levels Jamie with a knowing stare, “she’s real fucking fit and I wouldn’t mind watching Stella while she does something actually enjoyable, like go on a date.”

Jamie’s a little embarrassed about how easy Keeley is able to read him, able to clock the way Jamie looked at you as he lingered in the doorway. You seemed magnetic, drawing Jamie towards you even as you rushed away and left him with nothing but the desire to know you better. Keeley stares for a few more seconds, long enough for Jamie to squirm under her gaze, before heading over to give Stella her breakfast with a giant smile.

Unsurprisingly, you were right, and Stella eats anything that Keeley makes for her, even the broccoli she had screamed at the night before. She ate it all with a smile, and Jamie was a little terrified at how quickly the little girl was taking over his heart. He’d always loved kids, loved getting to spend time with them and listen to the nonsensical way they talked, but something about Stella seemed different. She had been apprehensive about him at first, but by the time nap time rolls around, she falls asleep in his lap, her little head nestled against his shoulder.

This is how you find them when you rush home before dinner, not even bothering to knock or wait for Keeley to let you in. There’s still a Disney movie playing softly on the TV, and Keeley and Jamie are talking quietly so they won’t disturb Stella, even though you’re sure that girl could sleep through anything.

“Hi, babe!” Keeley greets you with a grin as she pats the couch next to her, and you’re so exhausted you don’t even think twice about sitting down, “Wanna stay for dinner?” She always tries to get you to stay for dinner, tries to get you to let someone take care of you for a change, but you’ve never once accepted her offer.

Today, though, you’re tired to your bones, and even the thought of ordering takeout seems like too much work, so you just nod. Keeley squeals before she looks over at Stella in mortification, but she’s still fast asleep against the man who opened the door that morning. Keeley must catch you looking because she sends you a wink before introducing the two of you, “That’s Jamie, Stella really seems to love him,” and then scurrying off to the kitchen.

At that, Jamie seems embarrassed, his cheeks tinged pink as he glances down at Stella, “I can try to hand her to you, if ya want?”

“Oh, no, I can never get her to nap this long,” you reassure him, and it almost feels like a swarm of butterflies are let loose in your stomach when he smiles at you.

The two of you talk quietly, Keeley joining in whenever she has something to add, and before long Stella is up and happily watching cartoons again. When it comes time for dinner, she demands to sit next to Jamie, practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of spending more time with her new friend.

Watching the two of them interact throughout the meal creates a pit in your stomach and an aching in your chest, as Jamie kindly helps Stella cut up her food and shoots her a wink when he steals a bite off of her plate and Stella just giggles and grins her way through the meal. As much as you’d like to stick around and catch up with Keeley and thank her properly for all of her help, you’re feeling the need to run so you help clean up in the kitchen before dragging Stella back home.

She’d been more than reluctant to leave and seemed on the verge of tears until you promised her ice cream before her bath and now she’s happily eating her dessert while recounting her entire day from the moment you dropped her off to the second you walked through the door.

“Jamie’s really nice and he let me do his hair and taught me to play football and Auntie Keeley said he thinks you’re pretty and…” you zone out after that, and even though you know Keeley was probably just teasing her friend, the thought sends you into a tailspin.

Sure, Jamie was obviously attractive and he was clearly great with Stella, but you barely knew each other and Stella could be lying to you because she’d recently started doing it just for fun. Knowing Keeley, though, she’s always trying to play matchmaker, and you wouldn’t put it past her to try and set up two of her single friends, regardless of if they’re compatible or not.

Still, you decide to spend some quality time searching for Jamie online after Stella goes to sleep.

What you don’t know, though, is that as you spend hours scrolling through all of Jamie’s socials, Keeley and Jamie are having a very similar conversation next door.

“Please just ask her out!” Keeley pleads for the thousandth time, pouring a glass of wine as Jamie pulls up the most recent episode of their favorite reality show.

“Keeley, I don’t know her at all.”

“I know, but I know her! And I know you, and I know the two of you would have a great time. Please, Jamie, the two of you deserve to have a good time and I want to babysit for something other than her boss being shitty.”

Jamie seems to be contemplating it, and Keeley knows she has him.

“I’ll give you her number, maybe invite her and Stella to a game, and then you can ask her out to dinner?” Keeley’s been toying with the idea of setting the two of you up, and now that you’ve actually met it seems like the most perfect idea and she knows you’ll be perfect together.

Keeley doesn’t wait for confirmation, going ahead and sending Jamie your contact information as he turns up the volume on the TV, as if to drown her out.

“And I’ll know if you don’t ask her,” she adds as she sits down next to him, feeling the need for one last push.

“Watch the show, Keeley,” Jamie says as turns his attention to the drama unfolding as if his heart isn’t racing at the idea of seeing you again, at the idea of taking you out for dinner.

It takes him a while to gather his courage, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s typed a message to you before quickly deleting it. He’d briefly considered asking his teammates for help, but that would mean explaining the whole situation and he remembers how intensely involved everyone was with Sam’s Bantr girl and he has no desire to be on the receiving end of that.

Instead, Keeley’s endless messages of Text. Her. push him over the edge until he types a text and hits send instead of delete.

Hey, it’s Jamie from Keeley’s house. Do you and Stella want to come to the game on Saturday? The seats are next to Keeley.

He couldn’t help the way he checked his phone every five minutes after hitting send, or the way his stomach swooped once you sent a reply.

Stella would love that, thank you :) she hasn’t stopped talking about you or football

Jamie needs to tamper down his smile when he reads that because he knows if any of his teammates catch him smiling at his phone, he’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he tells you that Keeley will have the tickets for you and he goes about the rest of his day as if his stomach isn’t full of butterflies at the idea of seeing you again or getting another text from you.

Saturday can’t come soon enough, with Stella bouncing off the walls at the idea of seeing her new friend again and, even though you’d never admit it to anyone, you’re looking forward to seeing Jamie too. Even though your conversation was brief, it was clear that Stella loved him and you’d gotten to know him a little better through texting, where he made you promise to come down to the dressing room after the match so he could say hello to Stella.

Unsurprisingly, it’s a struggle to get Stella into her little Richmond jersey, an old hand-me-down of Keeley’s niece with Kent plastered on the back; she begs you to wear it all the time, but the one day she’s supposed to, it's like the fabric is made of knives. By the time you stumble out to Keeley’s car, you’re sweaty and aggravated and looking forward to spending the afternoon with your best friend.

What you weren’t expecting, though, was to be led up to the owner’s box, where you were greeted by Keeley’s friend Rebecca, who was intimidatingly beautiful and the owner of AFC Richmond. You’d met a few times, but seeing her in her element while you wrangled a kindergartener made you feel like a fish out of water.

“And you must be Stella,” she says, looking down with a smile at your daughter who’s trying to escape your grip on her hand.

“Normally she has manners,” you respond as you smooth a hand over the girl’s hair, trying to get her to calm down for just a moment, knowing all the excitement of the match is going to make it impossible for her to sleep as it is.

Rebecca just chuckles, her brilliant smile never leaving her face.

“I completely understand, my Jelka sometimes acts like she’s never left the house.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter?” Your statement comes out more like a question, racking your brain for any memory of Rebecca mentioning a child before.

“It’s a recent development,” Keeley adds with a wink to you as she squeezes Rebecca’s arm, and the taller woman just scoffs.

The four of you make your way out to your seats, Stella insisting on standing up on your legs, blocking everyone behind you. You turn to apologize, but the man sitting behind you just brushes it off.

“Children are strong willed,” he tells you with a reassuring smile, “I couldn’t even get my boys to wear pants when they were her age.”

It’s hard to ignore the urge to apologize for everything you or Stella did, but knowing you were surrounded by parents who understood the struggles of a strong willed child helped calm your nerves. It wasn’t that Stella misbehaved or that you let her run wild, but sometimes people who weren’t parents didn’t understand and expected her to sit quietly and still, as if she was a little adult and not a five year old child. Luckily, as the match started, everyone seemed to get as rambunctious and energetic as her.

