#but I promise they will kiss..maybe…eventually

[goldfades]

can we talk about how joe would be with late-night baby feedings? like, imagine him in a hoodie, messy hair, pacing the living room with the baby asleep on his chest because he told reader she deserved at least one good night of sleep. i feel like he’d quietly hum, maybe some soft old country song, and just melt into dad mode without even realizing it.

it’s been one of those weeks. the kind where the dishes pile up in the sink, the laundry never quite makes it to the dryer, and you’re running on caffeine and pure stubbornness. joe had been on the road, and while you’d managed to keep things together—barely—it had left you exhausted in every sense of the word.

so when he finally walked through the door that evening, suitcase in hand and a tired smile on his face, you’d nearly cried with relief. he’d kissed you once, twice, promised to take over for the night, and ushered you to bed before you could even argue.

but sleep didn’t come easy, not at first. you could still hear hayes’ fussing from down the hall, the kind of restless, overtired cries that always seemed to tug at your heart no matter how drained you were. you almost got up more than once, but every time, you reminded yourself of joe’s words: “just one good night of sleep, baby. you’ve earned it.”

eventually, exhaustion won out, and you drifted off.

when you woke again, the house was quiet, save for the faintest hum of something coming from downstairs. groggy and curious, you slipped out of bed, padding toward the soft glow of the living room light.

there he was.

joe, in one of his old hoodies—worn and a little too big, the strings uneven—pacing the room with hayes cradled against his chest. his hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and there were dark circles under his eyes that told you he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but there was something so soft about the way he moved, his steps slow and rhythmic, his hand gently patting hayes’ back.

he was humming, so low you almost missed it, a soft, familiar tune you recognized as one of the old country songs his mom used to play. the kind of song that wrapped around you like a warm blanket, all nostalgia and comfort.

hayes was tucked snugly into joe’s chest, one tiny hand clutching the fabric of his hoodie, his face turned toward the sound of joe’s voice. his cries had quieted, replaced by the steady rise and fall of his breaths, and he looked so small, so peaceful, in joe’s arms.

you leaned against the doorframe, your heart twisting in that way it always did when you saw joe like this—so effortlessly tender, so completely dad without even realizing it.

he must’ve felt your gaze because he glanced up, his humming stopping as his eyes met yours. a sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“you didn’t,” you replied, stepping into the room. “i just... missed you.”

his smile softened, and he shifted hayes slightly so he could reach out, tugging you closer until your head rested against his shoulder.

“he was a little fussy,” joe said quietly, his chin brushing the top of your head. “figured you could use the rest. been holding down the fort long enough.”

you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in—the faint scent of his cologne mixed with baby lotion and something distinctly joe.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his hoodie.

he huffed a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “nah,” he said, glancing down at hayes, who let out a tiny, contented sigh in his sleep. “he’s the amazing one. i’m just... lucky.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hand resting over his on hayes’ back. “we’re all lucky,” you said softly, and the way his eyes met yours—so full of love, so full of everything—made you believe it more than ever.

masterlist! thank you for reading <3

[insidekatmind]

The Fascination with Tattoos~Levi Colwill

A minute of silence to appreciate him and his tattoos!

Your gaze is lost on Levi's arm, as it happens far too often. You’re both sitting on the couch at home, enjoying a quiet evening after a long day. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, leaving his tattoos clearly visible as they wind along his muscular arm. Each line seems to tell a story, each design captures your attention. You can’t look away, and when you realize it, he’s already watching you with that mischievous smile that always makes you blush.

"Do you like what you see, love?" he asks, his voice warm and tinged with amused curiosity.

You quickly avert your gaze, embarrassed, trying to mask the heat rising to your cheeks. "I was just... thinking about what to cook tomorrow," you lie awkwardly.

Levi chuckles, leaning a little closer. "Sure, sure. So why were you staring at my arm for at least five minutes?"

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape his observation. "It’s just that... your tattoos are so beautiful. I can’t help but look at them."

He leans in even closer, propping his elbow on the back of the couch, his tattooed arm right in front of your face. "Oh, really? Which one’s your favorite?"

You bite your lip, hesitating. "The one with the roses. It’s so detailed, it almost looks real."

Levi raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your answer. "The roses, huh? I didn’t think you were into flowers."

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I’m romantic, didn’t you know?"

"I know very well," he replies, leaning even closer. His arm is now practically under your nose, and you can feel the warmth of his skin. "Do you want to touch it?"

Your heart races, and you look at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He laughs softly, his voice a perfect blend of sweetness and teasing. "I said, do you want to touch it? I know you’re dying to."

You bite your lower lip, but eventually, you give in. Reaching out, you lightly trace the black lines of the tattoo with your fingers. Levi’s skin is warm under your touch, and he watches your every movement closely, as if you’re uncovering a secret.

"You really like it, huh?" he asks in a lower tone, almost whispering.

"I like everything about you," you admit, your voice a bit more confident now. "But the tattoos... they’re fascinating. They say so much about you."

Levi smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes now—a mix of pride and desire. "You know I got them to mark important moments in my life, right? But now, you’re making me want to get another one, just for you."

You look at him, surprised. "For me?"

He nods, his gaze serious but tender. "Yeah. Something that represents you, us. Maybe your name, or something only we’d understand."

Your heart tightens at the thought. "That would be amazing. But are you sure? I don’t want you to get a tattoo just to make me happy."

He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. You know how much my tattoos mean to me, and you’re such an important part of my life. Why not celebrate that?"

You look into his eyes, feeling the love behind his words. "Then I want you to choose the design. Something that reminds you of me but also has meaning for you."

Levi smiles, pulling you closer for a kiss that’s sweet yet intense. "You’re incredible, you know that?"

After a few minutes, when you’re both lying on the couch again, he can’t resist teasing you one last time. He lifts his tattooed arm, showing off the details you adore so much. "So... how many times a day do you think about my tattoos?"

You laugh, hiding your face against his chest. "Too many to admit."

He wraps his arms around you, laughing with you. "Perfect, because I want you to keep it that way. And next time, I promise I’ll get something special inked, just for you."

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll Masterlist

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

[sir3n-s]

Steve hoped they would all get out of this apocalypse together. Hopefully in one piece, but he'd take just alive.

And everything was going great until someone got bit by a zombie.

When Eddie told everyone they were all devastated. And only had 3 days to decide what to do. 

Either let Eddie wander until he fully turns or kill him. 

On the first day they all spent time with Eddie as a group. They didn't get much done but they all wanted to soak up the remaining time Eddie had before he was gone forever. 

On the second day everyone started getting setemintal. Saying how much they love Eddie and how they'll miss him. And of course Eddie gave a very over the top speech about his love and appreciation for the group. 

No one commented on how many jokes Eddie cracked during it despite him being teary eyed. 

On the morning of the 3rd day Steve took him in the forest with a pistal. Preparing to be the one who shoot Eddie. 

They chatted as if everything were normal, as if these weren't Eddie's last moments. And for a moment, Steve forgot these were his last moments.

Eventually they stopped talking once they've made it far enough. 

They stood there silently only for a moment before tackling each other in a huge. 

"I'm going to miss you so much" Steve says holding Eddie tighter. They've only been together for a month and a half and he's already losing Eddie. 

"I know" he responds, "I'm sorry."

"Its not your fault" 

"It kind of is," Eddie says, backing up a bit while keeping his hands on Steve. "I should have been more careful. I got careless that day."

"It's okay," Steve says, cradling Eddie's face in his hands, trying to memorize the way Eddie looks. He wishes he would have asked Eddie out sooner so he would have had more time to study every feature on his face.

"I love you, Eddie, more than anything" he crashes their lips together like he needs it breathe.  And maybe he did. 

He's not ready to know how it feels to live in a world without Eddie. He just got him. Just got to know him. Just got to love him. He doesn't want to give it up. 

"I love you too Steve, never forget that" Eddie says against his lips. 

"How could I forget you?" He says resting their foreheads together. 

"Can't believe I got The Steve Harrington to fall for me," Eddie says without a smile, "make sure to put that on my tombstone" 

Steve laughs but it comes out wet. Tears filling his eyes as he tries to stop them. He doesn't want to make this moment worse by sobbing. 

"Everything is going to be okay, promise" Eddie says before walking away from him. 

Once he stand still Steve takes the gun out and aims it as his head. 

"I can't do it" Steve admits lowering the gun as he starts to sob.

Eddie just takes the gun away from his shaky hands and pours out all of the bullets except one, handing the remaining bullets back to him.

Kissing Steve on the forehead before pushing him away, "Don't look back okay?" Steve nods and turns to walk away. 

When he eventually hears the gunshot and a body hit the floor that's when he starts to sob until he feels a pain in his chest.

Because he just lost apart of his heart. 

[neveraftcr]

" i can't promise i won't annoy you then... i hardly know what it is i'm doing. " but if it was how she chased him down, wouldn't let him simply push her away and leave her, that she couldn't really apologise for. would she do it for anyone else? no. she hadn't. she'd been pushed away before and she'd gone easily. caspian, though? she hadn't hesitated to come up to him. hadn't hesitated to argue, to run through the maze, to open up her heat and spill it for him. she didn't really know what that meant, hadn't let herself think about what it all meant.

maybe i'll have to now. that brought a smile to her face, finally. finally. she felt the need to hold onto him so tightly dissipate slightly. she wasn't so worried that he may run off at any moment now. he was close enough that she could physically stop him, throw her arms around him. if he wanted to run, he would run with her. especially now she was kissing him. it was like coming up for air, like her whole body was finally awake. briar knew she was doomed. it was a kiss she knew she'd never get enough off, a kiss so good that she didn't care about all the reasons they shouldn't even think of kissing. it was one thing to be friends with the opponents son... but it was forgivable, right? falling for him? she was doomed and she didn't care. right now, nothing else mattered. but she did eventually pull back from the kiss, gaze finding his. " if you think there's a chance you're running from me now... " it might actually break her heart.

"this is a different type of annoyance." the grandest annoyance irking him being he lost at keeping her away from him or even keeping his hands off her. electric soaring through him those few seconds he got to experience the touch and taste of her lips, it's no wonder his porcelain cheeks have turned rosy. blush growing even more deeper once her eyes are on him and her hands touching his burning skin, feeling close to cowering away. "maybe i'll have to now." quietly speaking with a rasp, telling himself it's just infatuation. there's no way he's capable of love, especially love for a girl who is supposed to be his enemy.

if it's not love, why is it so breathlessly and fully consuming? if not love, why did it not feel like this with the girl his father has pinned on him to seek after. kissing her felt like tasting poison because of it being against his will, because he held no affection for the other woman. kissing briar felt warm and like kissing an angel because he entirely wanted it no matter how much he denied himself that he does. and if not love... then why has he been standing here wishing she'd finish kissing him and his heart slamming harder once he DOES see her pushing up to meet him half way. a chance to push her away, now that he's recognized what he's done. but instead���– he's hanging on to her like he might lose her once their lips connect again, kissing the brunette hungrily and passionately this time. hands framing her face, too late to step back now so he's giving his all, every bit of the pent up anger turned into passion.

