spookyauthorslimeduck

[moghedien]

Minthara says “in Her name” when you first meet her and she’s following the Absolute but when you recruit her and she expresses that she no longer follows any god, but she still has an intact paladin oath, and she says “in your name” occasionally because she’s no longer Lolth’s paladin or the Absolute’s paladin, she’s your paladin

[occamstfs]

Marichismo

Allen, a smug engineering student, finds himself seeking shelter from the storm in a museum for Latin American art. By the time it clears up it's safe to say he'll have a more than healthy appreciation for the arts.

Might've gotten away from me a tad but I think it turned out quite well! Latino Race and Cultural change, MG and language change ahead. Also a couple more people have hopped onto my Challenge since I last mentioned it! Otherwise, espero que disfrutes! -Occam

Allen was on a side of the campus he’s never quite made it a point to explore. In undergrad and in his Masters of Engineering program so far there has simply never been a need for him to venture too far from the engineering building or the architecture library. That is until his partner on a superfluous project requested he venture into the no man’s land that holds the campus’ main library, one that runs absolutely rampant with students he sees as far beneath him.

Even worse than simply venturing beyond his comfort zone, as soon as the pair have wrapped up their progress for the day, heading off on their less than merry ways, it begins to rain. As the first raindrops begin to fall, Allen scoffs at himself for being anything less than optimally prepared. Before he’s able to reflect too deeply, the snobbish student clenches his tech-filled book bag to his chest and sprints into the nearest building, apathetic to whatever space he noisily barges into.

Before his eyes can adjust to the dim light of the new space he finds himself in, Allen hears a crack of thunder as the heavens open up behind him. Sighing in relief at successfully staying dry, Allen keeps his guard up, eying the lobby of whatever building this is that he’s never deigned to step into before now. He grimaces as he finds himself in an art museum. He does not like art museums. It’s not so much that Allen sees himself as above fine art, it’s- well no it is that. Immediately, he begins scanning the lobby for a power outlet so he may continue working while he waits out the downpour.

Head shoved under a lobby bench Allen ignores a caution sign as he forces his charger in, causing an inevitable shock that forces out a less than respectful expletive in this place of introspection. He eyes the empty room around him, slightly grinning at just how barren the lobby is. Clearly he’s not the only one apathetic to this nonsense. Shaking his hand to reawaken its nerves, he hears the clicking of footsteps against the gallery floor as a small woman walks around the corner carrying a stack of books that block her view. Allen eyes a handful of escape routes to hide from the older woman before lightning strikes once more and she trips over in shock, dropping her small stack of books, “¡Dios Mio!”

Judgemental asshole Allen may be but heartless he is not. Setting down his bag with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, the student walks over to help the older woman gather herself. Barely avoiding reflexively chiding his elder as he offers her a hand, he helps her up. The attendant pushes a large pair of glasses up her nose and squints at him with a kind smile, “Ah! Gracias, gracias mijo.” She pulls herself up on Allen’s hand and he cringes back as some kind of aftershock of static goes up his arm. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to affect her. Dusting herself off, she does a double take at Allen and adjusts her glasses, “¿Qué te trae aqui hoy, mijo? (What brings you in today dear?)

Allen hesitates, blowing air as he tries to understand why this woman thinks he knows spanish. Scratching the back of his head he finally looks to see the text blazoned across the front desk, El Gustavo Ramirez Museo De Arte Latinoamericano. Putting two and two together as he is ever so proud of doing, Allen immediately apologizes for intruding. “So sorry uh, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to wander into your, uh, space.” gesturing to the woman and the building around him in a manner to distinguish it not so much as beneath him but as an other. Something that is simply a bridge too far for him to gap. “This place isn’t for me so I think I’ll go ahead and step out.” Thunder peels before he can start to gather his things, immediately reminding him why he is in here at all. 

The older woman also relents, switching to English since, despite some instinct saying otherwise, the man before her clearly speaks only english. “Ah don’t you worry yourself mijo. The museum is for all, para todos. Free with your student ID,” she tacks on with a wink. Allen smiles uncomfortably, baring teeth enough that it could be mistaken as a grimace. 

He can’t just tell this old lady that he hasn’t a thought to spare, in his mind: waste, on the collections behind her. Still he doesn’t want to make conversation indefinitely waiting for the storm to clear either. Fearful of the outlet he’s used thus far he convinces himself there must be one hiding somewhere in the exhibition hall. He’ll just pacify her with entry and go find some place in between ostentatious paintings and droll statues to insert himself and get some actual work done.

Producing his ID wordlessly, he hands it to the elderly woman and she quickly shuffles behind her desk to type his name into some registry. Handing it back with a smile she leaves her hand hanging for a shake, “Wonderful to meet you Allan! Soy Lupe Carvajal. But you can call me abuelita, mijo!” Pocketing his ID with a dismissive laugh he notices not that his name is apparently misspelled on his ID card, instead he packs his charger up and shakes Lupe’s hand. “Hah. Uhm, whatever you say Mrs. Carvajal.” Her hand is wrinkled and frail but surprisingly warm, as if his hand were receiving the full body experience of a hug in but a single shake. 

“You know Allan, I must have thought you know spanish because you look quite like my nieto, my grandson.” Allan puffs his cheeks to bite his tongue, holding a picture in his mind of what this granny’s descendants must look like and knowing there’s simply no permutation that lands at himself. She continues, “Es un joven fuerte! Haha!” She does a little bicep pose which allows Allan to understand exactly what she means without her translating. He shyly smiles looking down at his own thin arms and wondering why this lady seems to be mocking him. After doing her bit, Lupe moves to sit at the desk and pulls a book off her stack, “You just let me know if you need anything mijo, si?” Allan nods and reflexively responds, “Si ab- Mrs. Carvajal.”

Odd taste in his mouth at almost calling this random woman grandmas she asked, he shakes it off and wanders into the exhibit hall, decidedly less worried about using her museum’s resources to his own ends. It has probably been over a decade since anyone was able to drag him into an art museum. Even then was he vehemently against wasting his time visiting. He just didn’t get art, and not for not trying. It’s just, aggravating that some people can get so much from some splotches of paint and he just sees a picture on some paper. Feeling himself get riled up he turns to the exhibit hoping for some distraction, which he finds in an elaborate statue of some dog. himself. 

Allan stands beside a huichol coyote covered in beads about two feet high. Spotlighted in the dim gallery he circles it like a predator, inspecting the bright beaded beast from every angle. See this he gets. This took time, this took care. Leaning in close the warmth of the overhead light pleasantly burns the top of his head. Absorbed by the shimmering light off the beads, Allan is unaware as his hair suddenly begins to lengthen. The buzz he has always kept short for sheer manageability begins to curl over his ears, growing warm even quicker as it tints darker. Not quite black but certainly not the blonde shade he was always happy to keep despite his spending as few hours outside as possible.

Before curls can begin to crest over his forehead, his face is not spared the glare of the spotlight. Immediately as his olive eyes glaze over, absorbed into the intricate stitched patterns they begin to stain darker. The jade he has always seen in his own reflection shades darker ever so slightly. Not brown. No he doesn’t have brown eyes, they’re just hazel? His eyebrows match the suddenly darkened hair on his head as he stands staring at the beast. Not expanding to cover more of his face but growing thicker, denser. Almost as if to shade his eyes from the light. His lips thicken as a grin begins to tinge his face. Reaching up Allan feels stubble begin to prickle his chin and upper lip, as if he spent time shaving this morning. 

Allan moans contentedly as he gives in and reaches fully into the spotlight to touch the coyote. Rules and codes of propriety fall to the wayside as he reaches beyond the realm of rationality to touch the statue of the trickster. His hands burn as they tint ever so slightly darker under the glare of the spotlight. As soon as his middle finger feels the warmth of the first bead he recoils in shock. “Q- What?!” He falls onto his ass, no time to inspect his decidedly browner hands as the commotion made immediately summons Abuelita Lupe. The elderly attendant meanders as quickly as she can into the showroom, “¿Qué pasó Alan?” Alan flexes his hand in shock. Whatever just happened it can’t be his fault.  Surely he didn’t just unprompted mess with some artifact on display. “I, um? No sé?” He pauses, unsure of what he just said, nonsense he thinks. “I mean um, I’m not sure?”

Lupe goes to help him up with what little strength she can muster only for him to wave her off, sure that she would only get in the way. He finds standing takes more effort than usual as he does so with a grunt. Nervously patting him on the back, Lupe asks him if he’s alright after the spill, buzzing around him with concerned pleasantries. Alan doesn't quite hear her as he instead inspects his own body. His clothes are tighter. He stretches and pulls at them, presuming them to just be falling weird on him after the fall. But close inspection shows otherwise. Looking at his cardigan it is clearly strained by his chest and stomach. Blushing at the idea he’s put on weight, Alan crosses his arms and notices how snugly his arms fill the sleeves, how his wrists hang out further than they should, not only that but they are unmistakably darker. Not brown, but without a doubt a few shades darker than his usual porcelain tone.

Recovering from being lost in his thoughts he looks to find Lupe staring, “Oh! Lo, uh sorry. Did you uh, ask me something Senora Carvajal?” Looking down at a sharper angle than he did earlier, he sees the abuela looking at his head with a tilt. “Did you do something different with your hair mijo?” eyes narrowing with concern and suspicion he thrusts his hair into his new curls. He immediately gasps in shock before reconsidering. This is how he’s always looked right? 

Thank god his hair is naturally curly so he can just leave them as they fall without much ado. He smiles and shakes his head at Lupe and she nods happily in return. Reaching up she puts her small hand on his bicep and squeezes it, Alan can barely hear her as he is struck with just how powerful his arm seems next to her small hand as she continues, “Well I like it mijo.” With that she aways and leaves Alan be. Having the floor to himself his expression grims as he pulls out his phone to look for a picture of himself. Something is off. His mind tells him everything is normal. When he looks at his hands he sees them as they have always been right? Why would he have a buzz cut when his hair is so naturally nice? Something in his gut screams out that something unnatural is going on. His camera roll should hold proof. Going through his phone he barely holds back a gasp that would surely summon the docent back as he is immediately greeted by a folder of his own nudes.

“Que chingado…” He whispers under his breath as his face burns redder than the scarlet beads on the coyote. He didn’t take these did he? Zooming in he is once more floored to see tattoos on his body. Looking down at his arm he sharply inhales as there's a sting and suddenly his wrist matches the image on his phone. Or no. He’s had that tattoo for years?

 Aghast at himself he still feels he wouldn’t have taken these photos of himself. Vain in many ways, his appearance is not one of them. He wonders if he’s been set up or hacked or something before he reminds himself no one would be able to do so without his knowledge. He’s a pro after all. Mind going to his technical skills, his chest puffs with pride as it grows to match the one he finds in the nudes soft-core and otherwise on his phone. Alan quickly shoves it in his pocket, finding it a much tighter fit than when he retrieved it. 

Looking around nervously, he walks close to the coyote once more. Narrowing his eyes he feels new memories come to mind from his childhood. Memories of hearing story after story of the trickster, he tilts his head as the slightest whiff of something amiss hides behind them. Staring into the eyes of the beast with suspicion the image of reading Greek mythologies by himself fades away to be replaced by his mother telling him stories from her own childhood. The coyote playing tricks and la Llorona terrorizing their little town just to make sure he stays in line. Alan smiles as he shakes out of the reverie, my mom wasn't morena was she? Headache rising as seconds pass standing near the beast he wanders away, muttering to himself without awareness, “didn’t want him in the main hall anyway.”

His hair continues to thicken and curl darker as he moves deeper into the exhibition space. Scratching at his stubble lost in thought he finds it defining itself into a goatee with a matching mustache. His phone still unlocked in his pocket shifts displays his form as he continues to change unawares. He feels himself begin to sweat intensely as his cardigan grows even tighter. His body decides to ramp up his masculinity as he starts to outright swell with muscle. His whole body twitches larger as he briefly recalls Lupe playfully flexing, “un joven fuerte!” He clicks his tongue and grins as he sees his biceps strain his sweater, almost enough to see his button up through the threads. He fights back a smirk feeling his shirt underneath hug the sides of his chest as his soldiers expand. Feeling his thicker pits start to sweat through said shirt and into the jacket he resolves to remove the cardigan.

His struggled grunts echo through the museum space as he struggles to get the cardigan off over his chest. The sound of fabric tearing rips through the room as stitches finally give way down the whole front of the garment, his pecs bursting larger into the open air. The top few buttons of his dress shirt also explode open as he is finally freed from the constricting sweater, “ayy dios- fuck…” He whispers to himself as he appreciates the ice cold air of the museum on his sweaty skin. The white dress shirt may as well be sheer with his sweat soaking it, allowing any gawkers to easily see tattoos running down his arm and the nipples almost poking through the shirt.

Only briefly does he wonder why he’s not self conscious about being exposed in the gallery before he notices a side-exhibition hall. “Ah si, uh. The temporary exhibit,” he whispers dreamily. Keeping quiet as any respectful museum-goer does. Though he doesn’t quite have the bodily awareness to mute his increasingly loud footsteps, each one growing louder as his upper body expands. He looks up to read the title of the exhibit as the sound of his shoulders widen enough to tear the back of his button up. Marichismo: Taking Back Latino Masculinity. He smirks as he finds the idea compelling, he’s uh, not hispanic of course. Nor has he ever been intrigued by ‘art’ in the slightest, he thinks. But something draws him deeper. Something pulls him further. Something in him begs for more.

His pants creak as he crosses the threshold into the new space, his ass expanding beyond the pale. Similarly does his crotch demand both more room and his attention as Arlad is immediately face to face with a deliberately provocative statue. The blush burning his face is just as soon hidden as his tan grows darker as he’s overwhelmed by everything in front of him. It’s as if Tom of Finland were Chicano. Bulges beyond belief force their way out at every angle. Rigid thick mustaches hang stoic on every face as Arlad feels his own stubble grow darker, thicker, itchier.

The student is torn between instincts, just as he feels increasingly torn between two worlds. His body continues ballooning and his shirt bursts clean off, buttons scatter to the floor and sharp tears launch down his arms. He can’t help but hungrily scan the floorspace as the bright lights bore into him, exposing him as if he were a piece of art on display. He looks down just in time to see his cock burst large enough to blow his zipper out which only addles his mind further, “Tal vez, just a minute…” He wanders into the exhibit hall proper as his eyes finally make the jump into a rich chocolate brown. He trips over his feet, gasping as he feels them stuffed uncomfortably tight in his oxfords before kicking off the shoes altogether. Just as soon do his pants rip off and he is left almost entirely nude in this exhibit hall.

His mouth hangs open as his cock acts almost like a dowsing rod in between pieces. The language in which Arcad thinks rapidly begins to change altogether, already a bilingual medley, with each starved look at photographed vaqueros or bulge forward paintings does English drift farther away. Maintaining fluency in both of course, the man would never let that tongue take predominance over that of his madre y su madre before her. His pecs pump even larger with pride as thick curls begin itching up from his crotch. He scratches at his stomach as he smirks at his body finally getting on brand. This whole show is about displaying masculinity and he needs to be the apex. He needs…

Arcad twitches as these definitive thoughts cut through the fog in which he has been going about. Why does he care so much about this place? He doesn’t like art. Certainly not this uh smut. He twitches as he argues that being provocative is the point, sexualization of the male form is the point. Why could he know that? How does he know anything about this exhibit? Looking around at the photographs he sees men who are almost a parody of masculinity. Fighting back the overwhelming pervasive horniness issuing forth from balls bulging larger he takes a deep breath and ignores the temple to the male form around him. 

It’s impossible for him to notice as his thoughts crest fully into español. After all it simply is the language in which he has always thought, no matter what his teachers demand of him. Back to the matter at hand he is struck with the urge to create. Mierda- this exhibition really inspired him, he should really write an essay about this. Or, no. He moans and clutches at his temples as the shining lights out of sight gleam even brighter, sparkling off his sweaty muscled form as he’s racked with the pain of opposing realities. No, that isn’t right. He doesn’t do essays anymore. That’s not how he creates. 