Watching the game, you can’t help the way your eyes keep drifting to Jamie, even when he doesn’t have the ball. There’s just something about him that continues to draw your eyes to the large number nine on his back as he runs across the pitch. He scores right before halftime, and no one in that stadium is half as excited as Stella, who’s jumping up and down and screaming as if you just told her you’re taking a trip to Disney.

Richmond scores two more times, winning the game without much of a fight.

“Come on, let’s go see the boys!” Keeley stands and wiggles her fingers at Stella, who clambers out of her seat and eagerly grabs her hand, leaving you no choice but to follow. Keeley all but runs down the stairs with you and Rebecca trailing behind, exchanging information to get your girls together some time.

When you make it to the dressing room, you’re hit in the face with noise and warmth and the smell of sweat, but Stella is so excited you can barely focus on anything other than keeping your grip on her little hand. Keeley knocks and lets herself in with you and Rebecca following and you can’t help the way you immediately feel like there are 27 pairs of eyes on you.

“Jamie!” Stella slips out of your grip and makes a beeline for the striker and your heart stutters at the easy way she jumps into his grip, at the way he smiles at the little girl.

“We’ve gotta get you a better fucking kit,” Jamie tells her when he sees the large Kent plastered on her back, leading to stares and shushes from the rest of the team. Jamie, realizing what he’s said, looks to you with eyes wide with fear and remorse.

“It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before,” you tell him with a smile, and the room erupts into noise again, the team swarming your daughter and asking her opinions on the match, considering everything she says with genuine concern. You keep watch out of the corner of your eye, but from what you’ve heard from Keeley and what you know about Jamie, you’re sure Stella will be fine, but it’s hard to turn off the mom instincts.

Isaac is marching Stella around the room on his shoulders to “give her a better view” when Jamie comes over to where you’re standing with Keeley, Rebecca, and the coaches.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” you shoot a glance back at Keeley, but she just winks at you as Jamie leads you out into the hallway.

It’s silent for a few moments, Jamie fiddling with the front of his kit, before he finally says, “Did Stella have a good time?”

“She loved it, probably the best day of her life so far,” you grin at him, hearing your daughter’s happy giggles through the dressing room door.

“Good, good,” he falls silent again, shoving his hands into the front of his kit.

You’re about to head back into the dressing room, even though you’re certain that wasn’t what Jamie wanted to ask you, when a question tumbles out of his mouth so quickly you’re certain you’ve misunderstood him.

“Wanna grab dinner sometime?” He expels a breath as if this is the most difficult thing he’s had to do today.

“What?” You ask in response, confused and surprised and sure you just didn’t hear him right.

“Would you like to get dinner sometime?” He asks again, slower, “Like, as a date?”

“That sounds nice,” and with the way he beams at you, you’re sure you’d agree to whatever he asks you.

“Cool.” You stand in the hallway for a few moments longer, just smiling at each other, before the laughter of your daughter snaps you out of your stupor and you head back into the dressing room. You can tell by the look on Keeley’s face that she knew exactly what Jamie had asked you, and was probably the one who pushed him to do it.

“Need a babysitter Friday night?” she asks as you approach, and you just roll your eyes at her, turning your attention back to Stella and the group of footballers that seem so enamored with her and her opinions.

The celebration starts to die down, even though you’re certain the party’s going to pick up at some exclusive club or bar in a few hours, and Rebecca walks with you and Keeley out into the car park.

“How long has that been a thing?” She asks, jutting her head back towards the building with a knowing little smirk as you buckle Stella into her seat.

“There is no thing,” you fix Keeley with a look, knowing that she’s probably been planning that for months, before you’d even met Jamie, and Rebecca has been in on it the whole time.

Still, you promise to message Rebecca with the dates that you and Stella are free for a playdate before buckling yourself into the driver’s seat, all the excitement of the day starting to wear you down. Hopefully, Stella’s so worn out from excitement she goes right to sleep when you get home, but you know the more likely scenario is that she stays up all night because she’s wound up.

The universe must be on your side, though, because Stella falls asleep before you’re even home and you need Keeley’s help to open your front door.

“God, this was so much easier to do when she was smaller,” you whisper with a grin, thinking of all the times Keeley needed to help you into your house when your arms were full of a sleeping Stella and groceries and your work bag. Keeley grins back, placing a kiss on Stella’s forehead before scampering off to her own house, waving goodbye before she closes the door.

Tell me when Jamie gives you a day + time, I’ll come over to help you get ready ;)

Even though you roll your eyes when you see the message, sent before you could even get Stella into bed, you really do appreciate her offer. You can’t even remember the last time you’d been out on a date, and you’ve certainly never been out with a professional footballer. Jamie’s clearly a nice guy, and you’ve enjoyed the few times you’d talked in person, but you’re already beyond nervous for the date that’s still days away.

Those nerves only grow as the week goes on, as you and Jamie settle on Friday at seven at an upscale restaurant you’d never even heard of, and as Keeley lets herself into your house with her spare key at four o’clock on Friday, your nerves reach their peak.

“Well, I’d totally fuck you,” Keeley says after she zips up the back of your dress, looping her arms around your waist and looking into your eyes through the mirror with a grin.

“Thanks, Keels, I’ll be sure to let him know that,” you reply with a giggle, finally starting to feel a little giddy at the thought of your date, even though your anxiety was pulsing just below the surface. The doorbell rings then, and you’re almost certain your heart is going to stop.

“I’ll get it,” Keeley gently pushes you aside as she makes her way out of the bathroom, “grab a purse before you come down, and not the big one! He won’t need snacks before dinner to stop him from crying!” She gives you a wink and then she’s gone, and you can just barely hear her greet Jamie at the door, followed by Stella making a run for him.

Breathing deeply, you make your way back into your bedroom to stuff all of your belongings into a tiny purse, leaving your trusty, large tote sitting on the bed, overflowing with snacks and toys to keep Stella entertained whenever you go out. As much as you’d love to, you know you can’t hide out in your room forever, so you snap your purse closed and make your way downstairs.

Walking down your steps makes you feel like you’re a teenager again, your prom date eagerly waiting at the door after getting grilled by your father, except this time it’s Jamie getting grilled by Keeley and your daughter. When she sees you, Stella is already reaching for you, attempting to wriggled herself out of the arms of a slack-jawed Jamie.

“C’mon, babe,” Keeley intercepts Stella instead, knowing you’ll never leave otherwise, “let’s go find a movie to watch.” Now, it’s just you and Jamie standing by your front door in silence, Stella’s happy jabbering filtering in from the living room the only noise.

“You look nice,” you finally break the silence, feeling awkward and unsure of yourself and certain you sound lame, like you haven’t been on a date in the last six years.

“So do you,” Jamie responds, gently trailing his eyes up and down your form despite the blush on the tips of his ears, “ready?”

You just nod, still needing time to process the fact that you’re going on a date with Jamie Tartt, who looks nothing less than perfect in dark slacks and a button up, and it’s clear that he had attempted to style his hair but the way he continually runs his hands through it has ruined whatever styling there was before. Hopefully the shock of going out with someone so gorgeous will wear off soon so you can actually participate in conversations.

Luckily, by the time you make it to the restaurant Keeley had recommended to Jamie, you’re able to talk about anything and everything, swapping stories about your childhoods and work and Stella, stories that Jamie seems genuinely interested in.

“I hadn’t put together any of her nursery furniture and she would not stop crying so I couldn’t put her down,” you tell him over dessert, explaining the beginning to your friendship with Keeley, “and then there was a knock on the door and I was ready to scream at whoever was on the other side, but it was Keeley and she took Stella right out of my arms and of course she stopped crying then.” You smile, reminiscing on how essential Keeley was during those first few months where you were convinced you’d made a mistake and you’d never survive.

“And then she sat with me while I put together the rest of Stella’s furniture, and she put her in the crib, turned on the baby monitor, and made me dinner.” Keeley had shown you that you weren’t alone, that you’d be able to handle whatever life throws at you because you had her by your side, and if anyone could understand that feeling it was Jamie. “She sat with me and came over every night, just to hang out, and when I went back to work, she watched Stella for me and I didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yeah, she’s magical like that, making you realize things about yourself, believing in you and shit,” Jamie adds, even as his cursing catches the attention of the tables around you.