[szynkaaa]

Just a gal and her Stone Monkey

this image pose template from here

HC since SWK cane change his size, the same applies for his Azure Dome form. So he can be as big as a mountain, or the size of a big yaoguai, or normal sized (whatever normal sized is for the Stone Monkey)

Much later on:

Slight NSFW under the cut

[yuwuta]

itfs + reader is so real to me and it works like this: you’re megumi’s childhood best friend, somewhere along the way he meets yuuji, yuuji asks him out, and somewhere along the way—probably mid blowjob or something becuase that’s definitely when yuuji would be thinking about it—yuuji’s like “hey, so do you know you’re in love with your best friend or what?” and megumi literally chokes, and avoids him for like a week but eventually he does admit that he does know, but he also does really like yuuji and if they were normal, they’d break up, but they’re so very far from normal that it becomes a whole thing for them to get off while talking about you, for yuuji to taunt megumi about how he wishes you were here between them and tease him about naughty it is that he fantasizes about his best friend while getting sucked off by his boyfriend, and for megumi to tell him to shutup but then he babbles about all of he pent up fantasies about you anyway. yuuji likes messing with megumi’s guilt about this, and megumi hates how much he likes that yuuji is also into you, and somehow you being oblivious to this is a whole other kink they’ve got going on and have no idea how to sort out

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt 2

[on ao3][pt 1]

content warnings: non-graphic discussions of racism, bigotry, murder, and child abuse. i go into more detail on ao3.

Before Steve even had a chance to breathe, Robin was human again. A furrow in her brow creased her smooth skin, frustration at the forced woge evident. Her eyes– blue, Steve noted, unlike the gold they had been a moment before –held Steve's gaze for a moment before sliding away. 

Her quick return to humanity did not negate the familiar rush of adrenaline. Steve's body had locked up the moment her eyes had flashed at him, torn between two instincts. Just as he'd feared, the forefront of his mind was focused on violence. The enemy wasn't moving, unarmed and currently disguised as a human, but that only meant that Steve had the advantage; There was a blade on the far counter, dull but usable, and if he needed to run, there was a window over her shoulder. 

He'd probably survive the fall. 

But as much as his body wanted to shove his new manager– Seriously, what was that guy's name, again? –to the side and lunge for the knife, Steve refused to give in. Hopper had told him he could power through these instincts, but it didn't feel like fighting. It felt like hiding. Like he if he didn't move, didn't breathe, then the terror of his own brain couldn't find him. 

The manager said something. Steve didn't hear, didn't care, all of his senses attuned to Robin and her every move. 

Robin stood, and Steve felt his entire body shift. It wasn't a flinch, not so much movement that the manager would clock it, but he… His fingers twitched into loose fists, his posturing changing as his hips and feet moved to a more dynamic stance. It didn't look like much, just a nervous guy fidgeting on his first day at work, but Steve could feel his body revving up for a fight. 

And judging by the look in Robin's eyes, she might actually give it to him. 

"I can show him around the back," Robin said, smiling at the manager. "We used to go to school together. It'll give us time to catch up." The friendliness on her face was obviously fake, plastic-y and barely an effort. But if the manager noticed, he didn't care. 

"Good looking out, Rob. I needed to give Patrick his break, anyway," he said. "Steve, I'll see you in about thirty minutes to finish up your paperwork?" 

It hurt to make himself nod, his body unwilling to give in to the extraneous movement. Stilted though it was, the manager was happy enough to accept it. He smiled, nodded, and left them alone in the room. 

The woge had rippled back across Robin's face before the door even shut behind him. Now that he was expecting it, Steve could see more of the details of her second face. Unlike Dustin, the fur sprouting on her face was mostly white, and it faded into the same reddish-brown as her hair. Her teeth and nose lengthened, a subtle snout protruding from her face. The biggest change, however, was her eyes: They glittered gold, larger and more fierce than her human gaze. 

Steve wasn't great at this Wesen thing yet, but Dustin had told him that tons of Wesen had attributes of animals, and Robin was obviously one of them. Would knowing which one help him in a fight? She was obviously something furry and mean, like some kind of cat… Or maybe a fox? 

Robin met his curious gaze, and Steve watched her face grow even angrier at what she saw there. 

Before Steve could even wonder which sins she saw reflected back in his eyes, Robin was taking large, furious steps towards him. 

Not even Steve's dedication to not hurting anyone could power through his need to not be murdered in an ice cream shop by an angry Wesen. He gave up on the idea of the blade– It was too far, on the other side of teeth and claws, and he wasn't willing to risk it for a sub-par weapon. Instead, he reached out for the first thing he could get his hands on. 

It turned out to be an ice cream scoop. 

Steve had half a mind to be embarrassed of his own instincts, but in the next breath a hundred scenarios flooded through his mind. He could use the handle as brass knuckles, use the added force to break her nose, pushing the cartilage into her brain. But would the Wesen bone structure allow for it? He couldn't be sure. That was why he obviously had to go for the eyes, using the slight point of the scoop to remove an eye from the socket. But– 

Bile rose in his throat, and Steve forced himself to swallow even as plan after plan sprouted fully-formed in his mind. 

"Please don't make me hurt you," he said, his voice shaking in his throat. "I really don't want to hurt you." 

The plea only deepened the disgust on Robin's face, and she took one more step towards him. Steve planted his feet, twirling the scoop to reverse his grip when she bared her teeth at him. He would definitely have to take a few teeth out first. 

"Why am I not surprised that King Steve is a fucking Grimm?" Robin growled, the unfamiliar word like a curse in her mouth. It was obviously supposed to mean something to him, supposed to hurt, but the best Steve could do was confusion. 

Confusion so deep, in fact, that it helped dull the rage and terror that Steve couldn't tame. He felt his muscles relax by centimeters, the energy going instead towards trying to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean. 

"What the fuck is a Grimm?" 

He would have thought it was his Wesen name, although it didn't exactly sound like Hexenbiest or Eisbiber. It sounded English, in fact, and although Dustin had lectured him a thousand times about why German and English sounded so similar, the familiarity unsettled Steve a bit. Sure, 'beast' wasn't exactly something you wanted to be called, but Steve was willing to say that 'grim' was a fair bit closer. 

"Please," Robin scoffed. When Steve could only blink at her, shrugging, her face changed to something that almost resembled pity. "You're kidding." 

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about," Steve said. "What is that? A Grimm, I mean. Is that– Is that what I am?" 

Without another word, Robin dropped the woge and turned away from him, picking up the book she had abandoned on the table. 

"Look, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. I'm new at this Wesen thing, so I don't really know how to stop the eyes from giving people the wrong idea, but if you– If you know what I am, then maybe you could–" 

Laughter cut him off, and Robin shook her head, turning back around. "I'm not really interested in teaching a future serial killer how to do his job, thanks." 

Steve faltered. "I… what?" 

"Look, I don't care what you do outside of work. Do what you need to. But stay the fuck away from me, okay?" 

She wasn't meeting his eyes, Steve noticed. Not even really looking at him at all, even though it meant she was at a disadvantage if he attacked. It was just the tiniest gesture, submissive where everything else had been primed to offend, and Steve realized with a sinking stomach that she was scared. Robin was terrified of him, not in the way that El had been, but as a person. 

The adrenaline had long since faded, and Robin was still afraid that he would kill her. 

"I'm not…" Steve panted. "I wouldn't…." 

Robin didn't wait for him to find his words. She was out the door before he had even caught his breath, leaving the door banging behind her. 

It had been hell getting through the rest of the shift. It was, blessedly, a short one, more of an orientation than anything, but Steve still couldn't focus for more than five minutes. His brain kept repeating the words Robin had thrown in his face.

A future serial killer. What the fuck had that meant?

Steve didn't go home after his first shift. He had planned to, planned to celebrate with a long, hot shower and some take out. The anxiety that crept up when he was finally alone in his car didn't care what Steve had planned, however. Normally, he would have just called Dustin to puzzle it over, like he usually did with every other perplexing social interaction, but Dustin was only allowed one phone call a day, which meant Steve got to talk to him once a week. It was a blessing that Claudia had afforded him Sundays, honestly. So Steve turned to the only other person in this town who could put up with him for more than five minutes. 

Hopper didn't even bother to act surprised when Steve knocked on his door. "Rough day at work?" he said, a grin curled around the cigarette he had tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

"Wesen coworker," Steve said. 

That was enough explanation, apparently. "Fuck, kid," Hopper said, stepping back so Steve could slip past him into the living room. "You can't catch a break, huh?" 

"I… handled it better than I thought I would," Steve admitted as he crossed the room to throw himself onto the couch. "I almost threw up afterwards, but I didn't let it control me again." 

He heard the door close, and Hopper's heavy footsteps on the floor behind him. Steve couldn't see him from where his head lolled on the couch cushion, but he could see Hopper's shadow reaching across the floor. That was enough. 

"See, I knew you could do it," Hopper said, over the distinct sound of a fridge door opening. 

Steve huffed, thinking about the things Robin had said to him. Had called him. "She knew what I was," he said, because it felt wrong to acknowledge the praise when he was pretty sure he didn't deserve it. "Called me a Grimm." 

"That…" Hopper sounded as confused as Steve felt. "Now, I don't speak German, but I'm pretty sure that's just English." 

"I don't fucking know anymore, man. From what Dustin's been telling me, I think they might be the same thing." 

"Wouldn't that be useful?" Hopper scoffed. The fridge closed. "Did she bother to explain what it meant?" 

"N… no?" Steve swallowed. "I asked, but she wouldn't really…" 

Hopper rounded the couch and held an already sweating can of beer out. Steve accepted it with shaking hands. 

"She didn't say it like it was a nice thing," Steve said, finally. "Honestly, I think she assumed I was there to kill her." 

That certainly made Hopper pause. Steve watched him pause, halfway into his recliner, before finally forcing himself to complete the motion. They didn't speak for a moment, but Steve couldn't bring himself to drink. The idea of anything on his churning stomach made him sick. 

"Does it… matter?" Hopper said, eventually. 

Steve laughed, a strained, choking thing. "Does it matter?" he repeated, "Does it matter that apparently my entire– my entire species is supposed to kill people? Yeah, Hop, I would say it does." 

"That's not how–" Hopper shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, don't go talking to Dustin about what I'm about to say, but from what I've heard from Claudia Henderson, I sometimes get the feeling that these Wesen folk are racist as hell." 

Steve blinked. "I don't think it's really the same thing." 

"Yeah?" Hopper's mouth twisted, a smile that made Steve shiver. "You weren't here when she was trying to explain to me what El was. Some of the stuff she said… She's not human, either, but she talked about El like she was worse than a monster. Like she would kill all of us in our sleep if we gave her the chance." 