Memories of long hours at the lab and in dark rooms sitting at a keyboard dissipate. Haughty superiority over fields and forms he deems insignificant thankfully blast away as images of the photographs and artworks around him come to mind with an ease that makes him uneasy. Creeping in from the edges of his lived memory are other exhibits, many that he has visited, some that he has put on of his own accord. 

Tattoos continue to drip down his arm as his treasure trail rushes onto his chest, blooming out to cover his pecs. The space in between his mustache and goatee is quickly filled, as are the entirety of his cheeks as his eyes shut even tighter. Independent muscle groups twitch as his body struggles to forge him even larger, to be more. The lengthy curls on his head fall away as his head returns to a buzz cut, this time black as the night. This time impossibly deliberate. 

Arcadio buzzed it himself, he loved his curls. But he knew for this exhibition he had to sacrifice. Anything for his art. The phrase burns across his mind, Marichismo. It, it was his exhibition. Arcadio opens his eyes to find himself standing across from an oppressive statue staring down at him in disdain. His blood boils as his fight or flight activates. Though staying strong he just clenches his fist as his body bulges larger one last time. “Papa.” He made that statue, he isn’t about to be shoved around by his own art. The feeling of confidence filling him at standing up against the domineering statue is more than he could have held within him as Allan. Reverbs of confidence go through his psyche as he finally gets it. Turning around the confidence that fills him rapidly dissipates as he sees a man posing like a dog.

He exercised complete creative control of the exhibition, but did he take this? Memories of being behind the lens of the camera dance through his mind for most of the images, this one seems obscured. He ignores the cold sudden sting of a nose ring as he leans in close to inspect it, smirking all the while. Who’d he get to model this? Looking at the jockstrap he nods approvingly, mierda it is certainly hot though. His underwear stretches to its absolute limit as he forces his large hand down to paw his cock at the image. Looking down at his hairy forearm he gasps as he sees the tattoo on his forearm perfectly matches that of the model. 

At that moment his underwear burst free from his body and he suddenly realizes that being nude in this space is far worse a breach of etiquette than touching that coyote. Arcadio sprints to his bag and digs around for anything he could possibly use to hide his still bulging cock at half mast. “¡Gracias a dios!” he whispers under his breath as he wraps a towel around his waist, perfectly mimicking a photograph behind him. He smirks at the man thinking how proud Jose will be when he gets to see himself on a gallery wall. Arcadio grunts and clenches his head as memories of the man ahead of him fill his mind. Lightheaded he leans against the wall grimacing as he leads a sweaty handprint on the pristine white wall.

Turning around seeing the exhibit hall as a whole he almost falls over with a rush of memories. Advanced math and the life he once lived as Allan are dust in the wind as his childhood growing up the son of first generation immigrants in San Antonio rises to take their place. Living alone with his mother before his abuela moved up from Mexico to help raise him as if he were her son. Understanding himself and the world around him as he discovered who he was and what he had to do. Finally achieving success, winning grants, booking galleries as an artist. Not too bad for a maricon eh? He winks at the statue of his father, smirking as he feels his power as a man and artist grow.

Looking down at some engineering homework scattered from his bag the last pangs of a headache buzzes through him before he shakes his head and the work is gone. The last shreds of a life he once lived dissipate. Walking out into the lobby he sees his abuelita. She smiles at the massive man before adjusting her glasses and shouting out, “¡Ay! ¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Ponte algo de ropa! (What are you doing! Put some clothes on!)” Arcadio laughs and waves her off, knowing the museum is closed while he preps his exhibition for opening tomorrow. 

His new voice is rich on his tongue as he speaks up, “Espero que les guste. La universidad no sabe lo que pagaron ¡ja! (Hope they like it. The uni doesn’t know what they paid for ha!)” His abuelita clicks her tongue, she loves her grandson more than the world but boy if he hasn’t made her old beyond her years. She digs through the lost and found next to her for something that might fit her larger than life grandson and throws it at him. The man laughs and his abuelita can’t help but join in the reverie. She wouldn’t dream of going through his exhibit- que obsceno, que cachondo! But he could do no real wrong in her eyes. So far he’s blown her expectations out of the water with his success and she can’t wait to see what Arcadio gets up to next.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Fourteen

“Steve,” Robin lets herself in the front door, “Steve!”

“Yeah, I’m through here,” Robin appears in the doorway just as Eddie blinks awake, “I’m sorry baby, we woke you up.”

Eddie looks a little bleary eyed, his usually deep chocolate brown eyes looking a little cloudy.

“Steve, what’s wrong, I was there when Keith answered the phone.”

“I’m fine Robs, it’s Eddie who’s a little under the weather,” and Steve couldn’t exactly explain to Keith that the fish-guy who’s living with Steve is coming down with something, so he had to put on his best flu ridden performance.

“Oh...is he okay? It’s not catching is it, like Upside Down rabies or something?” Steve sighs as Eddie shifts, making no effort to get up.

“Eddie does not have Upside Down rabies,” Steve can feel Robin eyeing them up, how snuggled they are on the couch under Eddie’s blanket. Steve watches as she takes in the movie on low, the only other light coming from the tree, the blinds half drawn, “come on baby,” and yeah, there goes Robins eyebrows, her mouth dropping open, “I’m going to go and make Robin a coffee,” Eddie clings tighter for a moment, but then allows Steve to slide out from under him, burrowing right into the corner of the couch the moment Steve’s gone.

“What’s up with him?” Robin asks, “is he okay?”

“He’s a little off his food,” Steve starts, fiddling with the coffee machine.

“And?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Steve...come on, no. You think I can’t tell when something's wrong? Tell me what’s up.”

Steve gives her her coffee, cradling one for himself as he leans on the kitchen counter. It’s getting dark outside already, the evenings coming in fast. Steve can just about see where the pool is covered over in the yard.

He can’t look at her as he speaks, he knows he’ll start to cry if he does.

“Eddie is...he’s like a tadpole. But the frog is a Demogorgon.”

“Holy shit!” Robin whisper hisses at him, “what are you going to do? Is it soon? Have you told anyone else? Steve, he could really hurt you, is it even safe for him to be here, you’re alone, if it just like, happens-”

“I haven’t told anyone else, and neither will you,” Steve glares at her, and Robin actually cowers a little.

“Steve...we really should tell someone else, Hopper might-”

“Hopper might shoot first and ask questions after. No.”

“But Steve-”

“Robs, stop, please. Please don’t do this, okay. Please.”

“But Steve-”

“I said no Robin. Eddie stays with me, that’s it. Whatever happens I’ll...deal with it.”

“Steve you...but you could get really hurt.”

I’m already really hurt, Steve doesn’t say. He just sips his coffee and breathes deep so he doesn’t loose it in front of Robin.

“Steve are you- you and Eddie I mean...I mean I know he’s your...friend and everything,” the careful way she says friend speaks fucking volumes, “and it’s upsetting but...you guys are pretty close? Already? You seemed real cosy when I walked in and you’re being pretty defensive over a creature from The Upside Down you’ve known for all of maybe three months is what I’m-”

“Robs.”

“Right, yeah but I mean...Steve, he’s a guy. And a fish. I mean…”

“I don’t think I’m going to spend any time worrying about either of those things Rob, considering he probably doesn’t have long.”

Eddies breathing is shallow, Steve’s sure it is. He’s certain Eddie is...fading, somehow. Steve only moves when he absolutely has to. He has gotten up to get a drink, but only because he felt a headache forming, and then to piss, but only out of desperation. Steve took one of these opportunities to check Eddie’s tail; the splits are longer, the tips starting to spread out into a loose star shape. And it’s dry, inflexible; like Eddie’s dying from the tip of his tail upwards.

Steve’s going to hold him through this, no matter what. The moment Steve slips back onto the couch, Eddie uses his last dregs of energy to, feebly, burrow into Steve.

He won’t eat; Steve’s tried everything, even offering a beer. Eddie refuses, but he can’t seem to let himself give up; he has to try, so frightened that Eddie might be in any kind of discomfort.

“Eddie, baby, will you have some food.”

Eddie sighs out a grumble, Steve lifting Eddie’s head carefully, trying to get Eddie to look at him; when Eddie does finally blink his eyes open, he’s sure they’re even less clear than before. They seem to be clouding over, turning milky.

“Food? Baby please, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Eddie sighs, voice dry and raspy, the first time Steve’s heard him speak for hours, “food bad.”

“Why, baby, why is food bad?” Eddie just shakes his head, trying to snuggle back against Steve’s chest. “Eddie, baby?” Steve’s voice breaks, but he tries not to cry, “baby, how long do you think?” Eddie looks at him, lifting his head slowly, “Eddie.” It hurts Steve on a visceral level, kills him inside to do it, but he brings his hands up to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks and lacing his fingers over his face, he makes their sign for Demogorgon, “what time Demogorgon?”

“No, Eddidie no Demo-gor-gon,” he stumbles over the word.

“But you said you would change. Eddie grow into Demogorgon.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no food. No...Demo-gorgan. Dead later.”

“What? So if you don’t have food, you- Eddie. Eat food.” Sure, Eddie might turn into a Demogorgon, but there’s a chance he might retain some of himself, right? He might still be Eddie, and Steve is willing to take that chance.

“No. Demogorgon Eddidie food.”

“Yeah buddy, you said before, Demogorgon eat Eddie-”

Eddie sighs, clearly exhausted, but he leans over for his coloring book, just able to snag it off the coffee table; he turns to the purple dog. Steve doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before; it’s not just purple, it’s blue and black and all the colors of a Demodog. It’s fucking obvious actually, that that’s what it supposed to be.

“Eddidie eat Demo-gorgon. Eddidie Demogorgon. Eddidie eat,” and he points to the dog, “then Eddidie.”

“How, how though do you eat Demogorgon?”

“Safe dead later.”

Steve thinks, he’s heard Eddie say that before...the bee. Eddie said dead later when he knew the bee was sick, and, heartrendingly enough, he’s just said it about himself. Steve could be pulled under by the grief, he knows it, but he takes a breath and does his best to push it down. “You find one that’s going to die. It’s hurt or weak or...wait, so you need to eat some of the thing you’re going to turn into? Eddie eat this,” Steve points to the page, “then Eddie is this.”

Eddie nods.

“What if...what if you eat something else? What if...Eddie, how much of the Demogorgon do you need to eat? Many?”

Eddie shakes his head, makes their symbol for pea, finger and thumb, close together.

“Small, okay so what if...Steve Eddie food.”

“No. No Stee ow, no-” he protests weakly.

“Eddie,” Steve holds him, holds his face, “it’s only a small ow, please, please Eddie,” Steve starts to cry, he can’t help it. He cries as he begs, “please Eddie, I love you. Don’t go. Stay. Please, I love you. We have to try.”

“I love you too,” and Eddie’s crying. Steve’s never seen Eddie cry, his tears aren’t clear, they stain his cheeks a little, like weak coffee’s been spilled, the palest tear tracks on Eddie’s too white skin. Eddie’s tears smell like mown hay, like fresh cut grass. “Okay.”

“Okay, what else? Just food?”

Eddie shakes his head, pointing outside, “pool.”

That’s going to take hours to fill, most of the night, probably, “baby, would the tub be okay?”

“No. Pool.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve slips out from under Eddie, not bothering to waste time with a jacket, just shoves his bare feet into his sneakers and heads out, bracing for the cold.

It’s the middle of the night. Steve’s wrapped up now, but it’s still really cold. Hard drifts of still frozen snow rest up against the trees and pool furniture; gathered shiny white in all the nooks and crannies of the yard.

The sky is clear now, the stars defined and bright in that way they only ever are when it’s fucking freezing.

The pool is just over half full, but Eddie’s fading, and Steve won’t wait any more.

He carries Eddie out, draped in a blanket, “Eddie, this water’s going to be cold. Many many cold.”

“Cold good,” is all Eddie will say.

Steve’s terrified the water will freeze; that Eddie will get locked under the ice and drown. That this won’t work at all, that Eddie will turn into a monster that doesn’t recognize Steve- he tries desperately to push it all down. “Okay, now what?”

Steve’s standing right on the edge, Eddie suddenly struggles, and Steve, not expecting it, looses his grip on Eddie, and he’s slipping from the blanket and hitting the water with a loud splash. It’s so cold, just the sight of Eddie doing that makes Steve’s breath stutter in his chest in sympathy.

Eddie reappears quickly, and climbs back out half way, clinging to the pool steps as Steve takes his place sitting at the top of them, slipping off his sneaker, and then his sock.

“Small ow,” Eddie says, his voice quavering, he’s soaking wet, hair plastered down, skin shivering.

“Two,” Steve insists, “we need to make sure.”

By the time Eddie’s teeth pierce Steve’s flesh, he realizes he should have brought something to bite down on. It’s strange, he doesn’t feel it at first, not until after Eddie drops back into the water, immediately darting away to huddle at the deepest corner, furthest away.

It’s not until his blood drips into the water; swirling darkly in Eddie’s dissipating wake – that the pain really hits Steve. It’s the burning, stabbing kind. The energetic kind of pain that tells him there’s something really fucking wrong. Then he has to bite back a scream; it bubbles out as an anguished groan instead.

He regrets this instantly – not giving two of his toes to Eddie, not that, they have to try – but not being prepared. Steve is usually the one that plans, the one that thinks of things like this. Contingencies. He has nothing with him. He tries to staunch the bleeding with his sock, his fear for Eddie, temporarily at least, eclipsed with the blinding pain in his foot. Steve takes great shuddering breaths, the frigid air stinging his lungs, unable to control his breathing, and it suddenly occurs to him that this is going to need stitches.

Eddie didn’t fuck about; once he was in, he went all in, Steve’s two smallest toes on his left foot are gone right to the root.

Part Sixteen

[iamgonnagetyouback]

lorenzo berkshire x oblivous bsf!reader who doesn't realize enzo's feelings for her

You and Lorenzo Berkshire had been inseparable since before either of you could remember. You shared everything: birthday parties, first days of school, scraped knees, and secret hideouts. Growing up in each other’s orbits meant that your lives were entwined so tightly that the idea of "you" and "Lorenzo" felt like one singular entity. There was no "you" without him.

Your earliest memories were filled with laughter—his soft giggles as you raced through the fields behind your house, his shy grin when you baked cookies together for the first time (though he burnt them terribly). As kids, you held hands without a second thought, sneaking into each other's homes when it rained, building forts out of blankets and pillows while you dreamed about the day you'd finally go to Hogwarts. The night before your first train ride, Lorenzo had shyly handed you a daisy he'd picked from his backyard.

"To remember me by," he mumbled, cheeks pink.

"As if I could forget," you'd teased, but the flower stayed pressed between the pages of your favourite book.

Then, Hogwarts happened, and you made new friends, got sorted into different houses (he ended up in Slytherin, you in Hufflepuff), but you still found each other between classes. The teasing continued, the inside jokes and pranks. You became his safe space when the weight of his duties pressed on him too hard, and he was your companion in every late-night gossip session.

There were still times when you thought there was something different. Like the time during a lazy summer day at the lake when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, even though the sun was shining brightly, or the way he hesitated just a moment too long before pulling his hand back after helping you up from a fall. You never thought too deeply about it, brushing it off as part of your long-standing friendship.

Year five arrived, and the two of you were as close as ever. Still, there were moments that felt... different, though you couldn't quite place why. He'd brush your shoulder when he passed you in the hall, or his gaze lingered just a little too long during meals. You laughed it off—because what could possibly change between you and Lorenzo? Best friends forever, right?

One night, in the Common Room, you were discussing upcoming exams when he turned to you, his voice lower than usual.

"Do you think..." he hesitated. "Do you think people can just stay the same forever? Like... always be what they are?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I mean... I guess? If they want to be. Why?"

Lorenzo only gave you a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "No reason," he murmured before changing the subject.

