#clearly I'm spicy this morning

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

everyone clap for me

I saw an incredibly brain dead take on activism and I didn't engage with the post

I'm just going to vague about it in the tags like a mature adult

[queenimmadolla]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

(dad!eddie x mom!reader)

Summary: Eddie has to shower before he can hold his impatient baby. She's having none of it.

a/n: i was attacked by yet ANOTHER cute baby tiktok so here we are with a little bit of grease monkey!eddie and another little drabble. set in the early days of the pennyverse. and yes, i've used this gif before but he's dead so i'm running out of them. mistakes might be fixed later, i dont know :)

“Are these your little fingers?” You asked your baby, tone saturated in honey and affection as you held the chunky palm in question, lips pressed to her pudgy fingertips. 

  Despite your aversion to it prior to your pregnancy, you’d inevitably developed a baby voice when Penny had come into the world and you couldn’t be blamed. Not when she was all squish, delicate cheeks holding so much chub they bulged, and rolls decorated her little limbs. She was a glutton, always demanding your milk and you couldn’t deny her; those big, gorgeous eyes she’d inherited from her father made it nearly impossible to, even when the wetness welling up in them were completely alligator tears. And those curls. 

  Regardless of taming them with some water, a brush and maybe some vaseline, they ended up wild, flying about or mussed and matted to her head with sweat because your baby was a little heater when she slept and napped. Just like her daddy.

  Your smile widened in size when you heard the sound of keys slotting into place at the front door, the lock mechanism giving away. It tripled when you realized your baby also recognized the sound, head turning to stare at the door as she bobbed in place, thick legs squatting and then popping back up as you held her by her waist with your other hand, assisting her with standing.

  The moment Eddie opened the door and came into view she began cooing and squealing in excitement, mouth parting in a wide smile as drool raced down from the corner of her mouth.

You laughed, and so did Eddie as he heard his baby welcoming him home.

  “You excited to see me, sweet pea?” He cooed right back, walking over to squat in front of the two of you, eyes raking over you momentarily in appreciation before focusing on the little one in your arms. 

  She let out another long coo that ended on an airy sigh, pulling her hand from your grasp to reach both of her pudgy ones out to him, practically begging him to hold her as she began wiggling in your arms.

  Eddie’s head tilted, lips curling into the most tender smile as he stared down at her with nothing but love swimming in those eyes he’d shared with her. 

  “Daddy missed you and mommy so much.” He whispered, a hand reaching out, almost close enough to caress her soft cheek but it hesitated before he could touch her. His rough, grease covered finger was a stark contrast to her clean, smooth skin. Clearly, you’d given her a bath before he got home because her mouth and cheeks were usually covered in the food you were starting to offer her (sometimes baby food, but mostly bits of your food because she wouldn’t accept any offerings of mushed up veggies and fruits if there was something else on your plate, hence why your diet had been pretty bland and not at all a result of the tight budget your maternity leave left you on).

The rest of his hands were no better, palms stained, streaks all over his arms as a result of shucking the top half of the monkey suit and rolling up his sleeves at the garage. 

  There were even a few streaks of grease and maybe oil on his face and neck. Your husband smelled more so of tires than he had the spicy cologne that surrounded you when he’d kissed you goodbye in bed this morning. 

  And he knew it.

  Penny didn’t let that stop her, still eagerly reaching out for him as she grunted to try and provoke him in swooping her up into his embrace.

  “As soon as daddy’s clean, okay? I’ll pick you up and my sweet girl can give me all the cuddles she wants.” He promised, hands on his knees before he stood back up, leaning over her to give you a sweaty, greasy oh so sweet and firm press of the lips kiss before he swiveled around and disappeared into the small bathroom as quickly as he could to be out of hearing range when Penny began whimpering at his absence. 

  You heard the shower start running at the exact moment she began to cry and you offered a sympathetic whine of your own as you adjusted your grip on her, bringing Penny up to your chest, your cheek smushed against her more plump one.

  “Shhh…it’s okay, my love. Daddy’s just showering. He’ll be back.” You stood up, hitching Penny on your hip as you walked to the entrance of the small hallway so the bathroom door was visible to her. Eddie’s humming floated out from underneath the crack of it. 

  Penny was Eddie’s daughter, alright, full of dramatics as her breathing remained heavy, chest rising and falling quickly with the hitches in her breath as a chunky fist gripped onto your blouse, lower lip curling out and wobbling. She didn’t seem satisfied with your explanation but that didn’t worry you. If Penny was awake when Eddie left for work in the morning, she’d start bawling. 

  The first couple of times she’d started reacting to his departure, he’d ended up full of guilt and late to work. It still wasn’t easy for him, even after you’d finally convinced him she’d have the same reaction whether he left in the morning, afternoon, or evening. Regardless of the time, she was going to be upset that she wouldn’t be able to see her daddy, probably convinced in her little baby mind that he’d abandoned her (he’d nearly quit the shop when you’d phrased it like that) but he’d always come home to her—and you—and that’s what mattered.

  You were positive she’d start yelling and shrieking when it came time for you to go back to work, too. She was just a baby, so she was being a baby.

  You carried your huffing and puffing daughter back to the living room, placing her down on the carpet in front of some toys she had been playing with earlier in the day. Maybe they’d distract her.

  Wrong.

  She sat on the carpet, chunky legs strewn out for just a few seconds before she was moving forward onto her belly and propping herself up. Then she was off, crawling as fast as she could towards the hallway while breathing heavily with exhilaration. You trailed after her, amused at how stubborn she was when she stopped directly in front of the bathroom door, propping herself up on her bottom.

  You watched Penny reach out with shaky palms, pressing them gently against the door. It looked like they were feeling around it before she began slapping them against it as hard as she could as she yelled her baby babble, no doubt demanding her daddy open the door, pick her up and love her right now.

  Giggles were muffled into your palm, as she kept up with it. 

  Eventually, maybe when she realized that wasn’t working, Penny leaned over, wiggling around until she was on her tummy and the side of her head was resting on the carpet. You realized she was trying to look under the door for him and your heart clenched, hand flying over your chest as if you could grasp the organ.

  You expected her to sit back up and go back to smacking the door but she remained there, a stubby finger absentmindedly trailing through the carpet as she stared through the thin crack, warm bathroom light and Eddie’s voice flooding out from underneath to comfort her as she waited.

  Picking her up had crossed your mind, and so did the idea of how loudly she’d probably start screaming and crying if you did. 

  The two of you didn’t have to wait for long, the shower shut off and you could hear the sounds of the shower curtain rings scraping against the rod as Eddie pulled them back. 

  Panic briefly filled your chest as you realized Eddie probably wasn’t expecting his baby to be lying on the floor directly outside of the bathroom—he’d step on her, so you called out, “Heads up, Eddie, you’ve got a visitor.”

  You didn’t hear a response, but a few moments later, the door opened to reveal your husband. Water droplets slipped down his neck and chest. He had one towel—that had definitely seen better days—wrapped around his waist and another (yours) he was using to scrunch up his sopping wet curls to dry them.

  Eddie had heard you, shooting you a smirk before he addressed the baby beaming up at him, “Shower’s free if you wanna hop in, stinky.”

  Penny had no idea what he was saying, it didn’t matter anyways because he said it in the same voice he used when he gave her kisses and held her to his chest so she was reaching up for him and he finally reached down—with clean hands—grasping her sides before she was hoisted into his arms. Penny wasted no time, mouth parting wide to mouth aggressively at his face and chin while she shook her head and wiggled about.

  She was giving him kisses.

  Or trying to eat him, she had little bursts of energy where she’d do that—attack you out of nowhere while you held her causing the both of you to break out laughing.

  Eddie let her get it all out, and when she cooed, resting her cheek on his shoulder, he retaliated. Her cheeks and little neck rolls were smattered in his smacking kisses as she squealed and shrieked and wiggled but there was no escaping her daddy’s clutches now that she was finally in them. 

  When every inch of her available to him had been kissed, he turned towards you and you suddenly found yourself victim to two sets of identical crinkly brown eyes. A deep chuckle rumbled from Eddie as he padded over to where you stood, mischievous smirk making another appearance.

  “Mommy’s turn.”

[holybibly]

Omg 6th of april is my birthday!! It would be fun to have your fic as a present but I'm also very impatient and I'd read your fic right away if you were to post it on monday

Oh, baby, I just couldn't resist making you happy. Something spicy and tasty for my April Bunny.

You had been in this position for a long time—the thick red threads burning through your delicate skin as you hung like a beautiful work of art in the middle of the sumptuous imperial chambers. Creating his own unique erotic pattern of pleasure and pain, the Emperor personally tightened every intricate knot on your body. The line between these sensations was too blurry in your mind for there to be any separation. Behind the tightly closed golden doors of the Emperor's chambers, no one would ever know. You were in his power, belonging to him alone - vulnerable and subservient - just as he wanted you to be.

San was humming softly as he walked around you, examining you from head to toe in the manner of a predator studying his prey. You could feel the weight and hardness of his dark gaze on your naked body, but that wasn't enough for San - he wanted to skin you and get to your very soul, peeling away layer after layer of luxurious, silky flesh. He leaned in closer to you and looked at the nasty, blood-red marks left by the intricately woven threads, the jagged, blackened lines that were digging into your skin. It was a strange act of the power he had over you: This is mine, I say this wordlessly. 

You were in pain, the tight ropes wrapped around your body like the most elaborate and exquisite torture. Yet your heart was pounding in your chest with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You tried to calm your breathing, afraid of upsetting Emperor San with your behaviour. Otherwise, instead of leaving his chamber as a 'golden' concubine, your corpse would be carried out of here in the morning.

"You are so beautiful..." He whispered as he ran his fingers over your face, his touch fleeting and too light for you to be able to savour it to the full. Nothing could have prepared you for the hard, sharp slap that landed on your bottom, causing a short cry to escape your throat. You trembled. The Emperor had kept you here for so long, toying with you like a cat with a mouse. 

San would dig his nails into your skin, leaving behind rough, possessive scratches that would make you squirm and writhe in your exquisite rope cage. San's moods were always too unpredictable - loving you, hating you, wanting to fuck you one moment, wanting to chop your head off the next. It was a real surprise when you were invited to his chambers tonight, because you could never tell what he wanted. But you knew that word had probably got around - you have a taste for pain. Just like him.

San pulled on one of the many red ropes and lifted you higher into the air, causing your posture to change to a horizontal position. His hand cupped your chin and lifted your head so that you were looking into his eyes. 

He ran his tongue slowly over your plump lower lip, tilting your head to the side in an almost childish motion, as if considering the possibilities of what he wanted to do to you. You sobbed, not knowing how much longer you would be able to endure the Emperor's game.

"Don't move, love." San murmured, the hoarse, guttural sound of his voice vibrating against your skin. He leaned against you again, and this time he kissed you hard on the mouth. The kiss was dirty and wet, but so hot that it made you feel like you were burning up. 

The Emperor's golden silk robe falls to the floor and spreads out at his feet, exposing his chiseled body as San slides his silk trousers down his thighs and pulls out his hard, thick cock; on his massive girth, the veins are clearly visible, as are drops of shiny pre-cum on the swollen head. 

The seductive sight makes you lick your lips and open your mouth to receive the Emperor's cock, but instead of a treat, you get a sharp slap in the face. It stings, but it is worth it for the little sparks of excitement that spread across your flushed skin from the blow.

"You'll have to ask for permission, my love." San snarls, clenching his fingers tightly around your chin. 

"Please, my Emperor. Please..." Your voice trembles, either from the cold air that fills the Emperor's chambers or from the anticipation of pleasure.

San's lips curve into a devilish grin as he strokes the head of his cock over your lips, coating them with a viscous, clear liquid before sliding it into your waiting, warm mouth. He groans quietly as you circle the head of his cock with your tongue, stroking the velvety skin and capturing the bitter pre-cum in your mouth. 

"Good girl..." He purrs as he tangles his fingers in your long, black hair. Your exquisite hairstyle has long since been turned into a disheveled mess. 

San pushes his cock deeper into your mouth until the thick head rests against the back of your throat. You swallow, letting him push deeper. He hisses as he grabs a tighter hold of the strands of your hair and pulls on them a little, making you moan and sending vibrations up and down the length of his cock.

"Do it again, sweetheart." San orders as he pulls your mouth down the length of his massive cock until your nose is pressed against the hot skin of his pubic. You do as you're told and swallow around him again, the walls of your throat clenching delightfully as you try to hold his thick cock captive in your hot throat.

"Fuck." The Emperor's voice is like a big cat's as his hips begin to move—rough and deep thrusts that create a relentless rhythm as he fucks your mouth. 

Tears well up in your eyes, but you dare not fight back, allowing yourself to be used the way the Emperor wants you to be used. 

You were completely helpless as the San continued to ram his wiry cock down your throat. The thick weave of ropes was the only thing holding you still as your body rocked with each powerful thrust of his muscular thighs. His golden skin was glistening with the sweat that was dripping down between the tight muscles of his abs.

The saliva was dripping down the sides of your mouth, along with a large amount of his pre-cum, but it only seemed to excite San even more. You could feel the throbbing of his cock on your tongue as its velvety length slid down with each thrust. Your moans rumbled around him, stimulating him even more. Soon the Emperor came out of your mouth, leaving thick strands of cum on your face, marking you as belonging to him. 

San grinned at the sight of your face covered in the milky goo of his cum. The smile on his face looked almost sinister in the golden flame of the candles. 

San used two fingers to collect a large amount of his cum from your lips and put it in your mouth, smearing it on his tongue as he did so. He watched with pleasure as you eagerly sucked on his fingers in the hope of more. The sharp blade of the knife glinted in the dim light of the room, cutting the red ropes that held you aloft, and your body landed with a thud on the soft feathered bedding of his mattress. The erotic pattern of the ropes still bound your body, so San still had you under his control like a puppet.

The Emperor turned you over and pressed your back against the scarlet silk sheets. Your long hair blew across the fabric like a black fan. Before your body had a chance to relax, a sharp slap came down on your sensitive, wet cunt, causing your entire body to curve in the bloody tangle of threads that were wrapped around you. San laughed loudly and threw his head back, revealing his sweet dimples as jets of fluid squirt from your pussy and flooded the silk sheets beneath you. 

"It's true what they say, isn't it, darling? You like the pain so much that you can come without being touched, just for the sensation of it." He slides two fingers inside your cunt, circling around the sensitive walls, and gives you another sharp slap. The double stimulation sends new streams of fluid spurting out of you. 

You squirm under his caress and try to squeeze your legs together, but the ropes won't let you do it.

In one swift motion, San cuts the rope that is holding your legs together and spreads them wide open, exposing your pink pussy to his hungry gaze. He spits on your cunt, enjoying the way his saliva drips down between your quivering folds and mixes with your juices. 

"Are you as delicious as you look, Jewel?" His mouth presses greedily against your pussy, his tongue sliding between your folds, and his devilishly curved lips sucking enthusiastically on your sensitive clit. San lets out a soft moan as his tongue plunges into your hole, lapping up your juices like a cat hungry for cream. 

You shudder with pleasure, arching your back and pressing your pussy against his face as the Emperor flicks the tip of his tongue along the swollen bundle of nerves. The thought of the Great Emperor San eating your pussy as if it were his only purpose in life would have been unthinkable this morning. But here you are, lying on his luxurious silken bed, surrounded by the gold of his chamber, caressed by his strong hands and skilled tongue. San was an experienced lover who knew how to give his partner the most sophisticated and violent of pleasures. 

"Your Majesty, I feel so good. You feel like heaven. Ah." You were no longer able to hold back the loud moans and pleas that were coming from your throat. You moaned, your legs shaking slightly as San ran his tongue along the long strip from your hole to your clit, before his teeth scratched it as he began to suck again. "Please, my Emperor... nmmm."

Ignoring your whimpering and the way your body was shaking and writhing, San continued to lick your cunt. Insatiable, he sucked, licked, and rubbed his tongue over your quivering, oozing hole, moaning and purring at your taste. 

As soon as San was satisfied enough, he would pull away from your cunt, leaving you to whimper in longing at the loss of his tongue. But the feeling of frustration quickly disappeared as his thick, wiry cock entered you, making you scream with pleasure as he penetrated you at the very base. The feeling of being stretched was searing, San's cock too big for your unprepared cunt, thick throbbing veins rubbing against your tender flesh with every movement. 

You felt so stuffed. So full. It made you feel as if you belonged to your emperor. 

San didn't wait a second before he started the move, right from the start with a hard, fast pace. His strong thighs pressed against yours each time his cock entered you, the large head hitting your cervix with each powerful, deep thrust. The sound of the blows against your skin was an echo through his golden chambers. As he quickened his pace to fuck you even harder, his breathing became heavy and his voice husky and low. 

"You are mine!" San growled as he wrapped his fingers around your throat and squeezed it tightly, effectively cutting off your supply of oxygen. Tears streamed from your eyes, and your vision went dark as you felt yourself fall into a deep abyss of pleasure that was mixed with pain. Every part of your body was on fire, as was your mind. "You belong to me, my love." He loosened his grip on your throat for a few seconds to allow you to breathe, but it was only a moment before his grip tightened again, the gold ring on his finger digging into the back of your neck, leaving a rough crimson trail behind it. 

The Emperor's cock dragged deliciously along the silken walls of your body, causing you to clench around it. You begin to drool, saliva dripping down your chin as San leans down to your face to lick your mouth as his hips begin to fuck you from a different angle, the head of his cock now rubbing deliciously against your G-spot.

Your orgasm rages through you like an all-consuming flame, destroying every conscious part of you and leaving you boneless. You wriggle underneath him, your legs shaking violently as you unconsciously wrap them around his slender, slutty waist. You start to squirt again, copious jets of fluid splashing around San's cock as he continues to fuck you like there's no tomorrow. His pace slows, his thrusts become hard and short, and you come again. This time you feel the emperor's hot, thick cum staining your tender walls white.

San rests his forehead on your shoulder to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his hair onto your skin, before he pulls away from you and slowly pulls his cock out of your used pussy. He stretches out like a big cat before he bends down to give you a deep kiss. 

"You really are a little jewel, darling. I think I'll keep you all to myself." His dark, piercing eyes sparkle with malevolence and seem to be the repository of all human sin. "Let's go take a bath, my love."

San rises from the bed, snaps his fingers, and the servants waiting outside the door immediately begin to prepare a bath for the two of you. You're still a little lost after your orgasm; your body aches, and now the ropes wrapped around you cause more discomfort than pleasure. But you look up at the Emperor with a look of utter adoration and admiration, admiring the way the muscles of his back move under the golden, wet skin. 

"As you wish, my Emperor."