Steve thought about it. It felt wrong, like a pebble in his shoe, to think about himself that way. He'd been very lucky growing up, he knew that. He had the money, the right looks, the right family. He couldn't imagine himself dealing with the same things that Lucas had gone through, for instance. But… Steve also thought about the things Dustin said, sometimes, about his mom not letting him be alone with El, how Steve himself probably wouldn't be allowed within five feet of him anymore when she discovered that Steve wasn't human. 

It wasn't the same thing, not at all, but it still didn't feel good.

"I'm not saying that she was right," Steve said, slowly, "but my instincts…" 

"You're not a fucking animal, kid," Hopper grunted. "Don't let them treat you like one." 

He raised the legs of his recliner, settling into the cushion with a pointed silence. The conversation was over, as far as Hop was concerned. 

Steve tried to be okay with that. Tried to be okay with the idea that they were wrong, not him. Every day, he woke up and tried again. It never really stuck. Some days were better than others. Some days, Steve could almost brush off Robin's glare without a single pang of guilt. Some days, Steve felt human. Most days he didn't. There was a voice in his head that said they were right, that it might be for the wrong reasons, but there was something wrong with him.

Robin only made it worse. Steve had tried to keep out of her way, but there were only so many excuses that could keep them off the same shifts. When they did work together, Robin never let up– He tried to keep quiet, keep his head down, but she would always find something to say. 

It was never nice. Of course. After a while, she didn't even seem fearful, just disgusted at his existence. Everything Steve did was under scrutiny, with Robin insulting everything from his hair to his customer service. Once, during a particularly intense rush, she hissed at him for breathing 'like a beast'. 

That's what she said. Like a beast. 

El was the only thing that helped. Hopper didn't understand, and Dustin was away at camp, but El was always happy to see him. Steve didn't talk about it much, not wanting to unload the mess in his head on a little girl, but Steve was sure El got it, anyway. 

Steve didn't know what Mrs. Henderson told her about being a Hexenbiest. He didn't want to know. Avoiding her was awkward enough without actively wanting to rip her apart for making El feel bad for something she couldn't control. 

And, yeah, he got the irony– It was different for El, okay? 

Hanging out with El was different than hanging with Dustin and the others. While the boys left Steve with the same happy, tired feeling as a good swim meet, El made him feel… grounded. Restored. He didn't know if that was personality or power, but he was sure that was the only thing keeping him sane. 

After bad days, Steve would drive straight to the cabin. Hopper would always roll his eyes and grouse about Steve keeping his daughter up all hours, but he never actually turned Steve away. (Besides he loved it when El would kick Mike out for Steve. He never laughed harder.) They would commandeer the couch, chasing Hopper off to the kitchen nook, and watch movies or music videos Steve had taped. Sometimes, El read out loud to Steve, instead; Her vocabulary was improving in leaps and bounds. Once night settled fully, they would go out onto the porch and talk until El couldn't form words around her yawns. 

They never talked about the Wesen thing. Everything else was fair game, though. Sometimes it was simple things, like what it was like to love a Wheeler, or if Lucas and Will would like the book they just finished. Sometimes El talked about the lab, about the siblings she'd lost. Sometimes Steve admitted, nervous every time, that when his parents were home he felt like a cornered animal. Max joined them from time to time, the conversations becoming all the more bittersweet. 

Sure, making yet another thirteen year old best friend probably wasn't the healthiest thing Steve had ever done, but it got him out of bed and into work every morning. That was more than enough, for now. 

El must have said something to the other kids, because they started showing up at work more often. Every day, in fact, even when they'd long since run out of allowance to spend on ice cream. They weren't obvious about it, only popping by to tell him about their day or beg for free samples, except for Max. 

Max, ever the protector, loved to come by on days Robin worked. Her new favorite hobby was sitting at a table for hours and yelling over Robin whenever she spoke. Max always got Steve's employee discount. 

"You do not look happy," El said one night. Max had still been in the lobby when Steve clocked out, so they'd driven to the cabin together instead of going home. 

"I'm fine," Steve said, automatically, straightening himself from his slump. 

"He has to work with Robin all next week," Max said, ignoring Steve's noise of protest. "She was complaining about it loud enough for half the mall to hear." 

"Hm." El's eyes narrowed. Then, as if the moment had never happened, she turned towards Steve's stack of tapes. "I want to watch the Muppets." 

Steve really shouldn't have been surprised when El showed up with Max the next day.

The moment he registered her bright, familiar grin, Steve felt his veins go cold. It was a strange, almost alien feeling now to be afraid without the all-consuming adrenaline and rage of his woge. Instead of forcing himself to stay still, he was stuck , unable to do anything but watch Max and El approach the counter. 

"Hi, Steve!" El said, smiling. She looked so happy, all dolled up in new clothes and light makeup, and Steve wanted to be happy for her. He really did. Hopper's voice in his head simply wouldn't let him. 

"You are not supposed to be here," Steve said, voice dropping into a whisper. Max rolled her eyes and Steve felt the anger break through the icy grip of fear, finally letting him round the counter to herd them into the corner. "Did you sneak her out, Mayfield?" 

"It's the mall, Harrington," she sniped, crossing her arms. "No one's looking for her here. She'll be fine." 

"Government agents and mad scientists have to shop, too," Steve said. "... Probably."

El leaned into Steve's side, pouting up at him. Which, honestly, was cheating, because El knew that Steve had never been able to say no to puppy dog eyes. When she finally let Dustin in on that trick, his life was officially over. He could already feel himself starting to waver. 

"We came to help," El said, wrapping her arms around Steve's waist. "Don't be mad." 

"I'm not…" Steve took a deep breath. "I'm not mad. I'm worried. There's a difference." 

Max was no longer paying attention. Instead, she was staring at the front counter, face drawn into a tight scowl. "El. That's her." 

Robin stood at the counter, obviously staring. Not at the girl who was glaring daggers into her, but El and Steve. It almost didn't register at first; Steve had gotten pretty used to constantly having Robin's attention on him when they worked together. As El calmly returned Robin's stare, however, Steve noticed that the usual anger on Robin's face wasn't present. She looked almost surprised, instead, with a heavy dose of confusion. 

Which made sense, he guessed, if she could tell El was a Wesen. 

He put his hand on El's back, a protective gesture that he hoped Robin would understand as a line in the sand. Her gaze didn't waver. 

"I want to talk to her," El said, voice strangely flat. 

"Absolutely not," Steve said. "She's almost an adult, and you can't fight back without… getting yourself in trouble." 

"Then can I…" 

"No," Steve sighed. "Is this really what you snuck out for? To bother my coworker with your magic powers?" 

"And shopping," Max said brightly. 

El didn't answer. When Steve looked down at her, her cheek still pressed into his uniform shirt, he watched the woge settle across her face. 

" Jane Hopper, " Steve hissed. Over the past weeks, he had gotten more than used to El's Wesen face, and had become as fond of it as he was her cherub-cheeked human form. That didn't mean he was an idiot, though; He knew an intimidation tactic when he saw one. 

He also saw Robin's face go absolutely white as the blood drained from her face. There was a moment where the girls' gazes held, Robin's hypnotized by the black pits of El's, and then Robin squeaked and scuttled into the back room. 

"Guys, you can't…" Steve began, but when Max and El both looked up at him with matching mischievous grins, he couldn't hold back his chuckles. "Thank you, but seriously. Never do this again."

El tilted her head up, chin digging into Steve's stomach, to meet his gaze. "No one is allowed to bully you." 

"That so?" Steve said, a fond smile stealing across his face.

Solemn, El responded, "Will says big brothers need to be protected sometimes, too." 

"Oh." Steve turned the loose embrace into a proper hug, suddenly overcome with affection. His whole life he'd been alone, and now he had two little siblings. How cool was that? He hummed, a hand smoothing down El's curls as she squeezed him tight. 

Max watched them with a look Steve couldn't decipher, the beginnings of a frown on her face. Maybe three little siblings, he corrected himself, and reached one hand out to her. 

"Ew," Max complained, but let herself be pulled into his side anyway. 

"I care about you both so much ," Steve said, voice low. "Which is why you're going home right now, before Hopper finds out you left and you get so grounded I can't see you again until I'm 40." 

"Dad is in Layton," El said, eyes twinkling. "We have hours ." 

"And tickets to Back to the Future," Max said, smug as anything. 

Steve sighed and pushed flyaway hairs back from Max's forehead. "Fine, but be careful. I saw the  boys here earlier. Try to get a ride home with Jonathan or Nance. And stick together ." 

"Okay, mom, " Max said, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. 

El giggled like it was the funniest joke she's ever heard. "Yeah, mom ." 

Steve shook his head and shooed them out, mumbling meaningless threats of narcking to Hopper. Once they were out of his sight, swallowed by the churn of the crowd, Steve felt himself deflate. The performance of big brother kept him afloat, chest filling with warmth, but when he was supposed to be just Steve…

He bit his lip and returned to the service counter, ignoring the unmistakable feeling of a gaze glued to his back. 

The next month flew by much the same as the first had, though if Max and El snuck out again, they knew better than to come to Scoops. Robin's ire, now two months deep, now inspired more melancholy in Steve than frustration. 

It was astonishingly easy to descend into self-pity, lately, and with every insult or smart remark Steve couldn't help but feel he'd lost something. Not just for himself, but for El and Dustin, too. Nothing concrete, but rather a bond, the chance of a connection to the greater Wesen community. A connection that should have already belonged to El and Dustin, denied to them by deception and fear. 

And now by the virtue of loving Steve. 

Steve tried not to dwell on it too much. He kept himself busy, between work and helping Hop at the cabin, and counted down the days until Dustin would be home. Until their tiny pack of three would be complete again. 

The day Steve woke up to a tiny beaver sticker on his calendar, not even Robin could knock the smile off his face. He could tell it bothered her, too, and for once the mumbling under breath only made him smile harder. 

His brother was coming home. 

Steve was on his break when he heard Dustin's voice, clear as a bell, for the first time in months. "Is he here?" 

Robin answered, clearly bored, but Steve paid no mind to what she had to say. He was already out of his seat by Dustin's final syllable. Steve sprinted out of the break room, skidding out of the door as his own speed overwhelmed him. And there he was, Dustin Henderson, a whole two inches taller than Steve had last seen him. 

His smile was blinding. 

"I can't believe you actually wear that," Dustin said, his smile only growing wider. 

"You little shit," Steve said, then leapt over the counter. He didn't put much thought into it, hadn't considered that he might not be able to clear it. He'd only thought– Oh, it would be so much faster to go over than around. And then he'd done it, shoes squeaking on the linoleum as he landed on the other side. 

"Wow, you must have really missed me," Dustin said, and then he said nothing at all, because Steve was scooping him into a hug. 

