#dark month is the bees knees

[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a quick little something that i couldn’t stop thinking about so i had to write it. the final hockey fic of the year and it feels fitting that it’s barzy after all the love you gave me on the last one. there’ll be more to come with this little family so join me for the ride in 2024! happy new year, all! 🫶🏻

word count: 3.4k

tw: super brief innuendo, vague mention of bad birth experience, brief mention of negative body image

summary: you and mat bring talia to meet santa at the islanders family holiday skate

You hum along to the Christmas song playing on the Alexa speaker, dancing and making silly face at Talia so she’ll laugh while you’re getting her ready instead of freaking out. “Santa, baby, slip a sable under the tree,” you croon in an off-key, over the top voice, “for meeee.”

She giggles, displaying the one and a half teeth she has popping out of her bottom gums. You bicycle her legs on the changing table, making quick work of her diaper change. “So, what are we thinking for the fit today, Miss T?” You tickle her bare tummy and blow a little raspberry on her skin, making her shriek with laughter again. “Oooh, I just love that sound.”

It’s two weeks before Christmas, Talia’s first, and you’re getting ready to head over to Northwell for the Islanders’ family holiday party. You’re excited to have Talia meet Santa and skate with her and Mat. The house is decorated, you’re speeding along to the actual holiday, and Talia’s being the sweetest baby. It’s wild to think that this time last year you were telling Mat about your pregnancy and after the craziness of the last few months of your pregnancy and Talia’s birth, you’re finally feeling more normal and less anxious about doing something wrong.

“Maybe a dress,” you lift the seven-month-old onto your hip and wander over to her closet, where all the clothes are color cordinated, thanks to Liana’s Thanksgiving visit. You flip through the tiny clothes, the little hangers clacking against the rack. Talia bounces on your hip, kicking her feet and you’re convinced that you have a permanent bruise on your ass cheek from where her little heel constantly makes contact. “Or how about the little plaid jumpsuit from Auntie Syd?”

Talia giggles and yanks at your hair. You wince and take your hand away from the jumpsuit. “Okay, maybe not the jumpsuit. I’m thinking red velvet dress for Santa and something warmer for skating, what to you think, Talia Bee?”

You continue to narrate your actions while you pick out the little red velvet dress that you’d been unable to resist when you went to the Americana a few weeks ago. It’s so soft and you know Talia, with her dark hair and light eyes, is going to look like a Christmas angel. She’s the perfect mix of you and Mat, with Mat’s coloring, and you just want to spend your time staring at her and cuddling her, especially because you hadn’t been able to hold her right away after her early birth. Emotion clogs your throat as you think about those scary first days and weeks, and you make the effort to push those emotions away, kissing the baby on her forehead. “Okay, mama’s being silly,” you murmur. “Let’s get you ready.”

Talia’s decked out in her little tights and the dress, kicking her feet happily, hands fisting the soft velvet fabric of her dress. You brush her shock of dark hair off her forehead, tidying it up with a little red bow hairclip, before lifting her up and helping her stand on the changing table. She bounces her knees, squealing excitedly, and your heart expands.

You settle her back on your hip once she’s dressed and move around to pack the diaper bag, tossing the outfit change - a pair of hunter green corduroy leggings and a fluffy white pullover with a hood and bear ears - into the separate compartment from the diapers and everything else. You make sure there’s another, less fancy outfit change in the bag as well, plus her diapers and a whole host of toys to keep her occupied.

The Christmas playlist shuffles back to “Santa Baby” and you laugh a little, singing along dramatically to make Talia giggle. You dance around with her in your arms and jump when Mat’s voice breaks in through the music and your singing, “she’s really whoring herself out for Santa, huh?”

You turn and there’s your husband, leaning against the door to the baby’s nursery, looking handsome as sin in his dark jeans and cream sweater. His hair is slightly damp from his shower and he’s barefoot. A teasing smile splits his face.

You grin back at him, adjusting your grip on Talia as she lunges in your arms for Mat. “She’s just a woman who knows what she wants,” you reply, handing Talia over to him. He takes her easily and kisses her cheek.

Mat scoffs. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to me. Talia Bee looks like she’s ready to meet Santa, huh?” He wrinkles his nose at her and she giggles, grabbing at his face, little fingers hooking in his mouth. He play bites at them and she giggles, bumping her head against Mat’s. “Ow,” he mumbles.

You wipe subtly at your eyes, hormones still a little wonky, and Mat shakes his head at you. “No tears. I’ve got Princess T, we’ll hang out while you get ready,” he says, reaching out to nudge at your side to get you moving. He turns to Talia and says, “right, T? Daddy will entertain you while Mama gets even prettier than she already is.”

“Charmer,” you roll your eyes. “Do not let her get messy, please.”

“Oh, there went my plans to finger paint,” he laughs, making Talia laugh too. Their faces are nearly identical when they laugh and you can’t believe that this is your life.

When you finish getting ready, after only some minimal negative thoughts about the few extra pounds still lingering on your body, you find Mat and Talia in the den, entertaining each other. Mat’s laying on his stomach on the couch, a hand extended to Talia with a pile of puffs on his palm. He watches as Talia pinches one at a time and puts them carefully in her mouth. “Good job, T,” Mat coos, his free hand rubbing at the bottom of her foot.

“Puffs were a smart choice,” you comment, grinning when Talia looks over at you and immediately ignores Mat and the snacks in favor of waving her hands at you for you to pick her up.

Mat rolls partially onto his side to look at you and immediately wolf whistles, making you blush. “Hot mama,” he says, teasing you with his words. But the look in his eyes is all genuine heat and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Stop that,” you wave him off, lifting Talia onto your hip. “I probably shouldn’t even be wearing these pants,” your free hand smooths over the black leather on your thigh, “I need to lose like another ten pounds.”

“You’re literally the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” Mat says sincerely, getting to his feet and popping the remaining palmful of puffs into his mouth. The baby snacks are surprisingly delicious. He chews, swallows, and says, “if we weren’t nearly running late, I’d a thousand percent eat you out on the couch right now.”

“Mat!” You yelp his name and cover Talia’s ear with your free hand. “Little ears!”

“She has no idea what I’m saying,” he laughs, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you. His tongue slides past your lips and you deepen the kiss, grinning against his mouth until Talia lets out a shriek because neither of you is paying attention to her. Mat pulls back from the kiss and laughs harder, giving her a dramatic, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Can’t forget about the princess.”

You kiss her other cheek, smushing her face in between yours and Mat’s and Talia giggles happily, kicking her legs and pushing at your faces with her hands.

Talia naps a little in the car, her head lolling and cheek pressed against the side of her car seat. Mat’s hand stays firmly on your thigh for the entire drive and you try not to think about the way your thighs spread when you’re sitting. But when you get to the practice rink and all of the kids are running around, it’s easier to push those thoughts away. Mat carries the diaper bag and the skates while you have Talia and your purse.

“Let the party begin,” he crows dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. You snort a laugh behind him while some of the guys roll their eyes at him.

“Party’s already started,” Bo teases, “with Barzy fashionably late.”

“Do you think these good looks just happen naturally?” Mat asks, pouting like Zoolander.

Noah breezes by with Brock’s two oldest kids yanking on his hands. He comments, “yeah, we all knew it took you a lot of work to look halfway decent.”

“Please continue chirping him,” you say, “his ego’s almost too big for the house.” Mat helps you take off your jacket while you’re still holding Talia and he takes the opportunity to pinch your ass in retaliation. “Ouch! I’m sorry,” you giggle. Talia tugs at your hair and you’re convinced that sometimes father and daughter have a psychic connection.

Mat wanders off to put your jackets somewhere and you end up in a little huddle with Sydney, Kristy, and Holly. They take turns cooing over Talia’s little dress and she thrives on the attention, giving them gummy smiles and giggles, drool covering her chin that you have to keep wiping off. The older kids are all wandering around, running in the open areas, and the noise echoes off the high ceilings in the rink’s lobby. It’s decorated for the holidays and you find yourself looking around for Mat to see if he’ll join you for a picture in front of the tree.

He appears, with a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, and Jack Cizikas hanging off his back. “Did anyone see Jack?” He asks seriously, looking between you and the other women. “We can’t find him!”

Jack’s giggles are infectious and you find yourself laughing too, bouncing Talia on your lap. “Did you check the ice?” You ask and Mat turns around, like a dog chasing its tail, with Jack swinging around, laughing hysterically.

“I’m here!” He yelps and slides off Mat’s back. Mat widens his eyes in a dramatic expression.

“Whoa! Have you been there the whole time?” Mat shakes his head. “Your dad and I couldn’t find you!”

Jack looks up at Mat and then over at his mom, who’s hiding a laugh behind her hand. “Mom, isn’t Mat supposed to be good at spotting things?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Like pucks? I’m bigger than a puck!”

With that, he runs off to find the other kids, leaving the adults laughing in his wake. Mat shakes his head, “damn. The kid’s a savage.”

Kristy shrugs, “he spends too much time around hockey players.”

“That’s why we’re only having daughters,” Mat says to you, cupping his hand over Talia’s head. “They’re nicer to their dads than boys are.” Talia reaches for him and wraps her entire hand around his ring and pinky fingers.

You snort, “wait until the teenage years, I don’t think you’ll be singing the same tune.”

“Forget teenage years,” Sydney laughs, “Winnie’s terrible twos almost prevented Alice from even existing at all.”

“Let me have my fantasy,” Mat grins. “You guys are mean, right T? You’re not gonna be mean to Daddy when you’re older?” He lifts her from your lap and hugs her close, wincing when she yanks at a hunk of his hair while she giggles, leaving a spot of drool on his shoulder.

“How about we try that Santa picture while she’s in a good mood?” You suggest, getting to your feet to disentangle her chubby fingers from Mat’s hair. The last thing you need is for him to think another buzz cut is a good idea.

The other wives nod. Holly chimes in, “you have to get that picture before nap time otherwise it’s a total loss.”

Kyle and Ashlee are finishing up their pictures with Santa when you and Mat get over to the little workshop area that’s been set up. Luca’s grinning from ear to ear, a candy cane clutched in his fist. “Candy!” He cheers when he sees you and Mat, brandishing the sweet and nearly whacking Ashlee in the eye. She ducks a little and huffs a laugh through her nose.