In year six, things shifted subtly again. He started walking closer to you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you strolled through the halls. There were times when his laughter seemed softer, more reserved when he was alone with you. You didn’t notice, not in the way he hoped. It wasn’t obvious enough to break the oblivion that surrounded you, and maybe that was for the best.

It wasn’t until the holiday party that year that everything came crashing down.

Aurora, your best friend from Ravenclaw, had nowhere to go for the holidays. You couldn't leave her alone, so you invited her along to Blaise's annual party, excited to introduce her to the Slytherins you’d grown close with. Lorenzo had helped organize everything, naturally, and you spent the first half of the evening by his side, laughing with him as usual.

You introduced Aurora to everyone—Pansy, Draco, Astoria, Daphne, Theodore—and lastly, Lorenzo.

“This is Aurora,” you said, motioning to your friend with a grin. “She’s an absolute sweetheart. I think you two will get along well.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked from you to Aurora, offering her one of his rare, warm smiles. “Nice to meet you.”

You missed the way Aurora’s cheeks flushed instantly at the sound of his voice. But Pansy didn't.

The evening wore on, the room buzzing with laughter and chatter, and eventually, the group began to scatter into smaller conversations. Aurora pulled you aside near the punch table, her face unusually tense.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concerned by the sudden shift in her mood.

She hesitated, glancing nervously at where Lorenzo stood talking to Blaise. “I… I think I like Enzo.”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. You stared at her, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. "What?"

“I think I like him," she repeated, biting her lip. "I don’t know how it happened, but… there’s something about him. The way he talks, how kind he is. He’s just so—”

You didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. Everything blurred, and for a reason you couldn’t quite grasp, it hurt. A lot. You wanted to tell her she was mistaken, that it didn’t make sense, that Lorenzo wasn’t supposed to be liked like that—at least not by someone else.

But what could you say? She was your best friend too, and she deserved happiness. So, you forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I didn’t know. I mean, he is… he’s great, isn’t he?”

Aurora nodded, her expression soft. “Yeah. I hope it’s okay that I told you.”

“Of course it is.”

But it wasn’t. Not really.

The next morning found you sprawled across your bed in the Hufflepuff dormitory, staring blankly at the ceiling. The sun had already risen, casting beams of light through the window, but you hadn’t moved much since getting back from the party. The thoughts from the night before still circled in your mind, refusing to let go.

Your dormmate, clearly concerned by your uncharacteristic silence, glanced over at you as she packed her books. “You good?” she asked, hesitating by the door.

You gave her a half-hearted wave, plastering a smile on your face. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

She eyed you for a second longer before shrugging. “Alright, well, don’t forget about class later.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a long sigh. Alone again.

Your mind wandered back to the party. Aurora. Lorenzo. You couldn’t shake the way her eyes had lit up when she talked about him. How she had looked at him like he was the most fascinating person in the room. But why did it bother you so much? It didn’t make any sense.

Would they even look good together?

You sat up a bit, propping yourself on your elbows as you thought about it. Aurora was so petite compared to Lorenzo. The height difference wasn’t even cute—he’d have to bend down just to talk to her, and that would be awkward, right? And they were complete opposites. Lorenzo was calm, reserved, always thinking before he spoke. Aurora was bubbly, spontaneous, the type of person who filled every room with laughter. Opposites attract, sure… but them?

You groaned and flopped back onto your bed, hands covering your face. "What would their ship name even be?" you muttered to yourself. "Aurozo? Lorora? No, that sounds terrible."

But then your mind wandered further, picking at the insecurities you hadn’t let rise to the surface last night. Aurora was amazing, after all. She was sweet and smart, always knowing the right thing to say. She was pretty—okay, not just pretty, she was beautiful—and witty, always ready with a clever comeback. And then there was her personality, so warm and inviting that even the most standoffish people were drawn to her. She was perfect, really.

Too perfect.

You sat up and slapped your forehead, hard enough that the sound echoed in the empty room. “Talking to yourself now? Really?” you whisper-yelled, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “That’s a new low.”

You lay back down, arms draped over your eyes as you tried to push the thoughts away. But no matter how hard you tried to brush them off, the uncomfortable tightness in your chest refused to leave.

It didn’t make sense.

Why did it bother you this much?

After classes that day, you were packing up your books when you spotted Aurora walking towards you, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. There was something different about her today though—something nervous and a bit fidgety. She stopped just in front of your desk, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

"Hey," she said softly, biting her lip as if she was about to ask something big.

You tilted your head, sensing her hesitance. "Hey, everything okay?"

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "Can you… set me up with Enzo?"

Her words felt like a punch in the gut, but you masked it with a cheerful smile. After all, what kind of friend would you be if you didn't help her? She liked him—really liked him. And wasn’t it your job to make sure your friends were happy?

“Of course,” you heard yourself say, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. “I’ll help. Enzo’s great, and I’m sure you two would… get along.”

Aurora’s face lit up instantly, and she clasped your hands in excitement. “Thank you! I just… I didn’t want to approach him out of nowhere. I figured since you guys are best friends, maybe you could, you know, talk me up?”

You nodded. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll drop your name.”

For the next week, you became Aurora’s biggest advocate when it came to Enzo. You wove her into nearly every conversation the two of you had, even when he clearly tried to steer things elsewhere.

“Did you know Aurora’s favorite flowers are tulips?” you blurted one afternoon while the two of you were studying in the library. Lorenzo looked up from his notes, blinking in confusion.

“Oh. No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, she’s got great taste. She’s really into plants in general, actually. She’s been thinking about starting a garden.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, clearly not following your sudden shift in topic, but he nodded politely. “That’s nice.”

You grinned, determined to keep the conversation going. “She’s super thoughtful too. Last year, she handmade Christmas gifts for all her friends. You should’ve seen the scarf she made me. Perfect colors.”

“Mhm.” Lorenzo hummed, leaning closer to his parchment, probably thinking you’d drop it.

But you didn’t.

The next day, when you met up with him for lunch, you brought her up again, like clockwork. “Aurora’s so smart. She absolutely aced her Potions essay the other day. I bet she could help you if you’re stuck on anything.”

“I’m actually doing okay in Potions,” he replied, glancing at you with a flicker of confusion. “But thanks.”

“You should ask her about it sometime though,” you continued, smiling brightly. “She’s great at explaining things. I mean, I’ve learned so much just from talking with her.”

Lorenzo hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for something. “You’ve been talking about Aurora a lot lately.”

You shrugged, brushing it off. “She’s amazing! You two would really get along if you gave it a chance.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod and looked down at his plate, clearly wanting to change the topic. But the next time he showed even the smallest interest in anything you said about Aurora, you latched onto it.

During a conversation later that week, Lorenzo mentioned that tulips were actually nice flowers. That tiny comment was all it took for you to believe he was finally taking an interest in her.

“See? I told you! You and Aurora have so much in common. She’d totally love to talk flowers with you.”

His eyes flickered with something, a mix of frustration and confusion, but he didn’t argue. He nodded instead, a sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah… maybe.”

You beamed, completely oblivious to his hesitation. “I knew it! You’re going to be great together.”

For some reason, the idea of them getting closer felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch, but you kept pushing through it. This was what you wanted, right? To see your best friends happy. So why did you feel like you were slowly unravelling the more you pushed them together?

You sat in the courtyard, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of your robe. The cool autumn breeze swept through the trees, but you hardly noticed. Your mind was still preoccupied with everything Aurora had said, her excitement about Enzo, and how you’d promised to help set them up. But why did it feel so… wrong?

Aurora had stopped by just minutes ago, her face bright as she asked, "How's it going with Enzo?" You had forced a smile, nodding, “It’s going great,” before watching her bounce away, completely unaware of the growing knot in your stomach.

Moments later, Pansy dropped down next to you with a dramatic sigh, her usual smirk plastered across her face. "Why the long face, sunshine?" she asked, bumping your shoulder lightly.

You mumbled, "It's nothing," but Pansy wasn’t one to be easily fooled.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Nothing? Or Miss Perfect just dropped by to say something stupid?” The nickname made you cringe, a flash of guilt creeping up. Aurora was your friend, and yet… every time Pansy called her that, it sparked an irritation you couldn’t quite explain.

“She was just asking about Enzo,” you muttered, hoping Pansy would let it drop.

“Oh?” Pansy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What about him?”

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the ground as you mumbled, “She wants me to set her up with him.”

There was a brief pause, and then suddenly Pansy burst out laughing. Like full-on, holding-her-stomach, can’t-breathe laughing.

You blinked at her, bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

Pansy wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head, still chuckling. “That’s so dumb. Aurora and Enzo? Together? Yeah, no. That’s never going to work.”

“Why not?” you asked, though the question felt hollow. Part of you had already started wondering the same thing.

Pansy smirked, tilting her head at you as if you were missing something incredibly obvious. “Even in an alternate universe where that might happen, it wouldn’t matter. Because Enzo likes you.”

Your brain screeched to a halt. You blinked, once, twice, before squeaking out, “Enzo what now?”

Pansy gave you a look that was part amused, part exasperated. “You heard me. Enzo likes you.”

You stared at her, not quite believing your ears. “What do you mean Enzo likes me?”

With a dramatic sigh, Pansy leaned back, crossing her arms. “You know, like when someone admires the other person and is practically whipped for them? That kind of like.”

“I know what like means, Pans,” you muttered, feeling your heart race. “But Enzo doesn’t like me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “And the sky isn’t blue.”

You shook your head, still in denial. This had to be a joke, right? Lorenzo liking you? He couldn’t. He never showed any signs. Or… had he? You suddenly thought back to the subtle moments—his lingering looks, the way he always seemed to be there when you needed him, the small touches, the quiet smiles. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

Suddenly, excitement bubbled up inside you. “Wait, are you serious?” you asked, your voice rising with hope. “Enzo really likes me?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, obviously.”

You stood up, pacing as your mind raced. “But I can’t! What about Aurora?”

Pansy let out a loud groan, sitting up straighter. “What about Ravenclaw?” she asked, rolling her eyes again.

You stopped in your tracks, spinning to face her. “She likes him, Pans. I can’t just—”

“Oh, please,” Pansy cut you off, waving her hand dismissively. “I just saw her flirting with some Hufflepuff a few minutes ago.”

You froze. “What?”

Pansy smirked, clearly enjoying your confusion. “Yeah. So maybe she doesn’t like him as much as you thought.”

Your heart was pounding as you made your way to the common room later that afternoon, determined to confront Enzo. You found him sitting with Theo, the two of them quietly talking. When you approached, both looked up, and Lorenzo’s eyes immediately softened at the sight of you.

Without hesitation, you blurted, “You like me?”

Lorenzo’s eyes widened in surprise, then a slow smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Theo snickered beside him, giving you a knowing look. “That was so obvious,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

You stood there, frozen, as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening. Lorenzo—your best friend, the person who had been with you through everything—liked you. He had liked you this whole time, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Lorenzo stood up, walking over to you. “I didn’t want to push you,” he said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. “I didn’t want to make things weird between us. But yeah, I like you. A lot more than just friends.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself grinning despite the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside you. “I… I didn’t know.”

He smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I figured,” he teased lightly, “but I was okay waiting until you did.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head in disbelief. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Lorenzo chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth as he looked at you. “Not an idiot. Just a little oblivious.”

Before you could say anything else, Theo groaned loudly from his seat. “Finally. Do you know how long I’ve had to hear him talk about you? It’s exhausting.”

You both laughed, and as you looked up at Lorenzo, everything just… clicked. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t noticed before, but now, standing in front of him, everything made sense.

ughh it took me so long to write but i did it!! my first enzo fic! hope you guys like it

[gorgeys]

hi! big fan of ur maeve works omgg.. wld u consider writing a piece where maeve takes homelander’s wife? i can so see him bringing in his wife, supe or not, to fancy events as a trophy wife. maybe maeve steals her away at some point & realizes she’s 1) a lot smarter & capable than homelander plays her off as and 2) just as eager to get her hands on maeve as maeve is to have her.

just think of the messiest trio shit you’ve ever witnessed. homelander probably knows, too. I don’t even think he’d be mad. two of the hottest women in the world are linking.. he’d prob ask to watch <\3 but erm yeah also don’t feel like u have to write major homelander bits like this is maeve content I just think it’s funny he’s like “damn…. can I join u lovely ladies 🥺” - 🐠

queen maeve x homelander's wife!reader

I LOVE THIS IDEA! THANK U SM FOR THIS REQ!!

this is also over 3k words so brace yourself

warnings: smut - oral, fingering, strap-on, homelander being a dick

the seven is dumbfounded that anyone's agreed to marry homelander, let alone stay married to him, especially maeve who knows first hand how difficult he is.  and they're absolutely astounded that he's landed a baddie like you, but there you are, his hot trophy wife, hanging off his arm at every vought function.

every person in america knows homelander and yours' love story (thanks to vought's relentless marketing team): homelander saved you from a bombing and as soon as he landed safely on the ground with you in his arms, it was love at first sight and the rest was history and blah blah blah.

the part maeve can't believe is that you--gorgeous, angelic you--would ever fall for that monster.

you were called a trophy wife for a reason; just looking at you would make most men cream their pants, maeve included.  when you spoke, she just stared at your lips.  when you walked away, her eyes shamelessly followed you.  when you looked at homelander with all that adoration behind your eyes, she wished she had the power to pop his head like neuman.  but of course, you were a distant, unattainable fantasy.

homelander had you on a tight leash, always keeping a hand on you at all times and jokingly threatening the life of any executive that even looked at you with a sign of lust.  of course, he wasn't joking.  he had killed men for simply touching your shoulder.

he also did the usual homelander things: talking over you, sometimes groping you in public, and constantly repeating the story of how the two of you met to anyone who would listen, especially stressing the part where you were a damsel in distress whose life he graciously saved.

because of homelander, maeve decided to admire you from afar.  that was until one fateful night.

she was smoking alone in the bathroom after escaping another routine vought event where she was forced to keep up appearances.  she had intentionally gone up to the 99th floor, knowing the bathroom would be empty since the event was taking place on a lower floor.  that's why she was surprised when she heard another set of heels on the tiles behind her.

"can i get a drag?" you ask as she turns to face you.  you're already smiling at her, but not that big, toothy smile you give to all the businessmen.  it's a natural one.

she extends her arm to offer you the cigarette, so you walk up to her and accept it.  she watches as you bring it to your red lips with ease that only a routine smoker could possess.

"i didn't know you smoked," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.  it seems oddly out of character for homelander's perfect housewife.

"i shouldn't.  and i didn't used to," you say, the smoke leaving your lips in a short puff.  "not before i met homelander.  i mean, i of all people should know how bad it is," you say, handing back the cigarette and turning toward the mirror to inspect your appearance.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyes never leaving your face.

"oh, i was a doctor.  you know, before all this," you say nonchalantly, fixing your hair. maeve's eyes widen in surprise.

"wait, really?"

"yup," you say, as if you expected her surprise.  it makes sense since most people assume homelander's wife is just a pretty face, not someone who once possessed one of the most difficult and esteemed careers.  "four years of undergrad, four years of med school, four years of residency, only to practice for one year.  what a fucking waste."

well that's why homelander never let you speak—he didn't want everyone to realize you were smarter than him.

"fuck," she says, still a little shocked as she diverts her gaze to look at you through the mirror. "what kind of doctor?"

"ER.  shit was crazy but i loved it.  and i was good at it.  i was always good with the people," you say with a sad smile.

looking back, it makes sense to maeve.  you knew how to talk to, but more importantly, listen to, any person that approached you and homelander.  you were extremely emotionally intelligent.  and obviously book smart as well, considering your profession.  you really were everything homelander wasn't.

 "because i really cared, y'know?  i really wanted to make a difference," you say with the shake of your head.  that thought seemed so trivial now.

"it's like looking in a mirror," maeve says, literally looking into the mirror at your reflection.  she had never realized how similar the two of you were.