"I regret it immediately," Steve said, but he didn't let go. If anything, his own gentle teasing just made him squeeze harder, as if Dustin would take his teasing as truth and leave again. "When can I send you back?" 

Dustin slapped him on the back, his usual sign he wanted to be let down, now, please. "If you suffocate me I'm not going to make it until next time." 

"Sorry, man," Steve said. He lowered Dustin to the floor and then stepped back. Through all his sheepishness, he still didn't stop smiling; Not even the embarrassment could dim the sheer relief Steve felt having everyone he loved back in the same city limits. "How was camp?" 

"Who gives a shit? I can't believe they actually hired you!" 

"Fuck off, Henderson, seriously." 

And then, naturally, they fell into their handshake. It was a stupid, geeky tradition that Steve had been pulled into unwillingly, but he had to admit that half the moves were his idea. Even the lightsaber fight, which they had choreographed on Mrs. Henderson's couch after a hearty meal of Christmas leftovers. Steve thought the spilling of his guts was particularly inspired, even if Dustin often complained that disembowelment was both non-canon and unscientific. 

As if the little shit didn't giggle every time. 

"No, but seriously," Steve said as he recovered from his dramatic demise, "how was camp, man? Let me go on my break, you can tell me everything–" 

"Absolutely not," Robin said from the counter. Dustin turned to her, eyebrows raised, and Steve internally sighed. He was not looking forward to explaining all this to Dustin, who was protective on the best days and mocking on the worst. Whatever the kid's opinion would be, Steve was sure it would just make him feel worse. 

Before could even protest the double standard of Robin having already taken two breaks to his zero, Robin did the unthinkable– She woged at Dustin, human teeth already bared before they shifted into fangs. Steve was proud of how Dustin reacted, though, meeting Robin's gaze head-on even though Steve could see his black little nose quiver in terror. The instinctual response woge had settled over Dustin, his fear plain as day, but he didn't give a centimeter. 

Good, Steve thought, as he whirled on Robin. 

Robin's anger matched his own before Steve could even open his mouth, as if he were the one who had been unspeakably rude. As if he was the one making thinly veiled threats of violence in public. As if he were the one who kept woging in public, every time risking more and more exposure. It only made the rage burn brighter. 

"What the fuck is your problem, Buckley?" Steve could tell from the flicker of Robin's golden eyes that he was woged now, too, and he knew he was supposed to fight it. Part of him wanted to try. But for once, the human and Wesen instincts were in complete accordance. No version of Steve Harrington was going to let anything happen to Dustin. 

"I can't believe you," Robin said. There was an animalistic rumble underneath her voice, a vocalization that Steve's ears could only just make out. "The audacity of a Grimm knows no bounds, apparently." 

That word again. Whatever the fuck it meant. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Steve ignored the confused glances Dustin kept throwing his way, the hand clenched in the hem of his shirt. There was no way he was taking his eyes off an angry predator. 

"I thought it was really weird when that little 'biest was here, hanging off of you," Robin continued, "but everyone knows that they're all buddy-buddy with the Royals, so I figured it was business. But this? Preying on a little prey kid? That's low, Harrington, even for you." 

It was a stupid, cruel assumption to make. The kind of thing Tommy would have said in high school. The kind of thing Steve would have laughed at, a few years ago. Now, though, Steve's stomach dropped somewhere he couldn't feel it, leaving only a hollow pit behind. Was it by simple virtue of that word– Grimm, Steve thought with a daze –that made Robin so sure he was capable of something so foul? Or was it something he had done, once, when he had been so desperate for approval? He didn't think that even King Steve at his worst had been so horrible to earn him this. 

Steve stuttered, his breath caught in his throat. Dustin had no such trouble. 

"Hey!" Dustin said, his voice going squeaky with anger. "That's my best friend you're talking to." 

Robin looked at him with as much condescension as Carol Perkins had ever managed, her nose twitching with disgust. "You don't know what he's like, kid." 

Unfortunately for her, Dustin Henderson was the one child on planet earth who didn't deign to even acknowledge being treated like one. "I'm pretty sure I know him better than you . I don't know where you got your information, but Steve has saved my life multiple times, and–" 

"I really don't think she needs to know about all that," Steve said quickly. His heart was rabbiting in his chest just thinking about trying to explain away stories about demodogs and lab experiments to a girl who already hated his guts. 

"Do your parents know that you've been hanging out with a Grimm?" Robin asked, apparently ignoring the saving-Dustin's-life thing. Thank god. 

Dustin stiffened, probably because Mrs. Henderson absolutely would freak if she knew Steve was any kind of Wesen, much less one bad enough for all the shit Robin had been talking. "I don't know what a Grimm is," Dustin said, eventually, his voice oddly stilted. "But it doesn't matter. He's Steve ." 

For once, Robin looked as confused as Steve felt, like, 75% of the time. "You honestly don't know– Hold on." She snapped and turned to Steve. "You. When you said you didn't know what a Grimm was, you just weren't playing dumb?" 

"No," Steve said, and it came out a plea. "My parents never told me any of this shit, if they're even my parents–" And that felt wrong to say, bad to say, because Steve didn't know who he was without being Bradley Harrington's son first. "--and you're only, like, the third Wesen I've ever met." 

"You couldn't ask ?" 

Steve swallowed back the snarky answer, knowing what Robin was really asking. "What was I supposed to do, call my parents up like, 'Hi Mom and Dad, sorry to interrupt your very important meeting, I was wondering if you knew anything about us being monsters'? Does that sound like a conversation I should have on the phone?" It didn't help that Steve was pretty sure the government had been tracking his phone calls since 1983. 

"But…" Robin's eyes narrowed, shifting back to their human shape and color. "You started working here two months ago." 

Steve nodded, stomach churning. "Yeah." 

"So are you going to tell us what a Grimm is or not?" Dustin said. When Steve finally looked over at him, he still looked pissed, arms crossed and glaring, but Steve recognized that sparkle in his eyes. Little shit was ecstatic to be learning the lore behind Steve's whole deal, that was more than apparent. 

That made one of them. 

"I only know what my parents have told me," Robin said, slowly. She wouldn't look Steve in the eyes anymore, which wasn't exactly a great sign. Steve's throat contracted, forcing bile back down. "I've never met one in real life, before Harrington. I honestly wasn't sure they were still real. I thought they were… I don't know, stupid stories that parents tell to make their kids behave, you know? Like the boogie man." 

"But you knew Steve was one," Dustin said. Less of a question, more of an interrogation. Point out their own contradictions, wait for more information. Steve was pretty sure he'd picked that one up from watching Hopper grill Mike. 

"His eyes," Robin said. Her eyes darted up to meet Steve's gaze for only a moment before they fell back to the floor. "The stories all have them. Black mirrors that show you all the worst parts of yourself, every sin you've ever committed. It's supposed to be, like… Making you repent before, you know. They kill you." 

"So I'm a killer?" Steve said, his tongue numb in his mouth. 

Robin grimaced. "Kinda? They used to be… like knights, I think. In service to the Royals– Wait, do you know about the Seven Houses?" 

"The Royals," Steve muttered to himself, in a daze. 

"We'll go back to that," Dustin said, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eye. "What were you saying about knights?" 

"Right, so the Grimms worked as knights while the Seven Houses were establishing their claims in the Wesen world. It was basically a way for them to keep their Wesen subjects in line so that the royals could focus on human affairs. But then… Well, I don't really know what happened, but they stopped being knights and became…" Robin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Vigilantes?" 

"Like Batman?" Dustin asked, disbelieving. 

"More like the Punisher." 

"Can we please talk in a language the person whose existence hinges on this conversation can understand?" Steve asked, his voice rising in volume with every word. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Harrington," Robin said, her voice coming quicker than he had ever heard her speak before. "They kill people, okay? Sure, it's usually, like, Wesen who have killed humans before or whatever but there are stories of them just going to town on entire packs of predator species before. My dad's even told me of some groups of Grimm who kill Wesen on sight so they don't have the opportunity to commit crimes later. And it's like, do I really think the high school bully is a serial killer? No, not really, but it's really hard to externalize that when I have vivid memories of my mom telling me about how her great-great-great-great-grandmother's head got put on a spike outside the city walls for selling love potion to some stupid humans."

"Oh, that's– Sorry for your loss," Dustin said, automatically. 

Robin raised an eyebrow. "You know I didn't know her, right?" 

Steve heard neither of them through the rushing in his ears. Was it just him, or were the walls closer together than they had been five minutes ago? The floor felt malleable beneath his feet, like he was standing on top of water. Steve stumbled over to a table and sat gingerly, his hands shaking. 

He wasn't exactly sure how long had passed when Dustin came to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

"Steve?" he said, tentatively. "You okay?" Robin stood behind him, concern breaking through her careful nonchalance. 

"Hopper was wrong," he said, thickly. "I am a monster." 

"No–" Dustin began, but Robin cut him off with a scoff. 

"We're all kind of monsters, Harrington, it comes with the territory," she said with a sneer. "At least you still look human." 

"Yeah?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "How many people do you think Dustin's ancestors killed? Matter of fact, have you ever heard of a single Grimm that wasn't a killer?" Even though the question was mostly sarcastic, some part of him still hoped she would defy him, give him some proof that he wasn't meant to be a terrible person. His eyes watched her face twist in embarrassment. 

"Well… no, I haven't," Robin said, eyes darting towards Dustin. 

"Exactly," Steve said, nodding even as his shoulders deflated. "Exactly, exactly. I'm meant to… I'm meant to be a terrible person, and nothing I do– Nothing I've ever done–" Steve took a deep breath, felt it rattle in his chest, heard it wheeze through the throat that was quickly closing around his rising panic. 

"Oh, you're–" Dustin shook his head, turning to Robin. "He's– Do you have a back room?" 

"Uh, yeah, behind the counter," Robin said, blinking. 

"Alright, help me get him back there." 

Things got a little hazy after that. Steve wasn't sure how they got him to the back room, although he had the vague impression of his arms looped over both their shoulders, off jerking away from Robin's touch with a pained noise. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in the back, Robin perched on the far counter, Dustin's hands on his shoulders. 

"Steve, can you hear me?" Dustin said, and from the lack of inflection in his voice, Steve had the inclination that it wasn't the first time he'd been asked. 

"Yeah," he croaked. 

"Good," Dustin said, relief flooding his face. "I think you're having another panic attack." 

Steve flushed with shame. He hadn't one of those in months, since the chill had finally faded from the air and every night stopped reminding him of junkyards and tunnels and blue Camaros. In comparison, this seemed a little pathetic, but even that small amount of logic couldn't shake the fact that his brain was still sending him signals of flee danger predator run . 

When Steve didn't answer, Dustin squeezed his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want us to leave?" 

"We are not leaving a Grimm whose brain is god knows where alone in the back room where there are weapons– " Robin began. 

"You are not helping," Dustin interrupted through gritted teeth.