“Not the first candy cane he’s had today,” she admits to you, while Kyle holds out a hand to Talia for a high-five. Mat helps her give the other man a slap on the palm and all three cheer.

“She’s still sugar free,” you grin. “But I can’t vouch for how much sugar the big child has had.”

“Absolutely none,” Mat cuts in haughtily. “This energy is all natural life endorphins, Squeaks.”

Mat’s natural life endorphins have him practically bouncing in to see Santa, all big smile and bright eyes. You’re both so excited to see Talia meet Santa for the first time and the man the team’s hired looks absolutely perfect for the part. He greets you all happily, with a booming voice full of joy. “Ho ho ho!” He laughs. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Talia,” you tell Santa with a big cheesy grin on your face. Mat has her facing forward, one forearm propped under her butt and the other wrapped securely around her stomach. She squints at Santa curiously, suspiciously, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Oh, ho! Talia, have you been a good girl this year?” Santa asks, a twinkle in his eye that you don’t think can be faked. He must be a grandfather in his real life, you think while snapping photos.

Talia pinches her lips together, her eyebrows drawing together in a furrow. Mat jiggles her up ans down a little, “T, why don’t you show off that Barzal charm? Give Santa a smile.”

“She’s usually very chatty,” you explain to Santa, who shrugs and says he’s seen it all. Mat lifts one shoulder too and goes to hand Talia over to Santa so you can get a picture, but the second she leaves Mat’s hands, Talia begins sobbing, letting out an earsplitting wail.

“Oh my god!” You take her back immediately, holding her against your shoulder and swaying so she’ll calm down. Mat’s apologizing in the background. “Oh, Talia Bee, it’s okay. Mama and Daddy are sorry. You’re okay.”

She keeps crying on your shoulder and you wince at Mat, who looks shocked and says, “I had no idea she’d freak out like that.”

“It happens much more often than you’d think,” Santa offers kindly. “The littlest ones like to have mom and dad in the picture too.”

Talia hiccups in your arms, she’s stopped crying now, but her face is still all red. You pepper soft kisses over her cheeks and forehead, cuddling her close until she starts chewing on the side of her fist quietly. Her head is tucked under your chin and she looks over at Santa with a pretty impressive stink eye, considering she’s only seven months old.

“I’ll keep a hold of her,” you tell Mat, “and we can all just get a group shot. Hopefully that doesn’t set her off.”

He agrees and sits on one side of Santa while you take the other, carefully keeping Talia from seeing Santa directly. You smile and tickle Talia lightly, hoping it gets her to smile at least. Once the picture is taken, Santa offers you both a jolly smile and Mat a candy cane. He takes it happily and immediately unwraps it to pop it in his mouth with the hook part hanging out of his mouth. He scrolls through the photos that were taken and cracks up at one, showing it to you as you head back towards the main lobby.

“Oh god,” you giggle at the photo of Talia freaking out, her face bright red and mouth opened in that horrible wail. “This is so mean to laugh at.”

“At least when she needs therapy for her Santa phobia we can show her this as the starting point,” Mat jokes, while setting one of the nicer photos of the three of you as his new phone background.

“You’re horrible,” you swat at his arm, adjusting Talia on your hip. She grumbles and nuzzles her face against your shoulder, patting at your chest. She lets out a high pitched squeal and you kiss her cheek. “Okay, I know. You’re hungry, right, baby? Daddy can go get Mama a snack and I’ll feed you.”

You turn to Mat and give him puppy dog eyes. He’s already laughing when you ask, “will you get me snacks while I feed your child?”

He snorts. “Of course. What do you want, sweet or salty?” While he waits for your answer, Mat cups his hand over Talia’s head and rubs his thumb over the shell of her ear. His love language has always been physical touch, his hands always on your body in some way, and now he does it to Talia, constantly holding her little hand or cupping his palm over her head.

“How about a little mix of everything?” You reply, leaning over Talia to give him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into one of the side offices so you can feed the baby. Mat brings a plate of snacks and once you’re done feeding Talia, he takes her to burp so you can get straightened out. While he pats her back, Mat tells Talia how excited he is to take her on the ice and how cute she’s going to look in her little sweater. You love when he’s extra adorable with her, it honestly makes you want to give him a dozen more babies. When Talia’s a little older and you’ve had some more distance from your labor with her you’re going to bring it up with Mat.

Half the team is already on the ice when you get to the rink after changing the baby into her warmer outfit. Everyone’s having a good time skating and the kids all look beyond delighted to be taking turns skating with their dads. You sit on the lowest bleacher level and watch Mat make quick work of his skate laces, tying off the knots efficiently. You go to hand Talia over so you can lace up your own pair, but Mat kneels in front of you instead.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him pull off your boots. He cups a hand around your ankle and guides your foot to the skate boot. You automatically wiggle your feet into the skates, reflexively stomping down so your heel settles into place. He adjusts the tongue of the skate and makes quick work of your laces too, knotting them tightly.

“Taking care of my girl,” he replies with a cheeky grin before patting your ankle to signify that he’s done and you can stand up. Talia reaches for Mat and he takes her, knowing that you’d rather he hold her while you’re on skates since he’s more comfortable walking on the blades.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, following him onto the ice, your phone in hand to take pictures. Talia’s eyes are wide and Mat holds her securely while she has her head practically on a swivel to watch all the action. She waves to everyone as they skate past, excitedly kicking her legs in Mat’s arms. Whenever one of the guys waves to her, she squeals happily, nearly falling out of Mat’s arms in order to reach for Gunnar Horvat when Bo skates past with him. Mat laughs and picks up his speed a bit to get the breeze on her face.

Your stomach twists a little nervously and you follow him, slower of course, saying, “Mat, don’t go too fast, okay? I don’t want - just be careful!”

He nods and slows down, spinning to face you and skate backwards a little. They both have matching looks of joy on their faces. “This is the best,” he grins, bouncing Talia in his arms and then leaning down to let her feet touch the ice. She giggles, kicking at it, and you take video, knowing you’re going to watch it back a million times. “She’s a real ice baby.”

“It’s in her blood,” you wave at Talia from behind the camera so she’ll look at you. Mat helps her wave back and swings her a little, grip firm under her armpits. She shrieks with delight as he swings her back up into the air and into his arms. Her little cheeks and nose are pink and the fluffy fleece makes her look like a little polar bear. “You are the cutest little baby in the world,” you can’t help but coo at her.

“All thanks to her having the cutest mom in the world,” Mat winks at you, skating away with a laugh.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Domestic bliss—

Quinn Hughes x reader

Request: Quinn asking his girlfriend to move in with him

Quinn had been on a two-week roadie, and by the end of the second week, he wanted nothing more than to fly back to his apartment, to her, so he could be held in the comfort of his bed.

When the time came and he was home, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door, he was met with the reality of his dark and cold apartment. His house looked the same and when he had left, it was untouched and unloved in his absence and he hated it.

Quinn sent her a text asking her to come over for the night as he entered his bathroom to shower, the stress of the away games rolling off of his back with every step into his apartment, making it a ritual to leave the stress of work at the door, not bringing it into his safe space.

A soft smile took over his face as he opened his cabinet mirror to see her toothbrush in the cup, and many other little self-care items she had left in their designated spot in his bathroom. He loved that she took up room in his life, loved that he could go into every room in his apartment and see reminders of her, she was a constant presence and he loved it. Almost as much as he loved her.

She got in the door just as he got out of the shower, a shy smile on her lips as he walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. "Hey dove," his cheeks grew flushed as he walked into the kitchen where she was leaning up against the counter, a growing grin on his face as she pulled him in for a hug, "missed you so much, you have no idea." "I think I have some idea," she whispered back, taking a deep breath and inhaling the smell of soft eucalyptus radiating off of him as she pulled away, she took his face into her hands and planted a kiss right on his lips, "now get dressed, I wanna make dinner and watch a movie."

He made a bee-line to his room to grab some clothes, a warm smile on his face as she trailed right behind him. Quinn dug up some pyjamas for himself and her, handing her an old shirt to change into as well, his eyes wandering as she stripped herself of her work shirt, a smirk on his lips as she caught his stare. "Creep," she mumbled as he shook his head. "Just admiring how perfect you are," he shrugged as she pulled the shirt over her head. The look of his old Michigan shirt on her made him weak in the knees, adoring how heavenly she looked, the fabric showing just the right amount of thigh, she was honestly an angel Her laugh was like music to his ears as she kissed both of his cheeks, her heart pounding as his hands gently squeezed her torso, never getting used to how electrifying his touch was on her skin.

She then stripped herself of her jeans, "can you grab me the shorts I left here last month," another example of her life overlapping with his, the thought of her clothes mixed in with his made him feel a little dizzy, the domesticity of it all was perfect. "And what if I don't want to?" he asked, a hint of suggestion in his voice as she rolled her eyes at him. "You want me to make dinner in my underwear?" He looked at her with a knowing look, "I wouldn't object." She let out a huff of fake annoyance, "fine," she grinned before making her way to the kitchen.

She stood over the stove, a grin on her face as she began making breakfast for dinner, his favourite comfort food. He loved how she just knew things about him like that, it made him feel all bubbly inside, heart-melting even.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her torso, head dipping in the crook of her neck as she started the scrambled eggs, "Dove, I think I'm obsessed with you," he mumbled into her skin, hands gripping her his shirt. Her face grew hot at the confession, but she played it off as if it had no effect whatsoever, "sounds a bit like a 'you' problem Q." "It is a problem, and a growing one, I can't get enough of you," he placed a wet kiss on the exposed skin of her neck, a chill running up her spine at the purest form of love he was displaying.

"I'm gonna burn the eggs if you keep it up." "Burn them for all I care, just need you," he grinned at the vibrations her laugh sent through him. "You can have me all you want the moment you're fed and we are in bed watching a movie" she reasoned as he let out a pretend groan and returned to unpacking his away bag.

Once dinner was done and eaten Quinn had taken it upon himself to load up the dishwasher, not wanting to put in the energy of hand washing, as she readied herself for bed and picked out the movie for the night.