"but then he saved me and suddenly it was all gone."

"they made you stop when you got married?"

"well, he made me stop," you say.  she can see the hurt in your eyes.  "because you can't be a doctor and homelander's wife.  no, that wouldn't be fair to him," you say, a hint of contempt evident in your usually sweet tone.

"asshole," maeve says, the hate far more obvious in her voice.  "i never understood why you were with him.  i don't think any of us did.  and now i'm just more confused."

"well, i could say the same about you," you say, suddenly turning your head to look right at her.  "why were you ever with him?"

"because i polled higher when we were together," she answers honestly, getting an endearing smile out of you.

"yeah, i assumed," you say.  "although he's still adamant that you were once hopelessly in love with him.  i don't wanna burst his bubble, but i always knew you were too good for him."

"we say the same thing about you," maeve says, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"don't flatter me," you say, pulling your lip gloss out of your bag.  "i'll get a big head."

"can't be bigger than his," she quips, relishing in the way she makes you grin.

"true." she watches the applicator glide across your plump lips and then watches you shove it back in the tube.  "did i ever tell you you were my favorite?"

"what?"

"in the seven.  you were always my favorite.  i never paid too much attention to you guys but i was always watching when you were on the tv," you say.  "i don't know, maybe it was the armor or something.  or maybe the way you always stood like that with your hands on your hips.  i don't know.  you always did it for me though."

were you saying what she thought you were saying?

"wait," she pauses, turning her body toward you and resting her hip against the counter.  "so you had a crush on me?"

"mmm...something like that," you say with a shrug, though the troublesome smile on your face answers her question.

"wow." she crosses her arms over her chest and smirks at you.  "does homelander know about this?"

"does he need to know about this?" you ask, turning to face her.

"guess not."  there's a beat of silence.  "how long ago was this?  that you were pining over me," she asks as smugly as ever.

"so i don't think there was any pining involved, actually, but i remember the news would always play at the hospital and...well, yeah, there you were, always distracting me from my work."

"and now here you are," she says, gesturing to your figure while her eyes not so subtly checked you out. "distracting me from my work now."

"oh, am i?" you say, feigning innocence as you take a step closer to her.  she was left to wonder, was this your plan all along?

"yeah.  now i'm just thinking about you staring up at the screen," she says, entertaining you.  her fingers graze your chin. "drooling all over your scrubs.  fuck, you'd look so cute in scrubs."  you bite your lip, staring up at her with those devilish eyes.

"if only you were there that day instead of him.  things would be so different."

"do you wish things were different?" she asks, dropping her hand from your face.

"sometimes," you admit.  "little, naive me couldn't see him for what he truly was.  but i think i can see you now," you say, your finger poking the skin of her chest as you move impossibly closer.

"yeah?" she mumbles, her eyes obviously flickering between your eyes and your lips as she leans in toward you.

she can't believe she's really doing this.  she knows it's a stupid move.  homelander's literally downstairs.  but you're magnetic.

you abruptly grab her by the back of the neck with both hands and press her lips onto yours.  her lips move hungrily against yours, sucking and biting your bottom lip so hard that you're moaning into her mouth.  she attaches herself to you, her strong hands grabbing at the back of your dress and pulling your body into her cold armor.

in a second, she's lifting you up and onto the counter.  she knows it won't be long before homelander's looking for you, so she needs to make the most out of your fleeting time together.  you're well aware of this as you hike your dress up your thighs to save her a few seconds.

she kisses you so hard and feverishly that you're dazed and pulling her further into you by the back of her head.  you barely register her hands sliding your now slick panties down your legs.

she pulls away for a moment and stuffs your panties into the breastplate of her suit.  it's annoying how put together she looks, meanwhile you're out of breath with your legs spread embarrassingly wide for her.

she gives you a look, as if to verify that you still want this. your slight nod cues her to duck down and face your bare pussy.  instantly, she's eating you out like a woman starved.  she rapidly tongues your clit, only stopping every once in a while to suck on it harshly.  your quiet whimpers are music to her ears, only motivating her to throw your legs over her shoulders and bury her face deeper into your cunt. but then she starts to push a finger into your wet hole.

fuck, you're tight, she thinks. his dick really must be as small as she remembered.

your noises grow louder, prompting her to lift her face from your pussy and shush you like a child.  with homelander's super hearing, she can't take any chances, especially when his ears are specifically trained to listen for your honey-sweet voice. you accordingly lift your hand from where it was gripping the edge of the counter and firmly clasp it over your lips, muffling your sounds.  just to be safe, you bite down hard on your bottom lip as you lean your head back against the mirror.

maeve leaves a few kisses on your inner thigh as you get used to the intrusion of her long fingers before her lips enclose your clit once more.  soon your thighs are spasming around her head and you're crying into your hand as you cum with two of her fingers pumping inside of you and her tongue running circles on your clit.

she should stop your quickie there.  she should let you run back to the party and into homelander's arms.  but if this was the last time she was gonna fuck you, she was going to make the most of it.

"we got time for another, right?" she asks, though it isn't a question as she adds another finger to your throbbing hole and you release a choked up whine.

maeve really did think that would be the last of it.  this was a dangerous game after all, why would you run the risk of playing it twice?

but suddenly you're prancing around the tower more often, whether it's to hand deliver homelander his lunch or attend a fitting for your next red carpet appearance.  whatever the cause is, you always bump into maeve, and before you know it, she's guiding you by the waist into to her room to fuck you better than your husband ever could.

"he can't make you cum, can he?" she whispers into your ear, fucking you dumb in missionary.  all you can do is shake your head with your eyes squeezed shut, her panties stuffed in your mouth as a gag.  "yeah, that's why you keep running back to me, begging me to make you feel good.  he can't fuck you like i can."

it carries on like that for a while, you sneaking in and out of maeve's room a few times a week.  homelander's oblivious at first, mainly because he ignores your existence most days. but you make a deadly mistake when he rolls over one night, groping your tits in an effort to coerce you into fucking him, and you immediately push him off of you without thinking.  that really shocks him, so much so that he just lies there motionless, staring at the ceiling as you drift off.

you never deny him of sex.  even when you're not in the mood, you usually just let him use your body or at least rub one out for him.  so he really knows something's up when you push him away not just once, but multiple nights, claiming that you're "too tired."

"too tired?" he asks one night, outraged.  "you don't fucking do anything!  i'm out there saving lives so you can buy all your designer clothes and shoes and jewelry and you can't even fucking thank me by taking my dick down your throat?  i fucking made you!"  you simply roll your eyes and reach under the covers to grab his cock through his sweatpants. your annoyance makes you grip him hard, just how he likes it.

one odd time, after maeve's just finished fucking the life out of you, you open the door to leave her room, your hair still a little disheveled and your panties missing, only to see homelander leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for you.

"well, she really did a number on you, didn't she?" he asks with an amused smile.  you're stood in the doorway frozen and speechless.  he looks over your shoulder and makes eye contact with a tense maeve who's standing a few paces behind you.

deep down, you knew you'd get caught eventually.  that didn't mean you were prepared for it.  "john," you say in an overly soothing tone, reaching out for him as if you're about to start talking him down from one of his tantrums.  would this be his breaking point?

"that's why you won't let me touch you, huh?  getting fucked too good by queen maeve over here," he says, that terrifying smile never leaving his face.

"i mean, maeve," he says, slow clapping while making direct eye contact with her.  he knows she's pissed from the way her jaw locks and her teeth grind together.  "just wow.  i didn't know she could cum that many times in a row without passing out.  you know, you're going to have to teach me that little trick you do with your tongue," he says, pointing at her as if she's just said something witty.  "it just drives her crazy.  i mean, i could hear her all the way from the first floor. maybe we can...practice on her together next time?" he says as if you're not standing right in front of him.  he doesn't miss the way maeve's upper lip twitches in disgust.  "what?  i can't let my two favorite girls have fun without me," he says, suddenly looking back down at you and petting your cheek with his hand.

maeve wants to say something, anything to put him in his place, but she can't find the words.  you're his wife after all, not hers.  she doesn't lay any claim to you.  but, for some reason, she feels like she should.  especially when you belong to someone so disgusting and vile.

things get a little weird once homelander knows.  you can tell it irks maeve.  the thought of him touching you or even watching her touch you makes her skin crawl.  she tries to stay away from you for a little while, but it doesn't last long.  whenever she sees you around the tower, she can't help but remember how pretty you looked spread out on her bed, showing off your glistening pussy.

plus it's a bit of a power trip, knowing that she held this one little thing over homelander's head, that little thing being you.  so at some point, her desire for you trumps all else.

you're on your knees on the floor, your chin resting on the edge of the bed as you push your face further into maeve's cunt.  you can only moan into her, letting your tears mix with her juices as you're being overstimulated by the vibrator that's buried deep inside your pussy.  "god, you're useless," she says, grabbing the back of your head and grinding herself on your face.  she moans as your nose rubs against her clit and your cries cause vibrations to course through her.

"just want you to come all over my face," you whine, maeve looking down to see your lips and chin coated in her slick.  she cums almost immediately, deliciously arching into you with a deep groan.

the mixture of yours and maeve's noises makes homelander cum in his own room with his dick in his hand, so horny from watching and hearing the two of you go at for so long through the walls.

he only settles for watching because you and maeve refuse to let him in on the fun.  and he would try to force himself in between you two, but he knows maeve would hit him so hard she'd knock him into next week.  so he's content on just observing for now.

that is until he notices something.  once the two of you have finished, you're no longer leaving her room, with your heels in your hands, to return to his room.  instead, you're lying on your side, your hand dancing up and down maeve's bare arm, with your body tangled in her silky bed sheets.  you whisper to each other, noses practically touching, about nothing important in particular.

homelander watches you smile at something she's said and he recognizes it.  it's one reminiscent of the smile you had when he held you in his arms for the very first time, landing you safely on the ground so far from the hospital that you couldn't think about the smoke that swallowed the sky and the wreckage littered with bodies.  he remembers how in love with you he felt in that moment, the first moment he truly looked at you and knew he must have you.  your smile is aged and a little sad now, but he can't imagine that it doesn't reflect the same love and adoration it did all those years ago.  and he can't imagine that maeve feels any different than he did at the time.

he sits stoically on the edge of his bed after pulling his sweatpants back up, clenching his fists.  he can't let you fall for each other.  he may have let maeve have your body, but you are still completely his.  and now he must prove it.

this is so juicy i might have to write a part 2...

[mythicmanuscripts]

This blog is now officially my favourite and I'm totally addicted to all your content on Aemond and Aegon.

There was a comment on how Aemond probably immediatly tries to fulfill all his wives wishes even if it wasn't serious (that one was mainly about killing people but anyways) and I was wondering if we could get some thoughts on a situation where he can't to that. Maybe they're travelling and she mentions how much she would love a hot bath or her own bed (without meaning anything by it) and he just can't do anything about it

I should have known that one of you lads would find a way to make that crack post serious and a little angsty. We love torturing men on this blog.

There is implied sub!aemond in this answer but no explicit thoughts so I won't be letting you all hide behind a cut, you know what you're getting into here!!

So for anyone who missed the ask this is referencing: I made a joke a while ago about how Aemond would reach a point where he's just no thoughts head empty do whatever pretty wife says. Aemond is a service sub through and through and he absolutely loves being able to do things for you. More than just like it, he takes extreme pride in it?

Not just because he's your submissive, but because he's also your husband. He needs to know he's being a good husband, that he's worthy of a wife like you and he gets genuinely distressed if he thinks he's disappointed you or angered you in any way.

When this specific thing happens, I like the idea of it maybe being when you're both travelling somewhere on Vhagar? Like maybe all the members of the royal family are expected to show their support for something all the way up at Winterfell. Most of them are all going by horse and carriage, but Aemond of course would take Vhagar and he asks if you'd like to join him. Aemond LOVES when it's just you, him and Vhagar and he absolutely adores flying and travelling with you. Plus, Vhagar loves you just as much because from the moment she met you she knew that you were so good for Aemond.

Anyway, the point is that you were able to instead go by comfortable horse and carriage, stopping at inns every day and being welcomed by all the common folk in the area. Instead, you chose to leave a week after everyone else with Aemond and to fly on Vhagar instead, which is only a three day journey because of how fast she is and how long she can fly for.

But those three days flying means that for two nights you're pretty much just camped out wherever Vhagar lands for the day. Right from the start Aemond offered to check the maps and find inns for both nights but you told him not to bother.

You know that Aemond will be uncomfortable staying in inns, especially because he's so recognisable and so he knows all the people in the area will want to speak with him. Forcing him to show up at Winterfell and show his public support for something he couldn't give less of a shit about is bad enough, he doesn't need to also be a roadside attraction for two nights.

More than just that, you know Aemond could really really do with three days of just you, him and Vhagar.

The first day of flying you don't even speak much. You're seated behind Aemond, your hands wrapped around his waist and it's just perfect.

When Vhagar lands for the night, you set up camp while Aemond checks around to ensure it's a safe place to spend the night.

When he comes back, you have everything set up and you make an offhanded comment that you miss your nice warm bed. You don't even think much of it and continue putting the twigs together for the fire. It's only once you have the fire going fully that you realise Aemond still hasn't come to sit with you and has instead stayed standing where he was when you made the comment.

You ask him what's wrong, and to your shock he's silent for a moment before he asks, "Do you not want to stay with me?"

You have no idea where that came from, and when you ask he says that you mentioned missing your bed. You can't help it, you have to laugh at your sweet husband. You motion for him to come sit with you and when he does, you link arms with him and lean against his shoulder.

"Of course I want to," you tell him, "it was just an offhanded comment, I love being here with you."

You can feel him relax a little, no longer sitting as straight and tense, but he's still not satisfied. He speaks up again, "I don't know what to do," he says, "I can't... I can't do anything about that."

You frown and lean more against him, pressing a kiss under his jaw and telling him that he doesn't need to do a thing. You promise him that you love being with him, and that you never would have agreed to come if you genuinely didnt want to sleep out here with him.

Even with that reassurance, he's still a little unsettled throughout the night, and you can see this by the way he tries even harder than usual to please you. He double and triple checks that you don't want anything, he folds your clothes himself, he offers you extra blankets, just does everything he can because he feels like he's failing you by not being able to make you comfortable.

You can see he's spiralling, and I actually think the best thing to do might be to give him a command? No amount of reassurance will help his brain relax, he needs to feel like he has done something good for you.

Maybe you just have him brush your hair for you? There's not much you can ask him to do in the middle of nowhere, so you grab your brush and ask him to take your braids out your hair and brush it through. He's so so gentle with it, really taking his time to ensure he doesn't pull you.

When he finishes you turn to face him and give him a kiss, thanking him for helping you and telling him how much you're loving being with him.

After you arrive at Winterfell, Aemond tells you that he never wants to travel another way with you again.

[nikkento-writes]

Your older brother's best friend Ino Takuma, who you've always had the biggest crush on. You weren't very confident and often had a hard time standing up for yourself whenever you needed to. But thankfully, you always had your brother and Ino to help you. Jocks obnoxiously blocking your locker? When you didn't have the strength to ask them to move, your brother and Ino would tower over them, scolding them about how they shouldn't loiter in front of your locker. Scared of going home alone after a creepy middle-aged man started following you? Once you told your brother, both he and Ino would walk home with you, keeping you close to let other creeps know that they shouldn't mess with you.

While your brother took care of most things for you (which you absolutely adored him for), there were certainly things he could not do for you. That's where Ino would come in.

One summer night, you can't sleep. Your best friend suddenly got herself a boyfriend, and of course, you're ecstatic for her. But you can't help but feel sorry for yourself for being a late bloomer. You sit on the couch, eating an ice pop, cherry-flavored. Ino, who's staying over, comes out of your brother's room, hair ruffled from sleep. He smiles as soon as he spots you. "Can't sleep either?"

You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, sticky and sweet from the melted pop.

He smirks, taking a seat beside you. "What's up?" He's only a year older than you, but he seems so much more mature, so much cooler.