"She's right," Steve rasped. "We have no idea what I might do. You've seen what I try to do when my instincts go haywire." 

"You haven't actually done anything!" Dustin said, a none too gentle reminder. His anger was palpable, and Steve thought distantly of Hopper, of how disappointed he would be. Steve was going to be sick. "Remember your theory? You said that you thought the mirrored eyes were more like an evolutionary protection, maybe–" 

"Maybe I was literally born a murderer to protect myself?" Steve asked, laughing as the first tear slipped down his cheek. "I was wrong, Dustin. It happens. All the fucking time, apparently, because I've spent the last two years wondering how to be a good person, when it's impossible." 

"That's not how it–" 

"I'm supposed to kill you, Dustin," Steve said, harshly. "You heard her. You and El should both be dead, and maybe one day you will be." 

Steve watched the stubbornness set into Dustin's face and felt his heart break. He's never really wanted to hurt someone. Not really. That was why he kept losing all those stupid fucking fights, why he let Tommy push him around. Steve wanted to survive, and he wanted to protect, but he's never looked someone in the eyes and wanted to hurt them. But he could feel it in his chest, all the fucking time– that same rage he'd first felt when Dustin woged in front of him. And no matter how much Steve didn't want it, he was sure that one day it would swallow him whole.

"I don't believe that," Dustin said, "not for a fucking second." 

"What about my parents, Dustin?" Steve asked, meeting Dustin's eyes. For the first time, he wished that people didn't see the worst of themselves in his eyes, but the worst of Steve. That would keep them safe, wouldn't it? If they could see into his chest, at the sharp and jagged things there? "They're gone for months at a time–" 

"They're doing business!" 

"And they're all over the country, sometimes in Europe or Asia, and what the fuck do you think they're doing, Dustin? Like actually. Because I haven't bought the business excuse in years, and I know you're smarter than me, so what else could it be? I thought they were partying, or cheating on each other, or even just doing some regular fucking crime, but no–" Steve sobbed, the noise being pulled out of his chest. "Apparently, they might be killing people. What does that make me ?" 

"It doesn't make you anything," Dustin said, jaw set. "Even if you're right, which you're not ." 

"So you're not afraid of what might happen if you're staying the night the next time they come home?" 

Dustin hesitated, and Steve knew he had him. It fucking hurt, every second of it. Felt like removing his own skin with a scalpel, slow and methodical and never-ending, but it had to be done. He had to get Dustin away from danger, and right now the most dangerous thing in Hawkins was him.

"Kid, can you give us a second?" Robin's voice cut through the air and Steve flinched, his entire body twitching as his gaze was ripped away from Dustin. 

Stepping away, Dustin rubbed at his nose in a move that Steve knew had been picked up from him. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He couldn't get out of the break room fast enough, the door swinging behind him. 

"That was fucked up," Robin said as she hopped down from the counter. 

"Wasn't this exactly what you wanted?" Steve said, frustration and resentment built up from the past two months bubbling in his chest. "Him away from the monster?" 

Robin hesitated for a moment, then continued her short walk to the chair across from Steve. As she sat, she said, "I never called you a monster." 

"No, just a serial killer and a beast and a thousand other things around 'monster'," Steve said, rolling his eyes. 

He had honestly expected her to rise to the bait. She was the exact kind that was the easiest to torment, emotions too big for her body and never afraid to speak her mind until it was already out of her mouth. Robin didn't speak this time, though, just looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. 

Eventually, she sighed, and turned away from him. "I'm sorry." 

Steve scoffed, disbelieving. "Okay." 

"No, I am. I… didn't really think about what it might mean if you actually didn't know, and I had no idea that I was putting people in danger by not explaining," she said, her hands in fists on her legs. She still wouldn't look at him, and Steve felt his stomach twist further. He had to get out of here before he vomited on the linoleum. 

"Well, you figured it out, and now they're safe, so if you'll please excuse me–" 

"No," Robin said, stilling him with a glare. "I meant you, dingus." 

"... Dingus?" Steve repeated. It was… oddly juvenile, after all the things she'd called him. 

Robin flushed. "I don't actually think you're, like, a killer or anything. Especially since you obviously haven't killed anyone. I just thought…" Her eyes slid away from him again. "You know, with Barb last year…" 

Nausea hit Steve in the stomach and he had to bend over, pressing his face to the cool surface of the table, to keep himself from gagging. "You thought I killed Barb?" He hated how small his voice sounded, suddenly, nothing like the rage-fueled creature he felt like he was becoming. 

"Obviously I was being an idiot because killers don't fucking have panic attacks in the dark about being a killer," Robin said. Steve wasn't sure that was entirely true, but he got her point. "I mean, like I said before, I stopped believing that shit like two weeks in. If you were actually a serial killer, I would be, like, so dead right now." 

"I never wanted to hurt you," Steve said, tired. 

"I know," Robin said, frowning. "And that's why I'm saying, I was an asshole, and I'm sorry." 

Steve swallowed. "It's fine." 

"It's really not," Robin said. "I could tell it made you upset, and it gave me this sick little thrill to finally know what got to King Steve, you know? Like I finally had something over you. And it made me feel…" 

"Powerful?" Steve suggested when her words trailed off. 

"Yeah," Robin said, her face pale. 

"I get it," Steve said, shrugging. "Why do you think I was such an asshole in high school?" 

Robin gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, I never wanted to be that kind of person. So… You know, just because you were born a Grimm doesn't mean you have to be like them." 

Looking away, Steve said nothing. He'd already had the suspicion there was something wrong with him, Robin had just confirmed it. Her taking it back hadn't really changed his mind. Robin seemed to get that, and she squirmed in her seat for a moment. 

"I never told you what I am, did I?" she said, softly.

"... No," Steve said, frowning. "I thought maybe some kind of weasel?" 

That made her laugh, shaking her head as she smiled down at her hands. "Yeah, I guess maybe I deserve that. No, I'm a– I'm a Fuchsbau. A fox." The smile began to slip from her face, fists unclenching and curling back into claws again and again as she spoke. "That's part of why I freaked out so hard when I first recognized you as a Grimm. We're a predator species, you know? But not one of the big guys, not scary enough that they leave us alone. We're just mean . And… and sneaky . And cruel." 

Steve watched her, unable to speak. He had seen a little of that from her, over the past few weeks, so he wasn't entirely sure he was justified in defending her own self-worth, but… even as she said it, something didn't feel right to Steve. Sure, she was dick to him, like, specifically, but Steve had never seen her speak a harsh word to anyone else they worked with. Robin was usually pretty bored with customers, yeah, but she was patient, too. 

And whatever harshness did exist in her, it certainly wasn't subtle .

"That's why my parents moved here, you know. Fuchsbau don't usually have packs, and so it's kinda just… you and a bunch of Wesen who expect you to rip them off at the first chance," Robin continued, "so they came here to try and start fresh. And I don't think they ever really fit into what a Fuchsbau is supposed to be, and most times I'm pretty sure I don't, either, but sometimes…." 

Robin shrugged. "Sometimes I'm afraid it's somewhere inside of me, just waiting to get out." 

Oh. 

This was one of those pep talks that made Steve squirm, the kind where teachers and coaches and counselors all promised Steve that they absolutely understood what he was going through. As if they could understand what he was feeling through the little he'd actually admitted, as if the simple act of relation was enough to soothe the ache in his chest. Knowing other people hurt didn't make him bleed any less, but… it didn't chafe to hear it from Robin, like it did with the dozens of adults before him. He wasn't sure she actually understood, but at least she was trying. At least she wasn't just assuming things. Not anymore, anyway. 

"It's not exactly the same thing," Robin said, when Steve didn't speak. "But I–" 

"No, no." Steve's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks. I think I needed to hear that. You're right, it's not exactly the same, but… But I think I might be able to fight this." 

"That's not exactly what I…" Robin said, then shook her head, standing. "Anyway, you should head home for the night." 

Steve blinked up at her. "I'm on schedule until closing." 

Shrugging, Robin said, "We're dead, and, no offense, but you're probably not going to be much help tonight, anyway. I'll cover you. Just… get some sleep, Harrington." 

It was part of an apology Steve still wasn't convinced he completely deserved, but he wasn't in the position to refuse favors. "... Thanks." 

They walked into the lobby together, Steve's skin crawling with the oddity of feeling Robin standing with him and not just by him. He was grateful, but there was a voice in his head whispering that it would all end one day, and he would find her claws in his throat. 

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Dustin barely spoke as Steve drove him home, only to nearly tackle him in a hug before he got out of the car. Tried not to think about how he couldn't pop in to say hi to Mrs. Henderson because she would think– she would know –that he was a monster. Tried not to think much at all, really. 

Steve found himself driving to the cabin on muscle memory alone, and didn't even notice the direction he was driving until the streetlights gave way to the shadowy cradle of the woods. He parked in the grass, climbed the steps stiffly, paused between every movement as Steve ruminated on the effort it took. 

Hopper didn't look up from the stove as Steve came in. It was chili night, a tradition built around one of the few dishes Hopper had achieved consistency in. Maybe that was why Steve had come here– Something in him knew he was expected here. People were waiting for him. He was wanted. 

Steve felt tears well in his eyes. 

"Steve?" Hopper clicked off the gas on the stove, turning. "Did… did work go okay?" 

The dam broke. Everything came pouring out, the tears, the half-explanations Robin had given him, the terrible truths he now was sure of. Everything poured out of Steve at once, until he was sitting on the couch, gasping for air. Hopper watched him through all of it, never saying a word. His face gave nothing away, and that only made it worse– Steve kept talking and talking, trying to find the words that would make Hopper feel something. Anything. 

Eventually, the terror took over his brain and he fell silent, but his throat still clenched around unformed words. 

"I've told you before, I'm not afraid of you, kid," Hopper said, slowly, but before Steve could protest, he continued, "but you have a right to be concerned about it, you know, in general. It might be you, it might not. But if there's some kind of Wesen vigilante, after everything that's happened in Hawkins in the past two years, one of them's bound to cause trouble sometime." 

"So we just– We gotta figure out how to take one down," Steve said, his hands shaking. 

"I figure shooting 'em will work just as well as it would on anyone else," Hopper said, dryly, "but I don't think you have to worry about that." 

"No, no, you can–" Steve flushed at the sudden sharpness on Hopper's face. "Look, if I'm actively hurting people, I'm too far gone, anyway. Have Nancy do it. She'll get a kick out of it." 

Hopper rolled his eyes, then sighed, rubbing at his face with one large hand. "And what if it's your parents, Steve?" 

That threw him. Because Steve had considered that his parents were the kind of Grimms Steve was terrified to become, yeah. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Steve had always been anxious around them, for no reason he could really put a name to. They weren't bad parents, exactly, just a little absent. They had never denied him anything, never hit him, never even really yelled. But Steve still flinched every time his father raised a hand to clasp him on the shoulder. Steve still shied away from his mother's gaze. 