She laid basically on top of Quinn as he ran his fingers through her hair, limbs a tangled mess as they watched whatever comedy she had decided to play. "You played really well this trip, you're getting really close to beating that record," she grinned into his skin. "You've been keeping up with my stats?" he asked, voice hoarse from the tired state he was in. "Of course, I watch every game," She moved up on the bed to be face-to-face with him, "I think I'm obsessed with you," she quoted him with a grin as he leaned forward to peck her on the lips.

He stared at her for a second, eyes tracing over her features, words on the tip of his tongue as her fingers ran up and down the length of his arm. "Y'know I was gone for two weeks and you were all I could think about," he whispered, his thumb gently running over the apples of her cheek, "and how I couldn’t wait to get home to you, I've never felt that way about anyone before."

She blinked, her eyes full of adoration as she smiled at his confession, "I missed you an unhealthy amount, always forget how much the distance sucks," her hand held the wrist of his that was cradling her face. "I'm sorry" "Don't apologize for living out your dreams," she shook her head slightly, "besides if you weren't you we never would've met, and I would never have the bragging rights that I have a hot superstar defenseman boyfriend, what's the fun in that?" He laughed as she leaned forward and kissed just below his eye, "I never really believed in soulmates, but if life had been different, I still think we would've made our way to each other," he mumbled, arm looping around her waist to pull her into his chest, chin resting on top of her head, "I would've made sure to find you, in this life, and every other one after it." "You're such a sap," he laughed again, her lips placed gentle open-mouthed kisses to his arm.

"All week I was itching to get home, and when I got here everything felt so wrong." "Why?" "You weren't here, my house was lacking my real home, you," he said truthfully, Her eyes began to water at his words, head dizzy from the amount of love she was holding for him. "And it made me realize that I don't think I ever want to come home to a house if you're not living with me in it," she pulled away to look at him again, his crooked smile found its way onto his expression, and his eyes were filled with some sort of relief from the revelation.

She returned his smile with a dopey grin, "are you asking me to move in?" "Only if you want to Dove, if you're not ready, that's okay, but I'd love to know that when I get home you'll be here waiting for me." The girl placed a kiss on the hand intertwined with her, "I'll always be here for you, for however long you'll have me," she admitted, a bit embarrassed by how her eyes had begun to water again and face filled with bush at her confession. "So forever sounds good to you?" she nodded as he dipped his head down to capture her lips in a slow kiss, not one filled with hunger, or desperation, no, one that showed his love for her. It was tender and caring, and so full of emotion that even his eyes began to fill with tears.

And in that moment he knew that this wasn't just about having some sort of domestic bliss with her, this was a future in the making, a whole life flashing before his eyes as her hands gently tugged at his damp curls. Melodic laughter left her lips as he broke away for a second to whisper a short ‘I love you’ before pulling her as close as humanly possible in to his chest.

-

-

-

[redheadspark]

Universe

Summary - a few of Alec Rhysand's firsts. Part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Warnings - just fluff :)

Crawling

Alec was always a babe of observation, ever since he came into the world screaming and making his presence known in Velaris.  He loved knowing what was happening around him, his bright blue eyes always moving and gazing around.  You knew he inherited it from his father: always watching with silence.  It made you laugh to see almost the same look on your son’s face as his father’s own face when they were side by side, even giggling at one point as Azirel was holding Alec and they were watching Cassian and Rhysand banter with one another during one of your Inner Circle dinners that was held once a month.  You were hiding your laugh behind your smile, not wishing to ruin the moment of your mate and son showing the same judgemental face towards Cassian as he was trying to make the table laugh with an Illyrian camp story.  The only other person who caught on was Feyre, who was hiding her smile behind her wine glass.  

You were not even surprised when it came to Alec wishing to crawl.  When he wasn’t being held by Azriel or when he wasn’t on your hip, he was sitting upright and looking at everything around him in earnest.  Although you were never too far away from him while he was perched on a quilt that was a gift from Elaine, he was always observing everything.  Perhaps you could tell he wanted to be able to move around and be closer to you and Azriel, or he simply never wanted to miss out on what was happening with his family during gatherings, Alec was ready to move.

It finally happened one afternoon, you were gathering some lavender from the garden outside your house since it was now overgrowing.  Azriel was inside the house, going over last-minute spy information he got from Dawn Court.  He wanted to make the proper paperwork before giving it to Rhysand and Feyre, then making sure to devote the rest of his time to both yourself and Alec.  

You were humming, enjoying the small amount of sun you’d had for the first time in a week since it was still technically the rainy season in Night Court.  Clipping a few tall strands of lavender that were full and ready for use, you paused to look over at Alec who was only a foot or two way on his quilt, seeing him play with the wooden blocks that were his favorite toys.  You admired him, seeing how he was growing day by day before you could simply stop time itself.  One minute he was an infant swaddled in your arms, and now he was on his way to the toddler years.  Time was now a thief to you, a thief that you hated but at the same time, you savored the small moments. Like now, playing with the wooden blocks in his chubby fingers and babbling to himself to keep himself occupied while his mother was not too far away. 

“Honey, I’ll be ready to head out to the River House in about 10 minutes,” Azriel called out from inside the house, “Feyre wants to have you and Alec come along too.  Apparently, Nyx wants to see his cousin,” 

You had to laugh as you grabbed the clippers again and snipped a few more lavender strands to place in the basket.  You of course weren’t paying attention to your son, though you knew that he was alright in his spot and with his favorite blocks.  But you heard a new sound, apart from the soft breeze in the high trees behind your house and the bumble bee that was hovering near the lavender garden. It sounded like movement in the grass to which you paused to look.

Your eyes went wide at the sight: of Alec crawling over to you.

His eyes were on you, big and shining blue in the sun as his dark hair was pushed out of his sight, a gleeful grin on his face while his hands and knees were working overtime.  It was almost like a dream seeing him crawl to you, determination on his face as his eyes were zoned in on you.  A smile appeared on your face, an overwhelming sense of joy while you finally found your voice.

“Azriel!” You called, not wanting to sound concerned or panicked but wishing to get his attention.  You knelt down, placing the clippers down as you held out your hands for Alec, hearing him giggle as he was still crawling over towards you.  Although he wasn’t fast, you knew he was determined, and you were patient as you heard the back door open abruptly.

“What is it—“ Azriel fell silent after he saw Alec crawling toward you, a smile was now on his face too as Alec was so close to getting to you.  The determination on Alec’s face, let alone a hint of stubbornness that he got from his father, made your heart beyond full as he finally made it into your arms.  You Immediately engulfed him close, peppering his face with kisses as Alec squealed in delight.  Azriel’s own arms were around you from behind, the three of you enjoying this small moment together as a family.  

You hated time, but not in this moment with your son.

First Words

“Come on, Alec.  I know you wanna say your first words, come on!” Azriel urged his son, who simply grinned with a hint of saliva on his chin.  You had to laugh from your spot on the couch, thumbing through another page in the book you were currently reading thanks to Nesta.  Azriel was on the floor, back against the couch near your leg as Alec was perched in his lap.  With the rain coming through Velaris and making all of its residents stay inside, you and Azriel did not mind one bit.  With a roaring fire in the fireplace and a roast already cooking in the oven, it was the perfect day to have family time together.

Azriel made it his mission to make Alec say his first words, which amused you since you weren’t too worried about it yourself.  Alec would squeal, shriek, and babble to his heart’s desire when something amused or intrigued him.  He was no quiet babe, nor was he screaming constantly either.  But Alec made his voice heard constantly, a pleasant sound to your ears from morning to night.  Azriel could tell it was on the tip of his tongue that his son wanted to say his first word, and he would try and coax it out of him whenever he could.  Yet  Alec was still shy and reserved, an evident trait he inherited, and you knew he would talk when he was ready. 

“You can do it, buddy!” Azriel tried again, only seeing Alec smile at him with a gummy grin and giggle as his father rolled his eyes.  You had to swat his shoulder with your book as he looked at you.

“He’ll speak when he’s ready,” you reminded your mate, though Alec was still staring at you lovingly with his bright eyes while your mate was glaring at you, “No need to pressure him, sweetheart,”

“He’s so close to talking though,” Azriel commented as you giggled, leaning down to kiss Azriel’s forehead lovingly as he shoved your leg with his shoulder, “He’s a smart boy and I know he wishes to talk,”

“And he will, when he’s ready too.  I think he’s inherited his stubbornness from you,” you joked with him as you got up from the couch. Azriel rolled his eyes at you as you leaned down to kiss Alec on the head.  As you were moving away from the pair of them to head to the kitchen, a clap of thunder was heard near the mountain range.  The rain got louder, but it would never mask the soft sound heard from Azriel’s lap.

“Momma!”

You froze in your spot, hearing that singular word sound so light like a cloud, and cheerful, almost like bells.  Was it a trick that was playing in your mind?  Were you hallucinating? You had to turn around to the source of the voice, seeing Azriel too was frozen as Alec was still in his lap, but his gorgeous eyes were on you and you only.  He grinned, the spitting image of his father from the hair to his nose and cheeks, his hands were clasped together.

Alec said his first word.  He called out to you.  

“Did he….” You trailed off as Azriel was now smiling from ear to ear, laughing as Alec was reaching for you with his little fingers.  Your mind was reeling and your heart was about to burst out of your chest from the simple sound of your son calling your name, saying your name so easily as if it was natural to him.  

“That’s my boy,” Azriel breathed, trying to hold back his own tears as you finally rushed over to fall to your knees in front of your son.  He giggled as you held your hands to your son, almost like an offering of sorts as you found your voice.

“Say it again, baby.  Say it again, for me!” You urged him as Alec simply grinned.

“Momma!  Momma Momma!” He repeated it, you finally laughed with small tears in your eyes as you scooped up your son in your arms, swinging him around in your arms as he laughed and clung to you.  Your world seemed brighter and fuller, all simply from hearing your son call you “Momma”.  

Even before this moment, you knew you were his Momma, it was one of the best titles you would ever have and hold close to your heart.  But to hear him call you that, with his own unique voice that you would never forget for as long as you lived, it was another wave of love that seemed to overflow within you.

Once you finally stopped twirling your son, you saw the wave of happiness on his own face as you were kissing his cheeks and snuggling him close.  A new milestone was made, tucked away in your little home on a rainy day, with the two most important beings in your life, and you couldn’t be happier.  Nothing else could replace this feeling, this new core memory. 