[glitch-karma]

Can I request another part of your "forgetful reader" headcanons you did but with Jouno, Fyodor, and Ranpo? Nikolai too if that's not too many characters, but dont worry about him if it is. Same prompt but with these characters

I was actually just thinking about my forgetful reader hc's the other day, Idk if other writers do this but I always go back and read my older stuff lmao

So here's part two, I had a bit of trouble figuring out what Nikolai would give his partner as a gift, so that isn't specified, I did add Chuuya and Sigma though

Cw: Degradation/name calling in Jouno's, Slightly spicy in Fyodor's, Kinda OOC Fyodor

Jouno

Low-key high-key an asshole

Don't get me wrong I'm in love with him,

But his love language is degradation (hot)

Jouno constantly is making fun of and being rude about how forgetful you are

If it seriously bothers you, he'll try his best to lay off as much as possible

Only because it's you though

He does get very irritated though

He got you a lovely set of earrings that resembled his a bit

They were honestly very nice and semi-expensive

You had always kept them in a tiny jewelry box on your nightstand

But after a rough day of trying to catch terrorists, you'd clumsily taken them off and fallen asleep

When you were getting ready for work the next morning, you realized they'd gone missing

In a panic, you tore apart your apparent in search of them

After a while, you heard a voice that made you wanna puke

"What's up with you huh? Why's my little troublemaker so frantic?"

Oh my lord no

"What are you talking about.?"

"Oh please, your heartbeat is a dead giveaway. Along with the shakiness in your voice. Can't hide from me y'know."

You shakily sighed as you admitted you'd lost the earrings

"Pft- are you kidding?"

He laughed slightly walking towards you

"How pathetic of you, losing a gift from your precious boyfriend?" He sighs in 'frustration'

"They were expensive too, do you even have a concept of money?" He laughs,

At this point, small drops of tears filled your eyes slowly as he kept poking fun at you

"Honestly how air-headed can you get? Tsk, should I be questioning this relationship?"

After a few seconds of silence, Jouno tensed as he heard your quiet whimpers.

He'd gone too far.

For a second, he didn't really know what to do

He sighed, bending down next to you and wrapping his arm around you.

"'m sorry." He mumbled lightly

You sniffled a bit, you looked up to see the concerned frown on his face, along with the softness that was rare for you to see in him

After a moment you sighed, leaning into his shoulder

"I'll get you a million more pairs if it means I don't have to hear you cry again. Truly."

He really was a good man, he just had some issues showing it.

But in the meantime, he'll let you teach him how to open up

I literally love him so much even if he's a dick head

Fyodor

He kinda just doesn't care-

I don't see him as the type to really mind stuff like that in a partner

But I don't really see him doing anything to help per se

He'll give you light reassurance if you're upset, but I don't see him doing too much more though

Surprisingly, he didn't buy you a country

He got you a necklace that was very clearly expensive, it had a key attached to it that was also made of some metal that did not look cheap, along with the small Diamonds and sapphires lacing the key (Real btw you tested it)

It was extravagantly expensive, and he made sure you knew that was less than you deserved (He couldn't find countries on the market)

Wow what a nice gift

Now where the hell did it go?

You, of course, retraced every step

Your apartment? Cleaned vigorously to search and find it

The cafe by your house? You paid every worker to search for it

The Doa office? A wreck

You were ass up on the floor looking under one of the couches when you heard a whistle behind you

When you tuned you saw the man you were scared to see

"Why might you be in such a comprehensive pose my paradox?"

You shakily sighed as you hit your head on the floor

Fyodor then quickly determined why you were on the floor by the necklace missing from your neck

He chuckled a bit as he walked towards you

He leaned down and picked you up, silencing you as he carried you to a basement you were unaware of

Before you could question, he pulled out the necklace, inserted the key into a large door, opening it to reveal a giant glorious room filled with all your favorite things, comfortable chairs, and a giant kitchen

As he set you down you started freaking out

"It's not quite done yet, I wasn't intending for you to lose it so fast. I'll get some help in here as well."

"You- This was all a plan for me?"

You yelled, running around and looking at everything

He chuckled as he grabbed you, leaning down and kissing your neck

"Жизнь моя,(1) you deserve this and more.."

He then threw you on the couch, hitting a button that shut all the doors and windows

"And tonight, I'll prove it to you."

Let's just say, you had trouble walking for awhile

(1) Жизнь моя, pronounced "Zhizn’ moya", means “my life” in Russian and is usually a term of endearment

Sigma

Oh my lord he is so understanding it's crazy

Although Sigma is the furthest thing from forgetful, his brain and schedule will always have room for stuff you need to remember

Got a doctor's appointment you forgot? He remembers and brings you to it

Forgot where you put something important? He knows where it is

Forgot to eat? He'll make you a meal himself

Forgot to meet up with a client? He'll meet them for you

Honestly, he gives you royalty treatment

He loves just giving you gifts in general, so he custom-made you an obsidian necklace that had a poker chip on it, The obsidian in his words was to represent how strong you are, and the poker chip was to remind you of him

It was one of the most thoughtful gifts ever

And you'd lost it

You debated just asking him at first,

But no. Too embarrassing

You'd worn it every day and now POOF

GONE?!

You didn't wanna worry your already busy partner with this

So you tore apart your half of the room before neatly searching through Sigma's half of the room

3 hours later and nothing.

For a second you debated throwing yourself off the sky casino

But then the click of your bedroom door was heard

"Oh my-"

You slowly looked up to see Sigma's confused face as he looked at your side of the room

For a while, he was silent in thought

"Are you.. redecorating-"

You groaned as you fell the rest of the way down on the floor

"I lost your necklace.. I didn't wanna ask you for help."

Sigma chuckles a bit as you look up at him

"That was actually my mistake"

Before you could ask, he walked over to his dresser and opened a small box, pulling it back out

"You'd accidentally left it in the bathroom"

Wow

The one place you didn't check

Definitely cuddles after though

Nikolai

He would not give zero shit's

He just loves you

He might make fun of you a bit, but he honestly just thinks you're adorable when you lose stuff

He asks Fyodor to buy you new things when you lose them rather than look for them-

He has such admiration and genuine interest in you that he gets you gifts tailored exactly to your interests

If you lose a gift from him, he honestly won't be mad

"Awe my Kindred Spirit,"

He grabs his cloak and reaches in, pulling out something even better

"Here does this make it better!?"

"Nikolai!"

He dances around the room with you to celebrate you being happy again

Ranpo

Oh he teases you, shame on you if you think he wouldn't

He gently teases you though, stopping if he gets even a slight hint it upsets you

Ranpo does have amazing patience though, there has never been a moment your forgetfulness has annoyed or bothered him once

He regularly gives you snacks as gifts, but he gave you a silly little necklace with a duck charm (Yes this is a Wan ref)

It was silly and cheap, but it was sweet

When you lost it you were crushed

You looked for it but could not find it

In the morning you went to the agency to try to search for it, but on your way there you actually met with Ranpo at a sweet store

"Hey there detective darlin'!"

He yelled as he ran out of the store

For internally freaked out a bit as he started excitedly telling you about the sale in the store

You chuckled nervously, making him immediately deduce what happened

"Ohhhhh, I see. You lost the Necklace!"

You kinda expected him to figure it out

He then chuckled as he walked over to a small quarter vending machine and pointed at the prizes

"Ya see! We can just keep playing till we get a new one!"

You two then had a small date of finding quarters and playing the Machine till you had a bag full of prizes, and a new duck necklace of course

Chuuya

Although Chuuya is a very understanding person, I can't deny this wouldn't slightly annoy him

He would never make fun of you for it, or make you feel bad though

He will always express that he's not mad at you and does his best to hide his slight frustration

He does understand though, I mean the man didn't remember the first 8 years of his life for years so

He is a little protective of you though. if anyone gave you shit for forgetting something he would a million percent throw hands

He leaves notes all over the house and your hands about important things, he will also text you to remind you about meals throughout the day

"Have you drank water"

"Ah, fuck-"

"Exactly"

Chuuya loves spending money on you

It's his favorite activity

You already have 20 custom-tailored outfits cause of his love for fashion,

But that doesn't mean he can't get you more tailored accessories

One of them was an anklet that had his and your initials in it, along with diamonds and your favorite stone

It was cute, although it was easily hidden by clothes, you wore it very often

You had on the perfect outfit to show it off that day, but when you opened up the cabinet you kept it in, it was gone.

Oh fuck

Panic ensues

The sheets were torn off your bed, and your closet full of clothes from him was searched from top to bottom

The bathroom was also searched along with Chuuya's half of the room

You sighed as you fixed the house, knowing Chuuya hates messes

You then reluctantly called him

"Hey, still at work but what's up doll?"

The softness in his voice made you tear up a bit in guilt

"Chuuya.. I-"

You took a pause to breathe

"I lost the Anklet you gave me."

You heard him gratefully sigh and shuffle in his chair a bit

"That pause made me think you were in trouble"

He joked a bit

"I can buy 20 more of those if I wanted to Sweetheart."

You sniffled a bit

"But that was important!"

He paused a bit

"Are you crying?"

You then paused

"No.."

"Baby."

You could hear him then walk through the halls of the Port Mafia building

"Give me just one sec, "

You heard him then knock on a door and open it

"Hey boss, I need to head home early. Let me know Tomorrow if there's anything else you need me for"

"Alright, I'm on my way home. We'll search together, okay?"

You sniffled a little as you smiled

"You're the best."

"Anything for you Angel."

[person-of-varying-obsessions]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Drabble - Proposal

**This is based on an idea I had for a Lucifer x OC storyline I was working on before, but I thought it'd be fun to convert it into a more general Lucifer x Reader drabble**

When it comes time for you two to be thinking about marriage, it's Lucifer who makes the first move, much to their future surprise. He plans out everything. A whole day is made out of it, with him leaving early in the morning to make sure he can prep everything ahead of time.

The next day comes around, and you wake up to an empty bed and a doodled-on note on your nightstand. It's clearly Lucifer's handwriting, and it apologizes for his absence but tells you to follow the clues on these notes to find him.

For the first clue, you're led to the bookstore you frequent with Lucifer that's known for acquiring books from Earth. The owner, Draznall, sees you and hands over a book filled with sticky notes.

You open the book and find that every sticky note is marked for the best parts of the story. Some are sweet, a couple funny, and a few are very spicy.

On the back cover is a note similar to the one left on their nightstand, this one telling you to pick a color before following the next hint. You keep one in mind before leaving, giving the shop owner a friendly wave goodbye on your way out.

The next couple of stops are to your favorite food places and trinket stores. When it gets to be too much to carry at once, as if waiting in the wings, one of Lucifer's clones appears and takes everything handed to it without a word before leaving through a portal.

The latest hint alludes to the next being the last before you get to see Lucifer. A grand boutique towered above you, and, when you stepped inside, an attendant immediately joined you, ushering you towards the back. Once you're escorted to what looks to be a fitting room, the attendant leaves, replaced by the boutique's head tailor. He gushes over you, saying you're "just as beautiful/handsome/lovely as the king said you'd be". Before you can ask any questions, he leads you into a changing room, saying you need to pick an outfit to wear for your dinner tonight.

Despite your confusion, you settle on something comfortable but fancy from the selection. When you step out, the tailor ushers you to a vanity with various accessories laid out that perfectly match your outfit.

After handing you the last note, he motioned you off, wishing you luck with the rest of your evening.

The note led you to the nicest restaurant in Pentagram City. "Tell them you have a reservation for Lucifer", the note said. So you did exactly that. The person behind the podium's eyes widened before they ran off to fetch the manager. The manager appeared and bowed, asking you to follow him to their reservation.

The space was dimly lit, candles placed on vacant tables lighting your way to the main attraction: a single round table with a bright candelabra at its center. Settled near the base of the candelabra were two rubber ducks. As you moved closer, you saw one was your identical duck counterpart while the other perfectly resembled Lucifer. But a shimmer caught your eye; a ring glittered at the chest of the Lucifer duck.

"Do you like it?"

Whipping around, you smiled as Lucifer walked into the light. He was dressed in a more ornate version of his usual suit, the only difference being the black swapped in place for the usual white.

"It's beautiful..."

"I'm glad you like it." He made his way to the table and tenderly picked up his duck look-alike, cradling it with both hands. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to you and dropped to one knee. "My dear... the time I've spent with you has made my eternity so much brighter. You were able to love me at my worst, willing to be patient with every whim and mistake I made. I hope I can manage to match your care and devotion... as your eternal partner."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt proposal. Falling to your knees, you wrapped your arms around him and held him tight, brushing your nose against the curve of his throat.

"Yes. A thousand times yes."

He sniffled beside you, and you felt him carefully set the duck aside so he could return your bone-crushing embrace. When you pulled back, you held out your hand for him to slip the ring onto. It fit like a glove, even somehow matching the outfit you'd picked.

Helping you to your feet, he led you to the table. A waiter came by and took your orders. You both chatted about the "adventure" he'd sent you on and what led to him deciding to propose.

Once dinner was done, he walked you back to the palace - he wanted some privacy to enjoy some time with his now-fiancee.

As you were walking, you said, "...Pink."

"Huh?"

"Your bookstore clue said to keep a color in mind for later. I pick Pink."

A bright golden blush quickly covered his face and neck. Pink was the scene between the heroine and their new partner, where they shared their first time after managing to defeat the man that had caused them so much misery. He had every word of that book memorized, and he'd made sure to remember what color sticky note was on which page/s.

He grinned despite himself. Pulling you closer, he leaned his head on your shoulder. "Pink it is."

[pygmi-cygni]

Spilled Milk

summary: you realize your husband might be a little spoiled.

I don't think you guys realize how tempted I was to use the king john gif from the animated robin hood because lmao.

cw: john being an annoying brat, free use? but not smut, mentions of sex, imma put this at a spicy rating because nothing that sexy happens, just a bit of touching and kissing.

"John, would you- stop it, I'm in the middle of something," you scolded, dropping a quill as you felt a familiar pair of hands shove under your dressing gown. The warm, sleepy mound of a man ignored you and continued his mission, slumping over you once he was fully groping your soft form. You rolled your eyes and patted his hair affectionately.

"Want," he mumbled, nipping a little too hard under your ear. You sighed.

"Maybe a please, dear?"

"No."

He tugged at the laces of your dress, grumbling when they got stuck. You swatted his hands away, ignoring his scowl.

It was barely morning and you'd just gotten dressed. The chambers were roasting - John couldn't sleep if it felt less than mid-July and you hated the heat. Deciding to do your writing in the library, you basked in the cool air of downstairs.

Clearly, this had not satisfied all parties.

John had dragged a quilt around himself with nothing else, the nerve and waltzed downstairs, groaning loud enough to wake the staff.

"If you vowed to love me till death, why are you betraying me?" He groused, resolving to press as close to your back as possible. The dramatics were in full force this morning, apparently.

"I'm not betraying you, John, it's seven in the morning. Get dressed, dearest."

Again at breakfast, he got up from his end of the table and walked over, planting a big wet kiss on your mouth. You were halfway through chewing. Yelping, you pushed his face away and coughed delicately into your napkin.

"Wh-"

Reclaiming his prize, John not-very-subtly reached his hand to your thigh, stroking as he kissed your jaw. The waitstaff looked politely away. Once his craving had been sated and your reputation sufficiently tarnished, John returned to his seat and finished his meal.

"John Lackland," you sputtered, utensils limp in your hands. He looked up from his bowl and paused, taking in your furiously disheveled appearance. A moment of tense silence.

"Do not ever-"

"I do like it when you say my name, darling." With that piece de resistance, he pushed away from the table and strode off, airily announcing he had a hunting date with a lord in Loxley.

One of the senior maids eyeballed you as she cleaned up. You sat, jaw clenched in tense focus, before smiling politely and walking briskly to your chambers.

John would be gone the rest of the day, thankfully leaving you to enjoy your day without interruption.

Good. You had things to do.

He'd found you hours later, reading in the garden. You heard his loud, strong strides crunching along the path and continued to read, counting the seconds until your cloak was pulled of your shoulders.

"Hello, flower," he purred, diving his sweaty head of curls into your neck. Christ alive, he was filthy.

"Have you bathed?" you asked chidingly, tugging a leaf out of his curls. He mumbled noncommittally and kissed you regardless. It was a sweet, pleasant kiss that warmed the tips of your fingers. A chilly breeze blew through the vale, rustling the rosebushes.

"I'm cold," he complained, "why are you reading outside?"

"I like the fresh air."

"But I can't kiss you outside." His dark blue eyes were pinched and frustrated with your resilience.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm cold," he enunciated. You scoffed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Go bathe, John, I'll be inside soon."

He stood, dumfounded by your lack of affection. Of course you wanted to hold him and kiss him, but it was the afternoon, and you had things to do, and he could wait a damn second. And, his expression was funnier than any jester you'd invited for a gala.

You raised your eyebrow and pinched his cheek. "Run along, the water won't be getting any warmer."

While he strode off grumpily to clean up, you hurried to the bedroom. You had some things to prepare.

You sat on the bed, back to the door, a knowing smile on your face. John always took his baths in the evening, because he liked to take a 'nightcap' right after. Obviously, this would ruin the cleanliness, forcing him to take a bath in the morning, prompting another session, which...well, you get the idea.

A great yawn came from the adjoining washroom, and John waltzed up to the bed, bare naked and grinning like a coyote. His warm, damp cheek nestled against yours, and you felt the hard planes of his chest against your shoulders while he played with your hair.

"I've finished my bath," he announced, chin held high. Snorting, you put aside your embroidery and scratched his chin.

"Yes, how noble of you. Did you wash behind your ears?"

He sent you a sour look, prompting another giggle.

"Don't mother me," he groused, hands worming under your nightgown. He sighed contentedly, palms cupped warmly over your breasts. You inhaled sharply and shivered at the pleasant feeling. John's rough hands smoothed appreciatively over your waist, and you could feel his lips sucking at your neck.

You let him have his fun, then abruptly pulled away. A slight twinge of regret at the loss of his warm body, but his affronted expression made up for it.

"John, it's evening. You need to dress for bed," you said gently, adjusting your nightgown.

He blinked, confused.

"John-"

"Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?" His eyes were narrowed and he folded his brawny arms over his chest. The sight of his golden skin made you falter momentarily, eyes skating downwards.

You sat further away, pushing a smile from your cheeks. When he reached for you and you retreated, his lip curled, slightly amused.

"Are you playing games, flower? Well, my legs are longer and-"

"If you don't dress for bed, I'll never touch you again for as long as I live."

He gasped, eyes burning in an offended scowl. You wished to take it back, the bewildered hurt in his eyes was endearing. John stood, naked and scolded, for a moment, until he complied. Stomping to the dresser, he threw open the doors and yanked out a linen shirt. You watched with baffled amazement as he dressed in record time, slamming drawers and dropping obscenities.

Huffing, he stood at the foot of your bed, face twisted in a pout. You bit your lip, unable to resist.

"Your buttons are wrong, my love."

"Oh, damn it all to-aaagh," he fussed, fumbling for his neckline and wrenching the buttons closed. You grinned primly from under the coverlet, eyes glittering in the candlelight. John, finally righted, stomped over and shoved himself under the covers. He hesitated, then turned completely away from you.