“She insisted on being Stella’s fairy godmother,” you add with a giggle, delighting in the way Jamie smiles at you.

“I ordered Stella a Tartt kit, by the way,” as soon as the thought crosses your mind the words are out of your mouth, and it’s worth it when Jamie looks at you like this is the best news he’s ever heard.

“She’ll have to wear it to our next match, then,” and you’d agree to anything he says when he says it with that soft look in his eyes, like he might actually love you.

It’s too soon for any of that, but the thought doesn’t scare you the way it normally does. You think you’d enjoy being in love with Jamie, making breakfast together on the weekends and falling asleep next to each other every night of the week. Stella already adores him, so you’d never need to worry about that, and it seems like he cares for Stella the way you and Keeley do, and you know she needs all the love and support she can get.

Jamie glances at his phone, letting out a sigh as he notices the time.

“This is the best night I’ve had a in a while,” he says and you brace yourself for the finishing blow, “but grandad makes me get up at 4 AM for training. Maybe I can bring you coffee tomorrow?” He looks so hopeful, even if you weren’t already foaming at the mouth at the idea of spending more time with him, you’d say yes.

He walks you to your door, and you have to pretend that you don’t know that Keeley is watching from behind the curtains when you press a kiss to his cheek and he squeezes your hand in a way that makes you want to invite him in, even though you both know that would never happen. He waits until you’re safely inside before driving away, and as soon as the door shuts behind you, Keeley is attacking you for details.

Seated on the couch, legs tucked underneath you and junk food spread out on the coffee table, you recount your whole night, telling her how wonderful he was and how great he made you feel and Keeley looks happy enough to burst. Whether her joy comes from the fact that her two friends are happy or because she set the two of you up, you’ll never be sure.

After she leaves, you find yourself texting Jamie, thanking him for such a great night and wishing him luck with training before throwing yourself into bed, happy and exhausted and ready to sleep forever. You dream of Jamie and Stella and a dog, and when you wake up, you’re a little disappointed that it wasn’t real, though you’d never admit that to anyone.

Jamie brings coffee in the morning, and almost every morning after that. When you tell him to stop going out of his way, he tells you his house is right down the road, but Keeley confirms your suspicions that he’s lying. You just laugh when she tells you he’s wrong, too delighted that someone would go out of their way for you every morning to bring it up with him again.

It’s a little terrifying, how seamlessly Jamie fits into your life. You and Stella find yourself in the owner’s box of most Richmond home games, and Jamie brings over takeout every Friday night. If you’re ever working late or stuck at the office, Jamie always jumps at the chance to pick Stella up from school, sometimes grabbing Phoebe as well so the two girls can play together.

Sometimes you wonder if he does that solely to bother Roy, but you don’t mind as long as the girls get home safely.

Jamie is wonderful with Stella, and that was what scared you the most, because while you were used to dealing with heartbreak and disappointment, your daughter wasn’t. Every time you see them kicking a football around in your backyard or catch Stella asleep in Jamie’s lap during a movie, your heart constricts and your breath catches in your throat because you don’t know how you’re supposed to explain it to her if Jamie decides to leave, decides that a fit young footballer doesn’t need to be tied down by a kindergartener and her workaholic mother.

One night, a few months after that very first dinner, the two of you are sitting on the couch with Stella safely asleep in her bed and you’re so happy it scares you a little. This is everything you’ve always wanted, a loving partner who cares for your daughter like she’s his own, but you need to resist the urge to self-destruct.

“Jamie,” you start, reaching for his hand and pulling his attention away from the movie and hating how much this sounds like you’re about to break up with him, “I love you.” It’s a miracle you’re able to keep your voice steady with the terror you feel, but it all evaporates in a second when Jamie smiles at you, beaming from ear to ear as if he’s scored a game winning goal.

“I love you, too,” and he kisses you so softly it hurts you a little, hurts the part inside your brain that was wishing your life could have always been like this, wishing you could have always been this happy. You kiss him back, though, and the movie sits forgotten for the rest of the night.

“I got pregnant at nineteen,” you tell him later, wrapped up in your sheets and his arms, “and Stella’s dad isn’t a bad guy or anything, he just… wasn’t ready, which is fine, it was my choice in the end, but sometimes it really fucking sucked.” You sniffle, hating yourself a little for ruining such a lovely night but Jamie just pulls you close, presses a kiss to the crown of your head and traces nonsensical shapes on your arm.

“But then I found Keeley, and now I have you, and Stella’s perfect and everything turned out okay but I just wanted you to know,” you finish, breathing deeply for the first time since you started talking. It wasn’t like it was a secret that you had Stella young or that you were a single mom, but sometimes revealing all the details felt too intense, like no one needed or wanted to hear how you got to this point.

“Me mum was only twenty when I was born,” Jamie tells you, continuing his tracing on your arm and it’s then that you realize he’s been drawing hearts, “and my dad’s a real piece of a shit, so she basically raised me all on her own. And then she found Simon when I was a teenager and he’s a good guy, likes baking and shit. I think they’d both like you a lot, you and Stella.”

“Well, your mom must be pretty great, putting up with you all on her own,” you smile, bursting into laughter when Jamie squeezes your side, both of you feeling lighter and falling asleep after sharing more giggle-filled kisses.

Life continues on, leaving you giddy to see what the next day will hold. Jamie continues to bring coffee every morning, stopping by while Stella eats breakfast in front of the TV and you pack up three lunches. If there isn’t a game, Jamie stays over on the weekend and the two of you make breakfast together, swaying gently in the kitchen in your pajamas, basking in the sun and his presence until Stella stomps her way downstairs, hair ruffled and her grumpy little frown blooming into a smile the second she smells the pancake batter.

Stella started playing football on the same team as Phoebe, and you and Keeley get equally as excited as you do at Richmond matches. Whenever he’s available, Jamie will join Roy as an assistant coach, and even though he tells you it’s to spend time with Stella, you’re sure seeing the annoyed look on Roy’s face whenever he shows up is a nice bonus. The four of you will take the girls out to lunch after, and you’re reminded of all the wonderful people you’ve had in your corner, some longer than others but all equally as important to you.

Your life might not have gone the way you expected, but what you have now is better than anything you ever could have dreamed.

Tags: @whimsical-roasting @hopefulromances @onceuponaoneshot @jamietarttdodo @scaramou @ickydollysstuff @drizzyreese @amieinghigh @ilymoonie @better-things-to-do @yepyeahuhhuh @zazima @guccilongboard @shineforever19 @tortilla-maria1 @shakespeareanwannabe @lilweirdgal @flashyourgreeneyesatme @aiyaiy @just35yrsandtrying @chrissy1986 @emmy2811

[icallhimjoey]

Explain Us

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help! 18+ smut! (just a little! but it's a start!)

Author’s note: "am i gonna have to buy into the concept of sleeping next to him but just kissing?" no :) of course not :))))

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Big mistake. Massive error. Huge miscalculation.

Shouldn’t have done that.

Why did you do that?

All the things you wouldn’t even let your own inner monologue sound out were now just... out there. Vocalised into the ether. Swirling around in the air of the flat. The very one where Joe lived too, and maybe they’d end up finding their way into Joe’s ears eventually – not how it worked, you were very aware, but, a new fear had been awakened anyway.

Fuck.

You shouldn’t have told her.

And it was Joe’s fault too!

Not really. But, sort of. You were blaming him for all of it, anyway. If he hadn’t decided that your friend being out of the room for just a second was enough time to let hands wander, she would never have seen. Would never have given you that look. Would never have asked you the question you knew she was keeping inside of her mouth until Joe’d left.

“So... what’s going on with you and Joe?”

Breathe, you stupid bitch. Remain calm.

“Nothing.”

It was silly how fast you cracked. An eye-roll and a pointed look later had you bashfully confess that, yea all right, there was something going on with you and Joe. You just didn’t really know if you could explain it properly.