Steve had always thought it had something to do with all the repression, the constant striving to live up to the Harrington name. That had been enough of an answer for him. Besides, the older he got, the less he had to deal with it, so what did it even matter? 

The idea that it might be something more sinister still hadn't prepared him for the concept of actually doing something about it, though. Sure, he had proposed the idea of them being dangerous to Dustin, but it wasn't like they were killing people and burying them behind the Hawkins Lab. 

"Do you think they already are?" Steve asked, face twisting. "There were genetic experiments on Wesen in the town they lived in. How did they not–" 

Hopper shrugged. "I don't know for sure, kid. Speaking as a cop, if their thought process is anything like mine, they probably don't pursue leads they consider out of their jurisdiction, and it wasn't like the lab was advertising. Will was the first Hawkins kid to go missing, remember?" 

"They were out of town when he disappeared," Steve said, relief evident. "They didn't get home until he was back." 

"I can't promise you anything, Steve, and you're probably gonna want to have it out with them yourself. But your parents have been in and out of Hawkins for two decades now, and it's not exactly like we've got stacks and stacks of cold case murders rotting away at the station. If they're causing problems, it's not here," Hopper said. 

Steve leaned back against the couch cushions, finally letting himself relax. "We just have to make sure they don't find out about El." 

"There you go," Hopper said, reaching out to slap Steve on the knee. It would have felt condescending from anyone else, but it was the most physical affection that Steve had ever seen Hopper give anyone besides Joyce and El. "Feel better with a task, right?" 

"Yeah, actually," Steve admitted. It did feel good, even though it was a small, vague goal that honestly Steve kinda hoped he never had to worry about. Still, having something clear in his head to strive for made him feel solid, grounded, and he felt like an actual person again for the first time all day. 

If Grimms were as bad as Robin made them out to be, then someone needed to protect Hawkins from them. Steve could be that person, if he needed to be, even if the threat was just his own reflection. 

[Next Chapter]

---

taglist: @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི my bunny girl decided to mess me up with her late night thoughts! I had to write this. made it all pretty just for you!!! mwah mwah lovee youu!! @bunnyrafe

 𐙚 : icky!rafe x reader 

𐙚 warnings: this is pretty nasty so if you’re not into this kind of thing I wouldn’t read it. 

𐙚 rafe being icky, corruption, innocent reader, use of the word “dad” & “daddy”, 18+ mdni

when you finally let him hit he’s over the moon. he’s so nasty. measuring his cock to your stomach. getting to see how big it is against it. it’s reaching past your belly button. & you look up at him with wide doe eyes, hiccuping, asking him “is it gonna hurt daddy?” “do you think it’ll fit?” he taps his cock against your tummy making you jump. “nah- it’s- you’re going to feel so good.” he wasn’t lying. it was going to feel good. really good. eventually. he lines his cock up with your wet cunt. the sight of it almost makes him cum right then and there. “daddy…maybe we should try this another time? I’m a little scared” he cuts you off giving you a sharp slap to your cheek. “what did I tell you about that shit? what? you-you don’t trust dad?” tears start to brim up in your eyes. the last thing you wanted was to make him upset. “no no no I trust you daddy! I promise!” he smirks when he hears you spewing out apologies. bullying his cock in your little hole. not giving you any time to adjust.

now you’re over the moon. he corrupted you. you have never felt anything like this. it felt so so so good you didn’t want him to stop. you wanted him to use you just for his pleasure. it didn’t matter what it was. the sounds that filled the room were adding on to that fuzzy feeling that you felt every time you were around him. skin slapping. ah ah ah’s leaving those pretty lips. rafe moaning, growling, about how good your little pussy makes him feel. you were so sooo sticky and wet. creaming around his cock. feeling it kiss your cervix over and over again. those doe eyes staring up at him. asking, no, begging him for more. clawing at him wanting to be in his skin. he’d pull out every now and then watched you as you whimpered, squirmed. & whined. “please please put it back in daddy!! please!!” he loved watching that cute pussy clench around nothing. watching it beg to be wrapped back around him. “shittttt bun I told you it’ll feel really good. look at you. can’t get enough, can you? going all dumb for my cock.” 

he had finally gotten what he wanted. what he dreamed about after seeing your cute little ass at Tanny Hill a couple of months ago giving him sweet eyes.

[fastandcarlos]

What Baby Wants, Baby Gets : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: he might try and guilt you for making him go out in the early hours to satisfy your cravings, but you won't let him win

You couldn’t help but smile as Max groaned beside you, his arms stretching up before his hands ran over his face, head tilting to his left so that he could glance across and take a look at you. 

“Morning,” you whispered, resting your head down against his shoulder. “Did you have a good sleep?” You then asked, sniggering as Max scoffed, his head immediately shaking across at you. 

In the early hours you found yourself struggling, unable to push the thoughts of your cravings to the back of your mind. For a while Max managed to ignore it, but eventually he made the mistake of asking if you wanted something, only for you to tell him yes. 

It felt like a figure of speech when you first fell pregnant, with Max telling you to get him if you needed something, wherever, whenever. But he didn’t quite imagine himself actually being woken up at two in the morning with you begging him to help you out. 

“Last night was a one-time thing,” Max told you, covering his mouth as he let go of a yawn. “Do you know how long it took for me to fall back to sleep? Especially with you snoring right beside me.” 

An apology came from you, but so did a chuckle as Max glared down at you. As soon as your craving what satisfied, you found yourself easily able to fall asleep, not worrying about Max and the fact that he was now the restless one tucked up beside you. 

Although he teased, he was relieved to see you resting though, knowing just how little sleep you were getting with your baby constantly reminding you that he was there. 

“I do appreciate what you did last night,” you whispered, brushing your hand gently through Max’s hair. “You didn’t have to get up and run to the store.” 

“I did, because I promised that I would always do whatever I could to help you,” Max reminded you, kissing against the top of your head, “and what baby wants, baby gets.” 

Your head nodded as Max trailed one of his hands down to rest against the top of your baby bump, his smile wide as he felt just how big it was again, knowing that you were already nearing the halfway mark. 

“I know for a fact that this little one appreciates what you do too, they were feeling particularly peckish last night,” you added, pressing a kiss to Max’s shoulder. 

His eyes rolled as once again you used the baby to get to him, knowing that if there was one person that he couldn’t say no to, it was definitely your baby. 

“I can’t wait for when the baby arrives so I can tell you to go and get your own food again,” Max joked, “you won’t be able to treat me like your slave anymore.” 

“You’re so dramatic, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy all of this.” 

It wasn’t exactly his favourite thing to do getting up in the early hours of the morning, but knowing that he was helping you out did fill Max with pride. 

“Maybe I’d enjoy it more if you asked at a decent time,” he laughed in response. 

“I don’t think I get much of a choice, if you’ve got a problem, bring it up with your child instead,” you smiled, tapping against your baby bump. 

Max’s eyes watched over you carefully as you moved closer into his side, moving one of your hands to rest against the small of your back. A groan came from you as you tried to get comfortable again, a game that you had been playing with your child for several weeks now. 

“Do you think the baby knows the most inconvenient times are to be annoying to us?” You asked Max, hearing a chuckle come from him. “Why can’t they be restless at lunch? That would be perfect.” 

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to tell the time yet,” Max sniggered, squeezing around your frame. “It’s going to get easier, hopefully the cravings will stop soon.” 

Your head nodded as Max tried his best to reassure you. Whenever you were struggling, he was right there with you, somehow Max always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better, making sure to hold onto you too to let you know that he was there. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Max whispered closely to your ear, “whatever comes our way then we’re just going to take it on together and find a way to figure things out.” 

You hummed as Max spoke, a lot more doubtful than he was. If he could, Max would read just about every baby book, watch every documentary, absorb as much knowledge as he possibly could to make sure he knew exactly what to do in every possible situation. 

“If it’s not morning sickness it’s cravings, and then once that finishes then it’s going to be the lack of sleep, soon enough I’m not even going to be able to see my feet.” 

Before you could continue, Max quickly shushed you. “And I’ll be there to help you with all of that, no matter where we are or when it is.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the early hours?” 

Max jabbed against your side as you teased him, knowing that regardless of the time he would always be there. It hurt him a lot seeing you so uncomfortable so often, he wished that there was more that he could do to make your life easier than it currently was. 

“If I were you, I’d make the most of me running around after you,” Max grinned, “because once the baby is here, they’ll be the only person I’ll be waking up at three o’clock in the morning for.” 

“You mean to say you’d leave me to fend for myself?” 

“Absolutely,” Max jokingly smiled, “you’re capable of getting up and sorting yourself out, a little baby isn’t quite as developed as you are.” 

“I’m spending nine months growing this child of yours, just in case you’ve forgotten that,” you quickly reminded him. 

“I know, I’m just messing with you,” Max assured, squeezing your frame. “I might have to cut myself in half so one part of me can look after you and the other look after the baby, that way I might just be able to be in two places at once.” 

“I’ll be alright,” you whispered, only for Max’s head to shake, refusing to let you take care of yourself straight away once the baby arrived. 

It didn’t matter whether you were pregnant or not, injured or in peak condition, Max loved looking after you and would always do so, regardless of how much you sometimes protested against him. 

Now more than ever he was glued to your side, he’d tease you and mess with you but he wouldn’t have it any other way, being able to help you was one of the things he enjoyed the most at the moment. 

“I can’t wait to see how things play out over the next few months, how big of a change is about to take place in our lives,” Max mused, resting his head on top of yours. 

“I’m terrified,” you admitted, “no one can predict how this is going to play out, there’s a fear of the unknown lingering in the back of my mind right now.” 

“You don’t need to worry,” Max assured you, “no matter what happens, we’re going to face it together, I’m going to be right here with you.” 

“Even in the early hours of the morning?” 

“Even in the early hours my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[gutsby]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.

Word count: 1.9k

Maybe a hand was too much.

A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.

And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.

Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.

“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”

You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.

Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:

“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.

“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”

He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.

He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.

“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”

His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.

“Joel,” you mewled.

Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.

Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

It worked, and it didn’t.

Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.

The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.

Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—

“Joel, I—”

Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.

He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.

Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.

And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.

Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.

You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.

“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.

You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.

Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”

And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.

Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.

“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”

You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.

“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.

You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.

Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”

“I want your babies, Joel.”

“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”

“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”

Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.

It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.

But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.

Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.

“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.

“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.

That part was not a threat, but a promise.

You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—

A twig snapped nearby.

Both of you froze in place.

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

���Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[whorefordean]

attitude adjustment || r.c

wc: 1.7k

cw: mean rafe, reader is kinda bratty, rafe calls reader a bitch, a yummy headlock (will be putting this into every fic probs), p in v sex, unprotected sex, pussy slaps, slight cockwarming

MDNI 18+

rafe sleeps soundly beside you, and that alone is enough to make you hate him. well, not actually hate him, but still. his strong arm is draped across your hip, hand splayed flat across your stomach. his rings glint in the subtle glow of the moonlight.

most people would see this as an act of endearment, however, rafe decided to hold true to his promise of punishing you.