You watched his still-wet curls soak the pillowcase. After a moment of silence, you began to worry. Inching closer, you rested a hand on his forearm.

"John?" Your voice was light, caring. He huffed and scooted away, nearly hanging off the bed.

"You'll fall off, silly thing, come here," you tugged him backwards. He held strong for a moment, but relented when you stroked his hair. A terrific sigh blew up his bangs, and he cast you with a dramatic eye roll.

"Why am I being persecuted?" He asked, voice petulant. Ah yes, what a reasonable man. Persecuted, he says.

"I'm not mad at you, John," you started, ruffling his curls fondly. His scowl melted a bit as you spoke gently. "There's just some...things we need to work out."

He pursed his lips, suspicious, but let you continue.

"You have a habit, dear. A very...tactile habit, and one that usually I enjoy-" he smirked- "but really, John? At breakfast?"

Realizing you were genuinely trying to convince him of something, he begrudgingly straightened up, curls matted and sticking up. You paused in your attention for a second, letting him ponder over the idea.

"All that to say," you continued, gauging his blank stare, "if you could contain your attention to this room, that would be just fine. But you've gotten a bit greedy in the out-of-doors, and people talk." You kissed his cheek softly and smiled at the flush across his nose.

John scowled.

"But love," he whined, "am I to just look at you all other hours of the day?"

You shrugged, nestling back under the covers. "You'll piece it together, dearest. Now turn over, I'm tired."

He was quiet then, the subtle muttering of his crossness just noticeable over the crickets outside.

You felt something warm and distinctly damp shove itself under your nightgown. Shrieking, your eyes shot open and you pushed his face away from your chest.

"John-"

"We are in this room, are we not?" His eyes sparkled mischievously and he winked. "And I haven't had my dessert."

You rolled your eyes, smiling in defeat. "I suppose."

A barrage of tickling kisses was pressed to your ribs, cascading the both of you in laughter.

tags!! comment to join xox ty for reading

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love @unear7hly

[talaok]

Hi🌻

Can you please write a pedro×reader where they are fighting really seriously and suddenly kisses the reader and things get spicy...

And if it's no bother can you please make it long

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Warnings: angst and allusion to smut

11:32 pm

Another day, and another night alone.

Something was playing on the tv, but you had stopped paying attention a while ago.

The streetlamp across the street felt more interesting than anything a screen had to offer.

The road was deserted, and the house across from yours had all the lights off,

It's a Friday night, they're probably out. You can almost picture them at that cute bar in town, holding each other's hands while talking about their respective days. 

It must be nice, to be a perfect couple, to have someone to go home to every day, to not wake up and go to sleep in an empty bed.

But there you were.

Yes, you knew what you had gotten yourself into, you knew about the long hours, the need to move every six months, the hectic lifestyle, you knew about all of it... but still, nothing could have ever prepared you for the loneliness that came with it.

And what angered you was that maybe it wouldn't have been that bad, if he only talked to you once in a while, a real talk, a conversation starting with a simple "how are you doing?"

So that you could tell him how you were really doing.

But no, every time you were together now, you either had sex or both of you were too tired to finally have that conversation.

It had been a whole month now of that god-awful routine, and you were sick of it.

Tonight you were gonna talk, whether he wanted to or not

A click sounded to your left as the door opened.

"Hi," he said more like a question, a clear hint of his confusion.

You were never awake when he got home.

"Hi" 

"what are you doing up?"

You stood from the couch, as he took off his jacket and tossed it on the hanger.

"I was waiting for you"

"yeah?" he smirked, his eyes glinting with a suggestive tint.

"We need to talk"

"oh" he breathed, clearly disappointed "about what?"

You were now in front of him, taking in the scruffy beard that had just recently gotten some streaks of white matching his hair. 

The evidence of the years passed could be seen all across his face, except his eyes, of course, the same big hazel ones you fell in love with.

"Scarily expressive" you had told him the first time you met, and never a day had gone by that you hadn't stood by it.

You were sure that he could stop talking any day and his eyes would do the rest without any problems whatsoever.

And now, now what they conveyed was tiredness, mixed with confusion.

"You're never home Pedro" 

there, plain and simple.

He sighed now, getting where this was heading, he could have acted clueless all he wanted, but he too, knew this conversation was long overdue.

"Y/n I'm tired, can we do this another time?"

"When?" you scoffed "We never see each other! It's like I live alone Pedro, how do you think that makes me feel?"

"Listen it's not my decision, I have to work" he muttered, walking to the bedroom and leaving you behind like a useless piece of trash.

"I know it's not, but do you even try? How long has it been since you've taken a day off? Hell, even a morning off?" You trailed behind him.

Once again: You were gonna talk today.

"What would you rather I do? Stop working?" he asked, condescending as ever, turning to face you as he took his shoes off.

"No! I'm just saying you could try a little harder to be home more often"

"I was home yesterday!"

"Yeah at 5:30 pm and you invited Mike over"

"what's wrong with Mike being here?"

"Nothing just- we never have a moment to ourselves anymore"

"Well I'm sorry if I want to see my friends too"

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't, just- God, you never listen to me!" you snapped, throwing your hands to your sides

"When was the last time that we had breakfast together? Or that we went on a date, huh?"

This time he stayed silent

"exactly" you sighed "We're supposed to spend time together Pedro, for fuck's sake we're a couple!"

"Once again y/n, I have to work"

"Are you kidding me!?" you closed your fists by your side as you shut your eyes trying to calm down "Pedro have you listened to a fucking word I sai-"

What the fuck?

His lips were on yours.

"what are you doing?"

"Did you know you're really hot when you're mad?" he smirked, holding your waist

"shut up. I'm trying to have a serious conversation"

"nobody's stopping you" he murmured sultry, his mouth founding your neck.

God, you hated the whimper leaving your mouth

"A-All I'm trying to say is that you could try to be home more o-often"

"Mh-mh" he hummed against your neck, his beard scratching it ever so deliciously.

"Y-you're not-" you let out a sigh as he began sucking the skin beneath your ear "You're not listening to me"

"I am. go on" he urged, biting at your earlobe and causing a gasp to your throat.

"fuck-Pedro..." you warned 

"What sweetheart?" 

"I know what you're doing, t-this is not going to work"

And at that, the bastard chuckled, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

"Funny you say that, baby," a wicked grin pulled at his lips as your eyes met his "'cause I think it already has"

"No it hasn't"

"no?" he whispered "Then how do you explain this?" he asked as his fingers reached the wet patch on your panties.

"God you're really..." you gritted, a mixture of anger and arousal coursing through you.

"What angel?" he ghosted your mouth "What am I?"

"you're an asshole"

A huffed laugh fled his mouth "And yet, you're gonna let me fuck you"

You bit your lip, trying to clear your mind

"We're still gonna talk later"

"Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want"

... 

(I just proof-read this and I realized I might have interpreted the request kind of wrong. You meant an enemies to lovers kinda thing didn't you? If you did I'm genuinely sorry)

[kiarastromboli]

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: jealous!reader, stalker!Matt, just a bit suggestive 🤏🏼

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Y/N will meet Sarah, who doesn't seem to particularly please her, and after spending the morning waiting for him, our two main characters will finally be able to enjoy their dates together.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I know the really spicy part takes time to arrive, but don't worry, it's coming soon.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑:

Here we are, Saturday.

This morning when I woke up, I was in high spirits. I was going to spend my day with her, well, at least half of my day, given that I still had to work this morning.

Last night, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep; I couldn't stop thinking about today and how it would go. I was apprehensive, expecting both the best and the worst, but I really didn't know what to expect. Even though she had made advances, Caleb, her so-called friend, had clearly hinted that he also wanted the place I coveted.

So naturally, I spent my night on social media trying to find Caleb's accounts to learn more about him. And to be honest, it wasn't very difficult to find.

"Caleb_the.1, seriously?" I thought when I found his Instagram account. This guy was so self-centered it almost made me want to vomit.

His bio consisted of bro-ish phrases to show that he was an alpha athlete above the others, it was ridiculous to the point of being laughable. How can you hang out with this kind of guy, y/n? Seriously, aren't you ashamed?

Scrolling through his profile, I found about fifteen shirtless photos of him, of course, it goes without saying. And honestly, it's not very prudent of him to expose his life so much on social media. In less than five minutes, I knew which gyms he frequented, his favorite restaurants, and all the places he liked to go daily, giving me the opportunity to learn a little more about him.

But for now, he'll have to wait. My priority is y/n, and I'll deal with his case after our appointment.

"You're late!" Sarah said to me when I arrived at the bookstore.

"Sorry, traffic was jammed this morning," I lied. I didn't have an excuse; I was late only because I spent an extra 20 minutes scrolling through Caleb's profile this morning to learn more.

"Matt, since when does traffic matter to you when you're on your bike??" she said, confused.

"It's none of your business, Sarah, stop asking me questions," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, you're lucky I'm your friend; otherwise, I would've fired you!" she said before turning around and going back to her tasks.

It's true; I'm lucky to have a friend like Sarah. I probably don't think enough about thanking her.

I went back to my post and continued my morning, chatting a bit with her; there weren't many customers today.

"Matt, you're lying; you're not going to tell me you've never thought about that before!" Sarah said, shocked that I've never had any weird fantasies about a celebrity.

"No, never, and I find it weird that you were obsessed with Zac Efron until the end of high school!" I said, laughing.

"First of all, I wasn't obsessed! I just had a little crush on him, and secondly, everyone had a crush on that guy back then!" she said, justifying herself.

Meanwhile, I hadn't noticed, but someone had entered the shop at that moment.

"Yeah, in middle school, Sarah, not in high school!" I replied, laughing.

"Screw you, Matty!" she said, chuckling and giving me a light push.

We were interrupted by the voice of a newcomer behind us.

"Hey," she said, her voice a bit sharp.

I immediately turned around, recognizing y/n's voice.

But something was different; her voice wasn't as gentle as usual, and I couldn't see her usual smile.

"Oh, hi, y/n," I replied, smiling.

"Um, this is Sarah, my colleague. I didn't know you'd come so soon," I said, scratching my neck.

"Hi," Sarah said, smiling and extending her hand.

"I've got my hands full, sorry," y/n said to Sarah, giving her some sort of fake smile.

"Yeah, I thought I'd come a little earlier to bring you some coffee," y/n said, turning to me.

"Oh, um, thanks, you didn't have to," I said timidly.

"No, of course, I insist. It's the least I can do after you gave me a ride home last time!" she said, casting a fleeting glance at Sarah.

I'm not sure what game she's playing, but I don't get the feeling she likes Sarah too much.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave you guys. I still have a lot of work. Matt, don't linger too long; we still have to do inventory," Sarah said before leaving us.

A brief silence ensued before I decided to speak.

"It's really nice of you to get the coffee, y/n," I said, smiling.

"It's nothing, I got you a decaf," she said, handing me my coffee.

"Wow, wait, this is my favorite. How did you know—" I started to say before she cut me off.

"Just lucky, I guess," she said, smiling.

Maybe this girl knows me a little better than I thought. I thought I was harder to read than that.

"Well, thank you very much. I finish in 2 hours. If you want, you can browse the bookstore while you wait for me," I said.

"That works out perfectly; I was in the mood to read today," she said, smiling before heading off to explore the bookstore.

It was nice working with her around. We exchanged little glances, and most of the time, she would smile at me.

Honestly, I could get used to working under these conditions.

"Matt, focus. I don't mind you having your friends over here, but I can't handle the customers and inventory all by myself!" Sarah said, getting annoyed, interrupting yet another exchange of glances with y/n.

"Sorry, if you want, I'll take care of the inventory and close the shop today," I said, trying to make amends.

"Okay, but hurry up. We have 45 minutes left before closing, and there's still a stack of books in the back room," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, smiling, and she couldn't help but smile back before I went to do what I needed to do in the back room.

POV of Sarah:

I watched Matt walk into the back room, smiling and shaking my head. How could I stay mad at him after all?

Anyway, I headed back to the counter to tidy up the things lying around when I noticed Matt's friend heading towards the back room.

"Hey, sorry, but you can't go in there," I said, stopping her in her tracks and pointing to the sign on the door that specified "Employees Only."

She stopped and turned to face me.

"Sasha, right?" she said, crossing her arms.

"It's Sarah," I replied.

"Yeah, whatever, Sarah. Have you had feelings for Matt for a long time?" she asked, catching me off guard.

"W-what?" I said, furrowing my brows.

"Let's not play this little game, please. It's not going to work with me. You and I both know you have a huge crush on him, and frankly, it's pathetic. You can see he's not interested in you, so I suggest you keep your distance and let those who actually have a chance take theirs," she said, staring me in the eyes.

I didn't even know how to respond. I couldn't deny it; everything she had just said was true. But there were much better ways to say it.

There was something off about this girl. She had this threatening air about her towards me when I hadn't done anything to her.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go join Matt," she said, before striding off and pushing through the door without giving me a chance to say anything.

Back to Matt's POV:

I heard the door open, thinking it was Sarah coming to say goodbye.

"What, already? It's closing time, and I haven't finished the inventory yet!" I said before seeing y/n appear.

"Oh, it's you," I said, a bit surprised because she had no reason to be here.

"Yeah, I asked Sarah if I could come give you a hand," she said, smiling.

"And she said yes?" I asked, surprised because Sarah is usually strict about the rules, so it would have been strange for her to let y/n in without any objections.

She paused for a moment as if she was taking time to think before answering me.

"No," she said, chuckling, "I waited for her to turn her back before sneaking in here," she confessed, and I laughed.

"I feel like you're going to get me into trouble," I said, smiling.

"Come on, it's not like I'm going to steal any books. Plus, I think it's stupid to restrict access; it's just a back room," she said, rolling her eyes.

"And honestly, I find your colleague rather annoying," she said before covering her mouth.

"Sorry, I spoke before thinking," she said, embarrassed, and I chuckled at her action.

I couldn't help but find it cute.

"Firstly, access is restricted because there are some pretty old books here, the kind that should absolutely not be touched unless you're a professional," I began to explain.

"And secondly, yes, Sarah can be annoying, I'll give you that, but she can also be really nice. I'm sure you'd get along great with her," I said, continuing to do the inventory.

"We'll see about that later. For now, let me help you with all this so we can finally go for a ride on the bike," she said, chuckling before coming to help me.

With y/n's help, I managed to finish the inventory just in time for closing.

As we were about to leave the back room, Sarah shot me a look and nodded towards a section of the bookstore, indicating she wanted to talk to me privately.

"I'm going to do one last round in the aisles just to make sure everything's in order before closing. Wait for me here," I said to y/n, realizing Sarah wanted to talk to me alone.

I walked over, and she pulled me a bit further into the bookstore to ensure y/n couldn't overhear us.

"Hey, what's going on?" I said, chuckling.

"Listen, Matt, I'm your friend, and as such, I can't keep this to myself, you understand?" she began, confusing me.

"Your friend y/n, or whatever she is to you, I don't trust her. You shouldn't hang out with her; that girl is really weird," she said.

Here we go.

Seriously, Sarah, instead of being happy for me, you're having a jealousy fit?

"Okay, I don't know where you're going with this, Sarah, but y/n is a great person, and I won't let you badmouth her just because you're jealous," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Jealous? Matt, she threatened me earlier, specifically telling me to stay away from you! I'm not jealous!" she said, getting annoyed.

My y/n do something like that?

It's not possible; she's way too kind and gentle to threaten someone. I knew Sarah had a crush on me, but I didn't think it was to the point where she'd throw a jealousy fit as soon as I was with another woman.

It disappoints me to see her acting this way; I thought we were past that.

"Whatever you say. I'm done with this," I said, rolling my eyes before turning to leave, but she grabbed my arm.

"If you don't want to believe me, that's your problem, but I'm telling you, Matthew, there's something strange about that girl. You should stay on your guard," she said before letting go of my arm and going to collect her things to leave the bookstore.

I stood there for a moment, feeling confused, before joining y/n.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, ready to go?" I asked her, returning her smile, and she nodded.

Once the bookstore was closed, y/n and I hit the road before stopping at Central Park.

"Central Park, you couldn't have found a more cliché place," she said, chuckling once she removed her helmet.

"I thought it was the company that mattered, not the place," I said, pretending to be offended.

"Okay, don't start, Matt!" she said, pointing her finger at me, and I smiled.

"You know what, there's a pretty nice museum nearby. Let's go there," she suggested.

"So, no stroll in the park," I said, putting on a falsely sad face.

"We'll do that after your park stroll, idiot. Come on, follow me," she said, rolling her eyes.

We walked for a few minutes before finding ourselves in front of the museum she mentioned.

We entered and strolled around, observing the artworks. It was at this moment that I learned something new about y/n—she's been passionate about photography since she was a child.

We spent a good two hours in the museum, chatting about everything and anything. We almost forgot that lunchtime had long passed.

"Oh my God, it's 1:30 in the afternoon, and we still haven't eaten," she said, chuckling when she checked the time on her phone after leaving the museum.

"Really?" I asked, surprised, and she nodded.

"That's your fault; you talk way too much," I said, chuckling.

"Yeah, like you don't love that," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her, smiling.

"A little, and you?" she said, looking me in the eyes.

"A bit," I replied, shrugging.

"Hmm..." she hummed thoughtfully, scanning the surroundings.

"Look, a hot dog stand!" she said excitedly, pointing at the stand before grabbing me by the arm and running towards it.

"And you thought strolling in Central Park was cliché, huh?" I teased once we arrived at the stand.

"Shut up," she said, smiling, before turning to the vendor.

"Two hot dogs, please!" she said cheerfully to the vendor.

"So, I don't even get to choose my meal?" I frowned.

"No, just be quiet and take what I give you!" she said with a smirk, and I chuckled.

"No ketchup!" she added to the vendor as he reached for the sauce compartment.

I hate ketchup, but I don't think I've ever told her that.

She grabbed the hot dogs and paid before I could say anything.

"Ugh, sorry, I hate ketchup, I didn't think to ask if you wanted any," she said, handing me my hot dog.

So it was just a coincidence? You and I probably have much more in common than I could have imagined...

The more time I spend with you, the harder it is for me to believe that you're not the literal definition of perfection, y/n.

"It's okay; I don't like ketchup either anyway," I said, smiling.

"Really??" she said, surprised.

"Yeah, I can't stand it," I said, chuckling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to copy me, huh? I see what you're trying to do, Matty!" she said, narrowing her eyes before taking a bite of her hot dog.

Matty, so we're already at the nickname stage?

"Yeah, that must be it. Keep dreaming," I said, shaking my head and taking a bite of my hot dog.

We continued our little walk to the park.

"Can I be honest with you?" she said, turning to me.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," I replied.

"These hot dogs are really terrible," she said, grimacing, and I laughed.

"I agree," I replied, and she laughed too.

"But I really want to finish them; I hate wasting food!" she said, pouting like a little girl.