“The way you quickly stepped away from him when I walked back in, I fucking knew something was up. Try me.”

“No, but it’s really complicated...”

“I said, try me.”

And well. Turns out, in a huge what-the-fuck moment, it wasn’t at all that complicated actually. You told her that you and Joe got cosy and watched films a lot. Cuddled up and fell asleep on each other on the daily. Slept in the same bed a lot. All the time, now, actually, because it was just nicer than sleeping alone. But you weren’t like, together or anything.

You rambled.

And your friend watched you in silence.

And, yea sure, sometimes you kissed, but it was like, you know, how friends kiss each other sometimes. Quick pecks. Like stage kisses. Joe was an actor. It didn’t really mean anything.

“You... you kiss like friends kiss?”

“Yea,” you shrugged, picked a little bit of food of a forgotten dinner plate to appear more casual about all of it. To really sell that it wasn’t a big deal to you.

“Or like, how you’d kiss a parent, you know?”

Your friend watched you a second, and then challengingly went, “All right. Kiss me like you’d kiss Joe.” before leaning over a little in her seat, ready for a smooch.

And then you paused, and you shouldn’t have. The pause gave everything away. It made your friend burst out laughing instantly.

“You don’t kiss like friends do!” she accused, but you were already wiping your hands and reaching for her face. You could plant one smacker right on her lips to convince her of your innocence if you had to. Sure. Why not.

“No, come here, I’ll show you.”

“Ew fuck off,” she laughed. “Next you’ll finger me on the sofa.”

And–

Um.

What?

Your friend was about to go for a sip of her drink when she saw your face, and then lowered her glass as her eyes grew to twice their size.

“Oh no, you’ve let him finger you on the sofa?”

You had.

You fucking had.

But you weren’t going to fucking tell her.

You felt heat flush your face, and shut the fuck up, you could not blush in front of her. She'd know! Your panic made her exclaim your name loudly, like she couldn’t believe what the fuck this well of information she’d just fallen into even was. But there was a wild joy there too. Like she was loving this obvious mess of a weird relationship you had with your flatmate, and was so excited to be discovering all of these crazy secrets.

You didn’t blame her.

“No,” you started, trying to be as convincing as you could. “I’ve not let him fi–” her laugh interrupted you, and you didn’t like how contagious it was. You tried again, trying to speak over your own and her laughter, “He has not fingered me on the sofa.”

He had.

“Oh?”

“... what?”

“Not on the sofa? But, elsewhere, he has?”

That too.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed, getting up to clear the table. “Of course he hasn’t, we’re flatmates for fuck’s sake!”

A pair of eyes narrowed at you in suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Oh, my God. Imagine if I wasn’t?” You laughed, and she laughed with you. It deflated the tension you felt in your gut from lying by just enough to keep the nervous sweat from your brow.

You diverted the attention to different things quite quickly, and your friend soon dropped the whole ordeal, what with it being obvious that it was clearly making you uncomfortable. Your adamant denying was no fun to listen to anyway.

But something nagged at you.

Why had she immediately assumed there was more to you and Joe and then... didn’t seem all that fussed?

Well, she did seem fussed. But she also didn’t.

She hadn’t even asked if you liked him. If you were into Joe like that. Like it wasn’t really a huge deal.

Which, yea, she was right, because it wasn’t. You’d been telling yourself it wasn’t. Spent a lot of time convincing yourself that it wasn’t.

But how come it took her only two seconds to agree with you before she swiftly carried on talking about her own problems?

It bothered you more than you let on, and it kind of simmered on in the back of you mind for the rest of the evening. Kept you staring into space and not really listening to whatever she was telling you. Had you almost consider confessing that, actually, you lied and Joe had fingered you on the sofa. Big whoops. And right where she was sitting, too.

It kind of gradually happened a couple weeks ago and you hadn’t talked about it afterwards.

Of course you hadn’t.

You never talked.

But you should have.

Not that you’d know what to say.

What would you even say?

Thank you?

You’d done that once, and Joe had been all weird after.

You didn’t talk going into anything, and you didn’t talk after. And it had all been fine up until... well, now, probably.

No.

Actually... it was still fine.

Right?

You were just flatmates who did things sometimes. No judgement. Just in the moment enjoyment and comfortability. A natural fluidity that had just grown between the two of you over time.

You tried to shake it off as you got ready for bed in Joe’s bedroom on your own. Joe was still out. Would be for a little while too. Night shoot, or a party, something. Whatever. You’d not paid attention because your heart had been in your throat as he explained where he was going. Your friend had just seen the two of you jump apart in the kitchen when she walked back in, and so focusing on whatever information Joe was giving you was a little too big of an ask.

But then you couldn’t shake it off.

Because even though Joe had made the comment that his bed had started smelling of you now, Joe’s bed still smelled of Joe to you, and now every single thing that had lingered in the back of your mind got hurled right into the forefront.

That day.

That first time.

You’d been in such an awful mood that day. Ended up having to work late to rectify mistakes others had made, and then, when you finally got home, were met by a full sink of dishes in the kitchen, dirty plates and glasses on the counter right next to it. There was evidence of Joe having started trying to tidy it all up, but then clearly, he hadn’t finished the job.

When you opened the dishwasher you knew why.

It was full of clean but still wet dishes that he hadn’t wanted to towel dry before putting it all away.

Great.

Sometimes having a flatmate was great.

Other times, it was really fucking annoying.

“Joe?” you called, using a dirty fork to check if any of the dishes inside of the sink were yours.

“Yea?”

He was reading something aloud in his bedroom when you’d walked in, and you knew you were interrupting him as he did his job. But, fuck it. None of these dishes were yours.

“Would you mind not being the worst flatmate tonight?”

Harsh. But Joe jogged in and knew exactly what you meant, “Yea, sure, in a second. Look what I got!”

In a second.

Ugh.

Joe walked over to the TV and then stepped aside to reveal a small plant.

You gave it a dry stare before sarcastically commenting, “Wonderful.” and turning around to begrudgingly start on the dishes yourself.

“What? You were saying how this area needed some greenery, did you not?” Joe touched one of the green leafs proudly. He really thought he picked a good one.

“Yea,” you scoffed. “But I meant like, a big palm for in the corner, or one of those, I don’t know, huge monstera ones, with the big leafs, that can grow up to the ceiling.” You complained. Loved complaining for a second. Really enjoyed swimming in negativity as you fished all dirty dishes from the sink and placed them with the plates and glasses on the side.

“Yea, I guess that would be more impressive than this,” Joe said softly, still looking at the little asplenium. He’d picked the pot himself too, and the lady said that the small plant was called crispy wave and wasn’t that just exactly the right description for it too? “But we could do both. We could still get a larger one for next to it. And then it’ll have a buddy.”

You barely heard Joe over the clattering of cutlery in the sink.

“Hey, I said I’d do that in a second,” Joe finally zoned back in after a particular loud clang and made his way over.

“Yea but I didn’t ask you to not be the worst flatmate tonight in a second, though, did I? Have to do everything in this fucking place.”

You didn’t. You knew that. But it was negativity hours and Joe was just going to have to understand you didn’t mean half the shit you were going to be moaning about.

You pushed dishes aside on the counter to make room for a handful of forks and knives whilst Joe got his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to carefully move you aside.

“Let me–”

“No, you’ll just–”

The loud smash of a glass to tile interrupted you. Slipped right off the edge of the counter. It was one of Joe’s nicer ones. One that looked like a vintage tumbler – it wasn’t actually vintage – that he kept out on display on one of the shelves.

The both of you just stared at it for a second, and then you decided that you couldn’t actually deal with any of the mess. The dirty dishes. Joe’s stupid small plant. The broken glass. Shards all over the kitchen floor.

So you just, left.

Turned around and walked right into the hallway.

Left Joe alone to deal with the ramifications of which you would argue were his own doing.

Shouldn’t have left all this mess.

Shouldn’t have all of his friends over for lunch just because he could.

Shouldn’t have used his nice tumblers.