This small bubble of happiness was suddenly destroyed by another clap of thunder that was closer now, making Alec lose his smile and shake in fear.   He hid in your neck, whimpering from the sudden sound as you held him close and rocked him.  He was no fan of thunder or loud noises, rightfully so, and to feel him press against you so close to feel safe made your heart break. 

“It’s okay, baby,” You cooed as he clung to your shirt and whimpered against your skin.  You rubbed his back with your knuckles, kissing his hair over and over while you were swaying in your spot and grinning against his hair, “It’s just noise, little one.  Nothing will hurt you, I promise.  Momma’s got you, I always got you,”

Azriel got up from his spot on the ground, holding both you and Alec close as you were still consoling your son in your arms.  You felt so much pride in your son, though he was still so new to the world and has yet to make his mark.  Not to you, he made a place in your heart with no sign of being moved out.  Not just from holding your son, but being held by your mate who was just as moved in the small moment in our little home.

You heard Alec once more, whimpering, “Momma,” against your neck as you sighed and grinned at the same time.  Looking away from Alec, your gaze went to Azriel who was smiling at you with tears in his eyes.  You both shared this small moment as Alec was feeling safe in your hold, Azriel kissing your cheeks with affection while his arms around you felt secure and intimate at the same time.    

You were Alec’s Momma, and you will always be his Momma until your last dying breath.

First Steps

“Any word from Spring Court?” Cassian asked as Azriel watched Rhysand roll his eyes and huff with a hint of annoyance. 

“You mean from Tamlin?” Rhysand countered back, to which Azriel and Cassian chuckled from their spots around the study at River House.  It was a warm summer day, Rhysand wishing to discuss some formalities with both Cassian and Azriel while their mates were catching up with one another out in the back garden.  All six of you were a tight-knit unit at this point, loving to enjoy each other’s company as much as you could when you had the time.  That also included Alec and Nyx, who formed a tight bond as cousins and loved having playdates together.  

So as you, Nesta, and Feyre were chatting outside in the garden and discussing future birthday plans for Nyx, the males were going over their own mundane topics while watching Nyx and Alec.  Both of them were playing in the study on a large rug, Alec watching his cousin walking back and forth with toys to share with him as Alec crawled after him in earnest.  

“He’s gotten smart with my advice and has stayed quiet.  As for Eris in Autumn Court, that joke of a Prince doesn’t know when to stay quiet and save his own face and reputation.  At least his father is gaining his reputation back amongst the other High Lords,” Rhysand explained.  

Azriel’s shadows flickered at the mention of Eris, Rhysand seeing the reaction and giving Azriel a knowing look as Azriel’s hazel eyes drifted out to the window, “The man is all talk and no bite, Azriel.”

“Not to me when he mentioned my mate and son,” Azriel replied in a cool tone, Cassian clasping his shoulder as Azriel kept his stare on the flowing river just outside the window.  He could still remember that meeting, hearing the sarcastic and sadistic tone in that fae’s voice.  He felt his whole demeanor shake and almost crumble into a thousand pieces once Eris mentioned his family, making it seem like it was some game to him.  Azriel never saw it as a game, not when the life of his family was now exposed and out in the world.

“Azriel,” Rhysand said his name, making the Shawdowsinger shift his eyes back to the High Lord, “Eris has enough common sense to understand the danger he is putting himself in when he said that.  He would have to not only go against the High Lord of Night Court but the only Shadowsinger in all of Pythian.  Eris is a fool, nothing more than that,”  

Azriel looked from him over to Nyx and Alec, who were chattering with each other and mostly making noises at each other with big smiles and laughter.  Ever since Eris mentioned his family, Azriel thought about the safety of his home and what he could do to make it better.  Night Court was already tightly secured and hadn’t had a breach of security for some time, not since before the war against Hybern.  The other Courts never dared to try anything against their home, and no humans even came close either.  

But still, the lingering thought of his family, his whole world, being taken from him or losing their lives because of him.  He made sure there was heightened security around their little home, always knew where you and Alec were at all times thanks to your connection through the bond and made his spy missions and jobs short to stay close by.  You knew that he was simply keeping his family close and safe, you weren’t going to argue with him when it came to that.  But you also knew that he would be consumed by the paranoia if it got too far.  Luckily you confided in your cousin, who made sure Azriel stayed sane. 

“Our sons are well protected,” Rhysand reassured Azriel as Alec was giggling at Nyx, “Their fathers and mothers are too powerful to let any harm come to them,”

“Along with their Aunt and Uncle,” Cassian hummed in agreement, Azriel looked at him and saw Cassian give him a short nod, “I’ll handle Eris on my own if he tries anything against our family,”

“Let’s leave him be for now, we have other things to talk about anyways,” Rhysand calmly steered the conversation out of bleakness and weary to a higher topic, “Your mate, my cousin, is due for a birthday pretty soon if I remembered correctly.  Around the same time as Summer Solstice, do you have any ideas?”

“A trip to the mountains,” Azriel explained, rolling his shoulders and letting the bitterness of Eris be released from his tension as he smiled at the mention of his mate, “I can tell taking her to the mountains brings her peace and quiet.  Thanks for letting us use your cabin, by the way,”

“Anytime you want to use it, you don’t have to ask,” Rhysand said with a softer smile, “And I think my cousin will like a birthday getaway.”

“Why don’t you let Nesta and I use your cabin again?” Cassian asked, almost in amusement but in curiosity as Rhysand threw a playful glare at the Commander.

“Because the last time I did that, I had to replace the furniture in the master bedroom, along with the tub that happened to be my favorite,” he cooly replied, though he chuckled as Cassian scoffed. Azriel still saw an underlying smirk on Cassian's face when Rhysand looked away.

“I'm also told to give you a subtle hint to not take your mate to the mountains until after her birthday,” Rhysand explained to Azriel as he gestured his head over to the door leading out of the room, “Apparently, Feyre and the girls are planning a surprise party for her at Rita’s, reserving the entire restaurant for the Inner Circle just for the occasion and for several hours that night,”  

“That’s mighty nice of them, I’ll be sure to remember that,” Azriel commented, then walking over to see Alec standing on his feet and holding himself up against the windowsill.  The sun shone through to lighten his face and his eyes, almost giving them the same shade of sapphires while he saw Azriel approach him.

“Dada!  Dada!” He called out, reaching out with one hand in his father’s direction as Azriel grinned.  Azriel loved hearing his son call out to him, babbling to him about his day when he would come home, or laughing when Azriel would tickle his sides or blow raspberries on his stomach. He was barely talking, saying a few words here and there but he mostly called for his mother and father. 

Azriel could tell in the way his son would hold himself up that he was ready to walk, finding his balance quickly and getting strong In his stance. Just like when Alec was learning to talk, you reminded Azriel to let your son take his time, even when Azriel was once again impatient and wished for his son to take the plunge and walk already.  He was already a speed crawler, amazing Azriel in how fast he would crawl all around the house, and Azriel would try and catch up with him every once in a while.  

If he was fast crawling, Azriel knew Alec was going to be a runner.

“Here, Uncle Az!  He likes this toy!” Nyx said to Azriel, walking over to hand him one of the stuffed toys.  Alec watched his three year old cousin give a toy to his father, his eyes wide as Azriel smiled at Nyxx.

“Thank you buddy,” Azriel said to Nyx, then he heard the small paddling of feet on the hardwood floor.  He looked, his eyes going wide and his mouth open in shock as Alec was walking, carefully and on wobbly feet, over to him.  His hands out to balance, yet his eyes were on Azriel as Rhysand and Cassian were watching as well.  No one wanted to move or break the tension that was there, but Alec was determined to get to his father, or perhaps to the toy in his hands as Azriel was watching in stunned silence.  

“Look at that…” Cassian said in a hum and a soft smile as Alec was now in front of his father, falling into his hold to grab the toy in his fingers.  Azriel hugged him tight, his stomach dropping at the sight of his son walking on his own.  More importantly, his son walking to him.  It felt like an out-of-body experience, Azriel scooping Alec to stand up and hug him close in his arms while Nyx clapped.

“He walked, see daddy?!  Alec can walk now!” Nyx asked Rhysand as Rhysand walked over to clasp Azriel on the shoulder. 

“It goes by fast, Az.  Before you know it, he’ll be flying with you in the sky,” Rhsyand informed him.  Azriel smiled, not realizing that he was on the verge of crying from seeing his son take his first steps.  No longer was he thinking about Eris, or of the potential target on the back of his family.  None of that was an issue at the moment, he only focused on the boy who was shoving the toy in his face and giggling at him.  This little being that had him wrapped around his lethal finger, that made him believe in an organic love just like his mother did, he was Azriel’s universe now.  

Azriel will protect his universe with everything in him.  

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

[mariacrow]

HIII! It's so nice to find someone who also enjoys bayverse! If I may, could I request bayverse bumblebee fluff between the events of dotm and aoe, where bumblebee and reader are taking a break from running to stargaze? Poor thing seems so stressed to the point there's no bubbly cheer in the 4th movie

Maybe you could sprinkle in a little angst in which cybertron is mentioned and bee points out its approximate location in the sky? Have a wonderful day/night!

Coming right up ;)

❁ Bumblebee x reader ❁

2nd person

female reader

fluff

takes place between Transformers: Dark of the Moon and Transformers: Age of Extinction

stargazing, cuddling, comfort, reassurance

It’s been a few months since Sentinel and Megatron have been defeated. Everyone is just.. so tired of everything. Running, fighting, dealing with everything all over again. It’s a never ending loop. You’ve also noticed Bumblebee seems a bit down lately… As if that happy bumblebee inside of him stopped buzzing…

Tonight he decided to stay with you, in your garage. He wouldn’t come out though. Usually he’d have fun in your backyard, make some mess on accident, tap your bedroom window and try to come in through the backyard door.

You decided to check on him. You opened the backyard garage door.

“Bee…?”

He let out a low buzz.

“Hey…” you warmly smiled at him and approached, giving his hood a gentle pat, “You okay there…?”

He was silent for a couple of seconds, then he carefully transformed, supporting himself with his knee as he was leaning closer to you.

Standing in front of him, you cupped his faceplate with both of your hands, lovingly looking into his beautiful, shining blue orbs. He sunk into your tender touch, closing his optics… Your heart ached for him but you didn’t let that warm smile leave your face.