Y/n, if only you knew how much you softened my heart.

"It's alright, sweetheart; I'll finish it for you if you can't," I said, smiling.

"Matt, you're so cute, bro," she said, blushing before turning her head.

"Bro?" I chuckled. "That hurts."

"What were you hoping for?" she said, rolling her eyes. "That I'd call you baby?" she said, smiling.

"Okay, go ahead, mock me some more," I said.

"With pleasure, baby," she said with a smirk.

"You're not funny, y/n," I said, finishing my hot dog.

"Maybe, but you adore me anyway," she shrugged, offering me her hot dog for me to eat as agreed.

"I can't deny that," I replied, taking her hot dog.

We continued our walk, chatting about everything and nothing.

I wasn't usually talkative, but with her, everything was so effortless. I loved listening to her; she always had something interesting to say.

She was full of surprises, always having a different opinion or perspective on the world, which made me feel less alone.

"Oh, Matt, look, an ice cream stand!" she said, hopping.

"You're such a child, y/n, you know that?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, I love life, sue me for it," she said, raising her hands sarcastically.

I shook my head before following her to the ice cream stand.

"Oh my god, they have rose-flavored ice cream, it's my favorite scent; you absolutely have to try it!" she said excitedly.

"I don't really feel like ice cream," I started to say before she cut me off to talk to the vendor.

"Two rose-flavored ice creams, please," she said, turning to me with a big smile.

I looked at her bewildered before bursting into laughter; she's completely insane, but I love it.

"Here you go," she said, handing me my ice cream before happily continuing to walk in the park.

How can she have so much energy and smile so much?

It's true; this girl was like a sun; she lit up every place she went.

And me, on the contrary, I felt like I was the moon next to her.

"So, how is it?" she said, smiling, referring to my ice cream.

"Delicious," I replied.

"See, I knew you'd like it," she said proudly.

"Oh, wait, you have some ice cream right there," she said, chuckling before approaching me.

Standing on tiptoes, she placed her hand on my cheek and used the finger of her other hand to wipe the ice cream from the corner of my mouth.

"Here," she said, looking into my eyes and offering me her finger with the ice cream to lick.

Her gaze and expression changed at that moment.

What are you playing at, y/n? Is this your way of making suggestive gestures towards me? If so, you have absolutely no idea the effect you're having on me right now.

I took her finger into my mouth without breaking eye contact, and she bit her lip.

I can't be imagining things; she's not as innocent as she pretends to be.

She then returned to standing normally on both feet before taking a bite of her ice cream, still looking me straight in the eyes.

Fuck, does it really take so little to get me hard?

"Mmmh, my favorite," she said, closing her eyes before turning around and starting to walk again as if nothing had happened.

Is that all? Are you going to leave me hanging like this?

If you only knew how much I dreamed of being in your ice cream's place right now, y/n...

From that moment on, it was difficult for me to focus on what she was saying. My mind was filled with ideas... of all kinds.

But regardless, we resumed our conversation, stopping on a bench to finish our ice creams.

"Fuck," she said, taking her phone to check the notification she had just received in the middle of our conversation.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"It's my dad, he needs me for his charity gala next weekend," she said with a sigh.

"His charity gala?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's something my dad organizes every year. It's a big event where he invites his most influential friends to raise funds for cancer research," she replied.

"Oh, um, do you want me to drop you off?" I offered.

"I'm really sorry to cut our outing short like this," she said with a sad look.

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it. We can hang out again this week," I said, putting my hand on her back and smiling.

"You're the best," she said, hugging me, and we headed back towards my bike this time.

"Where do you want me to drop you?" I asked as I put on my helmet.

"Take me home, I need to pick up some stuff anyway," she said, putting on her helmet as well.

We got on my bike, and I started driving towards her place.

This time, she seemed to hold on to me a little tighter, as if she didn't want this moment to end.

Oh, so you'd do anything to not have to leave either?

Once we arrived at her apartment complex, I parked, and she got off, taking off her helmet.

"I really hate that I have to go. I wish I could stay with you," she said, looking down at the ground.

I took off my helmet before responding.

"Y/n, you have important things to do, and I'm not going anywhere. You'll come back to me when you have time," I said, placing my hands on her cheeks without thinking.

She looked up at me, and damn, how badly I wanted to kiss her.

Is that what I should do? She's not saying anything anymore, maybe that's what she's waiting for from me?

"Thank you, Matt," she said softly, smiling after several seconds of staring into each other's eyes without saying anything before stepping back and turning to go inside her place.

And I missed my chance again, what an idiot.

Next time, I promise you, y/n, I won't let my chance slip away.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch @vickyzloserz @stingerayyy2

[fulcrvm]

SNIPPET COMPILATION — Dreamling Bingo: New Mundanities

Square/Prompt: B1: Crying, A2: Detective, B2: Free Space, C3: Replaced with Adoptable Prompt "Retired Dream"

Rating: G for this post (T for final fic)

Ship(s): Dreamling

Warnings: N/A

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship

Summary: After spending some time in Jo Constantine's company, Morpheus, now newly human and living with his partner Hob Gadling, finds himself missing a small part of his previous station as Endless. And one morning, Hob wakes to find a cat in his flat.

🌟 @dreamlingbingo

Read the previous posted snippet from this same fic HERE!

Snippets of various scenes from this fic are presented in the order they appear in the story! I hope this piques your interest!

- - - - -

It's all gone terribly wrong. 

The day had past pleasantly up until now— Morpheus had enjoyed a lie-in in the morning, received an email with the details of the panels for the upcoming speculative fiction conference he was invited to (and replied to it timely manner, no small feat indeed), and had decided to prepare a dinner to share with Hob to celebrate once his lover returned home from work.

Life as with Hob has been surprisingly pleasant, as Morpheus had learned over the past year. Hob, who had welcomed him inside his home when his elder sister dropped him, newly human, on his doorstep. Hob, who had helped him learn how to walk for the first time, to learn what foods his stomach could handle, and learn the joys of sticking a foot out from beneath the covers when it got too warm.

Hob made Morpheus feel as if he was adjusting to being human well enough.

This evening was clearly proving all of that completely wrong.

To start with, Morpheus thought it would be smart to bring out the suitcase needed for his conference trip. He felt so proud of the idea to begin packing a week ahead of time that he pulled out the bag so violently, it crashed into his big toe and upturned the nail. Such specific pain of a type unlike anything he's ever felt before jolts through him, Morpheus finds himself crumpled on the ground holding his foot with full tears in his eyes. How humiliating.

After what was probably an hour or so, Morpheus convinced himself to hobble into the kitchen to grab a cold compress from the fridge and sit on the couch with it until it felt better. He attempted to turn on the TV, only for the remote to slip out of his grip, clattering on the ground, both batteries falling out and rolling to who knows where— leaving the television on on one of those generic rerun channels, something that looks vaguely like RoboCop blasting at a volume that Morpheus now can’t adjust due to the state of the remote.

Hob comes home two hours later to find Morpheus shuffling miserably around the kitchen with the cold compress balanced on one foot, burnt broccoli rabe on a tray in one hand and a cold, congealed amalgamation of cavatelli pasta in a colander in the other. A pot of too spicy nduja vodka sauce bubbles over on the stove top, and all the while, the television provides uncomfortably loud explosions and shouting as background music. Morpheus looks up at Hob with wet eyes, devastated, “I'm-”

[ - - - ]

Morpheus takes his time, fidgeting with the fabric of the couch as he starts speaking slowly. “Do you recall the night we ran into Johanna Constantine at the New Inn?”

Hob hums into his mug, “How could I forget.” 

“SO, the legends are true!” Jo exclaims as she seats herself at their table without asking, “Hob, you madlad, way to truly do what no man has done before!” She claps Hob on the shoulder and nods in Morpheus's direction, “No offense, Dream Lord.”

“None taken,” Morpheus replies with mild amusement, hoping it covers his flinch at the old title.

Hob grins with a glint in his eye, like he’s sharing an in-joke, “I take it you've been acquainted with this generation of the Constantines as well?”

Morpheus nods, “She aided me, once, when I did not know exactly how to ask for it.” He glanced between them, floundering slightly on how to say ‘and you two?’ without the aid of his Dream omnipresence filling in the gaps of information for him.

“Oh, yes, here you go, Hobsie,” Jo produces a battered and wax-sealed envelope out of her trench coat and slides it across the table, “from our dead boys detectives. Late rent for their office. They kindly sent it through me from across the pond so it couldn't be traced back to you.”

“Ah, cheers,” Hob shuffles through the contents of the envelope, grinning at Morpheus, “I guess you could say she's done the same for me then!”

Johanna is a singular being, Morpheus has known so since their first encounter. For someone so outwardly nonchalant and often obtrusive, she waited until Hob stands to get their refills from the bar before turning to him with the barest glimmer of concern in her eyes. “You’re human and here by choice, right? I know Hob wouldn’t, I think, I hope, but— I just needed to ask.” There was a split second where Morpheus was shot with offense— how dare someone think of Hob in such a way?— but the feeling is immediately chased with an unexpected warmth. That someone knew of his past and cared enough about him, human, to ask. Morpheus had smiled, “Indeed. It was… a difficult decision, but Hob has done nothing but be supportive and caring when I needed such.”

[ - - - ]

It was well into her third pint when Jo starts personally interviewing Morpheus on his little time as human so far— “Do you have a favourite food? Favourite weather? Do you have a job? What do you miss the most? About being, y'know, Dream?”

Hob swats her arm lightly across the table, “Oi, be sensitive.”

“The Library,” Morpheus answers quietly. “To have every story ever dreamed, written or not, at my fingertips is perhaps something I had taken for granted. Yet, as a human, I now get the novel experience of discovering a story for the first time as I read. But to live knowing I cannot reach the Library during my waking hours is a new type of loss to cope with.” Hob's hand has found its way over his, squeezing gently to ground him. Morpheus hums, “Perhaps that is why I've been drawn to writing in this life so far.”

“That's really sweet,” Jo says, pausing to take a swig. “I did think you would say your ‘shaper of forms’ magic stuff, though.” She wiggles her fingers at the pair. “Seemed handly, and Endless ‘magic’  doesn’t seem to have the same toll on mortals- uh, humans as it would to an Endless user.”

[ - - - ]

Despite his prior station, Morpheus is, admittedly, still not very fond of trying to go to sleep. The human body and freshly mortal brain fills the drowsy brain with a litany of unpleasant sensations—black voids, falling and hitting the ground, losing awareness, loose limbs… To feel so out of control of his experiences and let his brain fully dictate his body, Morpheus doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it.

Somehow, as a cat, the feeling is exponentially worse.

- - - - -

Find more snippets for this fic under the #new mundanities tag or under #rex writes !

[frogmanfae]

Anthony Lockwood x GN! Reader- You Too? (FLUFF with a little bit of angst)

Summary: Anthony can't sleep at night. You can't sleep at night. Most of the time you avoid running into each other, but one fateful night of tears in the basement leads to an awkward bedroom experience.

A/n: this one is quite a bit longer than my other ones, about 4,000 words. I think it came out pretty well. Please don't make this dirty, I beg of you. It really is just awkwardness that happens to occur in a bed it isn't anything spicy.

Reader pov

There are nights where I can't bear to be in my room. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I need a break from such mundane consistency. I just need to see something other than those walls.

On these nights, I usually make myself some tea and go to the basement. I'd much rather sit in the library, but Lockwood is in there most nights. Nobody ever comes down to the basement. I'm alone with only my thoughts and my tea.

I don't quite understand why my room has this effect on me sometimes. When my parents died, my room was my safe haven. My refuge. My sanctuary. So now that I'm in a new environment, it makes little sense to me that it can feel more like solitary confinement. It makes even less sense that I'm soothed by the concrete and dust of the basement.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's probably three in the morning as I sit on the floor leaned against the wall, sipping my tea. I'm a listener, like Lucy (though not nearly as powerful) so a moment of silence is rare, but extremely calming. To use my power and hear nothing is bliss.

I've only about half way finished my tea when someone comes down the stairs, clearly laser focused on something. We're in the middle of a big case, so that's probably it. I had expected it to be George doing some late research or maybe Lucy to see if she can listen to any of the sources down here and get a lead.

To my surprise, it's the other one.

I watch silently as Lockwood pulls out several files and spreads them out on a table. He seems extra stiff, like something is really bothering him. He grumbles something in frustration before collecting the files and putting them back in the cabinet.

He walks over to my wall and sits down a couple feet away. From what I can tell, he hasn't noticed me.

I'm right here, isn't your talent supposed to be sight?

I simply continue sipping on my tea, remaining quiet and looking forward to not disturb him, though he really is an idiot if he doesn't know I'm here.

I thought for a moment that he actually did see me, but he needed space and realized I needed the same so he just didn't acknowledge it. I was certain on this until I heard him crying.

I look over at him. He's still wearing dress pants and his button up and tie. He's still got on his dress shoes. However, his hair was a mess and his hands were currently tangled in the back locks, only making it worse. His face was buried in his knees. I swear I heard a tear drop on to the floor. He was quietly sobbing, clearly trying to not alert anyone but still in pain. Emotional pain, anyhow.

I debate what I should do for a moment. I don't want to startle him, and honestly he seems like he needs this. I decide to just keep drinking my tea and not look at him. I'll let him get it all out before I make my presence known.

It lasts longer than I thought. Perhaps ten minutes? I'm not the best with comprehending passage of time but that seems right enough. Regardless of the details, it was a long time to sit here holding my breath and listening to his suffering.

Finally, he sniffs and wipes his eyes. I'm still looking straight ahead holding my cup, only seeing him out of my peripheral vision. He runs his hands back and forth over his hair a few times. I close my eyes.

"JESUS FUCKI-"

I snap my head towards Lockwood. He's now on his back with his legs closest to me, propped up on one arm and looking at me as if I'm a ghost. I can properly see his face now. His dark circles seem more prominent than usual and his eyes are red and puffy. His nose is red. His cheeks are discolored. He looks abnormally pale. His lashes have been thickened and darkened by his tears. It was truly a sight.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE?"

"I was here before you."

"AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING? YOU SAW ALL OF THAT?"

"Shhh you'll wake up the others, we both know how lightly George sleeps while we're in the midst of a case. Anyhow, you seemed like you needed it. I didn't want to interrupt. It's not like I watched you."

"But... You saw it all. You heard everything!"

"Lockwood, I hope you realize I think no less of you."

"What?"

"I- oh gosh you can't be comfortable like that. Sit up, why don't you?" He hesitantly pushes himself up and leans against the wall again. "I'm worried about you."

"Theres no need to be-"

"Bullshit. You can't keep concealing your emotions like this. It's okay to be overwhelmed or stressed or overall upset for any reason. You always act like everything is wonderful but it's not. I don't know if it ever has been."

He looks down. "(Y/n)... It's not that easy-"

"I never said anything about it being easy. Of course it's hard. I can't even imagine how you feel owning an agency so young, having all that pressure on your shoulders. It's terrifying to be vulnerable."

"Is that why you're in the basement in the early hours of the morning, drinking herbal tea?"

I hum. "I just couldn't sleep, and I like herbal tea."

"Now who's bullshitting?" The corners of his mouth tug up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You much prefer green. Herbal simply calms you down. You only ever drink herbal tea when you're upset."

"How..."

"I notice things, (y/n). Lots of things. Don't think I don't hear the kettle during the midnight hours at least three times a week. The peculiar thing is I never hear anyone go back up the stairs and whenever I go into the kitchen, it's empty."

I look down. How'd he make this about me so quickly?

"Tell me, (y/n), do you spend your nights in the basement often?"

"... No. Only when I can't sleep."

"So... Often." He nods. "Why don't you stay in the library? It's much more inviting."

"I don't want to bother you. That's where you are most nights."

"You could never bother me."

"Stop, you were the one crying a few moments ago, this isn't about me."

He sighs. "It was worth a shot."

"Now, what's bothering you?"

"Uh... Nothing, really."

"Lockwood."

"It's just the case, that's all."

"That's a lie and we both know it."

He let's out a noise of exasperation. "Fine, you really want to know? It's my parents."

"Your parents?" I ask softly as I scoot closer to him.

He nods. "They died when I was six years old. You really have no idea what it's like to have such a great life until suddenly you don't and it all gets ripped away from you without warning and nobody will take you in so you have to fend for yourself before your age even reaches double digits."

"Actually... I think I can relate more than you realize."

"How can you possibly relate?" He almost sounds angry. I don't blame him, I never told him my story. I kept it to myself even after living with other people all this time. I moved here with a purpose, to start new. Therefore, my past never happened according to anyone else. I was another person then. I've left all of that behind, taking only the nightmares and memories with me.

"My parents were murdered when I was eight." I look straight ahead. "Nobody really wants to adopt a kid who's just began to really get strong in their talent for hearing brutal murders and death. It freaks adults out. So I was on my own until I found you guys."

His expression softens. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry, I... Wait, you were fourteen when you applied. That's six years."

"It was hard but I managed. The whole ghost hunting agent thing isn't so bad. Once you've been forced to watch your parents get nothing short of quartered right in front of your sensitive, innocent eyes, you can watch anyone else get ghost touched no big deal."

"I'm sorry, quartered?" His eyes are wide.

"Yeah, are you familiar with the French Revolution?"

"I'm familiar enough to hope you were talking about a different type of quartering."

I shook my head. "It was intense. I still think of it every time I close my eyes."

"I can't even imagine..."

"I didn't tell you this for you to feel sorry for me. I only wanted you to know I'll understand. You aren't as alone as you believe."

He nods slowly. "I see... Thank you... For sharing, I mean."

"Of course. So now that you know I can at least sort of understand what you're feeling, what's going on with you?"

He sighs. "I don't know... Sometimes I just..."

"Miss them?"

"... Yeah." He nods. "Yeah I miss them a lot. I miss them all the time but sometimes when I think about it it's not so bad, it's let me do what I've done, accomplish all of this. Other times..."

"It's mentally suffocating."

"Mentally suffocating... Yeah that's a good word for it. Like it's put a sheet over your brain to prevent it from getting oxygen, but you can still physically breathe with your lungs for the most part."

I nod. "Yeah, it's frightening. George has a book on it he was telling me about some time."

"George knows you feel like this sometimes?"

"No, but we often discuss our readings, trade books, recommend authors or titles... Things of the sort. I haven't told anyone about my past. Except you of course."

"Well aren't I special," he flashes one of his signature Lockwood smiles.

I roll my eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, your ego is already so inflated I fear it might burst."

"Oh haha you love my charisma."

"Is that what we're calling it?" I smile at him.

He laughs. Not his public press laugh, but a true, genuine laugh. One that I've never heard from him before. It makes me feel a little bit warmer with emotion.

"You know, most nights I stay awake in the library simply because I can't stand the solitude of my room."

"What?"

"I know, it's silly-"

"No, not at all! I come down here for the same reason!"