You shrug, comfortable enough with him to share your inner thoughts. "I feel like a loser."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone is getting boyfriends or girlfriend and I'm just...I don't know. I feel like I'm falling behind."

He scoots closer to you, his gaze on yours. "First of all, you're not a loser. Second, just because you don't have a boyfriend doesn't mean you're falling behind. You should go at the pace you want to."

"But I haven't even had my first kiss yet! At this rate, I'll be a kiss-virgin by the time I graduate."

He doesn't respond right away, contemplating what he wants to say next. You stare at him, belly fluttering, anticipating.

"Do you want to try kissing with me?"

You're stunned by his suggestion, though you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't secretly hoping for it. You like Ino, you've always liked him as soon as your brother befriend him. He's always been so nice to you, so caring. But you always tried to deny yourself of those feelings, certain it would never be reciprocated. "Do you mind if I try kissing with you?"

At this, he laughs softly, leaning in closer, eyes focused on your cherry-stained lips. "I wouldn't offer if I did."

It's just a kiss, you remind yourself. It's for scientific purposes, and that's it. So, you close your eyes, pouting your lips slightly. You don't see his reaction, too scared that he'll chicken out at the silly face you're making. But he's on you now, his mouth gentle against yours, careful and intentional. He knows you're nervous, knows you're inexperienced. And that's okay. Because you know Ino is going to take care of you.

His kisses grow more intense, his lips slipping past yours to lick into your mouth. His hands are on you now, fingers smooth across your cheeks and neck. A small moan escapes you as his thumb hovers a sensitive spot on your throat. It spurs him on, kisses sloppier, as if he's wishing to draw out more embarrassing noises out of you.

Before you know it, you're laid out on the couch, him on top of you, fulling making out now. He's heavy above you, though you don't mind it. In fact, you feel safe like this. You feel safe with him.

He's out of breath now as he pulls away from you, panting as he rests his forehead against yours. "Wow," is all he says.

You swallow thickly, the mix of cherry and his saliva sweet on your tongue. "Was I...okay?"

He laughs, nuzzling his nose to yours. "Yeah. You're perfect."

[redr0sewrites]

Adam (or lute) with a really insecure S/o? like to the point of wearing baggy sweaters in extreme heat type. I imagine either of them having absolutely none of that-

ok but this is so real hello??? i love this request!!!

🥀Cw: angst to fluff, adam being adam

🥀Pairing(s): Adam x reader, Lute x reader

Adam:

adam isn't the most observant person in the world, so when he first met you, he didn't really notice anything strange about how insecure you are

adam fell hard and fast, and once you two were official, he began to notice the effort you put into hiding your body

he also noticed how, compared to him, you never bragged about yourself and you were always so self depricating

adam isn't very... empathic, and he sometimes has a hard time understanding your insecurities

adam doesn't understand why you don't love yourself- he thinks you're stunning and smart and gorgeous. how could you not see how wonderful you are?

he's mever been great at communicating, but he makes it a point to start reminding you how "fucking awesome" you are, and how lucky he is to be with you

when it comes to baggy and heavy clothes, adam doesn't care much about how you dress, moreso how you feel

he'll offer you his oversized shirts if it will make you more comfortable, but if you're deliberately overheating just to hide your body? no, that's not okay

thats probably when he'll pull you aside and ask whats up

while adam isn't great at explaining himself, he tries his best to articulate that he doesn't care what your body looks like or what you wear, as long as you're happy and comfortable

however, that also means he doesn't want you overheating or getting yourself sick, and will offer to just chill at home with you instead of going out

on days when you're feeling really insecure, adam will give you his robe to wear to make you feel more comfy, and will curl up with you on the couch in your shared apartment, far away from anyone else's prying eyes

adam just wants you to feel comfortable around him, and wants you to know that he loves you regardless of what you look like, but will never try to force you to be less insecure and will always try to make you more comfortable

even if he's a bit of an asshole and doesn't always understand, he's your asshole and you wouldn't have it any other way

Lute:

if you're datinh, lute worships the ground you walk on, she genuinely thinks you're perfect and doesn't understand how you could think otherwise

lute is also pretty observant and notices right away how insecure you seem to be

she takes it upon herself to compliments you often, not only on your looks, but on your skills and personality as well

lute doesn't show her body much either so she doesn't really care whether or not you do, but if you're hiding your body to the point where its genuinely harmful? nope. not gonna fly.

she's more mature than adam and would sit you down to have a conversation with you about how you feel

she doesn't want it to seem like a confrontation, she knows how sharp and rude she can appear and doesn't want her icy demeanor to scare you away

once she understands the situation a little better she offers genuine advice and is always very supportive

lute would invite you to go on walks with her, or to sit with her while she works out, and overall just offers to spend more time with you to work through any insecurities you may have

she doesn't want you to feel like you have to hide any part of yourself when around her, and will kiss every inch of your body and praise you to the moon and back until you understand that

lute wants you to stay safe and would fret if you overheated, as much as she wants you to be comfortable she also wants you to be healthy- physically and mentally

she understands that you don't want to purposefully overheat and doesn't blame you, but she is also pretty serious about you keeping yourself safe

on hot days you both mostly just stay home, and whenever you're feeling especially insecure she cooks you your comfort meal and chats with you to get your mind off things

i need them both this is not a drill. also what if i told you i had zestial x reader in my drafts huh. what then.

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[megumiswife4]

More than just friends - Kento Nanami

Summary: You and Nanami had a great friendship, although he new you were looking for a companion who could make losing your virginity worth while; but would having him as your first be a great idea or would it ruin your guys friendship?

CW: 18+ only, Smut, fingering, slight masturbation, foreplay, penetrative sex.

WC: 4.5k

*ART WORK DOES NOT BELONG TO ME*

Being a virgin all throughout your young teenage years and into young adulthood having not yet been touched by a man. They say it's easy to be a woman, she can pick and choose who she would ideally sleep with; but in reality it was the opposite. It was even hard for you to find that one partner who could make something so intimate truly special. That’s when you met one man… Kento Nanami. One random evening at your favorite local coffee & bakery shop, it sure was a strange occurrence but needless to say it might’ve been one of the best encounters in a lifetime.

You've become such close friends with him that he even knew your deepest darkest secrets. Women around you knew who he was and were envious of the friendship you had with one another. Nanami could sense the jealousy and envy of the other women but paid no mind, you were the first woman to only feel platonically towards him and he respected that and your friendship with him. Nonetheless you both would spend day and night with one another, he would even offer to stay the night or have you stay in his penthouse at times due to you feeling a bit worried about being alone in your apartment. Nanami would often hear your scary encounters with perverted and disturbing men following you back home after a night out with friends, grocery shopping, or even just a late night walk. He was always by your side, regardless of what others had to say about the friendship.

Every week Nanami would meet up for your morning coffee date hearing the endless amounts of terrible Tinder dates; in hopes of coming across a man who would actually take you seriously, let alone sleep with you. Every single one of those men had proved you right and were just not a fit to what you were looking for in a one night stand or a potential partner. You wanted a man not a boy, especially at your bedside, one who will learn how to caress you just right, one who would treat you like a woman and not an object to smash and dash on the spot, and who will take pride in aftercare. As it being your first ever experience with a man you wanted it to be absolutely spectacular and once in a lifetime experience, but you’re just too afraid to pick the wrong man to do it with.

“Y/n you understand that these are all the wrong men right? I mean you’re on a dating app that mostly specifies for hookups that usually ends terribly.”

“Well yes, although that is what I’m looking for, I need a partner that will take sleeping with one another serious and treat me as a woman not just a quick fuck.” You scoffed in irritation.

Nanami let out a miniscule laugh, “Well it is safe to say, you haven't wasted that opportunity on a questionable man especially from Tinder.”

This topic had been ongoing for quite some time, you both knew one another well enough to talk about such things it almost seemed as if you two were dating at this point, and if it wasnt that then they would have already assumed you both would have been sleeping with each other.

“You know Nanami, you’re the only sensible man in this world who actually understands a woman and her desires.” Sipping your cup of coffee.

He leans back, one arm on the armrest, both legs crossed as he is holding his drink. “ To be honest with you, I am not one to share my personal experiences but because we are now close enough to disclose these kinds of things. I may or may not have some encounters with women myself.”

“Oh? Is that so Mr. Kento? So I'm sure you’re quite the ladies man then.” You playfully state.

“You’re not taking me seriously are you?”

“Well to be honest with you no I’m not, I mean you never even tell me how these dates even go?” You giggled.

You and Nanami began to hear a buzzing sound coming from the table, both of you checking your phones only to realize it was his, “It's a business call.” Standing up from the chair he paced back and forth speaking eloquently serious. The call soon ended as he made his way back to your table.

“I have a business meeting right now, would you mind having dinner tonight at my place? I’ll come by to pick you up after I’m off, be sure to have an overnight bag packed too.”

As he zoomed off, you were left with just yourself and your coffee.

—

It's now 5 P.M. and you’re wondering if he's off, constantly checking your stove top clock. An uncontrollably loud buzzing sound began, reaching for your phone. It appeared to be Nanami.

“I’m right outside your door, did you have your things packed like I asked you to?”

“Yes, all that was taken care of, I’ll be right out.”

Quickly opening the door, there stood Nanami towering over you. He was in his blue button up, a pair of beige dress pants, a brown belt and lastly a nice accent to the outfit; was his yellow tie that had black splattered detail. You held your bags ready to head out the door proceeding to walk ahead, you felt something similar to a brick wall hit your face.

“Who said you’d be carrying your own bags?” Nanami stated with an arched eyebrow.

You growled in annoyance, “It’s okay for me to do things by myself without help you know?”

Without hesitation he grasped hold of the bags before you could even pass through the door entirely.

“Thank you for trying, but I got it from here.” He clamored carrying your bags without a sign of struggle, if it was you, you might've made a fool out of yourself with your items at hand.

You followed his lead, locking the door behind you. He gracefully opened his passenger door wide open for you to enter the vehicle, as Nanami made his way around to the driver side after placing your luggage in the trunk; your view of him was nothing but his strong torso, and his muscular arm with his hand around the gear stick. Looking away as you catch yourself from the awe of his mere presence.

Both of you arrived at his penthouse, as he assembled your overnight bags in his room. You began to walk around curiously as if you haven’t been there more than a million times before, yet each and every time you still find it remarkable at how beautiful his sky view is from the main living room windows. Staring into the distance hearing a deep voice from behind startles you.

“It’s interesting enough that you always take a liking to that spot in particular, every time you visit me.” Nanami chuckles, removing his reading glasses placed onto the countertop.

“Back home I don't get such a beautiful view like this. Why wouldn’t I want to see this view everyday for the rest of my life?” You smiled, turning to face Nanami.

“Well If you still want to take that offer up, you’re more than welcome to end your lease at your apartment and live here with me. I have that spare room.” He stated.

“You know I can’t do that, I don’t want to feel like such a burden living in your place I…”

“You’re not a burden, I think we’ve established a great relationship and enough to know that we both feel comfortable with one another. Regardless I respect your decision, and if you decide to change your mind you know where to reach me y/n.”

Nanami’s kitchen consisted of a barstool area in the center. He offered to make a nice dinner for the both of you as you had offered the last time you spent an evening with one another. It was a beautifully medium rare steak with a buttered rosemary glaze over it, a dollop of garlic mashed potatoes as a side and sautéed asparagus as the second and final side. Your eyes widened seeing how gorgeous this entree came out, ready to stuff your face with such a delicious looking meal.

“Oh my god, this looks phenomenal Mr. Kento!” Teasing him but appreciative of his skills in the kitchen.

“I’ll only take your compliment if you finish your entire plate of food, I know you haven’t eaten all day since I’ve been at the office.” His face plastered with a serious look.

“Okay officer, my apologies.” You said sarcastically, raising both hands up signaling a truce. He couldn’t help but chuckle, hovering his fingers over his mouth. Knowing how you were, you were always getting a kick out of Nanami with your sarcasm and jokes. He never knew such a woman with a non-serious demeanor, always taking a liking for your sense of humor.

Nanami brought both plates to the small dining room near the kitchen, proceeding to pull a chair out for you to be seated as he slowly pushed you forward to be much closer to the table. You both sat across from one another enjoying the meal, you both talked away through the evening during dinner.

You both hadn’t realized the time it was, Nanami had a movie in mind for you both to watch until it was time for bed.

“Would you still like to watch a movie? It’s always our tradition to do so. But if you’re exhausted I understand.” He clamored.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I want to miss a great cinematic experience with you? Should I get the popcorn started? Possibly a nice shot of whiskey on ice for you?” You pointed at him with a finger gun hand gesture.

Nanami couldn’t help but chuckle and nod in approval, you knew him too well. Ever since you both grew closer to one another, it progressed into both of you being able to stay at one another’s homes, endless dinner nights, to coffee dates, and lastly even for minuscule shopping dates whenever he needed a new suit for work; you were always beside him.

Nanami always had special items placed for you around his penthouse. His guest bathroom included a space with hygienic items, from specific hair and facial care items to your own special soaps; he had bought out of his own curious observation from your apartment back home. He was a detailed man, he truly was enticed at your choice of products and he took initiative to be attentive without your knowledge of what you favored and didn’t. Some days you’d prefer to sleep in your guest room and other days you’d crash in his, but of course it was normal you both were close it didn’t seem abnormal for this kind of encounter. People from the outside would have thought you both were in a romantic relationship but that was far from the truth or is it really?

Both you and Nanami plop onto his modular couch, grabbing a hold of your favorite soft plush blanket over yourself. He switched the channel onto a streaming service to get to the film you both were anticipating to watch. Nanami had great taste for each type of genre for a cinematic film, and tonight was a romance/drama movie. Surprisingly he had a niche for romance drama films but rather he was discrete about it.

As time had passed you both were on your third film, one scene in particular appeared where the main character she was struggling to find a perfect guy to have her first time with, it landed between her and her best guy friend; of course it lead to confessing their built up feelings for one another and one thing led to another and the next scene included them having an intimate moment.

You began to wonder, if having your virginity taken away by your close friend who happens to be a guy is a good idea? As your mind wandered in thoughts of Nanami being a potential sleeping partner, it was so wrong but yet it felt so right in your heart and mind. You both understand each other to another extent that no one else would get, and here you are having none other than possible sexual thoughts of this man caressing your naked flesh on his bed.

Immediately your train of thought was disrupted by none other than Nanami. “Y/n are you feeling alright?” He calmly questioned.

“Y-Yes I’m okay.” You laughed nervously. You adjusted yourself sitting much closer to him; noticing the remote lying on his leg you proceed to grab it and pausing the film right in the middle of a steamy intimate session.

“Ugh! I mean how amazing could it possibly be having your virginity lost to your friend of the opposite sex?” You claimed, rolling your eyes laughing.

“I don’t believe it would be all that bad, generally it could be a good thing just because you both entrust each other and already have a great relationship at hand.”

He had a good point, the bond is already there between two friends, the feelings and tension however isn’t as close to the surface as you would think it would. You curled your legs up from the couch, leaning on your side to face him as a single arm was placed on top of the couch as you nervously looked up at him.

He questioned, “What’s wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” You mumbled, as he nodded for you to proceed.

“This might be a weird request but… as you know I’m still a virgin.” Lowering your head in embarrassment.

“And… actually just forget I even ask-”

“So what you’re asking of me is if I could be your first time?”

Your cheeks flushed with a shade of red, bright as a cherry. You couldn’t hold back from feeling such shame, for asking such a thing but you knew he could be your best encounter for your first time.

“As long as you are completely on board with the idea, I’ll agree to make your first time as comfortable as possible for you.”

You nodded your head in agreement in hopes that this was a good decision on your behalf.

Not long after the awkward silence you immediately felt his large hand press against your lower back, and the other on your shoulder leaning you down on the couch he was now hovering over your innocent body.

“Is this okay with you?” He questioned making sure you were okay and consented with his actions.