“Resting, huh?” you spoke to him softly, your voice like the sweetest honey dripping from your mouth.

He opened his optics, looking at you like a sad puppy… He nodded.

“Come on out. The sky is beautiful tonight.” you stepped aside.

His spark warmed up as he carefully got out, walking farther into your backyard, looking up. He happily buzzed as he slowly sat down on the soft grass, touching it a little.

He then looked at you and let you climb on his servo. He brought you closer to his face and let you sit on his chassis. He kept his servo gently wrapped around you, just in case. You were gently holding onto his index digit while looking up at the starry sky.

“Do you ever wonder how many lives are out there, similar to us? What we’re looking at now is an endless space… Technically, we all share the same sky.” you smiled, “I think that’s beautiful… and unsettling.” you chuckled.

You gave him an idea. He pointed at Venus.

“Yeah, that’s planet Venus.” you smiled.

He lifted his other arm closer to you as a clear hologram of Venus shined from the top of his forearm. Your eyes widened as the hologram reflected in your pretty eyes.

“The planet of love.” he spoke over the radio as he lovingly looked at you, his optics spinning and expanding.

He made you blush and giggle, “Oh you…” your heart fluttering. You gave his face plate a soft smooch which made his spark turn into a puddle and almost leak out of his chassis. He scooted you a bit closer and snuggled against your face and shoulder as you moved your arm under his chin and placed your soft hand onto his face plate.

He then pointed onto another shining dot in the sky. It was Saturn. He also displayed its hologram.

“My favorite— planet in the Solar system.”

Dialogue option 1:

“Aww! It’s so cute you did research. Saturn is my favorite too!” you smiled at him.

“Twins!!” he made you laugh with that girly quote from a movie.

Dialogue option 2:

“Aww! It’s so cute you did research. A lot of people also like Saturn, its rings make it look so unique.”

“What’s your favorite— planet?” he asked over the radio.

You told him your favorite one in the Solar system. He scanned the sky and pointed at it.

“There!” he showed you the hologram of it. While you were looking at it in awe, he was too busy looking at your cute face with wide, sparkly eyes full of surprise and a big honest smile.

°

“Can you show me your planet?” you asked curiously.

Bumblebee looked up at the sky again. He was scanning it a bit longer. He couldn’t find it…

“It’s too— far away… I can’t find it…” he said with a sad face expression.

“Oh, Bee… I’m so sorry… You must miss it a lot…” you said while gently caressing his face plate.

“I do…” he showed you the hologram of his planet he kept in his memory… He deeply vented and ex-vented, as if he sighed…

“Wow… it’s beautiful…”

“Was…” Bee let out a sad buzz as he turned off the hologram.

“Heey heyheyhey.. Don’t lose hope, buddy, okay?” you said reassuringly with a warm smile, “You will bring it back one day. I know you will. Hope dies last.”

He gently nuzzled his face plate against your soft cheek and hair, closing his optics as cute, low buzzing rumbled in his warm chassis. He held you close with both of his servos as you touched his face plate with both of your tiny hands.

He gently pressed his muzzle against your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you… That made you giggle as you gave him a sweet, long kiss. You made his bumblebee-like antennas wiggle as his spark almost started beating like a human heart.

He slowly lay down on the nicely trimmed, fresh grass, keeping you close to him as he was gently petting your head with his index digit. You sighed lovingly and relaxed in his tender, caring embrace.

“I could stay like this with you forever…” you said.

“Me too— Y/N…” he actually said your name… He almost made you cry…

He played “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak, it’s one of his favorite summer songs.

You continued stargazing and enjoying some relaxing, mostly vintage music that Bee was playing over the radio while cuddling. This might be one of Bumblebee’s favorite moments with you so far.

Dividers belong to @cute-sushi-roll , @tex-treasures 🌻

[rklve]

SHOT GLASS OF TEARS | JEON JUNGKOOK - DRABBLE ONE

summary: when eveything falls apart

➣ pairing: jk x f!reader

➣ 1.6k words

warnings: angst.

song inspo: shot glass of tears - jk

I was cold, now I'm freezing stuck in a permanent season and we both know you're the reason I'm not the same as before I don't feel anymore

part one | part two | drabble one

He feels like his heart is being ripped outta his chest. Never thought he would feel this pain. Not this kind of pain, inflicted by you at least. Anyone but you. Feels betrayed, blindsided, backstabbed. No, he can’t even look you straight in the eyes right now. Everything he sees is blur. Confusion. Pain. Tears. “Koo..” you say softly, trying to reach out to him again. Trying to soothe him with your sweet tone. Your sweet touch. Anything. But he refuses to give in. Refuses to let you get away with this. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to us, Bee.” he chokes out, “Can’t fucking believe” “You gotta understand that—“ “I do!” he shouts out “I do understand.” he looks down to you as you shrug on his bed, big eyes glistening full of tears. His favorite eyes. Now he doesn’t seem to know them anymore. He actually feels like he doesn’t know you, the person he spent the past years with. The person he loves the most. His safety zone. His fucking soulmate. Or at least that’s what he thought you were. Before this mess. Before he found out you were planning on leaving him. “What about our dreams?” he babbles out “What about our promises, Bee?” he whispers, words waterlogged, and he feels like he’s about to cry, he really is. Feels sick to his stomach. Feels powerless and overwhelmed. Feels trapped in a nightmare that he can’t wake up for shit. He tries to look at you again, but now you’re the one refusing to keep an eye contact. You’re hurt, resentful, regretful. You didn’t want it to be this way. “It meant nothing to you, right?” he lets out a dark, sour laugh. “Jungkook! Of course they did!” you gasp out, like you’re the one hurting right now. No, you can’t be hurting more than he is. “I applied to it so long ago! It was my dream job! It is a perfect opportunity!” “And why didn’t you tell me that?” he bites back “I was your fucking boyfriend, for god’s sake!” You hold your breath, stomach dropping to your knees as you hear his words. Was. I was your boyfriend. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s breaking up with you. You’re breathless, like someone’s just jabbed right in your gut.

Frozen, you can’t answer him. The words are there, bitting at the back of your teeth, but you can’t say them. Can’t say you wanted to tell him everything. Can’t beg him to not leave you, cause you’ve already hurt him enough.

You really wanted to tell him everything. But you know Jungkook. Know he’d do anything he thought would be good to your future. You were scared he would break up with you months ago just so you could go peacefully to another country. But breaking up with you now? After all you’ve been through. No. You thought he would understand. He would accept. He would at least want to be friends. “Before anything, I was your best friend, y’know?” he whispers under his breath. Like he’s listening to your thoughts. Reading your mind, like he always seemed to do. “I just can’t accept the fact that you did all this behind my back. The search, the application. The fucking interview! Literally, what the hell? What would you do if I never found out? You’d fucking leave without saying goodbye too?” It all feels like a sick joke. You can’t formulate one right sentence in your mess of mind. The words just gather up in your throat and refuse to leave your mouth. It sticks there. It feels heavy, almost suffocating. Your belly is funky, and for the first time in the presence of your favorite boy in the world, it is not in a good way. And it’s all your fault. He just looks at you, paralyzed, in a way too. He won’t let the tears pooling up his eyes fall. He won't look at you anymore. He won’t give you a chance to win him back. He won’t give the million cracked pieces of his heart to you again. To anyone, ever again. It feels like an eternity before he’s able to finally say, “Well, if you won’t say it, I will” he shutters, “Goodbye.”

You're trembling from your head to toe. Can't remeber the last time you were this fucked up. Probably never.

Lola just keeps patting your back, kindly waiting till you calm down so you can explain everything that happened. You don't think you can, tho.

The fresh wound is still very open. Aching, burning, hurting.

Jungkook left you.

Damn, he probably hates you.

And he's so very right to do so.

Just last week, both of you were talking about moving in together.

Like everytime he talks about wanting to spend lifetime with you, you know he meant it. And you did too. You wanted to do it all with him.

But you were so frustrated.

So damn frustrated with work, with your future, with your goals.

You always wanted to fulfill your dream to be an veterinary cardiology especialist. It was your ultimate dream, your ultimate goal, but you couldn't to it here, in your city. And you always knew that.

That's why you applied just as you gratuated for a great study program, where you would work with the greatest in the area, you would learn so much and make all kinds of connections.

But there was a problem.

It was in another country. Australia to be exact. Five thousand miles away. Too far from the bubble you’ve forever been. Far from your friends, your family. Far away from Jungkook.

But still, it was just a dream.

Until it wasn't.

They actually reached out to you. They were impressed with your dedication throughout college and had good feedbacks from your professors and your boss at the clinic your currently working on. They saw the passion within you. Said you were eveything this program was about.

And that's where it led you.

You postponed the pain, and it led you to an even greater fall.

Now you are completely devastaded. Wondering if you did the right thing. Can't get your mind off Jungkook's sad, hurt eyes. You know how he felt, you know him just like the back of your hand, but you still were stupid enough to think it would be better to hide it from him till the last minute.

Exactly a week before the trip.

No, you weren’t leaving before telling him.

You were actually going to his house that day so you could get it out of your chest. Tell him everything. Every little detail. Cross your fingers and hope he'd understand and support you. Tell him you loved him and would be willing to try long distance until you could end the program, then you two would decide how you two would end up. Hopefully happy, lovely and together. Keep on planning on how many kids you'd want. If it'd be better to have a sister for Bamie first, instead.

So many options, so many thoughts. But it’s all gone down the drain.

Gone the moment he openned his computer where you forgot your e-mail logged the last time you went to his place.

Gone as soon as he saw the last e-mail from the program giving you a warm welcome.

Gone the minute he realized you've been keeping a huge ass secret from him. A secret that would ruin his trust, would shatter his heart and would make him doubt all the times you've been together.

All the promises

All the sweet touches and warm eyes

All the i love you’s

He just can’t believe in your love anymore.

He doesn’t want your love anymore.

And that’s your worst nightmare.

“Is he coming?” Lola suddenly says, holding tight on your hand like she doesn’t want you to let go.

You look at her, sad eyes averting from the car window for a second to reply but you are not able to. Your throat is filled up with a huge lump again. Actually, you think it never went away since you stepped out of Jungkook’s apartment that day.

But it’s worst today.

So much worst.