"You do?" He raises his eyebrows, sounding surprised. "I thought you just worried over cases or, well now I thought you thought about your past but-"

"No, it's like..." I think for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "Like the silence is too loud and the space is too big for just me, even though my bed hardly fits properly."

"Exactly! Like I don't have anything to focus on except for the sensory deprivation and my anxieties."

"Yes! Oh my goodness I can't believe you get it!"

"I thought I was the only one!" He laughs again, different this time. It sounds almost relieved. "Say... Maybe we could help each other out."

I raise an eyebrow. "Help each other out? How so?"

"Well, feel free to decline if you want and we'll never speak of this proposal again, but perhaps we could try spending the night in the same room."

"But..." I get that warm feeling again, more intense this time. "Each room only has one bed..."

"Yes well..." Despite the horrid lighting of the basement, I could faintly see a light pink tint spanning across his nose and blotching on other, seemingly random, spots on his face. "Like I said I understand if you decline and if that is your choice we can pretend I never said anything... However... I feel it may be beneficial to the both of us to have a... companion in the lonely, deafeningly silent hours of the night. If it works, splendid we can finally get some proper sleep. If it doesn't, we each return to our respective seperate rooms and carry on as if nothing ever happened."

"..." I nod slowly. "Okay."

"Ah- really?" He turns to face me more. "In all honesty I thought you would detest the idea."

"Do you still want-"

"Yes! I mean," he clears his throat, "uh... Yeah, the offer still stands."

"Perfect."

"Well then." He stands up and offers me his hand. "Shall we?"

"Oh you mean like right now! Alright then." I take his hand and he pulls me up. He chuckles and leads me to his room.

"I uh... I'll go take this cup back to the kitchen and let you get changed and what not."

"Oh- right." He pushes back some of his hair. "I'll only be a minute or two."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for whenever you're ready."

He smiles at me as he steps back into his room and closes the door. I swiftly make my way to the kitchen and set my cup in the sink, resolving to wash it in the morning, and return in under a minute.

I wait outside for only about thirty seconds longer before Lockwood opens the door again.

"Sorry I took so long."

"Long? Lockwood that was- wait."

"What? Is something the matter?" He takes his hand off of the door handle and peeks his head out around the corner.

"No, just... You're wearing a shirt."

"Oh, well..." He stepped aside, inviting me in, and closed the door behind me "Yes in fact I am. What about it?"

"Lockwood you've never worn a shirt to bed in all the time I've been here. It's like an unspoken principle in the house; you don't wear shirts to bed and George doesn't wear trousers."

"I didn't realize it was such a disruption of order-"

"Well- that's not what I'm saying." I sigh. I've always struggled with putting things into the right words. "Obviously it's fine if you wear a shirt to bed, I just... I'm just wondering why all of a sudden?"

"Well... I don't know. I suppose I thought you may be a bit uncomfortable sharing a bed with me when I've no shirt on." He looked down, those pink splotches returning to his face. "After all, this is only an arrangement of convenience and practicality. It's not like were... uh... going out... or anything..."

"Ah, right..." I can feel myself getting flustered. "Well... I don't mind, really. The whole point is to feel more comfortable going to sleep so if you feel more comfortable with no shirt on, honestly it doesn't make any difference to me."

"... Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, really." I smile reassuringly. "Whatever makes you fall asleep best."

He hesitates. "Well, if you're absolutely positive-"

"Lockwood, I promise you."

He hums lowly. "Alright then. But if you change your mind just tell me and I'll put it back on straight away, I swear-"

"Lockwood!"

"Alright, okay! If you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, a smile gracing his face. It isn't one of his signature smiles, it's real, quite boyish actually. He seems so young. Sometimes I forget how young we really are, but then again, all youth since The Problem has forgotten how young they really are.

I try my best to appear to be disinterested and looking away as he removes his shirt and folds it, neatly placing it in the bottom right drawer of his dresser. Of course, I watch the whole thing unfold. I'm only trying to appear as if I'm not.

"Alright, well..." He awkwardly rubs his arm. I've never seen him seem so nervous before. "I suppose now is when we uh... get into bed, then..."

"Yes it does seem like that happens now..." I slowly nod.

"Well uhm... After you." He gestures toward the bed.

"Oh no, please, it's your bed, you go ahead first." I wave my hands.

"No no I insist. You're my... guest? Is that the appropriate term for this? What do we call this?" He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Sorry, I'm a bit..."

"Nervous?"

"To say the least."

We both laugh a little bit. There really was no need for it to be so nerve wrecking. We had already agreed that if it doesn't go well we pretend nothing happened. Nobody needs to know.

"Here, why don't we just both get in at the same time?" I offer.

"Yes! Yes, that sounds like a good idea." He goes to the side of the bed opposite of me.

It's still extremely tense as the both of us climb in under the covers. There's plenty of space in between us. I'm nearly hanging off the edge, no doubt Lockwood is as well.

Fuck it.

I move onto the bed more so I'm a comfortable ways on. "Lockwood?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be frank for a moment?"

"Well I think I'd prefer you to stay (y/n) but I suppose whatever makes you happy-"

"Oh shut up." He laughs one of those real laughs again. I nearly melt.

"What would you like to talk about?"

I take a deep breath, admittedly, his joke (however stupid) managed to cut some of the tension. "This isn't going to work unless we get over ourselves and actually share the bed. Like real sharing."

He pauses. "You're right. The question is, how far are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Well..." He huffs. "If we're being frank-"

"I prefer Anthony, but I suppose-"

"Oh shut up, it really isn't funny." Despite his words, he was smiling again. "I see your point now."

"Well, what is it you were going to say, Frank?"

"Please don't." He laughs, making me smile more.

"I'm listening."

He inhales deeply. "Well, how far are we going as in... Are we simply laying next to one another and trying to go to sleep or... to be blunt, are we spooning?"

I nearly chocked on my own saliva. Blunt was certainly one way to say it.

"Well... Whatever makes you comfortable. Honestly I think it would work best if we... Uh... Did the latter, but I don't want to make you-"

"I was actually hoping you'd say that-"

He sighs, sounding almost... Relieved?"

"Really?"

"Yes, I-" he rolls over, bringing us from being over a foot apart to our noses now almost touching. "Goodness you are much closer than I thought-"

"Sorry, I-" I start to move back, but he puts his hand on my waist, gently stopping me.

"No no I uh... Well if we're going to uh... You know, uhm, we're going to have to be close anyway so..."

"Right, yeah..."

He softly pulls me closer using his hand that still rests on my waist. I move towards him until my hands are pressed to his chest and our legs are touching under the covers. His face is splotchy red again, the most intense I've ever seen it, though I can't imagine how flustered I must appear.

"Uhm... May I?" He starts to wrap his leg around mine.

"Ah..." I nod, unable to trust my voice.

And so now we lay here, about two seconds away from being puddles of awkwardness and mild embarrassment. He's warm. Very warm. It's kind of nice being this close to him.

I've always found him attractive since the moment I saw him. He is, objectively, a good looking guy.

Then I got to know him a little bit. He and I would often bicker and pester one another, some times seemingly more serious than others, but for the most part it was all in jest. Making jabs at each other is just what we do.

I think I fell for him more and more over my time here, but tonight I saw a new side of him. A side that really pushed me over the edge of having a bit of a crush on him to trying to stop myself from kissing him at any given moment.

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?" He brings a hand up to my forehead. "You're awful warm and you look... Distressed."

"Anthony?"

His gaze softened. I don't think anyone has called him that in... well who knows how long? Too long. "Yes? Is something the matter?"

"No I just..." I make eye contact with him, effectively rendering myself speechless.

He inches closer. "Are you sure? This is quite the... intimate position... I wouldn't want to make you..."

By this time, our noses are back to almost touching, but even closer than before. He tilts his head just enough to avoid colliding them.

"Make me what? Uncomfortable?" I glance down at his lips, quickly looking back to his eyes to avoid suspicion. "Anthony, you could never-"

He kisses me.

Holy shit.

Anthony Lockwood is kissing me.

I'm in Anthony Lockwood's bed.

I'm kissing Anthony Lockwood!

"I'm sorry-" he pulls back. "Oh no... I shouldn't have done that... Shit... Oh shit I'm so sorry-"

I kiss him again. "Shut up, will you? I just had a life altering moment here and I'm trying to enjoy it."

"You- you liked it?"

"Of course I did. Anthony, I've liked you since... Well I suppose there wasn't a single moment I could pick out but-"

"I love it when you call me that."

I smile. "Call you what? Anthony? Well that is your name."

"It hasn't been used in years. Not by itself, anyhow. It sounds nice coming from your lips."

"I like your lips." It takes a moment to register what I just said. "Wait, I didn't mean-"

"You like kissing me~" He teases me, putting on his Lockwood Smile.

"Oh shut up!" I put my head on his chest to hide my face. "Of course I do..."

"Well... You know what I would like more than just kissing you?" He carefully lifts my head up with two fingers under my chin.

"Hm?"

He hesitates for a moment. "I'd like to be your boyfriend."

"What? Really?"

"If you'll have me, that is-"

"Of course I'll have you, you prick!" I lightly punch his chest. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you that?"

He shakes his head. "I can't say I do."

"Well there wasn't a specific time but I think I started to think about it more and more around the time we were working the Brentic case."

"The B- (y/n) that was at least a year and a half ago."

"I'm well aware."

"... Huh."

"What?"

"I think I've known since the Dalkins case."

"Lockwood, that was long before the Brentic case-"

"It seems my charm worked then."

"Oh shut up! Go to sleep!"

He laughs a bit. "So... Are we...?"

"... I think we are..."

"Wonderful! Splendid! Perfect! Grand! Fanta-"

I laugh. "Anthony shut up!"

He goes quiet, but the smile remains on his face. "Do we tell the others?"

"... Nah. It's funnier if we just let them figure it out. But we don't necessarily have to hide it either."

He nods. "It'll take all my self control to not shout it from the rooftops."

"Oh hush." I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "Get some sleep, lover boy. You clearly need it."

He kisses me once more, shorter this time, before closing his eyes and pulling me closer to his chest. He falls asleep surprisingly quickly, his breaths going even and his mouth falling slightly agape in no time at all.

I watch him for a moment. Once again, he really shows his age for only a second. I push some of his hair away from his face and place a kiss on his forehead, causing him to stir just a bit.

Before I know it, my eyelids feel heavy. It becomes increasingly harder to keep them open, to stay awake. Soon enough, I'm drifting into sleep with pleasant dreams to greet me and Lockwood by my side.

How lucky am I?

[binart]

SRPA Chapter 3

(First) (Previous) (Next)

(Content warning for hallucinations, dissociation & PTSD episodes!)  

—

In late evening of the next day, Keith messaged Lance.

All members of their team had retreated back to their rooms (though Hedrox and En suspiciously left together), and Lance had just finished a call with his mom. She apologized like she did in all of them, for crying. But she clearly missed him just as much as he missed her.

As Lance grabbed some tissues from the shelf above his bed to blow his nose with, his phone next to his pillow dinged; the specific beep to indicate one of the old Voltron crew was messaging him. He dove for it.

A text from Keith, “Samurai 😫✨💦” in his phone, read: “Meeting with the team tomorrow. 0700. Deploying in the PM. See you then.”

One thing Lance found really endearing about Keith was his old person way of texting. If someone mixed Keith's texts in with his dad's, they'd be practically indistinguishable aside from the subject of the texts. He scrolled up to their last conversation.

“Good training. En wanted extra pointers. Staying behind for a bit.”

                                “K, I'll save u some of those spicy green chips u like 👍”

“Good luck........... Chip fiend Hedrox won't be happy. L. O. L.”

                                 “🤣 Thanks for the heads up man! See you soon.”

“Over and Out.”

                                  “🫡”

“L. O. L !”

“🫡”

He set his phone down and buried his face into the softness of his mattress. Then he threw his pillow across the room for good measure. He went about his nightly routine a little lighter despite the homesickness pulling at his chest, and wondered what they'd be doing tomorrow. They still hadn't gotten a replacement for Torat, and Hedrox confirmed there was still possibly a weeks-long wait before they could move on any intel from the bugged base. Maybe they'd be going on a super spy infiltration somewhere? Though there were plenty of other things the Blade of Marmora was doing these days too. They were trying to become a more public-facing organization, after all.

Slipping into a hazy state of half-consciousness before long, Lance only vaguely registered a far away blue flash against his closed lids, and an oddly familiar fuzzy jostling of his arms before falling asleep.

—

0700 on the dot. He arrived at the team meeting room, same one as where they gathered the last time, only now without Torat leaning up against the wall. As Lance walked in to see the others already there and waiting, he wondered what the big guy was doing now. He'd been transferred to a different team, but that was about all he knew.

“Morning, Lieutenant.” Kestin, though usually pretty quiet, was the first to notice him, and waved. Keith looked up from the hologram table he was studying with En and Hedrox, and smiled.

“Mornin'.” Lance was still a little tired despite mostly adjusting to the longer day cycle, but everyone else seemed full of energy. En sharply saluted him, then turned back to face Keith.

“Hey Lance, sleep well?” Lance nodded in between a tired yawn. “Pff, you sure?”

“I got my nine hours, I just had a super weird dream..” He'd dreamt of one of those pretty furry moths back on Earth, except huge, that kept trying to lick his face and sit on him. It was mildly terrifying. “Anyway, I'm good. What's going on with this mission?”

“Big supply delivery to a colony. I'll show you the details.” From all around, everyone approached the table and regarded the screen sat within it. Just as before, a series of images with accompanying text lit up in the 3-d display. Lance eyed a familiar looking planet.

“Elysium-2?” Keith nodded.

“You've seen the news, then. Good. The refugees from the original settlement landed about half a year ago, and we're gonna hand out some medical and food supplies that are running lower than initially projected.”

“And actually—the Blade wasn't the only one to volunteer to offer supplies, but the Inter-galactic Coalition thought it might be good PR for us,” Hedrox supplied as he raised a lanky finger. “Looootta people are still afraid to trust us since, y'know. Most of us are half-Galra and all..”

There was a brief silence, then En leaned forward and regarded his teammate with lowered brows. “A prejudice we shall eradicate, in time.” Hedrox tilted his head back and forth in a strange motion before letting out a watery chuckle.

“That we will! Anyway, what are our roles, Commander?”

“..We'll be working distribution and security. There's a couple of teams on this for the different areas of the settlement given how big it is, and we'll be stationed here.” He pointed to a glowing yellow point on the planet-sphere in front of them. It swiftly zoomed in to show a 3-d rendering of the area. Two additional yellow spots appeared. “We'll drop down and hand out supplies here, and monitor security over here.” One of the dots was placed within a very modern looking building, similar in design to the ones quickly built back when New Altea was being settled.

“There's been reports of potential suspicious movement in the system, so in case anything happens, we want our best on sight.” Keith looked at Lance. “You in?” Immediately Lance's face grew hot. He certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be called their best, but he cleared his throat and gave a assured 'mhm!' regardless. “Good, that's everyone on board, then. We'll go over the specifics of the layout and the expected timeline for everything going down. After that we'll grab our gear and Kestin will take us in.”

Pre-mission anxiety skimmed and bubbled in the pit of his stomach once again, but this time Lance found it a little easier to ignore.

—

Touchdown was at 1300. Kestin joined up in the atmosphere with two additional fighter pilot personnel manning the supply ships to make up B squad; Keith's team, Kolivan's team, and another Blade commander called Thiga's team. Landing went without incident from teams A to D who kept in close contact despite the miles of distance between them. Lance gripped his sniper rifle's strap across his torso tightly when the ship lurched to a stop and snuck a subtle glance at his friend beside him.

For this mission, he'd be separated from Keith. Lance was, embarrassingly, more anxious about that than anything else. It was important for higher profile blade members like Kolivan and Keith (as well as Krolia in D team) to be the face of the operation, and so they would be handing out supplies to the residents. There was potential danger there if the reports of suspicious movement were to be believed, and so Lance was pretty sure that's why Keith delegated Lance to overseeing the security division of their group. He and Hedrox would rendezvous with the blades under Thiga's command in the building across the way from the supply ships, then from there observe to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't like the idea of Keith openly risking himself while stashing Lance away, but was surprisingly too embarrassed to say anything. His mask was activated, and as the doors to the shuttle hissed open, Lance headed towards the exit.

“Hey Lance.” He turned around to face an also masked Keith. “Watch my back out there, alright?” Lance thought about his only strength—his aim, and how he'd probably be useless if he were at Keith's side like he wanted to be.

“..You bet. Careful out there, Keith.” He nodded, and Lance picked up his pace to meet up with Hedrox.

His nest this time was a lot different from the last; A large office-like space within the building had been cleared out to make way for several massive server-looking machines that were clearly Marmorite-y in design. He had no idea what they were for. Hedrox and Lance entered to find the security team already there and settled in. When they noticed their approach, all but one of the members of Commander Thiga's team whipped up and gave sharp salutes. “Lieutenant!” There were six of them in total, all of various size and race behind their masks, and stood stone rigid in front of him as he shifted uncomfortably. Normally Lance would have loved to be treated with such clear importance, but he was distracted by the unease of not being able to see if Keith was okay.

“Uh, at ease, soldiers.” He wanted to get himself set up at the windowed opening straight away, but realized he should probably do the leader stuff he was meant to do. “Status?”

“Ready and at your command, Lieutenant!” The shortest blade rumbled in the deepest voice Lance had ever heard. “And might I add what an honor it is to work alongside a Paladin of Voltron..!” Lance jerked, then immediately caught himself and stiffly walked over to the windowed opening. He turned away.

“Cool, cool, uh, I'll set my stuff up here, and you guys do... your thing. Let me know if anything happens.”

The stony line of blades once again saluted, and quickly set about their work. Hedrox pulled out some supplies from their blade-issued backpack, and sidled over to Lance.

“You good, Lieutenant..?” He whispered through their personal comms as he set up several tablet devices next to Lance. With his rifle now pointed towards the platform in front of the supply ships where Keith was standing, Lance breathed out a small chunk of worry. His right ring finger tapped the comms button on his palm.

“Why'd Keith make me leader? I dunno how to lead! I'm just here to shoot bad guys if they show up.” Hedrox snorted.

“Oh, I dunno, Lieutenant. Maybe because the Commander always goes on about how much everyone respects you, and how insanely skilled you are, and how much he trusts you?” Lance whipped his head up to look at them so quickly his neck clicked.

“H-He said all that..?!”

“Uh-huh. It's also favouritism for sure, but you still absolutely deserve to be here if that's what you're worried about.”

“Distribution commencing, Lieutenant,” a blade informed from off to the side. Lance studied Keith in his scope next to Kolivan and some other masked blade that was probably that Thiga guy, and swallowed to help with his suddenly very dry throat. En was there, too, loading the heavier of the alien supply crates onto hovering carts.

“U-Understood, thanks.” He pressed the button on his thumb once again. “I didn't know Keith said all that stuff!” Hedrox once again tilted their head strangely as they typed away.