And people at work shouldn’t be such fucking idiots.

The universe was awful and everyone could die.

There.

But then, before you’d even walked into your bedroom, you’d already decided it was actually all your fault, and Joe’d done nothing wrong, and you were going to get him a new tumbler.

You took a minute to breathe. To sit within your feelings. Wiped a stupid tear from your eye before it could fall down. Changed into something more comfortable and raked a brush through your hair in an attempt to detangle the day out of it.

When you walked back into the living area, Joe was stood hunched beside the counter, probably inspecting the floor for bits of forgotten glass, which was... just perfect.

You walked over in silence and then simply just, climbed on board. Slung your arms around his neck and let your full bodyweight sink onto his back as you pulled your knees up and around his sides.

“Hey, wha–”

Joe nearly lost his balance and shot one hand out to a cabinet to keep himself steady whilst the other one grabbed onto one of your arms.

“What’s going on? Everything okay?”

Your chest tightened at how worried and sincere he sounded.

Joe stood up straight, and got both his arms around your legs to keep you in place on his back.

“I’ll replace it.” you murmured.

“The glass?”

Joe felt you nod against the side of his head as you cheek pressed against one of his ears.

“Ah, s’just a glass, don’t worry about it.”

“And your plant’s cute.”

It was as close to an apology as he was going to get from you. Joe felt you sigh against him and he turned his head in an attempt to look at you.

“Have you eaten?” he asked softly.

You had. Stupid tesco’s meal deal at your desk. You understood why he asked though.

“Mhmm.” you confirmed.

“Good. You ready for dessert?”

Joe let you hold onto him, but it quickly became impossible to stay in your piggyback position. You nearly choked him as you attempted to stay on, but you slid off when he started emptying the dishwasher.

You both laughed, and then you snorted, and then you both laughed at how you’d snorted.

Joe’d gotten little pots of chocolate mousse, the cheap stuff that your mother used to pretend was a special dessert for special occasions only which you believed until you were a teenager. Felt silly now, but they still felt a little special. You had yours sat at the island whilst you watched Joe clean the kitchen.

Got to stare at how his muscles moved underneath his white T-shirt.

How his hands moved as he grabbed onto things.

His fingers.

When Joe closed the loaded dishwasher and turned around, he was met with his flatmate’s half-lidded eyes. His flatmate who had her head propped up in a hand, who had her spoon hanging from her mouth.

Joe theatrically spread his arms out and gave a little bow.

“There. All tidy. Not the worst flatmate tonight.”

He truly wasn’t.

Even if he’d left the mess for what it was.

Joe didn’t even need to suggest spending the rest of the night on the sofa together. It’s where you naturally migrated to as you had your last spoonful of dessert and he wiped down the counters to really finish off the job.

You’d sat down first, and when Joe let himself fall into the cushions beside you, he leant into you a little and stuck his chin out. When you just looked at him a second, he tapped his cheek with a finger, asking for a little thank you kiss. It instantly made you grin.

It was stupid how large the shift in your mood was from when you’d walked in earlier.

But look at him!

All... cheeky and cute.

It was kind of impossible not to cheer up just by being around him.

And cheeky was right, because when you easily gave in and went to press a kiss to his cheek, Joe turned his head at the last moment and got you right on the lips.

You gasped, said his little plant wasn’t that nice, which made him laugh loudly, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

Making Joe laugh like that was different. Made you feel all giddy and secretly proud as you got comfortable in your little spot on the sofa.

“All right, I’ll move it to where you won’t have to look at it all the time.” Joe joked. You frowned, asked, “Where?” because the flat wasn’t that big. You’d see it all the time no matter where it would be.

“I don’t know,” Joe said, moving a throw pillow and stuffing it behind his back. “Your bedroom, maybe.”

Oh.

Yea, all right.

“Fuck off.”

You gave Joe a deadpan stare as he giggled, far too happy with his own little joke.

Even though lighthearted and sort of adorable, that got a little too close to acknowledging what you were doing.

You didn’t talk.

Well, you talked, but never about it. And you liked it that way.

Once you and Joe got close, you kind of didn’t want to stay away anymore. Speaking thoughts, and feelings, and rational musings into the air might make you decide on silly shit like, maybe you shouldn’t anymore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have Joe squeeze a hand in between your legs just above your knees for comfort.

Maybe you shouldn’t get cosy and rub your cupid’s bow against his bicep as Joe flicked through channels.

Maybe you shouldn’t so readily accept kisses pressed into your hair, and maybe you shouldn’t hum to them either. Close your eyes to them. Tip your head back to look Joe in the eye and kiss him on the mouth after.

Maybe you shouldn’t let Joe snake an arm across your waist and tuck his fingers into the elastic waist band of your joggers as you lazily make out on the sofa for a bit.

What you definitely shouldn’t have done, was nudge closer and open your legs a little as you felt Joe’s fingers press into the skin just above your underwear.

Shouldn’t have nodded when Joe rested his forehead against yours for a second and whispered a breathy, “Yea?”

Shouldn’t have gasped as Joe touched you over your underwear first.

Absolutely shouldn’t have moaned as Joe moved fabric aside.

Shouldn’t have whispered his name when you noticed how he was biting back his own groans.

Shouldn’t have redirected his thumb when it wasn’t really in the right spot, and then really shouldn’t have shuddered when it found exactly the right spot.

But it had happened.

And then you didn’t talk after.

Should have.

Didn’t.

And then it happened a bunch more.

Shouldn’t have.

But did.

And now your friend sort of knew, and why the fuck had she not reacted in the way that you thought she would react? Was this not a huge deal?!

You laid in Joe’s bed, in one of Joe’s T-shirts, surrounded by Joe’s things, and, no. It was all too much. And he wasn’t even there.

For the first time in weeks you decided to leave Joe’s bed for what it was and go across the hall to find your own to sleep in.

It felt a little like getting into a hotel bed. Not quite like your own, but comfortable none the less.

The last thing you saw before you switched off the lights was that stupid little plant that Joe had put on your dresser.

Big mistake.

Shouldn’t have done that.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[mxtantrights]

day court!reader meets Azriel

it happens when you're arranging to leave the night court. You're paying off one of the males who work at the ferry service. He'll make sure you get on and off without anyone knowing who you really are.

You finish paying him and turn around and run right into him. Him. The spymaster. You've got great timing, really. Helion would think so too.

You sigh, "Excuse me."

You go to side step him but he steps in front of you. You look up at him with a bit of a frown.

"Is there something I can help you with?" you ask, a bit peeved.

He tilts his head to the side at you, like he's trying to read you. You can't tell why. It's not like he actually knew what you were in the middle of. And it wasn't a crime to pay someone off for privacy.

Yes, you weren't supposed to be here. Yes Helion would probably be ticked off that you came here without telling him. But really it would all end there.

"I don't think the High Lord was expecting you," he says at once.

You look around, trying to play it off. Yes he probably remembered you from your moment a few weeks ago. But maybe he saw too many faces that day. Maybe you just look like someone he thought he saw.

"I'm no one, just passing through." you lie.

He scoffs at that.

"I don't think you are." he says, vaguely. You can't tell if he's answering the first or second statement you made. Or if he's saying something else entirely.

"Unless you plan on locking me up in some dungeon somewhere, I'm going to leave now." you say.

You side step him again, this time he stays firmly planted where he is. You pull your cloak over you shoulders more tightly and walk away from him.

Yeah, this was going to come back to bite you.