The tears bubble in your eyes again as you unlock your phone searching for an answer that never came.

You | 4:20 PM

my flight is at 7.

in case you want to say goodbye.

It’s 6:15 PM.

No reply. No sign.

You breathe out again.

Breathe in.

You can do this.

It’s your dream.

You can do this.

So you arrive at the airport, check-in, and sit with Lola to wait until you can get on that damn plane.

You’re doing this.

Until you catch sight of the boys from distance.

Your heart skips a million beats.

Did he actually come for you?

But just a second later, the same heart that was running a mile away comes to a halt, is squeezed out of life as you realize,

He’s not here.

As the group approaches, you realize he’s the only one who isn’t. Even Taehyung, who did not seem to enjoy the idea of seeing your face right now came to say goodbye.

Now all of them look at you apologetic, as if it’s their fault the one you needed the most is not there for the farewell.

But you know better.

You’re the one to blame.

So you say your goodbyes, hold back your tears and give them the tightest hugs there is, soak up all the good lucks and try to mentalize again. You want to start this new capther with good thoughts. Need to feel the happiness you are supposed to.

But you're numb.

Cause all you think about is him.

And how you wish it didn't end up like this.

YAYYY I'M FINALLY BACK WITH THE DRABBLES!!!!

i actually started writing a happy drabble, the one of when they've met BUT jungkook leaving me in here all alone took out the angst monster in me I HAD TO BE SOUR SOMEWHERE!!!!

anyways, as you know eng is not my first language so i'm sorry if there are any typos! please leave comments if you like the story, i'll accept requests too <3

taglist: @kooliv @serendipity713 @5seos @pointofviewyugyeom @glitterybreadtimemachine @olimpiiaa @kooklovee @coffeewkth @valwnn @tae-hibiscus @skzthinker @lazyyhooman @sharkipoonis @kiylasstuff @kissyfacekoo @spicxbnny @cookysstuff @somehowukook @bd123sworld @ashleylookatme @kookies-n-spice @pamzn

tysm for supporting rainy days, i hope you enjoy :) xx

[xxsycamore]

𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 (ARTHUR X READER)

↬ 🩸 ❝ Now, now…❞ Arthur unfolds yet another towel, laying it on the bed. ❝ You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps.❞ ❝ What is?❞ ❝ Orgasms.❞

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Menstruation; Menstrual Sex; Period Cramps; Embarrassment; Kink Negotiation; Vanilla; Arthur is gentle; Pet Names; Gentle Sex; that gets a little not so gentle; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex; Kissing; Lots of it; mentions of blood drinking; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-Coital Cuddling; Crying; Dacryphilia • wordcount:  3,177 • masterlist

a/n: I've been trying to finish this fic for months 😭 My first period sex fic! Hope you enjoy!! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

Trying to escape from the pain in the realm of your imagination, you fantasize about nicer things…and that means fantasizing about your boyfriend, Arthur. If only he was here right now, you're sure the pain would be way more bearable. Maybe he would sit in the armchair next to you and take out the small journal he keeps on his person to work on his current draft. You love relaxing in the ambient sound of his pen scribbling across the paper, it has helped you fall asleep many nights. On those, he'd normally write on his desk, but seeing you snuggled onto yourself alone on the bed never sits right with him. It typically doesn't take him too long to come join you under the warmed-up covers. You think about how he props the book against his knee, how he plays with the ends of your hair spilled across the pillow when he gets deep in thought…

You also think about how on some nights, you just can't sleep, and he just can't write - when those innocent idle caresses start growing into more, and your gazes meet for a second too long. Arthur would slowly remove his glasses and turn off the night lamp; then in a flash, his lips are attacking your neck with passionate kisses before your eyes can get used to the darkness.

How did your mind trail off to this, again?

"Arthuuuurr…" You groan as the loneliness begins growing stronger with your daydreams, and the cramps chime in as well.

You hear the floorboards creak outside the door and you raise yourself to a sitting position, calling an abrupt end to your short break. Maybe you'll go take some medicine, after all…

"Calling for me, luv?"

You stand awkwardly in front of the couch for a second, staring at Arthur as if he is a fraction of your imagination still. He's not, and if it wasn't for the godawful cramps you'd be throwing yourself on his neck right this instant.

"D-Did you really hear me? It can't be possible!"

Thankfully, he's the one shortening the distance so you don't have to, planting a greeting kiss on your cheek.

"Oh? So you did call my name?" A wide grin occupies his lips now, satisfied with himself and his little accidental guess that wins him the sight of your blushing face.

Realizing his bluff, you purse your lips, removing yourself from his smooching range.

One look at you and Arthur is nodding as if all the checkboxes in his head are now marked. However, he's not celebrating the brilliancy of his deductive mind with a smirk this time; he looks remarkably concerned.

"You were lying down just now, luv, didn't you? Are you in pain? Your period came?"

Despite the best efforts of this persisting pain, expressions other than a bitter frown are still able to play on your features, and you're honestly impressed. "Yes, yes, and yes, but…how did you know?"

Arthur steals himself another kiss, on the corner of your lip this time. "How did I know? Is it so strange for me to know my lover inside out?"

Whispering his reply is all a part of the flirty little trick to win you over, and you wish he didn't - because it works a little too well with the whirlwind of emotions and hormones inside you. You shiver whole, barely able to spare a thought or two about the actual reason. Didn't you catch him taking a bath today? Did he take a peek in your underwear drawer, armed with the knowledge about which panties are the "period panties" (which surprisingly IS a thing even with the circumstances of this time and age!), and notice their absence? Some pervert he is. It wouldn't even be his first time doing this, but still, you're not mad. Not when he's palming and caressing your shoulders while sneaking in another kiss on your pouting lips. You love his attention, especially now that you missed it so much.

"Now luv, what are we going to do with you, hmm?"

You shiver as his hands wander all the way down to your hips and linger there.

"Should we get you something warm to press to your belly? Or maybe take you on a light walk once you're done resting? One word and I'll do everything for you, my dear."

"Arthur, you're spoiling me…"

"Think about it, I'll wait."

Oh, thinking is not good. Not when he's so close with little to no room left to be closer than that, save for the one thing you absolutely cannot ask of him. Your thoughts start getting shameless; cursed be the conditions that are not letting you pounce on him. Even if you're never going to live down the shame of it, you wish you could just hump his leg to a sweet, sweet release and be over with it. It would end quickly and without mess.

Arthur looks at you differently now, and you can feel his gaze examining you. You try to control your breathing which might have quickened in the last couple of seconds. But he's too good at this.

"Something the matter, luv? You seem hot."

His cool hand on your cheek feels too good, as if asking you to nuzzle into it, slip the thumb in your mouth and suck. You summon some much-needed self-control at the price of a sharp breath that puts the attempts at steady breathing to waste. You decide to spill the beans, groaning as another cramp creeps its way onto your nerves, both metaphorically and literally.

"I'm horny."

You expect pity at most. This sort of blurted-out-of-nowhere confession is more typical of the man in front of you, so even with this, you're not doomed to become the bigger pervert between the two of you; it's relieving somehow. You hope that Arthur understands.

"Ah."

It's a small exclamation, and it could mean many things coming from his mouth of all people. While leaving yourself wholly in his hands and their gentle messaging motions, you should've considered that he is ready to sweep you off your feet any second. Like he does right now.

The sudden loss of balance surprises you, and you find yourself carried bridal style. Arthur turns with you in the direction of the door, but before taking a single step, he leans in to whisper to you. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you have no chances of escape as his warm breath hits your lips.

"I think I just thought of a way to relieve you from your pains, darling."

***

To your surprise, you're dropped off at the chaise longue once in your shared bedroom. You watch in near horror as Arthur brings out towels and lays them on the bed. It's not long before you connect two and two, and you have to protest.

"Arthur, you're surely not thinking about-"

"Now, now…" Arthur unfolds yet another towel, giving it a small shake. "You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps."

"What is?"

"Orgasms." Arthur catches your gaze, having finished preparing the bed. You watch him approach and you change the position of your legs on the chaise longue, pressing your thighs together.

Sometimes you hate how awfully familiar Arthur is with the human body given the fact that he used to be a doctor - a field doctor, but a doctor nonetheless - everything from your anatomy to your bodily reactions being a mere tool in his hands to love you and to take care of you, should the need arise. You should be glad to have such a knowledgeable boyfriend by your side, even if it embarrasses you to no end when he puts his skills into action.

"But, it's gross!" You insist in a near-shout, realizing that he's now close enough to hear you even in a meek whisper. "Just think of all the mess… I don't want you to be grossed out with me."

"My dove."

Arthur caresses your neck, pressing his thumb into the underside of the top button of your shirt and easily undoing it, then moving to the next. He pretends he doesn't possess the skill of getting it all done with in seconds, and you're not a fan, even if it gives you time to arrange your thoughts. He wets his lips and continues.

"Nothing about you could ever gross me out. I think this exercise would help me prove that to you, even… and maybe by the end of it, you'll truly believe me."

Soon there are no more buttons left for him to undo.

"I happen to know how to wash blood from bedsheets."

Shivers go straight to your nethers, images of sleepless nights flash in your mind with the reminder of the sharp tips of his fangs perforating the skin of your neck.

"I'm a blood-drinking bastard, remember?…" He latches his mouth into your neck, but keeps his fangs to himself. Despite doing nothing to stop him, you know that losing more blood is not the wisest thing to do right now, and you're already sure Arthur keeps that in mind. You still enjoy his teeth on you, even the ones that don’t aim to break the skin. Before he can suck long enough to leave a mark, he breaks the contact, needing you to be good and listen for a little longer.

"Some blood cannot get in my way of giving you pleasure. Quite the contrary."

You whine at his comment alone, as embarrassing as it is, and you realize that you've been rubbing your thighs together a little too hard. It doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he places his warm hand on your knee, smirking at the way you shiver and release the tense muscles of your thighs. He pats you in encouragement. "Will you stand up for me, my princess?"

Complying quietly, you stand up on shaky legs. Arthur hugs you from behind, distracting you with kisses as he untucks your open shirt from your skirt, moving to his next target. Soon the two pieces of clothing pool at your feet, leaving you only in your underwear. His hand is gentle as it guides you to bed like many times before.