“Really? I thought with how obvious the both of you are about your feelings for each other, you already knew..” Lance nearly fumbled his rifle then and there. His pulse picked up as his face grew sweaty.

“F-Fee—Um! What?!" Quiznack, why were they talking about this?! And how did he know?!

“Lieutenant... Come on. Or, actually... Would it be helpful if I told you how much I love the intricacies of human social interactions? And humans in general. You guys are so cool and interesting, so uh. I tend to notice that sort of stuff.” From beneath his hood, Hedrox's little sunflower bots fluttered to life around him. “But both of you are also super obvious.”

Lance was at a loss for words. Under his mask he knew he was red as a beet as he watched Keith unmask and start handing out supply kits to the forming lines of residents. His ponytail had gotten a bit loose and strands once again framed his handsome face. He was smiling.

“Keith's—I mean. He's—into guys?” His hands were sweaty now too, with his arms beginning to shake from holding them so tightly still. He hoped nothing was going to happen, because his aim was definitely shot!

“Maybe not all of them, but you? Yeah, Lieutenant, yeah. Very. It's really sweet how much he likes talking about the stuff you guys used to do together! Hmm.. I just assumed you two were already a thing, though, so maybe it's not really my place to talk about this. My bad.”

“No, uh, I was—Like I didn't know if Keith was into—“ Lance lifted his right hand away from his rifle to gesture at himself and distantly wondered how crazy he looked to the other blades who couldn't hear their conversation. He retreated back to his position. “So I didn't wanna. Assume? A-Anyway!” Frantically Lance desperately searched his mind for something else to talk about, because this was quickly becoming too much to deal with. “Human behaviours? That's your thing? How'd that come about?” Hedrox chuckled.

“Subject change, understood. Yes! Humans are the coolest—I'm gonna move to Earth someday, so I started studying your speaking and social patterns so it's easier to fit in. And because it's fun.”

From through his scope, Keith raised a hand to his ear, nodded, then continued to pass out supply canisters. “Huh.. Why us? I'm pretty sure there are a bunch of cooler alien species out there than plain old humans.”

“Now that's where you're wrong, Lieutenant! Humans are fascinating. All so similar, yet none exactly the same.” They pressed their back up against the plain, modern wall next to Lance. “..On my planet, conformity was umm.. kind of a given. Our ancestors were actually a hivemind, so.. we stay close to our roots and expectations.” A hivemind? Lance could recall only a single occasion where team Voltron interacted with one of them, and it was super weird.

“Data crunching comes really easily to most of us,” Hedrox continued. “And I actually found out about Earth when I was snooping around the Blade database of our highest ranking members and found—um, the Commander's mom. Super classified, by the way, don't tell anyone I was doing that.” Lance laughed.

“Reminds me of Pidge, but yeah, my lips are sealed dude, don't worry.”

“Coolies, thanks. Anyway when I learned about Earth I quickly discovered all of the amazing things you guys have like movies, and music, and so many different cultures, and—and individuality in general! Also, related, I'm insanely ugly by Yorith standards. Look.” Lance obeyed and turned his head to watch as Hedrox's mask shifted away from his face,

and one of the most shockingly attractive faces Lance had ever seen appeared. Blue tinged skin, rosegold eyes with soft lashes, near-glowing long golden locks curling around a sharp but also somehow soft jawline, intricate neon swirling designs tracing around the outer portions of his face and onto his horn... Maybe not as much of Lance's type as Keith was, but man oh man he was hot hot.

“........Dude. You're hot, what?”

“I know, right?!” Quickly, they reactivated their mask when they saw the other blades turn to examine them. “One day me and En are gonna settle down on Earth and I'm gonna be a crazy popular stone—er, rockstar, that is. That's my dream.” Some of his tiny floating bots scooted out of the window as he curled his legs in close, and Lance wondered what his and En's relationship was. “But only once the empire is totally gone.”

From the opening his rifle was pointed out, excited chatter from the beings below drifted upwards and into his ears. There was a sizable crowd now, and Lance listened to Hedrox as he kept his eyes peeled for threats. “Yeah, I get it. Too risky otherwise. My family's in New Altea just in case they keep attacking..”

Hedrox sighed. “Yup.. The empire invaded my home planet half a millennia ago and everything sucked, of course. But when I was growing up it was at least always.. quiet. Then one day they sent in some giant planet cracker and destroyed it. For some rare material near the core used to make ship parts.” Lance went cold, and thought of his old house, half buried beneath rubble and waves.

“Geez.. Sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay.. I've had a while to get over it. That's also where I met En, actually! He was in charge of the mining operation before he double-crossed the empire for killing most of his crew.”

“En.. worked for the empire?” Sharp, immediate fear pierced Lance as he watched the very same alien pass close by keith with a large hover cart. He obscured his vision of Keith for a moment before continuing on to the residents below. “C-Can we trust him?!” His breath sped up, and his scope immediately honed in on En's masked head.

“Yeah, don't worry, Lieutenant, he's trustworthy. His non-Galran half makes it so that, when he bonds with someone, it's a lifetime thing. He's got a rough exterior, sure, but only to keep his extra soft inside parts safe!” Lance still felt queasy watching them move around so closely to Keith. “And if you need more convincing,” Hedrox began, and pulled off one of his gloves. He lifted up his palm, and it glowed a brilliant color Lance couldn't even put a name to. “On top of all my amazing gifts and genius, I can read souls.” His fingers wiggled. “Hivemind remnants, and all that. He's good people, I checked very thoroughly, since originally I was gonna, uh. Kill him.”

Man, that was a lot to take in. “...Okay, I guess—Yeah, I trust you, at least. I'm just worried about—I dunno, something happening to Keith.”

“I get you, Lieutenant, all of us are pretty much the same. The Commander's the whole reason we were even able to do anything with our lives, after all. We basically owe him everything.”

Before Lance could respond, he noticed a subtle shift of Keith's head, before his eyes widened. A blade made a noise of concern from beside him, Keith shouted something, then En dashed towards Keith and grabbed him. Lance moved to immediately take him out, and then—a massive explosion.

The force of it reached Lance and the rest of the security team as the building gave a violent shudder, though he couldn't see an impact crater. Dust and smoke filled their view, and Lance quickly pressed his comms. “Keith?! You okay?!” Rapidly he pulled his scope around to try and see past the debris. Hedrox sent out all of his drones, then began furiously typing away at his console. For a moment there was no response. Then,

“Ugh.. I'm alright.” Keith's strained voice filtered into his ears, and he coughed. “En's hurt. D squad was just attacked too. Can you see anything from up there?” Lance quickly scanned the horizon again, still just as obscured. Screams and wails came from down below.

“Just getting smoke and dust up here..!”

“Must be a smokescreen. Kestin, what's your status?”

Kestin spoke in a mildly panicked tone into their comms. “The ship's controls are jammed. Something external. If we can get it online I can activate thrusters to help with visuals. Hedrox?”

They were already out the door. “I'm grabbing En, then I'll come help.” Lance turned back and squinted through the obscurity. In the corner of his eye, a hundred or so meters away from Keith, something glowed. Purple. He swivelled and pointed his rifle, zoomed in, recognized the glowing insignia, then fired.

“Your 3 o'clock, incoming sentry drones, guys!”

A small hoard of bright, glowing purple poured into view. They weren't running, no—there were barely visible bursts from jet-boosters coming from the swarm's backs. Some of the other security blades began firing away on their own rifles alongside Lance. But there were what looked to be hundreds. The telltale sound of galran rifle firing began at the same time as another explosion roared off to his right. The foundations shook. Lance couldn't breathe.

Focus. Focus! Find Keith. Keep him safe.

The smokescreen thinned slightly for a moment and Lance spotted Keith next to Kolivan, carrying a limp En with his arm under their shoulders. Another set of glowing insignia's erupted from his right.

“9 o'clock too. Couple hundred drones on both sides!”

“Keep us covered until Hedrox can get us into the ship.” He watched as Keith immediately vanished from his view, followed by Kolivan and then En. From his wrist, he watched as the battery on their cloaking began to drain.

Didn't need to tell him twice. “Roger.” He switched his rifle to rapid-cooldown mode so he could fire off more shots, held his breath, then began to take them out.

Easy. No complexity to their movements. Lining themselves up to be mowed down. Hedrox's cloaking went up, too. More screaming from down below. Couldn't worry about civilians. Keep Keith safe. Exhale, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. Exhale. Distantly,

“Alrighty, in we go!” The doors to the shuttle opened, but some sentries from his left had nearly made it there already. Nope, no no no! Not today. Immediately he took them out.

“You six, focus on the eastern sentries!” Lance barked a command to the other blades with him. They were all obnoxiously slow, and he couldn't rely on them to help with the sentries already too close to Keith. He had to do it himself. The sky brightened, and so did the ground, and Lance, once again, took aim.

It was impossible to say how long it was until Hedrox and Kestin brought the ships back online and activated their thrusters. He was lost to the repetition of taking aim, firing, taking aim, firing. His vision swam, his wrist ached, his rifle was his old bayard again, but he was going be damn sure no one could hurt his friend.

And then, wind. The flash of light and familiar sound of the ships bursting to life; a booming twister whipped up the smokescreen that was making his job harder until it was nearly cleared away. Civilian bodies on the ground came into clear view. Don't look.

To his right, through the light filling his mask, too many sentries were still closing in. Still a threat. Keith. Inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire.. No response?

His rifle was overheated. The other blades were still too slow. Useless. He arose from his weapon, and would apologize for bruising egos later on after Keith was safe. The other sniper closest to him was the big one who didn't salute, though was easy enough to pry off and throw out of the space he needed to work. Back looking through a scope, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. The sentries fell like flies. He could do this, he could be helpful.

“Lance, status?!”

“East and west sentries just about taken care of.” ..Was that his voice? He sounded weird. Like he was talking through a mile of water. Huh. His bracers had at some point shifted into his paladin uniform again, too. Now that Lance had a second to think about it, that was also pretty strange. Was something wrong with him?

“Huh?!”

“Commander, look—he's right! How'd they—”

“—Com..mand..er! These tactics.. are known to me.. We are being.. herded. Southern f-forces... We must needs—evacuate.” Man, En spoke annoyingly slow. The rest of the sentries to his left and right were already downed by the time they finished gasping out the intel. Lance grabbed another blade's sniper rifle and slipped through the opening of the building, activating his boosters so he could get around to the other side and start taking care of the rest. His pulse was surprisingly quiet as he landed down on the ground next to the corpse of Silvio.

“Heyy, uhh, Keith?” Several miles of water now, his voice was barely audible to himself. He wasn't sure if Keith even responded. “'Think something might be wrong with me. Dr. Nguyen was prob'ly right. I'll tell you after. ” He laughed at how easy it was to admit to Keith now, when he promised himself he'd never breathe a word.

A whisper of a voice. Keith? Impossible to tell. The light in his mask was near blinding, but he rounded the first corner of the building, watched a hilariously massive swarm of sentries arise from a crater in the ground, looked back for a second at the ship Keith was on, then, somehow, looked at it from above.

His bones felt strange. There was wind pushing all around him. Oh, he was flying. How did that happen? He tried to laugh but water came up.

And for a second, he thought he heard Blue.

-

CLIFF HANGER! okay so one of my goals has been to get across that Lance is a very unreliable narrator, and has avoidant tendencies where he doesn't like to think about the things that upset him (let alone talk about them!!), so I hope that's come across in these chapters! I wanted to vaguely hint at things like, for example, his old therapist (Dr. Nguyen) at one point recommending Lance not becoming a soldier again. Or how Lance planned on never telling Keith about that since obviously Keith wouldn't have invited him to be a Blade if he knew, & would probably feel really guilty! But I also worry I'm being too vague, so. I at least want to offer some clarity and context here. 🤣 Apologies if it's confusing at times!

ALSO. Kosmo has taken to teleporting into Lance's room and cuddling with him almost every night. This will be revealed to Lance later on LMFAO.

[herecirmsims]

SMALL SIMBLR SATURDAY SHOUTOUTS !!

I somehow missed this being arranged, but I LOVE the idea!! So much! Big up to all the incredible free CC makers on here who share such wonderful things with us. I've spent all morning writing this so it's got a bit long, but honestly... I think it was an excellent use of my time.

Keep being excellent, all of you!

Just a few of my Always Free faves:

Poses

@simmireen : the queen! The legend! And someone who I'm so happy to call my friend. Irene is absolutely my go-to when I need those sweet (and sometimes spicy!) moments. I know she doubts herself at times and doesn't like it when I yell about how amazing she is, but she is such a treasure and does SO much behind the scenes - more than many people realise, I think.

@alpine-lapine-deactivated202311 : unfortunately they're not on Tumblr anymore, but I'm including them anyway because I LOVE them and they've created so many fantastic free posepacks, CC, and tutorials - it's all still available to download!

@adjusted-karma : I'm rabidly addicted to her pin-up series, I don't mind admitting it. All her poses are so good though, she also makes CAS and pose accessories, and has been kind enough to answer my dumb Blender questions more than once!

@samsstudio : an absolute staple for storytellers. She was one of the first posemakers I ever discovered and I use her poses in almost every story post I make - the variations are so useful and the packs are so clearly labelled and organised, I love not having to squint at my screen to figure out what I need. There's always something that works perfectly for the scene.

@simmerberlin : she may be retired from posemaking, but how could I not include her? I also use SimmerBerlin's poses in pretty much all of my story posts (SimmerBerlin and SamsStudio single-handedly keep my story going) - especially her fantastic Emotions series.

@libetsims : this posemaker really needs to be seen more! I use her Emotions series all the time, and she makes so many child poses which are sorely needed for storytellers!

@madebycoffee : so many great posepacks - I use the Hugs series and the spicy poses so often. And the deco Sims! So good and so needed!!

@rebouks : fantasic, expressionate poses that are PERFECT for storytellers. And so many fantastic packs to choose from!

@marshmallow-sims : I really adore their cute style!! Another go-to for cute couple poses, especially ones that fit with the TS4 style. There's always so much life to them.

@raspberrywhimss : my beloved! A new posemaker but so talented! She also makes a lot of storytelling pregnancy poses, which I think are much needed.

@whimsyalien : I love how emotive her poses are!! They're so fun and with such great expressions. Perfect for storytellers!

@enniewritesathing : one of the first posemakers whose poses I ever used! They are sooooo good at spice and cute couples.

@theserenadeofshadows : another new posemaker and an absolute angel!! Please show her some support!

@ratboysims : the quality of these poses are soooo good! Absolutely one of my favourite makers.

@morrigan-sims : another Simmer who could go in any category, but I especially love her poses! Really good for fantasy/medieval storytellers!

Toysofdukeness : they aren't actually on Tumblr, but I'm including them anyway! Absolutely amazing quality poses. Just so good.

CAS

@notsooldmadcatlady : my go-to for medieval* outfits (I think this tag will show you most of their CC!). My Sims are so well-dressed now!! I'm blown away by the quality of their clothes! *Aka clothes that suit my extremely pseudo-medieval fantasy storyline lmao

@woosteru : they're retired, but if you missed them - their CC is still available here! Truly amazing quality and they also made some femme clothing for masc frames, which I truly appreciate.

@crazy-lazy-elder-sims : amaaaaazing alt clothing lines!! Always jaw-dropping and so creative. They also make BB items too!

@kevinandthesims : literally the best boxers available; I don't make the rules, that's just fact. And he also shares incredible no CC builds!

@xldkx-cc : I didn't know whether to put them in CAS or BB, because I rely HEAVILY on their amazing deco Sims but they also make stunning clothing and hair! So... just check out both?!

@laeska : I'm in love with the hair this creator makes!! It's SO beautifully made?!

@courierseis : another whose outfits I use all the time in my medieval/fantasy stuff! They also make hair and poses! Use this tag to easily find their downloads.

@lonelygravescc : more delicious alt goodness!! Honestly I wish I could own most of this CC in real life, but alas I will have to live vicariously through my Sims as usual.

@aniraklova : oki so I have an alt obsession, what of it? This creator makes SUCH cool masc-frame CC, as well as poses!

@shandir : I'm soooo in love with these creations, another absolute must have for fantasy-medieval gameplay and storytelling!!

@eachuisge-cc : the imagination and creativity!! I love everything they make - lots of stuff for horses and for animalistic Sims. I've also been highly entertained by the digitigrade legs + unmentionables saga (I dunno if Tumblr flags these words lmaaaaoo).

@saruin : OBSESSED. Obsessed! So many great creations for your ethereal, occult, otherworldly babes.

@zeussim : maker of stunning wedding dresses and also the fantastic Lestat's Lovers set, which requires it's own shout-out because I adore it and it made me so happy to see siuch great fashion for our masc-framed Sims.

@yooniesim : the hair this creator makes are GORGEOUS, and I also really love their accessories too!

@sychik : I think they might be retired now, but they were the first CC creator I ever downloaded from because they'd made hairs and clothing for The Arcana characters. I'd only just got Sims and I spent many happy hours playing with the Main 6, so I hope they know how much joy they gave me. You can use this tag to easily find CC.

Build/Buy

@surely-sims : I was in two minds about whether to include Anne in Poses or BB (or CAS!), because she is THAT talented that she does all. But her BB is so fun and unique and I'm obsessed with the vintage-style promo pics she makes for it, too. I'm also obsessed with Shromp on a cellular level... I'm in a cult of my own making tbh. Oh! And Anne has also started streaming CC tutorials on Twitch which are excellent!

@lumenniveus : I only discovered him fairly recently (because I heard there may be more Shromp content) but I am OBSESSED. OBSESSED. In fact I'm going to specifically shout-out the Runestone and Herbal Cottage Set because I'm using them so much right now and they've instantly become a must-have for my Mods folder.

@destruam : these conversions are EVERYTHING!! I use so much of their CC, especially to stock my medieval story scenes. They also make CAS outfits!

@buildbuymode : some excellent BB and CAS items, and also the maker of the baby rug hider mod which is SO necessary for storytelling/pose use hahah.

@bakiegaming : honestly, what can't this creator do?! I'm OBSESSED with their mods for animated animal life, and they also make fantastic BB and CAS items too.

And a special mention to @simdertalia : although she has recently had to start making a few sets early access, she was creating huge amounts of CC entirely for free before then and has always been so kind and generous. She is absolutely an integral part of my Mods folder because I use her CC all the time (and have made several poses for pieces that inspired me, too). It's always the highest quality and I frequently find myself discovering something that I didn't know I needed but now couldn't go without!