"been such a fucking brat this week, and i'm not in the mood to deal with you," rafe had scolded you earlier in the day while squeezing your cheeks together with a firm grip. you had simply pouted, knowing that eventually he would deal with it by fucking the attitude out of you.

wishful thinking.

it had been three hours since that ordeal and two since rafe had gone to sleep. in those two hours, you'd tossed and turned, secretly hoping it would wake rafe up. apparently, you hadn't lost the attitude, even if the day was over.

as you rolled over again to face rafe, you caved. you trailed your hand up his bare chest.

"rafe?" you whispered softly. you waited a moment, watching as he remained unbothered and peaceful. damn him.

as your arousal built and your panties got wetter, you got more desperate. you slipped your leg over his hip, trying to wedge yourself as close as possible to him.

"rafe!" you pleaded for him to wake up. this time, a groan echoed throughout the room. his hand slipped up your leg, resting on your ass right below your tiny shorts.

"still got a fucking attitude," he grumbled in annoyance. you whined causing him to grip onto you tighter. finally opening his eyes, rafe glared at you.

"what do you want? huh?" rafe asked meanly. you pouted up at him as you began placing soft pecks against his bare chest, slowly making your way up his neck.

you shift until your straddling rafe’s hips, his hand still tucked possessively under your shorts. you whine when your hips shift against his as you lean down to his ear.

“need you, rafe,” you tell him quietly, kissing his cheek slowly. rafe groans.

“huh uh. been such a bitch to me lately. for no reason. not gonna reward you for your bad fucking behavior,” rafe scolds you tiredly. anger rises in you as you sit up. crossing your arms over your chest, you glare at him.

“well, maybe, i wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch if you fucked me good-“ you start to blame him. it’s a lie you don’t get to finish because rafe cuts you off.

“i dare you to finish that fucking sentence. if i wasn’t fucking you good enough, you wouldn’t be waking me up right now. wouldn’t be rubbing that wet pussy against my fucking cock, begging me to fuck you to sleep. such a fucking needy brat,” rafe hisses, slapping your ass roughly. you gape at him, half shocked half angered, because he’s right.

“you’re being mean!” you nearly yell at him. you try to grind yourself against him again but rafe holds your hips still for a minute before shoving you off of him.

“rafe!” you yelp as you tumble back to your side of the bed. rafe is quick to pounce on you, pressing your chest firmly into the mattress. his legs barricade your thighs, and you can feel his half hard cock against your ass. your hips lift, but rafe shoved them back down.

“wanna get fucked? hm? that gonna fix that fucking attitude? fine. i’ll fuck you. i'll make you feel good so that maybe next time, you’ll use your fucking words instead of bitching and whining all goddamn day,” rafe grits out as he rips your shorts down your legs. you gasp once at the cold air hitting your bare cunt, then again when rafe shoves your shirt up and yanks it over your head.

“rafe!” you yelp when rafe moves himself just enough to yank your hips up and give your dripping pussy a harsh slap.

“quit. start complaining and i’ll have to stuff that throat. you’ll take what i give you, brat,” rafe grunts, slapping your wetness again. pouting, you nod anyways.

rafe’s fingers linger near your clit, and it’s an effort to not grind yourself against his thick fingers. the bedsheets are wrinkled in your hands as you try to calm your breathing and keep your attitude in check. the temptation is there, but you refrain from begging him for something. anything.

finally, rafe sinks two of his fingers into you. a soft moan echoes out of your lips as your eyes flutter shut. before you can relish in the feeling for too long, rafe stops. he keeps his fingers buried inside you, but he doesn’t move. you wait. nothing. lifting yourself up, you turn to face rafe. your breath hitches when your movement causes his fingers to shift.

“rafe? please do something,” you beg him softly, mind reeling with need. at this point, you don’t care about keeping up the attitude. the need for his cock to be buried in you is too much to resist.

“oh, now that i’ve got my fingers in you, you’ll be nice? hm? i wanted to spend all night in this fucking pussy, but that fucking attitude…” rafe trails off, watching the way you shift your hips slightly, trying to thrust against his fingers.

“i’ll be better. promise, rafe,” you mumble when you notice the way he’s staring so intently at your exposed core. rafe thrusts his fingers a few times, watching as you match him with your own thrusts.

“you gonna work for it?” he mumbles. your hips falter but not from pleasure. you wanted rafe to do the work. wanted rafe to put you in your place. not make you do all the work even if it is your orgasm at stake here. rafe notices your hesitation and laughs darkly.

“no, i guess you wouldn’t. need me to do all the work to make sure you feel good. ain’t that right?” rafe teases. you open your mouth to respond, but he stops you. 

"if the next words out of your mouth aren't thank you, rafe, then don't say anything," rafe grunts as he pushes his fingers further into your cunt.

"thank you, rafe!" you gasp, lifting your hips slightly in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

"that's it, baby," rafe hums under his breath. your eyes snap shut when rafe's thumb starts toying with your needy clit. a whine rumbles from your throat as you tilt your head, trying to bury your sounds into the mattress. rafe grips your hair, tilting your head back until he can hear you better.

"don't fucking hide from me. you been begging for this," rafe snaps. his fingers slip out of you unexpectedly. you cry out, eyes snapping open as you look back at him. the pout on your face mixed with the pleading look in your eyes almost has him apologizing even if you deserve his meanness.

"need you, rafe," you whine, lifting your hips again. this time, rafe lets you grind your exposed pussy against his covered cock. your fingers ache, white knuckling the sheets under you. rafe's heavy hand is gripping your stuttering hips, and you can hear the breathy moans he's letting out.

"fuck, baby," rafe grunts. he stops your hips again, and you almost push him off of you, so you can finish the job yourself. you refrain though because an orgasm by yourself? wonderful. an orgasm given to you by rafe? fucking heavenly.

"rafe, please," you whine. rafe mumbles something along the lines of fucking impatient, but you ignore him, too focused on finding release.

you almost beg him again, but then rafe is slipping his hardened cock into you. you gnaw on your lip as he settles fully inside your aching walls.

this might be heaven, you think as rafe leans down to kiss your jaw. the action is a complete one eighty from his previous, but you don't object to it. you sigh in relief when he finally starts pumping his cock into you, slowly at first.

then, he's bottoming out repeatedly until your gasping for a single fucking breath. you grip at his arm beside your head, but rafe moves it out of your grasp before gripping your hand in his. your eyes lull shut as rafe continues to prove you wrong.

he had never been bad at fucking you, but you have always had an attitude problem.

rafe readjusts, lowering himself until his mouth is directly beside your ear.

"this what you wanted?" rafe asks quietly, slowing his thrusts while he deepens them. you nod, mind going blank when rafe slips his arm around you. he settles his bicep under your throat, effectively putting you in a headlock as he slips deeper into you.

"fuck, rafe. thank you," you pant. his hand leaves yours to rub at your clit. you moan out, your orgasm approaching. rafe fucks you through it, only using the slick to further your pleasure. you grip at rafe's bicep when he doesn't stop, even after you've cum.

"rafe, i can't-"

"you will," rafe interrupts. his voice is rough when he says it, and you almost beg him to keep going. he must have hear the thought because he doesn't slow down, continuing to fuck you even as you tremble under him. you try to push your hips further into the mattress, but rafe follows you. your eyes roll back in pleasure.

your second orgasm approaches faster than the last, and you can't stop the moans falling from your lips. you pry rafe's arm from around your throat. well, you attempt to pry his arm away.

his grip is firm as he finally spills his cum into your cunt. you pant when he finally slows down before fully stopping.

the two of you sit in silence, rafe still holding you tight in his grip. your cheek rests against rafe's bicep as you lay there, finally satisfied after being perpetually horny for the last week.

"thank you, rafe," you pant. rafe hums in acceptance.

"gotta learn how to fucking communicate, baby," rafe mumbles tiredly. you nod against him. rafe settles his weight against you, and it feels so good. so comforting. his cock is still buried comfortably inside you as the two of you drift off.

[azullumi]

a scripture on having a certain pretty gambler as your boyfriend ; aventurine

summary — radiant and gleaming, dating him feels like basking under the golden glow of the sun, with the promise of the serene and starlit night ahead.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, him as your boyfriend basically, there are no spoilers dwww, i never proofread, 1.2k words ; headcanons

note — congratulations to honkai star rail for being the only game to have aventurine!! this is day 2 of writing for this man until i have him.

Aventurine couldn’t abandon the person that he used to be so he carried him in his hands. Always hesitant, afraid, and seemingly detached from everyone he meets—this is why he seems so distant and disconnected from you at first despite being in a relationship with him. Although he lives his whole life gambling, believing that everything happens and the outcomes gained are due to luck, he’s meticulously careful and cautious just to not get too attached to you lest he gets hurt in the end (he has dealt with the sight of people’s backs as they walk away from him multiple times).

It will take time for him to completely warm up and be vulnerable to you. Although there are moments that he lets the facade slip and he lays himself bare, moments where it’s just you and him in the silence, moments where you comfort him after a nightmare that disturbs his sleep; he doesn’t ask for comfort nor assurance often but you always seem to know when he needs it.

Aventurine loves it whenever you gently comb your hand through his hair. Even if he wasn’t vocal about the matter, you’ll know from the way he immediately relaxes under your touch as you rake your fingers through his locks. It just gives him a sense of comfort, finding serenity and affection in such a small act of intimacy; it reminds him of how simple everything could be (oh, how he wishes it was) with just the loving touch of your hands.

He’s not exactly a morning person but would always wake up early, occasionally before you do. It’s either because he has to leave for work early or it just so happens that he woke up just as the sun was rising. If he has to get ready soon, he’ll take a few minutes of his time to admire you as you sleep, to trace the bridge of your nose slowly and carefully so as to not wake you, to draw and follow the outlines of your features with his eyes. But if he has no plans for today, he’ll stay in bed with you and eventually, fall asleep once more. He holds you so close and so tight (but not tight enough to suffocate you) that it’s hard to slip away from his grasp.

You feel a pair of soft lips on your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment until you flutter your eyes open. “Are you awake now, sleepy?” 

“Mmh…” You grumble, your vision adjusts to your surroundings as you blink multiple times. You could see Aventurine getting dressed, putting on his expensive tailored-coat.

“You’re leaving already? Why did you not wake me up?”

“You looked like you were having a nice dream.”

MATCHING PAJAMAS (heck yeah!!). The time when he saw you wearing one of his pajamas, it felt like something had been flipped inside of him and the thought of getting you one for your own that matches his fills each and every corner of his mind. Although all of the matching things you have with him are not just limited to pajamas—it can range from matching jewelry, matching charms, matching clothing, matching glasses, matching everything. God, he goes into a store, sees something that he likes and asks the staff if they have another one but in a different color that you like.