You lie down with the soft towels underneath caressing your lower body, and it's not as awkward as you thought it would be. Arthur doesn't give you much time to dwell on it as he climbs ontop of you, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Burning hot need pools in your belly, a tang of pain mixing with it, and you realize you've almost all forgotten about your cramps. Instead of being wary of upcoming sensations flaring them up, you feel like chasing the prevailing lust that now resides in your loins. Arthur's got you. You want to experience this together with him.

Eager to show him your progress, you guide his right hand between your open legs. To your surprise, he lets out a groan, breaking the kiss to look down and rub the place at the apex of your thighs.

You didn't expect to feel him through the obstacles in the way, and your own sensitivity catches you unprepared. The noise you make is familiar to Arthur, it's hardly the first time he's got you helpless and dying for him to touch you like that. Though it usually takes a bit more toying with you. He keeps rubbing down on it until your body is certain this is nowhere near enough for what it needs.

"Arthurrr… Please…"

"Begging already? My, aren't you cute?"

You pout at his teasing, taking matters into your own hands as you try to shimmy out of your panties. He's there to help, hands meeting yours as he pulls them down and out of the way.

You shut your legs together out of embracement, and Arthur is prepared for this reaction as he quietly tuts you, resuming his ambush on your lips, and you give into his ways of convincing you.

Feeling the tips of his fingers on your clit, electricity runs through you and you thrust your pelvis up involuntarily. Arthur remains collected as his fingers dance around your bundle of nerves, but no matter how gentle he is, his touch feels too good for some reason. You can feel how slippery it is, but the feeling is not too alien to you, and that's a relief. While drowning in the sweetness of Arthur's kisses, it all feels like a regular night with him, you're just extra wet and sensitive.

"Arthur- Are you gonna…" You don't finish, instead running your hand down his toned body and to the front of his pants.

He chuckles. "Only if you can handle it, luv. Say the word and I'll give you what you need. But if you think that would be too much, I can make you cum on my hand now and here."

It all sounds lovely to you, but the hormones playing with your head are demanding all you can take and more. You want to explore this sensation all the way, despite the tad of embarrassment still threateningly lingering in the back of your head.

"I want you inside…" You blurt out, raising your legs in an attempt to make Arthur hurry up and slip inside you already. You obviously don't need more preparation, as you're sure it's not only the blood lubricating your hole anymore.

The shadow of lust darkening Arthur's blue eyes is alone at fault for your walls clamping down around nothing. The rustling of a belt coming undone is music to your ears as you count the seconds before Arthur claims the place between your legs once again.

Same as when you felt his fingers, the tip of his very hard cock makes you jump, but now Arthur chooses to simply observe from above as you forms writhe. You feel him coating himself in your juices and the filthiness of the act makes you moan on the spot. The repeating tease of him threatening to breach your entrance only to withdraw is making you crawl out of your skin.

"Are those tears in your eyes, Luv? Oh, you poor thing, we teased you too much now…"

You're shocked to discover that your vision is indeed blurry. Hormones at fault, you mutter a sound of surprise that turns into a moan as Arthur finally enters you.

"Oh— My god, so— big-"

Arthur groans like you rarely hear him do. He must have felt that too. You're really tight around him.

It's good he slips his tongue between your lips again because the smallest thrust would make you explode. You're getting drunk on this sensation, feeling him so intensely. Just as you begin to relax, he starts grinding inside you.

"Ahhhh- More, more!"

Eager to give you all you want, Arthur complies until you start hearing the wet noises of him thrusting inside you. It's making your face red, but you can't help moaning at every thrust, adding to the sultry sounds.

Arthur is as lost in it as you are, and your heart sings at being the source of his maddening need. Hearing his low noises of pleasure drives you closer and closer to the edge, as all you can think about is cumming together with him.

Locking your legs around his torso, you egg him on to tip over the edge now and here. The unmistakable noise of him cursing under his breath floods you with desire just as you thought you couldn't feel needier, but then something happens that catches you off guard. Arthur moves his head away from where it was nestled against your neck and at first, you aren't sure about the reason before you hear his muffled groans. He fills you with his hot cum just a second after.

You realize that just now, he was biting the pillow. The bloodthirst must have gotten to his head, and he… did everything in his power not to drain you of more blood.

Seeing him so out of control makes you scream as a violent, powerful orgasm is ripped out of you, your body seemingly having a mind of its own as it humps against Arthur through it, and he holds you down by the folds of your knees to ride the pleasure off for you. It's one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

Hormones shifting once again in the chemistry of your brain, you glow with the aftermath of pleasure running through your body, head to toe, and suddenly the need to hold Arthur close grows tenfold. His hands move to cushion the back of your neck as he kisses you softly, spent and content as you are, chuckling against your lips.

"Aren't you going to ask why we haven't done this sooner?"

Still catching your breath, you want to groan at how quickly he regained his cockiness, being a textbook gentleman just a second ago. Though, you can totally see his point now.

"I just…really don't want to look down right now."

"You don't have to. Leave the cleanup to me. I'll take good care of you."

The whispered promise is already lulling you into a deeper relaxation, as you rest your limbs with no intention to get up anytime soon. Arthur is… absolutely, shamelessly spoiling you rotten. Both with his gentle care and with his ways of casually giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you discover a new kink.

Oh, and your pain is completely gone, by the way.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[cozzzynook]

Hurt/Comfort Involving Predacon Bumblebee and Predabee

Bumblebee sluggishly opens is optics finding himself in the same dark cell since his capture. He groans as he slowly shifts his aching plating that's riddled with surgery welds and fresh scars, letting out hiss he is finally able to stand on shaky peds before slowly walking up to the bars of his cell. Outside his cage he can see the see the many machines and tools of the mad scientist lab, the sickly buzzing of the lights made Bee's helm rattle with a ponding headache. He then turned his attention to look down at his now clawed servos, it seemed little by little Bee found his frame changing slightly and considering that he was constantly given energon rich with medical grade it seemed the mad scientist wasn't snuffing his spark any time soon.

Slowly Bee turns and with his new talons carefully carves a new tally mark on the wall. It has been 3 months since his capture and it seems his own team have either forgotten about him or assumed he was one with All Spark but it didn't stop the hurting in his spark. Feeling tears starting to well up in his optics Bee then sits on the cold floor and pulls his knees as tight to his chest as he can before burying his face in his servos before quietly sobbing to himself. Bee had long cried himself dry when he heard someone approach his cell, letting out a faint snarl the yellow mech turns to face the visitor only for his optics to grow wide. Predaking stood outside the cell holding what seemed to be a old blanket. Carefully he larger mech slipped the blanket through the bars before giving a little smile, Predaking has been the only company Bumblebee has had in these past months and ever day little by little the yellow mech finds himself growing closer to the predacon.

Quickly picking up the blanket and hiding it in the darkest corner of the cell Bee walked over back towards the bars and slipped his servos through the bars to hold Predaking's own servos. They hold each other closely as they can while Predaking softly whisperers promises that he will find a way out for Bee and make sure they will never have to deal with the Decepitcons again. Bumblebee gives a soft purr nuzzling his helm into the larger mechs chest enjoying the warmth and comforting scent, he knew escape would be risky especially when he is so weak from the constant changes to his frame. Just then the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer making Predaking pull away sharply and leave the lab but not before giving a soft longing gaze at the yellow mech. Bumblebee then sulks back deeper into his cell letting out a snarl as purple scientist returns to his lab ready to finish his latest "Project".

It was late into the night when Bumblebee awoke from his latest "surgery", his frame was sore and tired as he slowly pulled himself back onto his pedes. He quickly scanned over his frame looking for what has been changed this time only to discover strange weld markings around where his T-Cog was. Panicking he quickly transforms his Alt-Mode excepting his T-Cog to have been removed or tampered with but he soon finds himself easily shifting into his other mode only to find that his prison cell was suddenly too small. Confused Bee looks at his reflection in the energon left just outside his cell, letting out a startled yelp Bumblebee finds no longer as a muscle car but a large yellow and black predacon. Finally understanding the strange changes to his frame Bee allows himself to transform back into root-mode so he is longer cramped in his cell, he then begins pacing back and forth unsure if it was worth the risk trying to escape and return to his team in this new mode.

It was mid-afternoon when the alarms of the Nemesis began blaring alerting everyone on bored. Both Predaking and Bumblebee ran down the halls causing havoc in their wake as they headed for the ships dock. It didn't take long for the pair of predacons to barge their way through a barricade of unfortunate Cons before finally landing on the open dock. Predaking nudges Bee to open his new wings and take to the air while he holds off the others, being unsure and not wanting to leave Predaking behind Bumblebee begs for him to follow. Letting out a stream of fire to block the main doors to the dock Predaking joins Bee's side before leaping off the dock and taking flight, Bee closely follows behind struggling at first but quickly gets the hang of it, together they head into the mountains hoping to lose the Decepticons there before making their way into a near by forest.

A Couple of weeks on the run Bee and Predaking spend a rather cold morning cuddled with each in a small make-shift den in the changing forest. Fall has turned the once bright green leaves into shades of red, orange and yellow for Predaking he can't help but stare in awe and wonder as he carefully watches the leaves fall around them. Bumblebee smiles burying his helm into the larger mechs side letting out a flirty purr before flashing a smirk as he carefully flutters his wings in a teasing manner. Predaking looks at Bee a bit shocked at first but he let outs his own purr as he carefully pulls the smaller mech into his lap before giving a gentle nip on Bee's scared neck while slowly allowing his servos explore his partners frame. They spend the morning just wrapped in each others warmth and love and for Bee its the first time he truly has felt alive and loved.

Sometime later in a dark cave Bumblebee is lying in a nest tending to a clutch of eggs while Predaking keeps watch over his growing family. Meanwhile in the Auto-bot base Ratchet nearly spits out his energon cube he was eating when the main monitor beings beeping. There on the screen is Bumblebee's spark signature showing that the yellow scout was alive and well. The medic hardly believes it hoping it was just a glitch since they lost contact with Bee after he was ambushed all those months ago, they sent a search party only to come up with nothing and have been quietly grieving the lose of the yellow mech. Ratchet suddenly stands up and runs towards Optimus hab to let Prime know of the good news while hoping Bumblebee was alright.