“Y-Yes that’s alright with me.”

You felt your heart beating fast, was it loud enough for him to hear it too? The only light that luminated throughout the living room was the tv screen, nothing else. Nanami continued to loosen his tie as he was still hovering over your body, but nothing stuck out more than those large muscular biceps. Without a single thought your hand traveled up his arm copping a feel, all this time you only ever admired his muscular build from afar but this time you couldn’t help yourself but to touch him up.

“You know I never thought I would be able to finally touch your muscular arms.” You shyly chuckled.

He couldn't help but give a small smile, “Oh, is that why I would catch a glimpse of you admiring me almost every single time we would spend time together?”

Embarrassed, you propped both hands to cover your face to prevent him from seeing you smile. He knew your tactics when you became shy, it was clear that both of you might have unresolved feelings that began to surface.

Nanami took both of your hands gently pushing them aside as he leaned in closer to your face, softly brushing your cheek.

“May I?”

You nodded, “Anything you do from here on out is okay with me Nanami.”

His lips inched closer to yours as he kissed you so softly, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him in closer for more. His lips slowly tugged onto your lower lip, they traveled below your chin and made their way to your neck. Nothing else could have ever prepared you for that feeling that you craved more of Nanami.

“If you don't mind, I will take this to the bedroom. It wouldn't be proper for me to have your first time on a living room couch.” He kindly chuckled, scooping you into his arms.

He entered into his bedroom as he placed you gracefully onto his cold sheets, as he began to slip his dress shoes aside his bed and unbutton his shirt a tad bit more. He motioned for you to sit at the edge of his bed upright guiding you with his hand, he leaned down to kiss your lips once again grabbing your cheek caressing it pulling you in for more. His hand finally pushed you into his bed once more as he hovered over your precious body, his hands grazing over your neck down to your chest, his fingers unbuttoning your white button up as your bra and torso now exposed. His lips met between your breasts leaving wet soft kisses everywhere, your whimpers enticed him more to make the crevice between your legs ready for entry.

“P-Please N-Nanami…” You moan as you begin to move your hips, turned on by his mere presence and foreplay you tried to remove the excess clothing on your body. You wanted him more and more, your hands traveling to your breast as you cupped it in one hand as the other was trying to remove your bottoms as it exposed the hemming of your thong.

“Let me take care of you y/n, you shouldn't have to worry about anything when I am here. It is my job to pleasure you the best that I can.”

Nanami slowly removed your shirt and bottoms exposing just your undergarment and bra now, you leaned upward unbuttoning his shirt helping him remove it, as it was your time to return the favor of exposing his body. Your breathing becomes heavy as time goes on, your heart beats faster and your pussy feels wetter. Your hands grazing his chest as you bring your face closer to it leaving miniscule wet kisses making your way up to his neck.

He brought you closer to his chest as he began to unhook the bra strap as it fell gracefully, your nipples were hardened and exposed he laid you back down into the cold sheets as he kissed the crevice between both breasts as his hand softly squeezed it. It soon traveled down your stomach, hips and finally your inner thigh, he softly rubbed the outer opening of your pussy making it throb; you pressed against his hand knowing you were craving more. Nanami continued to place kisses all over your body, he traveled down leaving soft kisses on your hips down to your inner thigh. Licking your thighs kissing them as he gently rubbed his hands on your leg, squeezing your hips as if he wanted you all to himself.

“Just relax princess, everything will be alright.”

He began to come back up for more kisses, his fingers pressing into the entrance of your pussy lightly rubbing it as you began to moan. Biting your lower lip as both of your eyes met, bringing your hand up to his cheek then quickly pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongue making an entrance as he tried to match your consistency, he noticed the lips in between your legs grew wetter after each rub. Nanami smiled in between each wet kiss you both engaged in, retracting disengaged your lips from his you couldn't help but gravitated your attention to the bulge pressing against his beige dress pants.

“Take them off for me.” You moaned, biting your lip.

He gently removed his bottoms and undergarments exposing his hard-on. Reaching your hand to grab it, Nanami groaned at the touch of your hand around his cock. As you began to slowly motion it up and down you felt it harden with each stroke you gave him.

“Mmm” his deep groan was so sensual you were ready to take him on. He adjusted your body to make you feel as comfortable as possible on his bed.

“I’m ready, I need you inside me p-please” you yearned, your face flushed red as your eyes glistening and your desirable whimpers, Nanami’s cock and heart were throbbing at the thought of being inside you. Afterall you were a beautiful woman inside and out he enjoyed your friendship with him but he would have never thought that you both would be uncovering a deep desire for one another in his own bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes I’m ready for you.”

“As you wish, just know I’m taking it easy on you if you don’t like something just tell me darling.” Rubbing his finger against your cheek, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead making you feel at ease.

Your body relaxed, Nanami began to slowly spread your legs apart as he slightly spit into his hand and began to massage his cock preparing it for entry.

“Keep your beautiful eyes on me princess, I’ll guide us the whole way.”

“Okay.” You nervously said, grabbing his shoulders.

He slowly began to make his way inside your wet throbbing pussy, you felt immense pressure against your inside walls feeling euphoric but so good. Letting out a loud moan, pulling Nanami in your arms as you wrapped around his large back, lightly digging your nails into it at every thrust his hips made into you. Nothing but groaning and whimpers filled the entire bedroom, with every kiss he gave, your moans traveled its way out of your mouth. Your hands moved up running through his hair as you craved him more and more, he took hold of your wrists and pinning them alongside your shoulders. Your anticipation grew more with each withdrawal and re-entrance of his cock.

“Go…f…faster Nanami”

“Of course beautiful.” Brushing your strands of hair to the side.

As his cock kept at a minimum pace, he engaged much more, thrusting faster and faster. Your breasts began to move erratically with every entrance he was consumed by your beauty and the way you were just submissive to him letting him take the lead.

“Goddamn” Nanami groaned, cupping a single breast leaning over to lick and softly suck on your nipples. Sweat dripping from his forehead, his hair was no longer fixed up as it was now drooping over his face. You thought to yourself, he looked so captivating it was a new look that was never seen before. He was always having his hair fixed away from his face but it was different this time… you loved it.

His pace had slowed down as he grew a bit tiresome of how his speed increased at such a fast rate. Retrieving his soaked cock from your luscious folds, he took his time penetrating that precious pussy of yours. Nanami entered inside of you slowly as you whimpered and continued to slowly withdraw it back out feeling pressure from his long hard cock filling your lower abdomen. Nanami never failed to make you feel reassured and appreciated, someone he took his time with; rubbing his thumb across your cheek leaning in for passionate tongue kissing and never ending compliments that valued you as the woman you are.

“You’re doing so good.”

“You look as beautiful as ever.”

“I can’t take my eyes off you, you’re so captivating.”

“I love being inside of you, I can’t stop fucking you.”

You wanted him more and more just as much as he craved you, you grazed your hands over his abdomen and chest planting small wet kisses, guiding him to now be underneath you as you wanted to be on top. Your legs spread apart each one on either side of nanami’s waist, you pulled his hands touching your breasts to squeeze them and leaned down for him to massage and suck your nipples. Your hands touching every crevice of his muscles from his biceps, chest, and his abdomen, your tongue traveling all over it making its way to his neck and back to his lips. Your hips began to grind against his large shaft as your juices began to cover all over it, this wasn’t over. He slowly planted you accordingly on him as he brought his hand over his cock adjusting for re-entry as you grinded one last time you felt a shiver run through your entire body. Cupping your breasts in the palm of your hands as you lean your head back moaning, you proceed to lean forward and backward movements for Nanami’s cock to slide in and out. It was smooth and felt good.

“That’s it princess, keep doing that.”

Nanami couldn’t get enough of you, he needed more. He wrapped his arms underneath yours to reach your shoulders pulling you in quickly as his pace began to fasten, he was now taking over as his cock penetrated you. His hips thrusting up and down as one of his arms reached down to feel your ass, then traveling back up running his fingers through your hair. Instantly he withdrew his cock, as he grabbed you pulling you underneath him, he promised he’d be the one to please you and do his job diligently to make your first time the best experience and the only man to make you cum. For one last time putting you in missionary, and before you both finished he slowly thrusted his cock inside of you increasing his rate of speed more than usual that you both were panting and whimpering, one hand playing with your hair as he moved it downward to rub your rosy red cheek, he chuckled knowing even at your most vulnerable and being aroused you still were indefinitely a beautiful and charismatic woman in the flesh and fully clothed. That same hand reached up to his mouth as he licked it applying a generous amount of saliva, finally reaching his fingers down to your clit as he massaged it stimulating your nerves as he continued to thrust his wet cock fully covered in your wet pussy juices.

“Keep going Nanami I feel like I’m going to cum.”

“Awe fuckkkk” he began to say, as your pussy was too good he was close to cumming with you.

Leaning your head back into his pillow moaning loud, he couldn’t get enough of how beautifully sexy it was for you to enjoy him being inside of you; being overstimulated by his wet fingers touching your clit and his wet cock covered in juices from your throbbing pussy coming in and out. One hand of Nanami’s on the headboard as the other was right beside you as he had a few more thrusts left in him, sweat was dripping from his face. Finally one big thrust as he released inside of you oozing a warm fuzzy feeling, your body shivering and covered in goosebumps from hitting your peak of the orgasm. You couldn’t help but to pull him in for one last kiss as you both breathe heavily smiling at one another.

You both laid beside one another, Nanami turned over to pull you into his tight embrace brushing your hair and holding you tightly.

“I love you…” you quietly admitted.

Nanami pulled away to take a good look at you, to your surprise he indeed returned the favor.

“I love you too, I’ve been waiting to hear that for quite some time now. I couldn’t be too sure if your feelings were the same.”

You both couldn’t help to be in one another’s embrace, your first time was unforgettable.

[late-draft]

I want to know all of the details of the scifi au like right now, I'm so hooked instantly

Okay let me set the stage!

This is a sci-fi AU, leaning onto (what I've read) the first idea of ATLA; however unlike how it had Aang be from an ancient technologically advanced civilization waking up in a technologically regressed world(?), here the tech that Air Nomads had was forgotten and new one was created and it proliferated.