[eveningrainstorm]

my take on teenage raz and lili!

some design notes under the cut:

They're intended to be about 16 here! I didn't go for anything too drastic in terms of changes -- these are largely just what I'd consider natural evolutions of their canon designs

For Raz, my main focus besides just making him look older was to add a bit more resemblance to the other Aquatos in his design, since his relationship with them wouldn't be strained like it is during canon

Raz is shown with very straight hair in canon, but since most of his family's hair is more wavy or curly I tend to imagine he styles it that way on purpose as part of his Sasha Nein cosplay or whatever. He wouldn't still feel the need to do that at this point, though, so for this design I wanted to make it more curly, similar to Augustus or Frazie, while still similar to his canon style. This turned out to be incredibly difficult and I'm still not entirely happy with where I landed, but it's good enough

I didn't think he would still wear the helmet but I didn't want to discard it entirely, so the goggles were a compromise. I meant to give them some visible scratches and wear and tear since they're presumably the same goggles he's been wearing since he was 10, but I forgot. rip

Obviously the most notable change to Raz's outfit is the scarf -- I wanted something that would tie him visually to the other Aquatos while still fitting with his general look. I imagine they gave it to him as a gift, sort of an acknowledgement that even if he doesn't perform with them as an acrobat, doing his Psychonaut work is his own way of being an Aquato

Raz's outfit here is honestly very similar to his PN2 outfit. This is because in my eyes "long coat and turtleneck" is Peak Character Design and cannot be improved on. (Hence why I may not be the best person to redesign Raz.) He has an actual coat rather than just an oversized blazer this time though, so that's an improvement. With the turtleneck I was was vaguely intending for it to be color-wise something of a middle ground between the Sasha-style green striped turtleneck and the Aquato blue/green and white stripes, but it ended up basically just being the PN1 stripes with the PN2 color. which, you know, that works

I went back and forth on what their heights should be -- I thought it would be kind of funny if Raz ended up short and Lili ended up taller than him, but then I decided to just make them more in line with their families, with Raz being tall and lanky and Lili being average verging on short. Except then I accidentally made Lili tall anyway because I was only vaguely considering her height relative to Raz. I guess Lili's probably taller than her dad now? good for her ig

Most of their facial features are just slight variations of how they look in canon -- slightly smaller eyes and so on. the only real specific change is that Lili has a more defined nose now, similar in shape to her father's

Lili's outfit here is more different from either of her canon outfits than Raz's is, but there's still not much that really requires a ton of explanation. The goal was to make her look vaguely cool and fashionable, although as I am neither of those things I cannot guarantee I was successful

I tried a couple different hairstyles for Lili, and I'm still not entirely set on this one -- Originally what I settled on was to give her two braids, which I did like, but I kept doing sketches of her where I just drew the top part of the hair and was like "ngl this kind of works on its own" and so I ended up going with the short hair. I also briefly tried an asymmetrical haircut but I couldn't get it to look right. I think this one suits her though

Lili's tattoo (on her left wrist) was a later addition to the design, and even in the later stages of drawing this I wasn't sure whether to keep it. I like it conceptually I just haven't figured out a consistent design for it yet, only that it has to be of plants

god these notes got way longer than I meant them to be I am so sorry. Uh basically I'm still figuring out the details of these designs but for now here's Raz and Lili, they're teenagers now, thanks for reading

[dullgecko]

Fabian’s gonna freak the F out when Sklonda shows them Riz baby pics “What do you mean the ball was ever an actual infant!”

He then explains about how he thought goblins were born fully formed or grown like plants or something (sorry I can’t remember what u said exactly in the ask) and Sklonda seriously and with actual concern ask Fabian if he knows where babies come from and if his parents ever gave him ‘the talk’.

Also I was thinking about baby goblins being irresistibly cute and how not a lot of people having seen them; while as their instincts told them to sklonda and pok did keep Riz mostly safely hidden away as a baby but there were times they had to for whatever reason take him out and Riz even then was a curious little guy constantly poking his head out to see the world out of whatever bundle he was in unlike most shy goblin kits.

Goblins are normally notwell liked by other species so sklonda and pok were pretty sure a baby goblin would receive the same treatment.

To their surprise it was the opposite problem, everyone found baby Riz adorable and often overstepped boundaries and personal space, treating him more like an exotic pet than an actual baby.

This all accumulates one day day when a complete stranger goes to grab and hold Riz but before they can either/both sklonda and pok are hissing and growling calling the person a number goblin swear words as they’ve backed up a safe distance away while shielding an overwhelmed stressed out Riz.

Honestly it’s lucky the stranger was noticed before they could actually touch Riz, otherwise they would have learnt from personal experience how much damage a goblins teeth and claws can actually do.

Xx

"What the fuck, he was an actual infant at some point? I thought they were grown like plants." Fabian muttered, squinting his eye at the array of pictures Sklonda had pulled from the photo album. The statement earning an amused snort from Fig who was also sitting at the table perusing the stack, occasionally snapping photos of the cuter ones to add to her personal collection. The rest of their party had left to go procure some lunch, given that they seemed to be staying there for the whole day while Riz tried to sleep off his fever.

He'd picked one of the photos up to look at it closer, flipping it over to see the date on the back since Riz was clearly eating birthday cake in the photo and making a mental note of it for later. Riz tended to be very cagey with personal details about himself so all they'd managed to work out so far was the month of his birthday, now they could actually nail down a specific day.

He jumped slightly when Sklonda put a concerned hand on his arm after the comment, lowering her voice and patting it in a way that was entirely too sincere for his likeing.

"Aw honey, did.... has no one told you were babies come from? I mean, I know your mom is a bit uhhhh-" She waved a hand near her head to indicate the general vagueness that Halarial tended to exist in "-but i thought you would have found out by now. If you have any questions just let me know okay?"

Fabian sputtered, face going red as he sat up straighter in his chair. "What? No of course I know where babies come from. Evidently not goblin babies but you know... the rest."

He waved his hand towards the window before pushing his chair back and standing, heading over to his schoolbag to dig out a book he'd clearly borrowed from the library. "I asked Riz and he said he was never an infant, and i mean the book corroborated his story so i believed him."

Fabian flipped through a few pages, finding one titled GOBLIN in all capital letters and placing it down on the table. "See, there. It says so right there."

Fig leaned across the table to read what Fabian was pointing at, wincing and lifting up the book so she could read the title on the front page. "Dude this is a monster encyclopedia.... from like, fifty years ago."

"Well, i mean, i couldnt find anything else talking about goblin children. This is the only thing that even mentioned them." Fabian floundered, going even redder when Sklonda laughed as she read through the wildly incorrect information before shutting the book and handing it back.

"Oh honey no. They're made like any other baby, more or less, our anatomy is a little different than humanoids but its still the same process. If you're that curious i'm sure i have a pamphlet around here somewhere." Sklonda had to wipe a tear from her eye from laughing so hard "Though I can understand the confusion. You've probably never even seen a kit before. They're so small we try to keep them indoors or hidden out of sight in public because a random seagull could snatch them up. Or people. Gods Riz was so cute as a toddler people were constantly trying to pick him up."

"I mean we still pick him up all the time." Fig snickered, Fabian having sat back down in his chair with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest to pout.

"Yes I'm aware. It was worse when he was little though. Despite my efforts to keep him hidden he just wanted to run around and look at everything." She dug through the album, finding a picture of Riz perched on top of one of the wooden horses on a spring down at the local park. Pok hovering nervously behind him with his hands outstretched just in case he fell.

"We also used to take him to the library a lot but got banned when one of the other parents in the reading room tried to pick Riz up. Pok made a bit of a mess of the floor when he grabbed their wrist to stop them and we got banned."

[beez3eee]

"Who says a rose by any other name would smell as sweet?"

This is just a random little excerpt from a fanfic i'd like to write. The premise is essentially this: The reader mysteriously transmigrates into Teyvat. After being trapped in the Primordial Sea for an unknown length of time, they manage to escape and decide to traverse the nearby areas. This is a collection of snippets of character interactions.

Fair warning, my target audience is myself. So really, anything the reader insert does is reminiscent of something i'd probably do.

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

"Ta-da! This rainbow rose suits you quite well, mon cœur.” Lyney smiles at you, as you grab the rose from behind your ear. Quite the impressive magic trick.

You twirl it in your hands, taking it in. You’ve always appreciated the beauty of flowers, the fragrance, the taste even. Flowers in tea were great, like rose hips or hibiscus petals.

Curiosity strikes you at the thought of tasting flowers. You’ve never had one, for lack of a better word, ‘raw’. And roses, much like the one you’re holding now, are edible.