Perhaps you have never noticed (or maybe you have) but he never wears his glasses whenever he’s around you—when there’s only you and him. There was no need to hide anything from you, not when you adore all parts of his being. He melts whenever you compliment him (he’s a sucker for such words of affection) especially when it’s his eyes, loves the way you look at him as if he was everything you wish for.

He’ll often play games with you or initiate a bet but somehow, he has more losses than wins. “You’re cheating!” You’ll say, pointing at him as if you were an attorney from a game that objects to a statement. Aventurine, however, would stare at you in disbelief (though he’s just feigning innocence) and would answer with a raised eyebrow: “How am I the one cheating when you’re winning?” To which you’ll respond with: “That’s because you’re letting me win. You’re not playing fair, Aven.”

SPOILS YOU A LOT and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. Everything you'll ask for or even just mention in passing, he'll provide. He randomly sends you pockets of money, a notification on your phone lighting up your screen and the text says: You have received 100, 000 credits. You have to get used to it—it’s one of the ways that he shows his affection to you. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer whenever he gives you something either, so, you have to take it or else you’ll have to deal with a sulky man the whole day. 

Don’t worry though as he ensures that everything that he buys and gets for you is something you would like—expensive meaningless gifts will always be meaningless, he would rather give you a cheap yet beautiful charm that is of your favorite color or flower than an expensive shiny necklace made out of gold and adorned with diamonds which you’ll never wear because it’s too heavy on your neck or it’s not your preference.

On that note, he also likes seeing you wear the things he bought for you. Maybe it’s obvious, maybe it’s not, but he likes to dress you up, likes to see you put on the clothes he picks for you. Dates where he brings you to a boutique to pick clothes together (for both you and him), dress up, and ask each other if they look good is not so rare between you two. It’s silly but the two of you would end up giggling like children when the other would strike a ridiculous pose to show off what they're wearing (and also, with the intention to make one another laugh); he lives for and craves these moments with you.

Brings you together with him to casinos and lets you watch him while he plays as he regards you as his lucky charm (when he’s actually the one who is lucky here). Whenever he wins a game or a bet, he asks for a kiss from you—he taps on his cheek as an indication of his request but he will not force you if you don’t wish to express such affections in public, rather he’ll ask for something else instead like maybe a smile or ask that you hold his hand. Sometimes, if you’re curious enough, he’ll teach you the fundamentals of the game and what you can do to win. The look of pride on his face says it all as he watches you win and your opponent falls to the floor (you just put someone in debt).

The amount of endearing names that he calls you. If ever you get flustered whenever he calls you with those affectionate endearments, he’ll take the chance to tease you, to repeatedly call you with such names until you throw a pillow or any object at him—he catches it though but will apologize while laughing, saying that he won’t do it again.

You have to be understanding and gentle with him, careful as you tread the light, lest you fall into the dark and see that the tall and strong walls he built around himself is nothing compared to the broken and fragile pieces that are sewn on his skin, and he will leave (out of fear, out of anxiety, out of grief, out of self-hatred). But it’s alright, everything will be, you’ll embrace him even in the abyss and you’ll guide him back to your warmth.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works

[bunnys-kisses]

single father simon (again!!!) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

the apartment building felt bad for simon riley. a military man with a newborn daughter, his lovely little ruby with her tuft of blond hair and big curious dark eyes. she was a spitting image of her father, except compacted into a chubby little girl.

ruby was precious though, which was why as simon's neighbour you made sure the riley's were taken care of. you'd often bring over leftovers, telling simon that it was impossible to cook for one person.

"simon." you said with your hands on your hips, "if anyone tells you that you can make a lasagna for one person is lying or trying to sell you something... which means they're also lying. so take it!" you weren't taking no for an answer!

you even went as far as to donate to him one of your old onsies from when you were a baby (it wasn't like it was doing anything in storage). it was a pastel pink with an embroidered winnie the pooh. when simon saw you holding her after he put it on her, his heart leapt. he wanted to put all of his babies in the clothes you wore when you were a baby.

it wasn't that simon was finding another womb to occupy, but you were simply so good with ruby. when he had to drive out of the city and to base or had to sit on boring online debriefs. you were more than happy to watch ruby. you worked from home at a lackluster office job, you didn't mind having the little girl nearby! she brought a little excitement to the job when you identified objects in your office.

"this is a stapler! you use this to i guess.. staple pages together! s-t-a-p-l-e-r!" then smiled at the girl in the playpen.

the nail in the coffin for simon was when you were watching her for an afternoon and all of a sudden you were feverishly knocking on the door. in your arms was the little girl, she didn't look hurt. but you looked scared.

"i'm so sorry, simon..." you swallowed, "she said her first word. i know it said between ten to fourteen months, but! i didn't think it would be almost right at ten!"

"what did she say?" simon said as he beckoned you inside, a strong arm curled around your shoulders as you carried ruby.

you looked at him with a big frown before you said, "goddamnit... her first word was goddamnit." apparently you were cutting peppers for dinner and nicked your finger. you said the word and she parroted it!

simon knew you were going to be his bride. his missuses, the new mother to his baby girl and the future mother of all the other riley kids.

the electricity between you two aided in your eventual tumbling into bed. simon spread you out on the big queen mattress as let that large cock of his bully the deepest parts of your sex. simon made sure that ruby was safe with another (much older) neighbour so you wouldn't worry. (you were already becoming so much like a mother, it was honestly endearing!!).

simon managed to take you missionary, the mating press and finally ending with doggy style. your sweet moans only made him go harder. he needed to breed his future wife!! did he maybe forget to mention that he wasn't using protection, maybe. there was no evidence that he did or didn't. but when that little piece of plastic came back positive, he was there for you.

he knelt in front of you while you sat on the toilet. his large hand in your hair, "don't be sad, love. you're already a mother to ruby, why not give her a sibling? a little brother to bully." he then took your hands and kissed you on the cheek, "we'll be a family. we could even get married tomorrow if that makes you feel better?"

you'd be married at the courthouse within the week. simon in his military finest and you in a dress that you thrifted only days prior. you had even made you own veil and it turned out well. your bouquet was flowers stolen from the front of city hall. daisies, roses and a few dandelions.

he pulled you in for the kiss, a promise that you two would be together forever. and the two day honeymoon with just the two of you (and technically the baby you carried) was nothing short of romantic. you stayed in the city, but you two played tourist. you both didn't want to be too far away from ruby. after all she was so small.

soon you became the mother of two with a loving husband. ruby and her future brother that was sound asleep in your womb as you laid cuddled up next to simon. maybe his methods were a little unorthodox to bag himself a proper mama for his daughter. but you melted into the role so easily.

"my beautiful wife." he said with his voice tinged with utter devotion. he didn't want another woman to be his daughter's mother! only you, and he had the ring to prove it.

you were the perfect wife to him and the perfect mother to ruby. and you'd only get better with your son on the way. <3

[drabblejester]

Ratio, Sampo, Aventurine, Jing Yuan and Mr Reca overhead reader feels about them (basically reader has a crush on them)

how VARIOUS HSR GUYS would react to OVERHEARING YOU CONFESS!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: ratio, sampo, aventurine, jing yuan, and mr. reca x gn!reader

content warnings: none!!

comments: im devouring a pizza rn as of typing this. its so good.. this one is also in bulletted list bc i didnt get any specifications sorry my liege<3

AVENTURINE:

he overhears you talking on the phone in another room, probably to your friend. he isn’t one to eavesdrop but just this once…

he acts very calm about it, totally poker-faced to the point where you think he didn’t hear for WEEKS

until one night he asks you about it, and tells you to talk to him about it more later.

you fall asleep with him, and when you wake up, you tell him as promised!!

he still has to get used to people. y’know. liking him. so he’s a bit awkward for a while, but he warms up! sadly doesn’t soften up for a LONG while though

SAMPO:

he overhears you talking to an interviewer in belobog talking about a ‘handsome blue haired man’

first of all he is FLATTERED that someone in this cold world actually likes him. second of all he registers that someone likes him about 5 seconds later and panics a bit

truly, his whimsical and silly demeanor has captivated you! but it was meant to be for lying and getting away with things, not actual flirting. so he thinks he’s screwed

but he’s NOT screwed! he makes a plan to corner you later in the night to have a bit of banter, but you end up cornering him!!

you two talk for a bit, you talk about how cool and yummy he is. he says it back and you both end up having a great night! maybe a kiss or two persnaps…

DR. RATIO:

he accidentally peeks over your shoulder at your texts (god damn curiosity) and sees you panic texting someone about the Super Duper Hot Professor Man that just so happened to pass by you. and that’s now standing behind you.

now obviously you probably freak out because oh my gods thats the guy RIGHT BEHIND YOU. you turn around and stammer for a bit

sadly ratio just gives you a dirty look (not on purpose) and tells you to seek knowledge, not him. he winds up lecturing you about feelings and professionalism for a good 20 minutes

you go home and wind down for a bit to process the lecturing, and just hang out. you start to have some second thoughts about everything

until a nice little package arrives at your door, with a nice cooked meal and a note that’s a very passive aggressive way of saying ‘take care of yourself’

JING YUAN:

he overheard you gossiping with the guards, and nothing escapes his ears. he didn’t confront you about it right away of course, since he didn’t want to freak you out or anything

so instead, he just played the waiting game. he waited for weeks upon weeks, hearing all the thoughts you thought about him, and every little thing you tried to do to court him

and he’s flattered!! very flattered actually. he decides to eventually send a guard out with a hand written letter to you, simply saying to meet him at a restaurant he found out you frequented

you two meet there, talk for a bit, but not as a general and you. you talk like strangers but in the best way possible, getting to know even more about eachother!! you eat some yummy food and chitchat the night away

and eventually he brings you back to his place, settling you down with some tea and light snacks. maybe a few long-drawn stories to help you sleep. sadly (or thankfully) he ends up asleep before you, so you have extra time to admire him :3

MR. RECA:

he finds out through social media! you broke his ‘no recording in the studio’ rule, posted a blurry video somewhere, and went absolutely crazy over him in the caption

he’s upset that you broke his rule, but at the same time. thinks its interesting. he doesn’t do much else except revisit the post once more before meeting with you

you two meet up in his office, and he immediately brings up the post. of course you apologize so so hard about breaking the rules, but he waves it off!!

eventually the conversation ends up circling around to emotions (with a bit of help from memokeepering), and you spill all your thoughts and feelings right then and there. he’s slightly shocked, but it soon turns to a smile before politely telling you to leave his office

you’re definitely nervous, but it all fades away once you find out you’ve been casted in the main role alongside him! for better or for worse though, it’s a romance production. that asshole.

im fucking up this pizza rn my lieges its so yummy