An important thing to keep in mind is that I intended this AU to be literally made up of iconic, primeval tropes of young audience's shows. I'm currently in a phase where I test how well I'm able to incorporate tropes and make the best use of them, so for this AU, expect it to feel EXACTLY like the thrill of running at 10 PM up to your grandma's CRT TV to watch that amazing series on Jetix you can't get enough of!!!!

~~~

First thing to notice here, the world has a Key Holder for every bending type. Keys are your magical symbols. It's the standard trope in these types of shows, think of them as kids who represent the absolute core traits of their element. Because Aang has to find specific individuals now rather than arbitrarily choosing a teacher, we have a tighter narrative although more trope-y. Aang is the Key holder for Air - every Avatar is always a Key holder for their native element, but can be taught other bending types only by respective elements' Key holders.

As expected, the world is ruled by the Fire Nation's strongest corporation, led by Emperor Ozai. Most of the setting is skyscrapers, huge power cables and mazes of pipeworks. Hakoda is the leader of resistance but he had disappeared two years ago, leaving his two children with a warning to stay hidden and safe below ground. Their secret hideout is pretty safe and cozy. Of course Sokka and Katara would not sit idly forever! Wandering through the underground they discover an ancient cryo pod, the only active one left. When he comes to himself, Aang realizes that he's the last airbender in the world for the past 1000 years.

The Avatar is able to operate ancient spiritual machines that the Air Nomads tended to. Once he learns all bending types, he'll be able to return airbending to the world through a Harmonic Convergence event by activating a huge lionturtle machine. The problem is - nobody knows where this machine is, but the Avatar is able to "listen" for signs of keyholders and machines through an ancient leftover network. Katara and Sokka swear to aid Aang in achieving this goal and restoring balance to the world. Ever since airbenders disappeared, there had been heavy dissonance in the spirit world, creating terrible natural disasters that altered the face of the planet. They're having difficulty finding the Key holder for Water.... the first one they find is Toph for Earth! She joins the gaang in late season 1 :)

In this AU, there's a tradeoff where the element of kungfu fights is reduced in favour of high-speed chases through the metropolis. Aang (14) moves quickly through the city using only his airbending, by running or speeding on his air sphere. The only piece of new equipment he wears are clear plastic goggles that Sokka (18) gave him. And while you might expect Zuko (19) to be chasing them on a red motorbike, no! It's in fact Katara (17) who's a super-skilled bike driver while Zuko and his entourage are on ROLLERBLADES SKATING ACROSS WALLS AND PIPES. Propulsion via firebending! (same thing Azula does in canon, just elevated to skating). Iroh waits for his nephiew to fail each chase and offer him tea, he's just wearing black dress pants. XD Sokka is Katara's genius engineer brother who constantly grumbles and throws sarcastic remarks because he has to fix her bike after every. single. chase! In this setting, Ozai is specifically looking for the Avatar because he could, using unethical means and technology on a trapped Avatar, be able to grant all bending types to whoever he chooses. This would spell disasteeeer. However, it's also implied that in a similar way, he could "fix" anyone...

Some notes:

You can probably feel the conclusions of many things I left blank. This is on purpose.

Zuko absolutely must have to be motivated by a desire to win his father's approval and love, this must not change. I'll introduce Azula in a later post.

The lionturtle as a concept and its effects are made clear and setup from the get-go. The spiritual machines are just a background element that doesn't affect the plot, it's just a goal.

Aang still has a crush on Katara! And it would be brought up a bit more frequently, in order to serve the plot.

Ozai is doing something concrete that's directly related to Avatar's bending, tying him closer to the Avatar as his antagonist.

This AU's setting is as you may have sensed, more mellow at first. It doesn't have a currently active war.

The characters are older because that feels more fitting to me. (I was investigating W.I.T.C.H. show and saw they were basically all 13 and dating and I was like. "Yikes. No")

Help me dig out any VISUAL references you might remember, from shows of the similar vibe. The goal is not to mimic but to add to the characteristic genre.

These screenshots are from OBAN: STAR RACERS and are what I'd associate with the old Air Nomad technology!

Shape Da Future from Jet Set Radio is precisely what aligned perfectly with this AU.

I'll be sharing more details about this AU in future posts, and everyone is welcome to add their ideas and thoughts on it! I wonder what I forgot to mention here…

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Are u able to do how certain Venus signs act when the like someone??

I hope u mums doing well now and ur car is doing ok no rush tho I understand 😊

Hey, my mum and car are doing okay and thank you for your patience because you requested this a VERY long time ago.

Disclaimer: This is based on traditional astrology and for delusional purpose only. Do not take this seriously.

Also someone's Moon Sign will also have an influence in how they show their affection for you so you're better off looking at both Moon AND Venus signs.

The Rizz Of Each Venus Sign:

Aries Venus:

These people yearn with PASSION and they're one of the easiest to figure out if they like you. You can just SEE it in their gaze when they're in your presence. Agreeable. Will instantly respond to messages and more likely to confess their feelings rather quickly.

Jeongin from Stray Kids is an Aries Venus and this manifests in the EXCITEMENT he has around his members and how he beams at them on the stage or when in his ending-ment when he talks to Stays.

Taurus Venus:

Will absolutely scrutinise and discover what you like and are interested in understanding the SMALLEST of details about you. Will also pay attention to your body language and figure out what makes you comfortable.

A great example of a Taurus Venus in action was when Yunho had a fancall with Vanessa and noticed how her make-up style changed and asked if she moved because her background changed.

Gemini Venus:

They love to play games and play cat and mouse. The type to offer you a beautiful compliment and then dip because they want you to think about them. Will ask you personal questions about your life.

Cancer Venus:

A healing presence will envelop you with the love of a Cancer Venus. Provide you with comfort and warmth. Will deliberately radiate an energy of homeliness so you feel safe in being vulnerable and expressing your deepest thoughts.

Leo Venus:

They just become the biggest simps and end up fawning and gushing over you. Will find any excuse to spend time with you. May make compliments about your hair and make-up and be extra touchy and giggly.

San from Ateez is a Leo Venus and he is so Leo Venus coded with how he is so attentive towards Atiny's. You can feel the care in his gaze and presence.

Virgo Venus:

The type to love quietly but unconditionally and it might take you awhile for you to realise they like you. Will give you gifts or do minor tasks for you and then act like it's nothing even though you know they don't do this for anyone else.

Mingi from Ateez and Changbin from Stray Kids both have a Virgo Venus and Mingi creates crystal bracelets and Changbin is always bringing food to his members.

Libra Venus:

Might want to take lots of photos of you or want to know about your artistic abilities. People with a Libra Venus are typically VERY physically affectionate so lots of hugging, petting, smiling (consensually) etc.

TEASING is a huge thing as well!!! Others might think you're bullying each other but you both know the humour you share is special between you two.

Han, Felix, Seungmin from Stray Kids and Wooyoung from Ateez are all Libra Venuses and massively tease and play around with their members but it's done so in a way that's harmless and cute.

Scorpio Venus:

Will pine for months before even making a move on you. Quality time. It's difficult to define how a Scorpio Venus shows their interest because you can just FEEL it and SEE it with how they interact with you. Heated gazes. Sudden bouts of confession. And of course, if they get jealous and possessive.

Bang Chan, Lee Know, Hongjoong and Jongho all have their Venus in Scorpio and a lot of their admiration is non-verbal, you can just see the way their eyes sparkle when they talk about something/someone they adore.

(I'm also biased b/c my Pisces Venus loves my Scorpio venus ppl, y'all get what it means to love someone with your entire body and soul).

Sagittarius Venus:

These people are CHEEKY with their affection and can become overly flirtatious and then avoidant within minutes of knowing you. Might put more effort into their appearance when they're around you and try to act non-chalant with their affection (though it gets pretty obvious at times).

Capricorn Venus:

Will prioritise and give advice over your health and well-being. Classic tsundere vibes with affection and if they like you and you ask them for a favour...they might complain about it before rolling their eyes and doing it for you anyway.

Minghao from SVT is a classic example of a Capricorn Venus. Carats always ask him to do certain Tiktok dances and he says he won't do it but then he rolls his eyes and ends up doing them anyway.

Aquarius Venus:

It's difficult because they treat their romantic partners and their friends in a similar manner BUT I've noticed they show their care for you by showing up and being there for you in your darkest of moments. Will send cute memes and gifs to you online. Might check in on a regular basis for no obvious reason.

Park Seonghwa from Ateez and DK from SVT both have a Venus in Aquarius and they are dedicated to their lives and HOBBIES! They love showing off their hobbies to Atiny's and Carats.

Pisces Venus:

I am a Pisces Venus and let me tell you the LIMERENCE we experience!!! Will ask questions about your personal life and remember certain details about you. Will do all they can to make you feel extra special and a top priority.

Hyunjin from Stray Kids is a Pisces Venus and I've noticed he always tries his best to make Stays and his members as comfortable as possible around him.

Let me know if this resonates and if there's anything else I should include or know about!

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 8)

pairing: kate bishop x fem! reader - masturbation

summary: you find it impossible to hide just how much kate affects you in a black suit

warnings: teasing, masturbation, reader getting caught

wordcount: 1.2k

an: what can i say? im a sucker for women in suits.

Kate glances up from her phone, waiting for the elevator, her fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek glass screen. She’s in a black suit, expertly tailored to fit every angle and line of her frame, with a crisp white shirt peeking out from beneath a black tie. The image of her standing there, focused and effortlessly powerful, hits you like a train. You blink, trying to process the pure presence she commands, looking every bit the CEO in charge of Bishop Security.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate’s voice is light, but there’s a glint in her eyes as she takes you in, noticing the way your gaze has frozen on her. She lets her mouth curl into a small, knowing smile, which only makes the effect more dangerous. “See something you like?”

You feel your face heat up, stumbling over your words as she saunters over, her confidence radiating from each precise step.

“You, uh… I didn’t realize you’d be… dressing up,” you manage, not quite able to find a safe spot for your eyes.

“Oh, this old thing?” she teases. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, watching with satisfaction as you fumble with your composure. “Just a little something to help seal the deal. I mean, the deal isn’t technically with you, but I’m glad to know I’ve got a captive audience.”

“Kate…” you stammer, “you look—”

“Unbelievably handsome?” she offers, arching an eyebrow, leaning close enough that her cologne, a smooth, warm scent, wraps around you. She studies you, letting the silence stretch just enough to make your heart race before she chuckles. “I know.”

The elevator dings behind her, and she spares it a glance but makes no move to leave, clearly savoring your flustered state. She leans in a little closer, her hand lifting to straighten her tie as she whispers, “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone. I promise I’ll be back to make it up to you.”

Before you can respond, she winks, letting her fingers trail lightly over your arm as she steps back. The elevator doors open, and she shoots you one last smirk as she steps inside.

You attempt to go back to the book you’d left on the coffee table, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh. This activity is usually calming, grounding—but today, every few sentences blur together, Kate's smirk slipping into the words, the memory of her suit and tie replacing any character in the story.

You try to shake it off, flipping a few more pages in a desperate attempt to focus. But your mind keeps drifting back to Kate in that damn suit, the way her confidence and charm seemed to make every line of fabric a little sharper, more intoxicating. The image of her adjusting her tie lingers vividly, and you can practically feel the warmth of her gaze from earlier, the smirk she had when she’d noticed your reaction.

Sighing, you close the book and set it aside. There’s no use pretending. She’s left you with an ache... a huge one that keeps bringing her back into your thoughts. You could practically feel her presence here with you, like the faint hint of her cologne still in the air, lingering just to remind you of what you’re missing.

You can still hear her words, every casual “See something you like?” and “Try not to miss me too much.” A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the glint in her eyes, how she seemed to take absolute pleasure in watching you unravel.

With another sigh, you reach for your phone, typing out a quick message.

You left a mess of my concentration, Bishop.

The text sends, and for a few minutes, you wonder if she’s too caught up in business to respond. But then your phone vibrates, and her reply lights up the screen.

Good. That’s exactly where I want to be, right in the middle of your thoughts.

Your heart skips, and there’s no mistaking the smirk that spreads across your face as you read it, a perfect echo of hers from earlier.

Be good, I´ll be home soon. xx

Your phone buzzes once again as Kate adds to her message. There’s a gentle rush of heat creeping up your cheeks, a fuzzy warmth pooling between your thighs. Be good. The words echo, soft and teasing, and you find yourself replaying them over and over.

It’s ridiculous, really, how much effect one message has on you. But that’s Kate - she’s somehow wrapped herself around your every thought without even trying. Now, every tick of the clock feels heavier, reminding you of how much you’re waiting for her to come back, and how much you want to be under her right now.

You lie back, letting your hands go just where you need them the most. Hoping she will be back soon, but you can´t wait, she made you this desperate... so if anything, it´s her fault.

As your fingers dips into your wet core, you chuckle a bit. If Kate was here, she would be making fun of you, because as always, you´re just so easy to turn on.

Your clit is already swollen and you just need more.

Did a few words on your phone and a suit made you this wet?

You can hear Kate´s voice in your head, which makes you go even crazier. You really need her to come as soon as possible, another thing you have in common. Oh how she looked in that god damn suit, fitting just perfectly on her. And then there were her hands, strong, veined, and dotted with a few silver rings that makes you go wild. Those hands... you need her hands. Yours are not enough.

Fuck.

Playing with your clit feels like you are not touching yourself at all. Why does her touch feels so amazing, but yours doesn´t? You push three fingers inside of yourself, bucking up your hips to cross your finish line. Desperate. Another words you can hear clearly in your head.

Yes, you are desperate. For her. All the time. But can anyone blame you?

Just as you sink into the intensity of the moment, you hear a low, unmistakable throat clearing. Your heart stutters, and there she is, leaning in the doorway with her signature smirk, her hands casually tucked in her pockets, and a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Well, well," she drawls, her gaze taking you in shamelessly, "I should have business meetings more often if this is the sight I'm gonna come home to every time." Her eyes darken, a teasing edge to her smirk as she steps closer.

“I- I…uh, sorry. I just…you just looked very… good. And um... I couldn´t really help myself.” Your voice falters, face flushed as her grin only grows wider.

"Thank you, darling," she murmurs, her tone low and smooth, "but don’t let me interrupt. Go on…” Her gaze drops over you, clearly enjoying every bit of the effect she’s having. “Seems like you were in the middle of something important."

The playful lift in her brow and the way her lips quirk in that smug grin make it impossible to tear your gaze away. You know she’s loving this, savoring every second of your flustered expression. And she’s not going to let you off easy... not now, not with the way she’s eyeing you like you’re a piece of meat she’s ready to get her hands on.

Thank you for reading once again!:P

[kittyball23]

Hey, Kittyball23, I was hoping for the fanfiction of the birth of the Broppy baby, whenever you're ready to publish it.

Ready now!

Baby (a Trolls fanfic)

“Ugh, how long is this gonna take?”

Clay looked at Viva as though she had grown a second head. “How long?” he asked. “Rhonda’s parked just outside the clearing. We’re literally two seconds away from reaching it!”

“Yeah!” John Dory piped up. “Hold your horses there, girlie, we’ll get to camping soon enough!”

“No, not that,” Viva clarified. “I mean, how long until the baby?!” she said, tossing the pleading eyes at her younger sister, and glancing longingly up into her bright pink hair, where she and Branch’s unborn egg was still safely incubated.

Poppy giggled. “Viva, it’s not long now! It’s any day!”

“I know,” she moaned, “but, heck, how do you know when it’s gonna happen?”

“We don’t,” Branch explained. “But Dr. Moonbloom said when it’s time, we’ll know. Especially once Poppy says - “

“The baby is coming!!”

“Exactly!”

“No, Branch!” Poppy cried, grabbing onto his arm. “The baby IS coming! It’s coming, like, NOW!”

The blue troll froze. “Now? Like now, NOW?!”

Poppy responded only with situating herself at the nearest mushroom that could support her weight and bracing.

It was at this point that everybody else began to react.

Viva was absolutely bursting at the seams. “OmigoshomigoshomiGOSH!!!” she gushed, over and over, bouncing around in an uncontrolled ball of energy.

Floyd offered reassurance. “Everything will be alright, Poppy, just remember to breathe.”

“Floyd’s right! Just stay calm and breathe, Poppy, BREATHE!” Branch said, although he himself was not as calm in his tone of voice, and sounded more like he was ready to have a heart attack. Smacking a leaf mask onto his face he approached Poppy with frantically waving arms. “Just remember your training!”

“Training?” John Dory blurted out next to him. “What training? We don’t have any training!”

“NOT YOU, man!” Clay cried. “He’s talking about Poppy!”

But the Pop Queen brushed them all off. “Guys, we don’t need any training. All I literally have to do is just put out my arms” - she put them out - “and get ready to hug!” she demonstrated, beaming.

“Luck favors the prepared!” Branch countered.

“I think you mean the crazy-prepared,” Bruce amended, “but, I have to agree with Branch on this one. It’s better to take at least some precautions.” With that, the experienced father began to shout out orders. “All right, you get some towels,” he said, motioning to Clay, “and you get some hot water,” he said, motioning to Floyd. “And - “

“What can I do?” John Dory asked, grinning hopefully.

Bruce’s eyes widened, having not exactly thought of a task for their oldest brother - aside from standing out of the way. “Err…”

“Come on, I’ve got tons of supplies that could be helpful! Look!” He reached into his green hair and pulled out a frying pan. “Ah, see? This will work, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce said sarcastically. “And I know just how…” He snatched it from his hands, and whacked JD upside the head!

“OUCH!” the Troll whined. “What was that for?”

“Does it look like we’re frying chicken?! Or scrambling eggs?” “WHATT’YOU MEAN THE EGG IS SCRAMBLED??”

Bruce whirled around at the sound of his frantic younger brother’s voice. His younger brother, whose eye was twitching, and was just about on the edge of a nervous breakdown!

“WHOA Branch, chill, I wasn’t talking about you guys’ egg!” Bruce attempted to clarify. “Everything is going splendid. Right, Poppy?” he called out to his sister-in-law.

“I’ll say it has,” Poppy giggled, “Jr.’s been enjoying the whole show!”

“See, Branch?” Bruce said to him. “There’s nothing to worry abou - “

“Jr.?” Branch questioned, interrupting.

“Jr.?” Clay and Floyd echoed, having just returned with the items that they were sent to get.

Slowly, all five brothers glanced over towards Poppy’s direction -

- and their breaths were taken away at the sight that met them.

Because right there - cradled in her arms and with her Auntie Viva gushing over them - was the baby, having hatched as the frantic new father was flustering about.

OUR baby, Branch reminded himself as he met Poppy’s sparkling fuschia gaze with calm, yet emotional, teary eyes.

“Poppy…” he whispered, touched, heart so full of love that no other feeling was possible to be occupying his emotions.