Actually, is a rainbow rose even a rose? A vague memory of an angry florist ranting about the inaccuracy of the flower names in this game flashes in your mind.

No matter, it’s already been decided. You’re eating the rose, whether it’s safe or not. Besides, eating a flower is a perfectly normal thing to do. Hell, characters in Teyvat eat random stuff all the time: Albedo and spiders, Ganyu and Qingxin flowers, Xiao and snow. This was fine.

Lyney had been awaiting a reaction since he performed his little trick, but the most he’s gotten out of you thus far has been silent contemplation of the flower gifted to you. He’s getting a little nervous. Did you perhaps not like it? Were you allergic to flowers?

His worries, however, were quickly cut short at the sight of you shoving the rose in your mouth, taking a bite out of the top of the petals.

The flower was a bit more bitter than you were initially expecting. You guess it made sense, plants were usually kind if bitter, bar fruit and such. It wasn’t horrible though. You can understand Ganyu’s enthusiasm when it comes to Qingxin now. Maybe if you ever visit Liyue, you could try one for yourself.

Actually, why not try a flower from every nation? They made wine with dandelions in Mondstadt, were those good by itself?

You move to go in for another bite but pause as you see Lyney’s facial expression in your peripheral vision. Looking up, you're met with a look that's a cross between mild horror and amusement.

You make sure to finish chewing and swallowing your first bite, “Thanks for the flower.” You can't believe you almost forgot your manners, how could you just go straight to muching without even a proper thank you?

Your nonchalant response to his surprise at your actions managed to shake Lyney out of his stupor. “ah.. um yes.Yes, of course.” His looks between you and he half eaten rose a few times before whispering.

“..Is it actually good?” He glances to the side where his sister stands, making sure she couldn't hear. Lynette just looks on at the scene with silent mirth. You nod, already having taken another bite. It’s no wonder flower petals are used in baking. They look pretty and don’t taste too bad either.

[hyperfocuscentre]

so following on from this post

more solangelo as parents!

Nico’s job would literally just be doing stuff for Hades. He doesn’t really get payed in the conventional way, but he has access to all Hades’ riches so they live a comfy life.

Will becomes a doctor. I don’t think he went to college or university, mostly because it didn’t appeal to him and the idea of learning something he’d been doing from a very young age felt belittling. Instead, he convinced Chiron to forge him some papers and with a bit of mist manipulation, he got straight into doctor training at a hospital or however that works (foundation program or something?).

They have twins, because I love twins. A girl named Bianca and a boy named Michael-Lee (shut up i think it rolls of the tongue).

ML (i’m not writing the whole name everytime) is trans so he wasn’t always called this, but he wanted a name that was important to his parents and he wanted them to name him so that’s what he ended up with. He loves it, he says it feels like a pop star stage name.

Nico definitely cooks the food, his signature dish is pasta. He makes it from scratch because he says the store packages are disgusting and processed junk.

Will is the one who kisses their injuries and tucks them into bed at night (although Nico obviously says goodnight and love you’s too).

I feel like they both deal with the nightmares but most of the time, it’s Will because Nico is harder to wake up. He sings them lullabies and has actually started to appreciate his voice a lot more because of this. However, Nico can be found sometimes cuddling one or both of the twins close, wiping their tears and even sometimes singing Italian lullabies that he vaguely remembers from his childhood.

I feel like Nico plays rough with them, things like violent pillow fights followed by lots of exhilarated screams and giggles. He’s never too rough though, and he’s never hurt them. He can easily tell when to stop and when it’s time to calm down and take a break.

Nico is the soft touch, he acts like he isn’t but he is. He’ll say snarky things and talk to the twins like they’re adults from a very young age (in a funny way, not a weird way lmao) but he can’t handle seeing them upset or crying. Both of them are very spoiled and any shopping trips with Nico end with them coming back, hands full of toy boxes and faces stretched into beaming smiles.

Will is the more tough parent, but honestly he’s a silly too. He may know how to discipline them when he has to, but he also jokes with them and geeks out over their favourite films and shows with them.

Apollo loves that they have twins, and often compares them to him and Artemis (mostly because Bianca has dark, auburn hair and ML is a blond).

I feel like they live in a white, picket fence area but none of their neighbors like them. They painted the white fence a soft yellow and have a giant pride flag wafting on the front. There’s exotic, brightly coloured plants everywhere and the only reason they live is prayers to Persephone and the fact the goddess herself sometimes visits.

Persephone has basically claimed those kids as her grankids, she loves coming over to play with them and loves that she can without breaking any stupid divine laws.

Hades acts unbothered but he’s been caught smiling softly at the twins or even simply at Nico and Will being disgustingly domestic. His Christmas gifts are always huge and the first thing the twins open.

They tried to take one of those professional family photos when the twins were toddlers; it didn’t go so well. Nico is blinking, Bianca is screaming, Will’s face is basically a blur and ML is growling at the camera but the glint in his eyes says he finds himself hilarious. The photo is hung up above the fireplace.

They join their names which means ML’s name is a mouthful. Michael-Lee Di Angelo-Solace. He probably has a middle name too, although i’m not sure what. Maybe Lester, for the jokes?

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona trio house headcanons

So I said in a post that I cant find because I've made like 30 headcanon posts that the trio’s house is a perfect combination of them

But I feel like I’ve been purposefully vague about where they would live because I didn’t really have an idea before now but now I do 

Imagine literally any Disney cottage and you have it 

It’s a small three bedroom two bath single floor unassuming little thing 

There’s enough room for all of them and an office but if they hadn't been through Hell and back together it would feel stupid cramped  

They live in a heavily forested area that has a decent amount of houses around it with enough space between them to give the comfort of privacy 

When they bought the cottage they were really looking for qualities that they would all enjoy 

The cottage being surrounded by trees was actually really beneficial for Nimona 

It actually kept her from leaving for a very long time because she spent a solid 6 months mapping out the forest and discovering new things almost every day 

It was far enough from the city that Ambrosius felt like he could breathe 

This was the first time when paparazzi weren’t within arms reach and when he realized that he cried tears of joy 

And the house was enough of a fixer upper to give Bal something to do for at least 2 years 

The house was very old by their standards so he spent months figuring out how he was going to renovate it before they even signed the papers 

Their neighbors are also saints who know no one as high profile as those three move all the way out there for fun

They came over to offer housewarming gifts like food and other things but they mostly keep to themselves unless they need something or are explicitly invited

This was a breath of fresh air because for some reason the people in the city were unusually nosy 

You’d think it would be the opposite but no their apartment neighbors wouldn’t leave them the hell alone 

You’d also think that they would hate the trek to and from work and that it would be harder to lose paparazzi but again no

The three of them love long car rides and the heavily forested area makes it easy for them to lose them in the trees 

Their new neighbors also noticed that they did things like keeping the outside of their house as unassuming as possible 

Like Ambrosius planted flowers outside and they have some knickknacks that are too big for the living room 

But the house is painted a similar color to the rest of the area 

They also park their vehicles behind the house and make sure their names aren’t visible on the outside of the house 

And the curtains are drawn most of the time 

So the neighbors do little things like park their cars behind their houses so this habit doesn’t seem weird or text the boys when they see an unfamiliar vehicle driving down the street 

Or let them know to stay in the city for a little longer cause someone has driven back and forth down the road at least 10 times 

Every time they do this Ambrosius and Nimona bake them something or Bal offers to help them around their house 

Literally anything to show how undeniably grateful they are for all their help

And most of the time the neighbors turn down the help and share the food the trio made with them 

Because they’ve done more than enough already

[hezzabeth]

I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

[medusapelagia]

22 Not a murderer

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Missing scene ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Orphan ) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie, Wayne & Eddie TW: mention of canon character death (Chrissy) Words: 1673

(I totally borrowed the Corroded Coffin’s names from @thisapplepielife because in my opinion they are the best CC writer and I’m too lazy to look back at my fics and look at what names I used before XD! Sorry! I hope you don’t mind! And in the meantime check out their work because they are incredibly good 😉)

In his forty years, Wayne has never had to attend one of those parents' things at school. No school play, or teachers parent meeting, or being part of the organization of the school trip, because, for forty years, he had no child to take care of. And he wasn’t exactly expecting to get a scrawny kid knocking on his door with a policeman on one side and a beaten backpack on the other, but as soon as their eyes met he knew he would have done whatever he could for a kid he never saw before in his life.