[magicalonsomanydances]

Back again to rank my latest feelings for the F1 Grid

Carlos Sainz Jr. - this will never change I will love him until I die I do not care what car he drives he will be my fav top step or DNF. I am the definition of ride or die when it comes to this absolutely pure wholesome hottie whose character somehow manages to outshine his good looks which is saying something given he literally looks like a fairytale prince

Fernando Alonso - can't have sweet without the spicy and I love this filterless agent of chaos whose persistence and ability to outperform his car throughout his career have made him the legend that he is

George Russell - a wholesome little crumpet who I would die for. He's so sweet and sincere while simultaneously being posh and classy. I love it all the more because his background is pretty working class

Esteban Ocon - speaking of working class gotta round out my trio of drivers with humble origins with the one who worked his way up on the sacrifice and belief of his family. Ocon is a working class hero and I will be an Estie Bestie perpetually unless he fucks up Ollie. This is his last chance to not lash out at a teammate because he'll clearly have the position of seniority at Haas next year so no reasons to fight Ollie Bear. If he hurts Ollie I may have to give him up but it will be painful and I will cry about it.

Oscar Piastri - I love pastries and Oscar is no exception. He's absolutely showing all the potential to be a legend of his generation. He's the second coming of Kimi Raikkonen and I'm here for it. Also much like Carlos and George he has absolutely impeccable gentleman vibes and because he's Aussie it comes across even a little more down to earth, like if he cycled past while you were having a flat tire or something he'd stop and try to help

Ollie Bearman - yes I know technically he isn't on the grid but like I lost Logan this week so let me have this. He's a sweet wholesome little nugget who I would die for. Just a little floof. And he's a promising little floof too!

Charles Leclerc - the more I watch this sport the more I realize that the Leclerc haters are insane when they say he's only popular because he's attractive and drives a Ferrari. The man is a bloody good race car driver and that's enough as is. His looks and his loyalty to the prancing horse are just bonuses.

Sergio Perez - help me Sergio Kenobi you're my only hope SO PLEASE START CLOSING THAT GAP BETWEEN YOU AND MAX it's embarrassing and I do NOT need him losing that seat because then who will I root for as a "home" driver. I've lost Logan, if I lose you too Checo I will have to switch to a different continent because I REFUSE to support the Canadian Nepo Baby who's wasting a perfectly good seat that someone else could be making much better use of

Max Verstappen - my brother in trauma. I swear I have the most sibling-core feelings for Max. As in I love and support him but also can't stand to see him win all the time. I cannot compliment him without adding some spice of insult to the compliment. We're two traumatized kids from different families with hard ass dads. Hence why on a personal level Max is probably like #3 for me. I'm very emotionally attached to that Dutch menace but I don't want to see him win more than 3 or 4 races a year

Daniel Ricciardo - if I lose Checo I will be claiming the man whose speech to his younger self wakes me up every morning as my home racer because good lawd he loves Texas lol. And who can have a top ten of drivers and NOT include the ray of fucking sunshine that is Danny Ric. He just fills the world with joy and tomfoolery

[aldbooks]

For the writing prompts- "I don't think you realize just how much trouble we're in right now." For Elucien? If it inspires you!

Prompt list

This one is partially inspired by this scene:

This gets a little spicy 🌶

---

Elain was awoken by a noise that didn't fully register until she heard a voice calling up to her from the floor below.

"Elain?"

Gasping, she sat bolt upright, coming fully awake at the sound of her sister entering the town house. What was the point of moving out of the River House to "gain some independence" if people were just going to show up unannounced whenever they felt like it? Never mind that her sister technically owned the house.

Clutching the sheets to her chest, she reached out and smacked the warm body laying beside her. Lucien made a sound of protest, but didn't other wise stir until she wedged a foot against his side and shoved him unceremoniously to the floor.

Wincing at the thud of his body hitting the floor, and his groaned curse, she lunged over the side of the bed and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Feyre's here," she hissed. "You need to hide."

Lucien gave her an indignant look from where he lay naked on the floor, followed by an expression that clearly said, "why? she's going to know anyway."

Which was true. The room reeked of him. Of the two of them together. Still, she wasn't ready yet for the entire circle to know about the two of them yet, even if they already knew they were mates. She was enjoying the intrigue and secrecy of them sneaking about the last few weeks. She didn't want to share him yet.

Scowling at her mate, who simply rolled his eyes at her and shifted his massive body under the bed, Elain leaped to her feet and threw a robe over herself before hurrying out of the bedroom to meet her sister on the stairs where, hopefully, Lucien's scent wasn't as strong.

Halting, Feyre gave her a curious once over, pausing on her hair, which she belatedly realized had to be an absolute mess after their rather... strenuous activities the night before.

"Morning," Elain said brightly.

Feyre arched a brow. "Morning... I knocked a few times, but you didn't answer."

You could've just come back later, Elain muttered in her head. She'd been hoping to spend a bit more time in bed with Lucien... whose scent she was also just realizing covered not just her bedroom, but her. Shit.

Feeling herself blush, she tightened the belt on her robe and cleared her throat. "I was still sleeping. I didn't hear you. What's up?"

What the hell was so important it couldn't wait until I actually answered the door? She thought, rather peevishly.

As though hearing her thoughts, Feyre cocked her head, smirking slightly. "Mor and I were going into the city for brunch. I was going to see if you'd like to join us... Lucien can come too if he's not otherwise occupied..." At this last, Feyre raised her voice enough that Lucien would hear her, glancing up the stairs. And though they both paused to listen, no reply came from that quarter.

Feyre's smirk grew in proportion to the blush on Elain's face. "Of course, if the two of you have better things to do today... I suppose we'll see you both at dinner?"

There was a pause before Lucien's muttered reply drifted down the stairs. "Sounds great."

Winking, her sister turned and sauntered back down the stairs. "Have fun," she tossed over her shoulder before disappearing out the front door.

As soon as Elain was sure she was gone, she sprinted back up the stairs. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned heavily against it and groaned at the sight of Lucien, still gloriously naked, sprawled on her bed once again, hands behind his head without a care in the world.

She shook her head, mortification flooding her even as her belly clenched and heated at the sight of him, waiting for her. "I don't think you realize how much trouble we're in."

Lucien laughed, a rough, lazy sound that made her knees weak. "Why? Because it's no longer a secret? Lady, I'm quite sure they already know. Though, if the scent of me all over you wasn't enough to tip them off by now, perhaps I should try marking you..."

He looked her over with predatory intent and, suddenly, a band of fire encircled her waist, pulling her towards him like a leash. Stumbling forward on shaky legs, she allowed him to pull her back into bed with him.

Rolling her onto her back, the band of fire now encircled her wrists, holding them over her head as he tugged the belt of her robe loose and parted the fabric, exposing her for his gaze. trailing a warm finger down her cheek, he hummed to himself as he surveyed her.

"What do you think, mate?" he purred. "Shall I mark you so the whole world knows you're mine?"

Fighting the urge to squirm and press her thighs together, her voice was hoarse as she answered, "Only if I can mark you."

Fire flashed in his one russet eye, a delighted smirk gracing his beautiful face. "Feeling a bit territorial?"

"It's only fair," she said sweetly.

"So it is..." Lucien leaned down, drawing her lip between his teeth. "You may mark me as many times as you like, mate. I am yours."

She shivered at his words. She hadn't officially accepted the bond yet, but truthfully, it was only a matter of time.

Returning to his previous task, he pulled back, once again surveying her naked body. "Where shall I mark you?" he asked, trailing a finger down to her collar bone. "Here?"

Drifting further down, he circle one nipple. "Here?" She pressed her lips together to stifle a whimper.

A bit further and his palm grazed her hip. "Here?" The backs of his finger brushed the inside of her thighs finally and she spread them automatically, earning her a pleased grin. "Or perhaps here?"

At the thought of bearing his mark in such an intimate place, her entire body ignited. Smelling her arousal, Lucien's grin turned devilish and he repositioned himself between her legs, throwing them over his shoulder. "As you wish."

Arching her back when she felt him suckle the delicate skin between his teeth, Elain felt the mate bond between them purr with satisfaction. And when his growl skittered over her body before his tongue delved into her core, she thought yes... they were indeed in trouble.

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Three

Series Masterlist

Summary: Copia has a meeting with his father while you try your best not to think about him.

Content Warning: implied gang violence, mild sexism (nihil is a gross old man)

Read on AO3

Notes: we’re keeping on with this series! i hope this chapter isn’t too dull; i don’t want to have smut in every installment and needed to establish a few Plot Things, if that makes sense. i didn’t actually have the plot fully planned out when I decided to make this a series, so that will likely bite me in the ass in the future. cooking up some spicy stuff for you all in the next few chapters though. stay tuned ;)

lmk what y'all think about the new header! graphic design is not my passion, so i'm worried it sucks lol.

feedback is always welcome! enjoy, friends!

Copia tugs at the collar of his shirt. It does nothing to relieve the choking feeling that’s been plaguing him all morning. The walk from the car is short, but sweat prickles across his back and under his arms as he climbs the front stairs. He takes a second to compose himself, one final moment of peace before the onslaught to come, staring at the obnoxious goat head knocker. Its square pupils bore into his soul, mocking him. Copia scoffs at the brass monstrosity, finally reaching for the ring between its teeth. It’s almost in his grasp when the door opens, startling him.

“Were you going to stand out here all day?” Psaltarian asks, a look of exasperation already plastered across his aged face. Copia swallows, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“I was not,” he quips. A beat passes. “Didn’t realize the old guy promoted you to doorman.” Psaltarian rolls his eyes, beckoning Copia to come inside with a wave of his arm. The foyer, as always, smells vaguely of cigar smoke, though today there’s a hint of chemical cleaner as well. The Persian rug at the center of the room catches his eye; it’s clearly new, the colors too rich and bright for this dismal place. On the opposite wall, a framed photo of Copia and his brothers as children hangs askew, the glass cracked. Glancing upwards, he finally notices the man sitting in a chair at the top of the stairs, a large gun laid across his lap. His finger rests on the trigger.

“Shit,” Copia mutters, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a stand near the door. “What-“ Psaltarian is already halfway down the hall, and Copia has to power-walk to catch up to him. “What happened?”

“An uninvited guest dropped by last night,” he says. “That’s all.”

Copia nods, wringing his hands. He’ll be in a bad mood. As the two pass by the basement door, he can’t help but pick up on the screaming emanating from the dark, musty labyrinth beneath the house. Whoever is down there… He chooses not to dwell on it any further. They’ll get what they deserve.

His father’s office is at the very end of the long, narrow hall. It’s not wide enough for him and Psaltarian to walk side-by-side, so he follows the old bookkeeper quietly. This part of the house has always reminded Copia of a livestock chute, pushing him through to the slaughterhouse at its terminus. Portraits of long-dead Emeritus patriarchs hang on the walls, their attire becoming progressively more antiquated the further he travels. He has never been able to shake the feeling that their eyes follow him, silently passing their judgement. Approaching the door, Copia recalls his words to you the night previous, the false assurance that his father would be pleased by your performance. He realizes now that he said it more to make himself feel better than to praise you.

When they arrive at the door to the office, Psaltarian steps to the side, looking at Copia expectantly. It’s awkward as he squeezes by the older man, turning his body so as to not brush against him. Fighting back a groan, he gingerly raps on the door.

“Yes?” Even through the thick wood, the frustration in Nihil’s voice is evident. Hesitantly, Copia opens the door enough to stick his head in. He finds his father sitting at his antique mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of him and looking at his youngest son disapprovingly.

“Hey, dad.” Copia smiles nervously as he steps into the room. “You’re looking well today.” The old man, unimpressed, scowls.

“Sit down. You are late.” Glancing at the clock on the wall — one of those stupid ones that spins and plays a song every hour — he sees it’s only two minutes past the designated meeting time. Knowing better than to say anything, Copia takes a seat in the rickety wooden chair across from the desk.

“So, eh… What’s up?” Nihil sneers, slamming his hands down on the desktop. Copia jumps a little.

“What is ‘up’ is that you refuse get your head out of your ass and participate in this business. Instead, you go galavanting around like you’re some sort of showman, putting on these silly cat-fights.” Copia is thankful his father is nearly blind, eyes so clouded with cataracts they look ghostly. He’s sure the indignant expression on his face would earn him an additional tongue-lashing.

“I am participating,” he objects, crossing his arms. “People pay good money to watch these fights, and we get a sizable cut of what the bookies make. Our dealers get good business, too; just ask Primo or Secondo.” Despite having intimate knowledge of the Family’s ledgers, Psaltarian, it seems, has been doing him no favors.

“Who wants to watch a bunch of girls fight anyway?” Nihil questions. “They can’t hurt each other like men can.” Copia rolls his eyes. If the geezer could see you fight, he’d know that’s horrifyingly false. “Now, Terzo? He’s got the right idea. He knows what kind of work women are suited for.” Copia cringes, knowing his brother would probably kill the old man for saying that. “You would make some real money if they wore bikinis.”

“Ahi, dad! We are not in the Dark Ages anymore.” Nihil scoffs.

“Don’t try and change the subject. There are serious matters at hand.” His father sighs, worry finally showing on his wrinkled face. “The other Families, they are growing bold.”

“I noticed the remodeling,” Copia says. “Who was it? The Sicilians? The Russians?” Nihil waves him off.

“That is not important right now. The point, son,” something about that word makes his stomach churn, “is that I will not be here forever. When the time comes, I need the assurance that you and your brothers can protect what this family has worked so hard for. As it stands, I am not convinced you have what it takes, not until you start taking this seriously.” Copia is used to this treatment, but the words sting nonetheless. “Would you stop that?” For a moment, he’s confused, but then realizes he’s been bouncing his leg, causing the chair to squeak rhythmically. Copia sighs, stilling himself.

“Look, you may not think so, but I am serious about this. If we want to be able to hold our own against the other Families, we need to diversify.” Nihil still looks skeptical. “These events are only getting more popular, and more lucrative. With the right resources, we can expand the operation; more fights, more often, better venues, more money in our pocket. Believe me, this is worth investing in.” Nihil stokes his chin for a moment, glancing out the window contemplatively. He sighs, shoulders dropping.

“Convince your brothers that is the case, and maybe you will convince me. Maybe. This is a business, Copia, not the circus.”

It’s not a no.

“Alright, fine.” Copia rises from his chair. “I’ll do that.” Nihil rolls his eyes.

“Ragazzo testardo,” he mutters. “Proprio come tua madre.” Copia pretends not to hear him, making his way back to the door.

“Lovely to see you, dad,” he says, ready to get the fuck out of there. “Take care of yourself, yeah?” Nihil grunts.

“Yeah, yeah. You as well. And, son?” Copia looks back at his father, his hand on the doorknob. He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think I do not know about that pet of yours — the girl. If you disappoint me, I will see to it that she finds better management.”

Copia’s mood instantly turns.

You wake up late. Copia is already gone, presumably at his meeting. On the coffee table is small plate bearing a blueberry muffin and more ibuprofen. Next to it is a stack of bills, the fifteen hundred dollars you won last night, and a handwritten note. In elegant script, it reads:

Dolcezza,

There’s coffee in the kitchen. Swiss is here and can take you home. You will find the full amount of your earnings here, plus a small bonus from me. Think of it as an expression of gratitude for all that you do.

Excellent work as always, mia tigressa. I will be in touch soon.

XO, C

P.S. Make sure you get some rest!

Fuck that.

After dry-swallowing the pills and absolutely devouring the muffin, you go to the kitchen. Swiss (you don’t know his real name) is sitting at the counter, a newspaper laid out in front of him. He perks up when you enter the room, flashing you a pleasant smile. He’s grown a mustache since the last time you saw him.

“Morning, champ.” You nod at him, awkwardly shuffling over to the cabinet where Copia stores his coffee cups. “Heard you kicked some serious ass last night.”

“I guess so,” you say, pulling out a mug decorated with a map of Florence.

“Bet that nose hurts like hell, though. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

“I’m used to it.” Please stop talking to me. You don’t dislike Swiss; you feel the same level of indifference toward him that you do with most people. He’s a decent guy considering his line of work, there’s just something about him being here, knowing you had a “sleepover” with his employer that’s just… ew. Thankfully, he seems to get the memo, returning to his reading as you sip your coffee in painful silence.

Once the caffeine hits, you’re ready to engage with him for real. “Can you take me to the gym, please,” you ask, placing your mug in the sink. Swiss grimaces, the skin around his dark eyes crinkling. He shakes his head.

“Sorry, but no can do. Boss wants me to take you home. Says you need to rest.”

That fucker.

You feel your temper flare, but quickly work to suppress it. Swiss is just doing his job, and you imagine Copia would be pretty displeased if you had it out with one of his guys. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you nod, muttering out a quiet “Okay.”

“Alrighty, then.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him in a bad mood. “If you're ready, let’s get going.” Swiss grabs a pair of keys from a wooden bowl on the counter and heads for the garage. Following him, you're able to catch the headline running across the top of the newspaper.

DRIVE-BY AT THE WHISKEY LEAVES TWO DEAD.

As soon as Swiss leaves, you walk to the gym. You get a few weird looks on the street and end up having to pull down the hood of your sweatshirt to hide your busted-up face, but otherwise, the journey is pleasant. The guys at the gym don’t ask questions, and have learned — some the hard way — to leave you be. Without distractions, it’s easy for you to get into a groove, and you soon find your mind wandering as you go to town on the bag.

Stupid Copia. Stupid Copia and his stupid fucking face. Stupid Copia and-

“Where would I be without you, il mia campionessa?”

Your knuckles are bleeding again.

A handful of hours later, you’re rounding the corner of your apartment building. You took the long way home to, in your mind, spite Copia. Trying to imagine him in place of the punching bag had been unsuccessful, your fist stopping itself a fraction of an inch away. This is as good a substitute as you’ll get, even if he has no idea you’re doing it.

There’s a swarm of pigeons waiting outside the front door. They flock to you as you approach, cooing and fluttering their wings in a frenzy. Your landlord has tried everything to get rid of them, from hanging strings of old CDs to putting up those fake dummy owls. You’re sure you’ll get another notice warning the residents of the building that “anyone caught feeding them will be receive punitive action.” So far, he has yet to suspect you of anything.

“No, no food today.” Wading through the dense sea of birds is a challenge, and you nearly lose your balance trying to avoid stepping on one. Eventually, though, you make it up the stairs to the door, unlock it, and step in, shooing away a particularly bold pigeon that tries to follow you inside. The elevator is always broken, so you take the stairs. They creak with every step. You have a few hours until you need to be at work. A nap, and then maybe a shower seems in order. Anything to distract yourself from the thought of stupid, stupid Copia.

You’re so busy trying to not think about him that when you insert the key into your apartment door, it takes you a second to realize it’s already unlocked.

[cowgurrrl]

Blueberry Pancakes

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!fem reader

Summary: The morning after [4.5k]

Author’s note: thank you for being patient also I was going to write more of the spicy spice but I got lazy so this is what you get lol fic named after this song

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, June putting her theatre minor and knowledge of NYC to work, Joel being needy, ✨opening up emotionally✨, smut (oral f receiving), we’re coming to the end of our time in NYC :(

Joel pressing kisses to your face is the first thing you feel when you wake up. You lazily reach for him, not even bothering to open your eyes, as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. "Good morning," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, and you hum. You smile and open your eyes to see him, messy hair and all, bathed in sunlight. Tattoos previously hidden by his shirt are now on full display, and your fingers drop to trace the inky lines. He kisses your nose and tucks some hair behind your ear. "I ordered us room service." 