Bruce recognized this moment - having felt it so many times before himself, when Brandy had had their children - and ushered their brothers away.

“All right, come on, guys,” he said, “it’s time to give them some privacy.”

“But the baby!” John Dory exclaimed, clearly wanting to meet his niece or nephew.

“I’m sure we’ll have our chance,” Floyd said optimistically, patting him on the back.

“Well… okay,” JD said, pouting in a way that made him not at all look like the eldest of their bunch, but ultimately complying.

“And that goes for you, too, Viva,” Clay said with a meaningful look.

“Aw…” She pouted, but knew he was right, and followed him. Viva took one last peek over her shoulder before heading off. “Kinda makes me wanna have one of my own,” she said, casting a look heavy with implication at him.

Clay blushed. “O-oh! Well, um, I, um… maybe it will happen one day,” he replied.

She snuggled beside him and grinned. “That would be great.”

And as they trekked off, it was only Branch and Poppy left to themselves.

“Come on,” Poppy said, gesturing to him from where he was still a distance away. “She wants to meet you.”

“It’s a girl?” he asked, mystified.

Poppy nodded, and indeed, Branch could see the little lashes on her eyes and the adorable little smile that looked so much like her mother’s that it took his breath away. He, however, could see his own features on the child as well, indicative with her indigo hair, and bluish skintone. Slowly, he moved forward, each step becoming lighter and more eager than the next, until finally he was next to them.

He looked down at the baby.

The baby looked up at him.

Both smiled at each other.

“She’s… gorgeous,” he finally said.

The baby sweetly giggled in response.

He reached out, ready to caress her, but paused. “Can I… touch her?”

Poppy gave him a baffled look. “Can you? You’re the father! Of course you can!”

She transferred her to Branch’s awaiting arms, the baby giggling again.

“Daddy’s silly, isn’t he?” Poppy said, smirking.

Branch would’ve thought of a comeback, but he was completely enraptured by the small child he was holding. The most wonderful representation of their love for one another, and the greatest gift she had given him; his entire being seemed to glow with pride and love, and a warm feeling filled every corner of him.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Poppy sighed, equally as fascinated.

"Yeah..." he replied, and then spoke to the baby. "It's great to finally meet you... um..." Branch faltered, realizing that he didn't even know exactly what to call her!

"Oh, right, we need a name!" Poppy stated excitedly. She hummed in thought for a second, and then came up with a suggestion. "How about... Baby Branch?"

"Uh, she's a girl."

"I know, I'm kidding," she giggled. "It's just, she wouldn't even be this cute if it weren't for you, right?"

Branch chuckled. "I beg to differ," he said, nudging her playfully, in a way that let her know that she was also a contributor to the baby's adorableness. But when he tried to think of a name that would be unique and suitable, his mind was drawing a blank.

Poppy could see this, and she asked, “What was your grandma’s name?”

“Rosiepuff,” he answered.

“How about that?” she suggested.

“Really?”

“It’s nice, don’t you think? And I like it.”

It is. But Branch had another idea. “How about just Rosie?” It was an homage to his grandmother, and also allowed their baby to have her own distinction.

“Rosie,” Poppy repeated, testing it out, and liking it very much. She wasn’t the only one who liked it. The baby squirmed and smiled in response.

“I think that would work,” she agreed, first leaning in to peck little Rosie on her forehead, and then sharing a kiss with Branch. He wrapped an arm around Poppy’s shoulder and cuddled the baby close to them with the other, fully content with the decision and the new life produced.

“Can we come see now?”

The new parents looked up to find Viva and the rest of the bros, huddled together some paces away, seeming all-too-ready to greet the newborn.

They laughed. “Yes, you can,” Branch assured, feeling much more relaxed than he did before.

Viva beamed. “YAY!” She whizzed over and was the first to reach her sister’s side. “AWW, sis! I’m so happy for you!” Then she peered down at the baby and all but died from the sheer overload of delight. "Oh my gosh, helloooOOOO!" she gushed, in just about the same way she did when first meeting Poppy and Branch on their journey to Mount Rageous. "My name's Viva! Or, in your case, AUNTIE Viva!"

"Didn't you already introduce yourself, V?" Poppy giggled.

"It doesn't hurt to do it again!" Viva exclaimed, and then grabbed onto Clay's arm. "Oh, Clay, isn't she the most precious little thing you've seen?!"

Clay sucked in a breath, looking like he was trying to keep himself in control. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry," he mumbled, looking like he was very much on the verge of bursting into joyous tears.

Next to him, Floyd's lip trembled and his eyes misted over. "I didn't," he admitted, and then promptly broke into a sob.

"On behalf of all of us, Branch, congratulations," Bruce said, smiling proudly at his brother. "From one dad to another, I think you're gonna be a great father." And then, to Rosie he said, "And I have a feeling you're gonna have plenty of playdates with my kiddos."

John Dory jumped in at this. "Yeah! And just wait till you meet your cousin Rhonda!"

Bruce looked at him bewilderedly. “Cousin?”

JD rolled his eyes. “DUH! That’s how cousins work, right? Children of siblings? Am I right?” He extended his arms out like it was so obvious.

“But… But Rhonda’s not actually your child!” Bruce pointed out.

JD sighed. “Still going on about that? Sheesh.” Sure his daughter might be a 3-foot-long caterbus and not a little trolling, but she was still his daughter!

“Anyway,” Bruce said, not wanting to touch on the subject any longer and drawing his attention to the Trolls of the hour, “Congrats!”

Branch smiled, grateful for all his brothers sincerity in their praise. "Thanks, guys… really. You're all gonna be great uncles."

"Or in John Dory's case, a great-great uncle," Clay joked.

John Dory beamed, not quite getting it. "Thanks, bro!"

"He meant it cuz you're old," Bruce said, smirking mischievously.

JD scoffed. "HEY!"

But his mood dissolved when Rosie smiled up at him, amused by her eldest uncle. "Awww, look at you, girlie. You got your mom and pop all over ya! And if you don't believe me... hooo! Have I got some Bitty B photographs for YOU to see!"

Branch gasped and shot him a murderous look. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would," John Dory teased, "but right after this!" And then he hugged Branch tightly, very close to smothering him under the weight of his affection.

"John Dory!" Branch muffled, but found it to be a useless effort trying to worm his way out of the hug, with the way that the other bros were surrounding him in a huge embrace as well! His protests were ignored, especially when Poppy encouraged the matter by calling out "HUG TIME, EVERYONE!" Baby Rosie was carefully cuddled in the midst of it all, everyone beyond elated at the prospect of their expanded family.

And what else could Branch do in that moment? Well, nothing except relishing in that feeling of being surrounded by the ones he loved and who loved him.

That’s what.

[mistressroxielove]

Hey everyone~ I'm back, and this time with a new fixation!

Long story short, I've discovered the new Fairly Oddparents reboot, absolutely loved it and was inspired to make this AU idea for the show! With a slight reimagine/redesign of the characters as well. And the first one I decided to do was Peri!

Here's some more info about my AU:

Fairly Odd Parents AU/Rewrite

Au Name: FairlyOdd Brother

Summary:

Perri (previously known as Poof) recently graduated from Fairy Godparents School and is eager to start granting Wishes for his very own godchild! Only problem is that with his lack of experience Jorgen is weary of giving him an assignment and keeps finding excuses/reasons to not give him a godkid. Realizing it might be a 1,000 years before they give him a chance to be a Fairy Godparent, Perri decides he needs to be a little bold and perhaps, bend Da Rules, to get his foot in the door so to speak. And his answer comes to him from a new neighbor in his human home, a family with a sweet shy 10 year old girl who is absolutely miserable. Perhaps Perri might be able to offer this girl a little comfort and fun as her new Fairy Godbrother!?

(Basically the same premise of the show, except Perri’s first godchild is Hazel, and through a technicality in the rule book, becomes her god brother instead of her godparent.)

ALSO please note this AU is more of a slight reimagine of the original show, meaning I did tweaked / changed some of the characters personality to match the new story I made for them. Nothing majorly different, but again just a heads up before you read on. Hope you like it~

Name: Perri Poof Fairywinkle Cosma (He goes by Perri now but still keeps Poof as a middle name to honor it)

Age: Human equivalent of 22 years old

-Usually it takes at least 1,000 years for a fairy to grow from a baby to an adult, however since Poof spent his first couple of years being raised alongside Timmy, his body magically enhanced itself to basically go through a growth spurt and age as a normal human. But now that he’s fully mature he won't physically age anymore and will stay a 22 year old for at least a couple hundred thousand years.

Sex: Male

Human Physical Description:

-Basically just did a mix between Wanda's and Cosmo human designs. Something simple and fun, I also added some blue to his color design just to make him stand out more.

-I also gave him crocs, I just found the idea cute and thought it would give him a more casual look for his human design

-I was originally gonna give him glasses similar to Cosmo but for the life of me I couldn't make the design work with his hair style, so I just gave him a earring with the same design his wand has

Personality:

-Similar to Cosmo Swavy car sale business man personality from the pilot.

-He’s a smooth talker with a deep rich voice to match, could sell a refrigerator to a eskimo

-Knows his way around rules and is always eager to grant wild and crazy wishes with the most imaginative interpretation possible, this eagerness to break rules can be a blessing and a curse, as this is what gets him in trouble the most

-Is a bit of a smart ass (But in a nice and lovable way), always has to have the last word, can be really petty when he’s mad

-Is really good a persuading people into doing things, though he doesn’t use this power to be malicious, only uses it to get small favors and mostly for Hazel to wish for crazy stuff, again it's never meant to be malicious

-Though he still has a lot to learn before becoming a godparent, he’s extremely sweet and caring to hazel and his friends, and will do anything to keep them safe and happy

-Is eager to proof himself to be useful and mature, is tired of every fairy treating him like a kid despite being older now

-Is a bit flamboyant and cares about his appearance, likes to paint his nails and wears earrings similar to his mother

-Though he does have a good head on his shoulders, he does have a tendency to interpret wishes in uniquely bizarre ways sometimes, something he inherited from his father.

Other fun facts:

-Peri really likes marine life/fishes, since he spent the first couple years of his life living as a fish, he has an appreciation for the creatures. And even has a pet goldfish!

-Despite being 22 years old, the fairy’s still treat him like a baby since a normal fairy baby would have taken at least 1,000 years to grow to maturity. This is what caused him to change his name, desperate to make the other fairy’s take him seriously and to not literally treat him like a baby

-Lives in an apartment building in the human world that is also connected to the fairy world, he’s the first of his kind to have a home like that. For most fairies it's extremely hard for them to ‘act human’ 24/7 which is why most prefer to turn themselves into childhood pets whenever they’re living with their god kid. As being human means they have to walk everywhere, not being able to use magic, and if they mess up once it could expose the existence of fairies and magical creatures in general. Peri however, once old enough to move out of his parents house was vocal that he wanted to live among the humans. He told Jorgen and the fairy council he wanted to live there to understand humans better to be a better godparent to them, but he mostly did it because he missed earth. Missed all the stuff that he grew accustomed to when he was a kid and also likes being able to find people ‘his own age’ to talk and relate to. After his endless demands and persuasion the council finally budge and allowed him to live on earth. But was warned if he was ever discovered to be a fairy, he would lose his godparents license and would never be allowed back on earth ever again.

-He wears a curler in his hair similar to Wanda when he sleeps, just a cute detail I wanted to mention

-Also just like his mother he has a tendency to call the kids/Hazel Buddy similarly to how Wanda likes to call people Sport but still has his own fraze, just a small detail that I thought would also be a cute nod to his parents

-He's also crazy for Chocolate, this is based off an episode in the original show where Wanda went insane just to eat some chocolate. It was just a one off gag but I really love that gag and decide to include it. He loves chocolate and has a dangerous addiction to it, but its still not as bad as Wanda's addiction to the stuff

Short summary of how he ended up with Hazel:

Peri has just recently graduated Fairy Godparent School and is eager to get a godkid, since his parents are still on their 10,000 year old trip he wanted to surprise them with the news of him having a godkid to make them proud of him. However Jorgen is extremely reluctant to give Peri a kid due to his extremely young age, inexperience, and his tendency to always try and bend ‘Da Rules’ as he pleases. So he puts Peri off again and sends him home, much to his annoyance. Irritated and now back at his human home in Dimmadelphia, Peri begins to hatch a plan to get himself a god kid since he knows it would take 1,000 years at least before Jorgen would finally give him a chance. But how could he possibly bend the rules to allow him to mentor a kid without Jorgen assigning him?

The answer comes to him from his new neighbors, a small family with a sweet but shy 10 year old girl who’s having a tough time adjusting to her new surroundings. Due to some hijinks Peri ends up babysitting for Hazel as her parents are now busier than ever with their new jobs and don’t have as much time to watch Hazel. They don’t mean to leave her alone so often, and actually apologize to her constantly for the unforeseen high work time. But it does little to help Hazel with her adjusting to her new environment. With the addition of her having a bad day in school and her brother, do to the storm, is unable to come up and visit until his next break (which is a few months away) Hazel, being miserable and finally had enough and in a fit of rage and desperation, wishes she could just fly to her brother. This wish for the first time activates Peri magic, before he can stop his wand appear and grants Hazel's wish, turning the girl into a fly.

The part of the episode happens similar to the original first episode, with Peri trying to get Hazel home before her parents come back from their work. He eventually does but again similar to the first episode Hazel gets stuck in a venus fly trap as Peri tries to get her to wish to turn back into her original form. After the talk with the ant Hazel realizes her mistake and finally wishes to become human again before her parents could discover what went wrong.

After the commotion, the next day Hazel goes to Peri’s apartment to question who he is and what the heck just happened. Peri tries to deny it but during their conversation he realizes that technically speaking…..Hazel did have good and caring parents. They weren’t the reason why she was sad and miserable, she was miserable because her brother wasn’t with her anymore and she desperately missed him. And technically speaking, there was no rule or need to ask Jorgen or the fairy console to become a kids Godbrother. He only needed their permission to be a Godparent. And besides……..he more than understood the feeling of missing a big brother.

Making his decision he officially introduces himself as Hazel Godbrother (In a similar manner to Dev introduction) and promises to bring a little magic to her life~ Much to Hazel shock and joy, as for the first time since moving to Dimmadelphia, she felt true joy and happiness.

Sooooo ya, tell me what you guys think! Any questions or suggestions for the AU I would love to hear, good to be back!

Previous - Next

[starlightandfairies]

Shirts ~ Elijah Mikaelson~

Description: Reader steals Elijah's shirts

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, angst

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view,

Word Count: 1,005

First Person's POV

Last night was bucketing down with rain, the Mikaelsons needed help and I came as soon as I could to lend the support that was needed. My relationship with Elijah was about three months in, I loved every moment of our relationship, he was the dream man and was good for me. We hadn't stayed at the other's place overnight so when Elijah offered me to stay at the compound I didn't think of the fact that I wouldn't have any clothes to change into. So, as I stood in Elijah's bedroom with only a towel wrapped around me, meaning I had to improvise. 

I grabbed one of Elijah's shirts, found a pair of his boxers, then glanced around Elijah's room and took notice of his safe haven that held objects that amplified Elijah's likes into physical form. The history alone that was in the room fascinated me and I wish I could've been a vampire from centuries ago to see the world in all its glory. I jumped hearing a sound, I slowly turned around, offering a shy smile to Elijah as he stared at me with admiration in his eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Elijah but once I had showered I realised that I didn't have any clothes and so I borrowed your clothes... I hope you don't mind, I know I should've asked beforehand..." Elijah walked forward, his hands resting on my arms, a soft smile gracing his lips as he rested a kiss on my forehead. 

"No need to apologise, you look quite adorable." He whispered, rolling up the sleeves of what was currently my shirt, I stared at him with love in my eyes, I wanted to be stuck in these moments forever and I hoped with every fibre in my being that what I had with Elijah wouldn't disappear. 

"You think I look adorable?" I questioned, smiling happily at the confession that slipped his lips. 

"I do. You, my dear, always look stunning." 

"Hmm, thank you." I gleamed, kissing his cheek and began looking at the bookshelf he had in his room. 

"You know, despite how sad it must be from time to time... I wish I could've been a vampire around when you became one. Just seeing all that history, experiencing it for myself... I think I would've enjoyed it." I watched as Elijah grabbed a leather-bound book off the shelf and gestured to sit on the bed. 

"This is my journal from 1322-1325. I didn't write every day, just when I needed to, I know you have an interest in the 1300s and so maybe reading about my retellings might be enough." I carefully placed the book to the side, wrapped my arms around him and whispered against his ear. 

"Thank you for paying attention, thanking you for knowing what I like." It was an odd feeling, my past relationships didn't pay attention to my interests as Elijah did and having him know what I liked, it made me feel special and considered. 

"Why wouldn't I pay attention to what you liked?" He brushed my hair away from his face, his hand remaining against my cheek and staring at me with his usual resting face of concern. 

"I'm just... before I met you, I prepared myself to be let down in relationships, so sometimes I have to remind myself you are an absolute gentleman and I have no need to worry about you remembering my birthday, my favourite time period or anything like that." Elijah nodded, taking a breath, offering a smile and pulled me to rest against his chest as we lay together in his obnoxiously large bed and he read his journal entries from those three years. 

"I'll have these washed, make sure you get your clothes back." 

"No need to worry, I'll wash them, set them aside and they can be yours if you don't have anything to wear." He placed the journal away within the blink of an eye and then he was back on the bed with me in his arms. 

"Thank you... maybe every now and again you could wear the shirt, please? So it has your scent?" He let a soft chuckle escape his lips, nodding at my request and gently squeezing my hand as he paused for a moment. Taking in the moment and mindlessly began running his thumb up and down my thigh. 

"Yes, I can do that. Anything for you." 

The next morning, for a moment I felt like I couldn't breathe, it was like there was a weight over my chest and it took me a good moment to realise that it was just Elijah's arm. I tried prying his arm off, however, his arm only seemed to be getting heavier against me. 

"Elijah..." I patted his arm, hoping his vampiric hearing would be active during his slumber. 

"Are you alright?" He questioned, sitting up instantly and looked around the room for any impending danger. I sucked in a deep breath, holding his hand and kissed it lightly. 

"I'm fine. I just couldn't breathe properly, your arm was dead weight." He nods, still looking worried and concerned over my well-being. 

"I apologise." I smiled, kissing his lips lightly and began running my hands through his hair, admiring the man and soaking in this moment with him looking at peace for once in his rare moments of modern life. 

"No need to say sorry. It just shows that even in sleep you're protecting me." Elijah chuckled softly, his chesty laugh was music to my ears, one of my favourite sounds to listen to once I realised it existed. 

"You're right, darling." He whispered, continuing to caress my cheek, smiling lightly and staying in the moment with me for a good while before the real world caught up with us again and sucked it all away like ripping off a bandaid.