Wayne was vaguely aware that his oldest brother got married somewhere in Kentucky, that’s how far he made it from fucking Indiana, but that’s all he knew. He could have suspected that having a wife, Al was destined to have kids sooner or later, but he never really thought about it. At least not till the moment Edward, or Eddie as he preferred to be called, stepped into his life.

Weary like a stray cat, it took a long time for both of them to get used to one another. Wayne knew nothing about kids and Eddie knew nothing about Wayne. 

Loving Eddie wasn’t easy.

Not that it was unloveable, but he was harsh and cruel, always ready to use his witty intelligence to hurt Wayne. 

And Wayne endured all of that. 

He endured the screaming, and the fights, and how he kept pushing and pushing eager to prove that Wayne was going to leave him like everyone else. Like his mother. Like his father.

But Wayne stayed.

He took time off from the plants to go to those stupid meetings with the teachers just to beg them not to flunk him, to give him a possibility because Eddie was clever and he deserved more than what he got.

When teachers were particularly unfriendly, Wayne wasn’t ashamed to remind them that Eddie lost his mother, that his father was in jail, and that he deserved at least a little bit of sympathy. But there was just so much Wayne could do when Eddie spray painted the word SLUT on the Maths teacher's car. Or when the neighbors called the police because on the nights Wayne was at the plant Eddie played his music so loudly he kept everyone awake.

Having kids, Wayne decided, was way too exhausting, and he didn’t even ask for one.

The first time Eddie flunked senior year Wayne wasn’t surprised, the kid kept missing classes to hang out with that scumbag of Reefer Rick and nothing Wayne told him made him change his mind.

The second time Eddie flunked senior year he came home declaring that he wasn’t going to attend school anymore because it was just a waste of time, and that was the first time they actually fought.

Wayne never yelled at Eddie, not when he came home much later than the time they decided, not when he hid his test results or forged his signature on some school papers, not when he was pulled over by the police for driving too fast. But leaving school was something Wayne couldn’t tolerate.

Noe that Waybe’s sitting at the police station, chain-smoking, he asks himself if he made a huge mistake. If he should have let him quit school and start working at the plant with him instead of leaving him at the trailer that fateful night.

Eddie didn’t kill Chrissy, Wayne is sure of it, and he knows his kid. He is loud and touchy and too sure about being able to get away with it every time he is in trouble, but he isn’t a murderer. That’s for sure.

The police have already examined the entire trailer but all the fingerprints they found were theirs: Eddie’s and Wayne’s. Because Eddie was ashamed of their place and he never invited anyone home.

Chrissy hasn’t touched anything. Not even the front door because, Wayne is sure of it, his gallant nephew must have kept the door open for her. And now a sweet girl is dead and his nephew is missed.

“Do you really don’t have any idea where Eddie might be?” Powel asks again, and Wayne drags some more smoke.

“I don’t know. I told you. It’s not like we have many relatives he could ask help for.”

“His father? Could he have gone back to him?”

“Still serving in Kentucky. Call the county jail if you don’t believe me.”

“Listen, Wayne, I know you’re a good man, but what Eddie did-”

“He did nothing!” Wayne yells standing up so abruptly that the chair falls to the ground with a loud thump, “My kid did nothing! You have no proof he did it! I heard your fucking phone calling, Calvin! You have no fucking proof! Only suspicions!”

Callahan stands up, one hand on the butt of his gun, but Powel lifts his hands quietly, “Let’s calm down, ok? If you listened to the phone call you know that there aren’t any other fingertips in the trailer. Only yours and Eddie’s. And if you are adamant that he didn’t do it you’re the only other suspect. Do you understand that?”

“I was working! At the stupid plant! Everyone can confirm it.”

“So we are back to square one: Eddie and Chrissy are in the trailer. Chrissy’s death and Eddie’s missing. What am I supposed to think, Wayne? I know you’re a smart guy.”

Wayne stomps the cigarettes angrily in the ashtray.

“He didn’t do it, Calvin. I know he didn’t.”

“Are you telling us Chrissy did it to herself?” Callahan chuckles.

“I already told you who did it.”

“Yeah, yeah, an old man who’s staying in a psychiatric hospital. Try another one, Wayne.”

Wayne doesn’t like the tone Callhan is using, so he turns toward him, leaning over the table, “It’s Mr. Munson to you, piece of shit.” he hisses in perfect Eddie’s style.

“You’re offending a public officer! Calvin, he offended me! I’m going to put him in jail and throw away the fucking key!”

“Calm down! Calm down!” Powel tries again while the two men glower at each other, “Ok so you have no idea where Eddie is, all you know are the names of his friends: Gareth Jones, Jeff Williams, Charles Goodwin, and Dustin Henderson. Someone else?”

“Eddie isn’t exactly a popular kid. That’s all he got.”

Wayne’s fingers twitch with the desire to grab another cigarette but he wants to leave the fucking station, so he stares at the chief of police and asks him, “If we are done I’d like to go home.”

“You can’t go back to the trailer, it’s a crime scene. But I booked a room for you at the motel.”

How fucking kind.

Wayne nods and turns his back to the two policemen when Powel calls him again, “I’m sorry.” he says after a long moment of silence, “I know you did your best with him. But an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Wayne doesn’t dignify that with an answer, he slams the door close and leaves the fucking station, already thinking about where he could get the money to pay for Eddie’s lawyers if they catch him. Or worst. For his funeral, if he’s dead.

He curses under his breath, fishing for the van’s key, when he sees a young man, covered in dirt, standing near to his van.

“Mr. Munson? Mr. Wayne Munson?” he asks, stepping closer.

“Aren’t you the Harringtons’ kid? What the hell do you want?”

“I was looking for you. Can you come with me? Please. It’s important.” the boy begs, but Wayne shakes his head.

“I already had a complicated day. Let me fucking go to bed and…”

That’s when he sees it, around the neck the boy has a very familiar guitar pick and he’s holding his polo open, “He said you would have understood.” he whispers.

“Is he… is he ok?”

“Alive. Beaten, scared, but alive. Please. Come with me.”

Wayne nods and follows the burgundy beemer to Lock Nora, a part of Hawkin he never really frequented.

All the lights are off, and before opening the door, the Harringtons’ boy knocks on his own door. A quick rhythm of three knocks, two knocks, three knocks.

“If you are making fun of me…” Wayne threatens, but when the door slowly opens he sees a pair of familiar dark brown eyes.

Wayne isn’t a hugger. He never was. Not even when he was a kid. But as soon as he recognizes Eddie’s face he steps inside and hugs him tight to his chest, hot tears streaming down his eyes.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He whispers in Eddie’s hair. He’s filthy and smells like a dump, but Wayne doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry I worried you, old man.” Eddie whispers in Wayne’s jacket, “Things got… complicated.”

“What the fuck are you doing at Harrington’s? I didn’t even know you were friends!” luckily, so he didn’t give the name to the police.

“I promise I’ll explain everything. But for the moment all you have to know is that he’s Steve, and I trust him with my life.” Eddie replies, smiling brightly at the other man.

Wayne gets the feeling that there’s something more between the two of them but he doesn’t inquire, he just holds his boy until he complains that he’s hurting him. When the two young men move toward the kitchen to grab a pack of chips and a couple of sodas Wayne promises himself he will never take his eyes off his boy again. No matter what.

“So… we have a kind of a situation,” Eddie says, gulping down the soda, and when he ends his tales, waiting to see if Wayne will believe him or not, there’s only one thing Wayne is sure about. Even if a monster that kills with psychic powers seems impossible is still way more believable than Eddie’s being a murderer.

“What’s the plan?” Wayne asks, and Eddie elbows Steve, that’s the other boy’s name, in the stomach.

“I told you he was cool.”