"Did you get me a bagel?" 

"No, 'm a complete idiot," he says sarcastically, and you laugh. "What d'you have scheduled for today?"

"I have to make an appearance on the Tonight Show, but other than that, I'm free all day. Why?" You ask, and he smiles before ducking his head into your neck and kissing you more. Maybe it's because you never let yourself notice, or he didn't let you see, but Joel Miller is incredibly affectionate. You'd be an idiot not to let him worship you like you're the one who hung the moon and the stars.

"Because my sound mixing guy said he doesn't need me to come in, so I have," kiss. "The whole," kiss. "Day," kiss. "Off." He lifts his head to kiss your lips again but is interrupted by a knock at the door. He sighs, and you laugh, already pushing him off you so you can open the door. 

"I love how you're acting like you're not the one who ordered it," you say as you grab his Lakers shirt from the top of his suitcase, the hem of it hitting the tops of your thighs, and open the door to grab the two plates covered with a tin dish at your door. Joel sits up to watch you close the door behind you and set the dishes down on the table. "What?" You question his lingering eyes, and he shrugs.

"You look ridiculously hot wearin' my clothes." 

"You just like it because you know I'm not wearing any underwear." 

"I mean, that's not entirely wrong." He gets out of bed to pull on a pair of boxers from his bag and pads over to you, rubbing sleep from his eye. He's a sight to behold like this. All tan skin, hard muscle, and delicate black lines adorning his body. He wraps his arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder as you pull out your phone and take a picture of the beautiful breakfast spread. You post a vague Instagram story in which you can clearly see the two plates in front of you and the slightest peek of Joel's hand in the frame. "D'you like causin' chaos, or am I a bad influence?" 

"It's a little fun to watch them freak out." You admit, and he laughs. He presses a quick kiss to your jaw before releasing you to pull your chair out for you. You sit down and flip your phone face down on the table as Melanie texts you a screenshot of your post with a thumbs-up emoji. She can wait.

You and Joel eat the breakfast he ordered for you and talk. You tell him about coordinating with the cast of Red Dirt Girl for the premiere and show him a picture of you and Lilly together on set. He explains how sound mixing works and why he wanted to come all the way out to New York to work with this one guy when there are plenty of other sound mixers in Los Angeles. "I've worked with him a long time," he tells you. "I don't trust anyone else." You talk about wanting to visit the places you loved when you lived in the city. It's been years since you've been able to come back and just have fun. You're secretly really excited to show him your old stomping grounds.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Joel asks as you take a sip of coffee.

"Go for it."

"Before last night, when's the last time you had sex with someone?" There's no malice or amusement in his voice. He's genuinely curious. You sigh and stare into your mug.

"A year ago. Maybe longer."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothin'. I just can't believe that."

"Why? It's not like I've been dating since I came to LA. I work all the time. I'm never home, and when I am, it's not like I'm doing anything exciting." You say, and he shrugs.

"You're a beautiful woman. Smart. Funny. Not to mention rich and famous," he says, and you laugh. "I thought men would be climbin' over each other to be with you."

"Men are also intimidated by a woman who makes more money or works more than they do."

"Why do you work so much?" He asks. "People obviously like you if they keep hirin' you. Realistically, you could take a year-long break and just relax for the first time in God knows how long."

"I've always worked a lot. In college, I worked two different jobs, and when I graduated, I took almost every role or position I was offered because I couldn't afford not to. I think it was a way to keep me moving, keep my mind off of my family back home or the lives my friends were starting without me. Because I was in the city and so far away, it felt easy for them to forget about me. But they can't forget about me if I'm making new movies or shows or doing interviews."

"Is that somethin' you're afraid of? Being forgotten?" He asks, and you nod. You're not sure why you're divulging this much information to him so early in the day. You blame the way he looks at you.

"It's why I bite my tongue or play into the celebrity antics or sign a contract to date a rockstar," you say, and he smiles. "If I'm always giving them something to talk about, they can't throw me away." He reaches for your hand across the table, and a little shock passes from his fingers to yours.

"Well, you, my dear, are anythin' but forgettable,"

"Thanks," 

"'M serious. Those people would be fuckin' idiots to let you pass 'em by, and I'm sorry nobody's told you that." He says, squeezing your hand like he's trying to press the words into your skin. You bite the inside of your cheek as your brain catches up to what he's saying, tears pricking in your eyes embarrassingly fast. You stand, cross to his chair, and straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands rest on your bare thighs, his thumbs tracing patterns there. 

"Where've you been hiding this whole time?" You ask quietly, like if you say it too loud, the reverie will break, and everything will go back to the way it was before you came to New York. 

"Could ask you the same thing." He whispers, and you smile. You lean down and kiss him, slow in your movements. You play with the curls at the nape of his neck and just relish in the feeling of his lips on yours. It's dizzying how his stubble scratches against your skin, the hair already coming back in even though he just shaved the other day. He trails his hands upwards until he barely grazes your inner thighs, and you put your hands on his wrists to stop him.

"As much as I would love to do that again," you say against his lips. "I've got a list of places to visit today, and we can't do that if you keep getting handsy." 

"A list? You're so official." He asks, and you hum as you slide off his lap. You plant your feet and move toward the bathroom, but he snags your hand before you can get far and keeps you close for another second before letting it go. You can't suppress the giddy smile on your face as you start your skincare routine and plan an outfit in your head. The hotel room is quiet, and both of you are comfortable enough to slip into domestic silence as you get ready for the day. Or, at least, you would've been if you hadn't moved closer to the mirror to put sunscreen on and noticed the mark on your neck. 

"Joel Miller!" You shout. He appears in the doorway a second later with a confused look on his face. "Are you a fucking teenager? Look at this!" You point at the hickey bruising your skin, and he smirks.

"I don't remember you tryna stop me." 

"You're a menace."

"Yeah, yeah." He says as he reaches around you to grab something, smacking your ass and running before you can get payback, and you laugh. You call a ceasefire long enough to get dressed, but you do steal one of his white button-ups and pair it with jeans. When you come out of the bathroom with the tiniest bit of makeup on, wearing his shirt, he plays at his knees, giving out. 

"You're gonna kill me," he groans. You laugh and shove him out of the way to grab your bag. 

"You're dramatic," you say as he kisses your cheek. You grab his hand and all but drag him out of the hotel room, sneakily leaving money on the nightstand for the poor housekeeping staff who has to wash the sheets while you're out. You expect him to drop your hand once you're out on the streets, but he doesn't; if anything, he walks closer to you and wraps his arm around your neck to kiss your temple while you wait at a crosswalk. One of the things you love about New York is how easy it is to blend in among the massive amounts of people rushing from one place to another. Nobody gives you or Joel a second glance, and if they do, you're already several steps ahead of them, and it's too late for them to say anything.

"Did you live around here?" Joel asks as you turn down 2nd Avenue, and you laugh.

"I was way too broke to live anywhere near the Upper East Side. I lived in a three-story walk-up in Hell's Kitchen with four other girls from NYU."

"How far's that?" 

"Hell's Kitchen?"

"Yeah." He says, and you look up at the street signs to figure out where you are. 

"Well, we're on 2nd and 83rd, and I lived on 9th and 51st, so a really long walk from here, but we could cut through Central Park or take the subway. Or, if you really want to be LA about it, we could get an Uber," you say, and he nods. "What do you wanna do?"

"It's been a really long time since I was in Central Park," he says, looking down at you and squeezing your hand. "Wanna give me a tour?" You smile and begin guiding him through the familiar route. You tell him little bits of history that you remember from the various times you went on sight-seeing tours with friends and family, pointing out the roof of the Dakota and telling him that Yoko Ono still lives there once it comes into view. Joel tells you what Sarah and Ellie are up to today as you cross the street into Central Park. Apparently, Sarah and Ellie are spending a girl's day at the Los Angeles Zoo and then getting dinner with Joel's brother later. He lights up and shows you a picture of the girls smiling together in front of the zoo signage. He shoots back a picture of the park, and you watch him type out a dorky dad message about making good decisions.

Central Park is gorgeous this time of year. The flowers are starting to sprout into a rainbow of colors as the last bits of bitter cold finally disappear. Somebody's playing music at Strawberry Fields like they always are, but Joel being Joel, stops and listens to the young guitarist with tattoos painting her arms. You lean on him, holding his bicep, as you stand there and listen to him hum along to the song. You stay there for as long as possible, ignoring sideways glances and growing whispers, and clap when she finishes singing. Joel drops two hundred dollar bills in her open case before disappearing with you down the path, away from lingering eyes and tilted iPhone cameras. 

You take him on a bit of detour but, thankfully, find the path emptier and quieter than most. The birds chirp and swoop low over your head as they gather materials for their nests. The sun shines through the trees the way the movies make it seem like it always does, and it just feels easy. Joel slides his hand into your back pocket as you listen to him ramble about how important it is to support young artists because they get so discouraged. You think he could probably talk about this exact subject for hours until you stumble out of the path and into the decades-old theatre. He pauses, taking in the sight of all the seats and the skyline peeking out behind the trees, and you smile at his reaction. You walk him down to the front of the stage and turn him around to look at the entire theatre. Even though you've been here hundreds of times and seen pictures of your friends here, the magnitude of Delacorte Theatre never ceases to take your breath away.

"I used to do Shakespeare in the Park here." You say, running your hand over the smooth surface of the stage. 

"Really?" He asks, and you hum. "You like it?"

"Loved it. I remember every second."

"I never did understand what those plays were about."

"Didn't you read Shakespeare in school?" You ask, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"I'm from Texas, and I had a baby before a degree. Do you think I read Shakespeare?" He says, humor in his tone, and you have to fight the instinct to ask about Sarah and how he ended up a single father at twenty-two.

"You should try it. It's really not that hard once you understand the rhythm and everything." You say instead, and he furrows his eyebrows at you.

"What d'you mean?"

"It's kinda like a song. You speak the words in iambic pentameter and give them meaning as you say them. Every sentence should be a revelation like you've never had the thought before, even if you've read it a million times."

"Iambic what?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Here," you say, facing him. You put his hand over your heart, your own hand resting on his wrist, and give him a second to adjust to the beating. "Feel it?" You ask, and he nods. "That ba bum ba bum ba bum is how you stress the syllables." You take a deep breath and recall an old monologue from the depths of your brain. Then, surrounded by the ghosts of your past and the thousands of people who've ever walked the stage, you fill Delacorte with words older than the city itself. You keep yourself in time with the steady pulse in Joel's wrist and do your best to make every breath count. After years of auditions and callbacks and no after no after no, this, performing for him, is the scariest thing you've ever done. He stares at you once you're done repeating Helena's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and his jaw moves as he thinks. 

"What's it mean to you? Not what the books tell you it should mean." He asks quietly. 

"It's her admitting her faults. She's saying, "I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I can't take back what I've done, and I hurt you, but I love you, and because I love you, I'm letting you go." She's trying to say goodbye. Give their friendship meaning even when Hermia is furious at her," you say, and he nods. "The last person I dated was in that show with me. He played Oberon and was a complete asshole, but he broke my heart. Said I'd never make it in the industry. He actually broke up with me on closing night. This is the first time I've been back since." You say. He doesn't ask why you're telling him this or question the story. He just pulls you close and hugs you. He rubs your back and presses his lips to the crown of your head, and for just a second, New York City quiets down. 

"Fuck that guy," Joel says against your hair, and you laugh as you look up at him. 

"Yeah, fuck that guy." You agree. Then, just as quickly as the smile took over his face, he turns pensive again.

"Thank you for showin' me this."

"You're welcome."

You linger in the theatre for a few more minutes, reflecting on the journey your career has taken, before continuing your trek through Central Park. You walk past the children's playground where yuppie moms or their nannies watch over the screaming kids climbing the jungle gyms. Joel tells you about the time Ellie broke her arm because she was dared to climb as high as she could on the play structure. She was ten. 

"Cried the whole way to the hospital." He shakes his head.

"You or Ellie?"

"Are you kiddin'? Of course, it was me," he says, and you have to stop in the middle of the sidewalk from laughing so hard. "I can't believe you're laughin' at me! My baby girl was hurt!"

"Aw, you're tearing up now!" You say as you swipe your thumbs underneath his eyes. "Oh, honey." You giggle as you kiss his cheek, resting your hands on his face.

"Yeah, you should feel bad for makin' me cry." 

"You're just a big softie."

"For them? Always." He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. It stops you in your tracks. You know countless men with children who never tell their kids how much they love them or even show up for them. But here's Joel Miller crying about an accident that happened four years ago because of how much he loves his daughters. 

"Sarah and Ellie are really lucky to have you as their dad." You tell him, and you swear, more tears glisten in his eyes for just a moment. He clears his throat and turns to kiss the inside of your wrist.

"Thank you." He says, and you nod. He tucks you under his arm, and you guys finally cross the street out of Central Park.

Once you're close enough, you take Joel to your favorite pizza place in Hell's Kitchen, where you can still get a slice bigger than your head for a dollar. He's only slightly surprised at how fast the man behind the counter talks, but you chalk it up to him being in California for so long, where every syllable has to last three seconds longer. You miss New York, you realize, as you walk through the streets with him. It's an ache so deep in your heart that it makes you wonder why you ever left. But then you pass the building where you auditioned for an off off off off Broadway play and got called back, but when you showed up, the casting director just looked up and went, "Who are you?" That's enough to make you remember. 

Still, as you take him by your old apartment building, the restaurant you waitressed at until the day before you left for Los Angeles, and the subway station where you jumped the turnstiles too many times to count because you didn't have enough money for the train fare, you think you want to retrace every step you've ever taken on this earth just to make new memories with him. With Joel, everything is made fresh and exciting again because you've never gotten to experience these things with him by your side. 

A dangerous and stupid thought wiggles its way into your brain as you take the subway back to the Upper East Side, his body stabilizing yours as the car jolts forward and shakes, even though you're way more accustomed to the train's movements than him. You shoo it away before it becomes anything more, chalking it up to nostalgia and vulnerability. But when the subway emerges from the depths of the dirty, underground station and chugs its way through the elevated track, sunshine beaming into the cars and making Joel's eyes look like halos, it returns.

"What?" He asks, and you shake your head. "You're starin'."

"Maybe I just like looking at you."

"Weirdo." 

"Weirdo." You copy his deep tone, and he gives you a look. The subway doors open at your stop, and you and Joel tumble out of the car. He trusts you to guide him through the crowd and out of the station, holding his hand as he walks behind you. Traffic has picked up now that the work day is over, and you and Joel have to run between cars to make it to the hotel resulting in getting tagged in a picture of you and Joel running through the street with the caption, "What the fuck just happened!!!" As you approach the hotel doors, a group of young girls' eyes widen when they see you and Joel together. Joel notices and offers a very quick hello before ducking inside the hotel lobby, a chorus of excited voices echoing behind you. 

When you make it up to your hotel room, you sigh and fight the urge to crawl back into bed, your walk through the many neighborhoods finally catching up with you. A garment bag hangs in the open closet, and you unzip it to find the Cinderella blue dress your stylist got for you to wear tonight. It's short and has little flowers embroidered in the skirt, and you smile at how cute it is. "What time d'you have to be at the studio?" Joel asks, basically reading your mind as he comes up behind you to look at the dress.

"Couple hours. I need to take a shower and get ready soon." You say, turning to face him, and he smirks.

"Want some company?"

"Sure." 

"Wait, really?" He asks, and you laugh as you move into the bathroom, kicking your shoes and socks off by the sink. You turn on the shower and start unbuttoning your shirt when you notice him still standing by the closet.  

"Oh, my God, you're like a teenage boy. Yes, but hurry up!" You say, and he almost immediately pulls his shirt over his head and rushes into the bathroom with you. He's on you in a second, his hands flying to the button of your jeans, and you smile against him. "I really did mean just shower." You're half-joking, and he seems to realize it because he hums and pushes your pants down.

"Course, let me just help you outta these," he says, dropping to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him before you, guiding your legs out of the denim, but when he presses gentle kisses up your knee, you know you're done for. He takes his time, nipping and licking at the skin of your thighs like nothing else matters. He carefully guides your leg over his shoulder as he traces the fabric of your panties, his lips ghosting over you. Your hand lands in his hair as you stare down at him, his big hands reaching back and palming at your ass. He presses a gentle kiss to your clit, and you let out a shaky breath. "Still wanna take a shower instead?"

"You're an asshole." You say, and he hums smugly against your pussy, smirking as he finally tugs your underwear down and slides one deft finger through your wetness. You're dripping from his teasing, and you don't even have the heart to be embarrassed about it.  

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like it when I'm an asshole," he says. For half a second, you think he'll make you beg like he did last night, but then, without warning, he leans forward and licks hungrily into you. His mouth is hot and slow as he tastes you for the first time, all but moaning as you coat his tongue. He licks broad stripes through you, his nose bumping against your clit every time, and you shiver despite the sweat forming on the back of your neck. You grip his hair between your fingers and gasp when he slips two fingers into your pussy. You're still a little sore, but he gives you a second to adjust, focusing all his attention on devouring you like a man starved. "You taste so fuckin' good, baby. Been thinkin' 'bout this since you stole that fuckin' cigarette from me." He mumbles, his stubble scraping the inside of your thighs perfectly. 

"I thought, oh fuck," you moan as he starts moving his fingers inside of you, the drag of them making you see stars. "Thought you hated me."

"I thought you hated me," he says, moving to kiss your inner thigh and look up at you. The muscles in his forearms flex as his fingers curl, and you whine. His mouth is back on you, drawing tight circles into your clit with his tongue, and dark eyes hold your gaze. Everything around you melts, the water hitting the tile behind you becoming nothing more than white noise as pleasure swims through your veins. "But we just had to figure each other out. Huh, pretty girl?" You clench around his fingers, and he chuckles lowly. "I knew you liked it when I called you that. Did you go home and touch yourself after I dropped you off? I would've come inside to help you, you poor thing." He makes a sympathetic sound, the vibration making you buck your hips. 

You can't even formulate a response as his fingers stroke at your walls, grazing that spongy part inside you enough to make you throw your head back. He sucks your clit between his lips and hums against you again. You moan his name over and over again, the sound of your voice echoing around you. Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, and you hold onto him for dear life. "If you let me fall, I will never fucking forgive you." You manage, and he laughs. 

"I've got you, sweetheart." He says as he wraps his other hand around your waist, pressing you closer to his mouth. His fingers pump in and out of you steadily, and he licks at your clit again, the slightest scrape of his teeth making you shout as you come. He doesn't let up. The filthy sound of his fingers fucking you through your orgasm mix with your shaky moans, and you have to literally pull him away by his hair for him to stop.  

"You're gonna kill me." You breathe as he stands and kisses you.

"You're dramatic."