(Hope you enjoyed this little idea :D)

Oh my gosh this is so cute and sweet!!!!

Poor bee getting changed into a predacon but the change brought him the love of his life and a family aahhhhh!!!!

I just know Optimus is going to bear hug Bee when he sees him, predacon form and all 😂

[grapejuicestyless]

Love Me Until My Breathing Stops?

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Angst to Fluff

DISCLAIMER!: There are some very serious topics in this. Depression, mentions of fucked up relationships. This is not romanticizing this at all.

Teaser: "Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night."

To be honest, I had no idea where it went so irreparably wrong. You never notice you're slipping until your feet are out from under you and your head hits the floor. Maybe that's how I never saw it coming.

My bed was my new home, my tears were my midnight snack and my eyes were probably permanently shut from the puffy skin that was blotchy and irritated beyond belief. My pillow was my sanctuary and the darkness was my friend. I miss my old friend sunshine. I miss the backyard barbeques and the reunions in the park. I miss the kids running from the bees and the smell of the wet grass in the mornings.

It had been a month, two weeks, three days, twenty one hours and thirteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. The shadow of the girl who used to find peace in the smiles from people passing by. The girl who threw welcome home parties and tended to her garden every afternoon. Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night.

I'd been so convinced that he was the one. Grew up these past few months believing I was all that he saw. Breathing him was slowly killing me. I thought so highly of the man I shared my in's and out's with. I'd wake up early just to see the even rise of his chest, dreaming of his curly hair and our future together. Now in my own suffering, I dreamt that he drowned.

But it wasn't his fault, no he'd asked if I would be okay. I promised I'd be okay. There was no okay, how could he believe me? How can someone simply be okay after wrecking the only thing I'd been sure of in my entire life? No, there wasn't okay. There was simply bad and worse.

Today, was bad.

On days like this, I would talk myself up to a shower. Rid myself of the stench of rock bottom. Ridding myself of the killer that drove him away. How could he be so forgiving to me not being enough? How could he brush off my wasted potential and blame it on himself. Guilt till consumed me whole, even if he'd underlined it in red that it was him, not me. His unfaithfulness that had torn a sweet love story to ashes. Tell me, how could the attentive wife to be miss the smirk hiding beneath his winning smile, his lessons really just weapons targeted at my deepest hurts. Every comforting explanation was twisted way back to what I feared most.

Soon, I'd find myself in the kitchen, raiding the empty cabinets and the ransacked fridge. There was only crumbs and lemon juice in the entire house by now. The appetite I'd worked up gone at just the flashbacks of the slow dances in the crack of the refrigerator light. His hand over mine and his empty promises soothing in my ear. Did he want me or did he want me not? I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another.

I felt rage boiling, the slam of the door rattling the plates in the sink and the pan on the stove. Ripping my hair from my head was the only reliever of the pain, tearing apart my body hoping that eventually it could be put back together into a beautiful bloody mess. Wearing my hurt on my sleeve and praying to god that, that someone could love me just as much for that.

I was thinner now, shedding the pounds like I had anymore to spare. The only clothes that still fit was a white ruffled dress that fell just below my knees. The straps hanging loosely and my feet slipped into black Mary Janes and red socks. I wonder how ghostly I looked stepping into the sun. Skin greyed from the lack of light.

I counted my breathing, noted the cracks on the pavement and counted the daffodils on the walk into town. All to cease the tears pushing behind my eyes.

It was nice out, the air was crisp and warming with the middle of spring having sprung. Vines were growing and the world was getting loud again. It was peaceful, I wanted a piece of that inner silence for myself. Maybe it would bring me a sort of closure, pushing me towards a more okay future.

I listened to the bell rattle with the push of the door, hands hanging loose at my sides. I waved towards the girl working the counter in the flower store. She smiled, recognizing the unrecognizable shadow that waltzed into the humid room. I pasted on the fake togetherness I'd mastered from unexpected visits from family and friends. Trying to imitate the girl who had lost her way long ago.

"Do you have any tulips?" My eyes remained glued to the flower beds as I searched the store for any bright pink clusters.

"A few in the back row, though you might need to hurry, they're quite popular today." I nodded, scurrying to the back in hopes to finally get what I wanted.

There, I saw the empty basket, the last bouquet of bright pink tulips being held up to a tall man. He was maybe six feet tall, but his posture made him seem a little shorter. His hair was chocolatey brown with free falling curls and waves pushed behind his tortoise shell sunglasses. He wore a teal cardigan over a white graphic tee that read something in blue I couldn't quite make out from the angle. His legs fit into lose jeans with rips at the knees and blue and white checkered vans. His laces were ripped slightly, probably from stepping on them, and he smelled like sweet vanilla.

He looked like happiness, a ray of modern day sunshine and fair love, his nose still buried between two flowers, eyes fluttered shut.

Some white carnations lined with a hot pink sat near the tulips, they looked just as beautiful as the fresh flowers that I'd missed by a second too late.

I let myself sigh after taking in the clean smell from the center of them, the crinkling of the paper distracting me from the hurt I felt inside.

"You planning a wedding?" His English accent wasn't horribly noticeable, but still able to be picked up on. I cracked a smile, trying to be polite. Trying to be the girl I missed.

"Something like that, yeah." He laughed, we made eye contact.

I could see his dark green eyes now, sparkling with interest. I can only imagine the lack thereof that I returned to him.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand, smiling so much so there were crinkles by his eyes.

"I'm y/n." I met his palms. They were soft yet rough around the edges. His fingers had been picked at and he had guitar string scars across his hands.

There was a silence. It was comfortable, relaxed but still, I itched to back away.

"It was nice to meet you." I stepped back, walking away faster than I came to pay for the carnations clenched between my shaking hands.

"Hey wait!" His footsteps were heavy, hammering into the asphalt. I turned, but continued to move backwards, a faint smile played on his lips. Chasing after the beautiful fool who secretly adored the interest the random flower shop boy took in her.

"Missed me already?" I turned back to walk forwards once I felt his arm bump mine.

"Can't help it, you're just so missable!" He joked, flowers facing down at the ground, hitting each other as we walked close together. We left a petal trail as we walked.

"You say that to every girl you meet?"

"Only the runaway brides dressed up like Dorothy on her way to Oz." I covered my smile in my hand, brushing the blush off.

"I'm flattered." We shared a look, walking in silence as we looked at each others eyes.

"So tell me about yourself, Dorothy."

"Dorothy?" He pointed to my shoes, I scoffed.

"Okay..." I thought on it, counting the cracks again.

I knew I was barely together. Barely able to keep up with the work that seemed to just pile itself onto my back. I knew that my finger still stung from when I ripped off the engagement ring and told him to go to hell. I knew I was a fucked in the head, a childish girl who only wanted to be loved like she loved others. I knew at one point I would've said all these things to Harry, a man I'd met only a few minutes ago. Trusted him easily and let him in without an inch of doubt. But I also knew that wasn't fully me anymore.

"I haven't met the new me yet." I smiled at him, chewing at my cheek at the curious eyebrow lift and the breathy laugh.

'What about you, Harry? Who are you?" I looked to my feet.

"I'll let you decide." He looked to my face, my eyes finding it almost impossible to meet his warm gaze.

"Someone who reads too many love stories."

"Says the one dressed as Wendy from Peter Pan." I laughed, meeting his stare finally.

"Am I Wendy or Dorothy?"

"Why not both?" He was unbelievably easy to talk to, even in my mess and hurt, it soothed the panging in my chest with every breath he took.

"Let me walk you home, y/n?" I smiled.

"Okay." We fell into a silence again, out of teasing and jokes to share for the five minute walk remaining. I went back to counting the daffodils and he went back to sniffing his flowers. I went back to silently pulling myself together, picking up any shards of myself that had fallen and focused on my breathing.

"This is mine." I looked towards the dark home, the garden still neat despite the overgrown plants and the few dead plants. I looked back at Harry, then to his feet where his tulip petals continued to fall. They looked bare, hurt and dying now. I met his eyes again.

"Take good care of those tulips for me?" He froze, confused about the sudden request after my silence towards him and his polite offer.

"Yeah, of course." I nodded, turning myself slowly towards my front steps. I took in the pale blue of my paint, the new white shutters beautiful and perfectly matched with the white wrap around porch that hugged the west corner of the home snuggly and the short, white picket fence. You would've never expected such a fuck up to live in such a nice looking home.

"Bye, Harry." Waving, I made my way up the driveway, passing the fence and the the garden. All while he stood there, done with the chase, done with my mood swings. My politeness and my silence. My trust and my question. He stayed outside of my lawn, feet stuck to the sidewalk like gum.

Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since the man who hung the moon for me in my eyes confessed his infidelities and left me to throw a pity party for myself. Almost six months since the next best thing had entered my life. My best friend, Harry.

Unlike my ex-fiancé, Harry came back. He came back and picked up the shards that I'd let crack and bleed under my feet and glued me back together. He'd come by once a week at first, checking up after noticing the vacant look in my eyes when we first parted ways. How I'd slipped into the darkest house he'd ever seen. Cold, tired, worked to the bone. Once turned into twice. Twice turned into four and four turned into almost everyday. His knock at my door my favorite sound. Yet, what he knew of me, wasn't fully me.

Even with Harry and his flowers decorating my home. Even with his laugh and his trusting demeanor, part of that girl I was was forever lost. That engagement ring hadn't only taken skin, it had taken the foolish woman who slept next to a liar and swallowed her pride. It had taken my ability to let people in so easily. And I wish he hadn't taken that from me, because as stupidly blind she was, she was some of the best parts of me.

"The Notebook or Ten Things I Hate About You?" Harry hoped over the back of my couch, his arm falling limp around my shoulders, each hand holding a movie for me to chose.

"Is that even a question?" I snatched the disc with Heath Ledger on the cover and waved it around Harry's face. He smiled, ruffling up my hair before getting up to pop the disc in.

"I need to stop asking you these things, Dorothy. I was hoping for the notebook." I stuck my tongue out, my heart flooding with a familiar warmth only Harry could pull from me.

I bit my cheek until it bled, my shoulder squished between his chest and the bend of his elbow. Silently, I mouthed the lines to the movie, my lips brushing against the soft cotton of Harry's white t-shirt.

"That tickles, my love." He laughed, craning his head down while mine stretched up. Crinkles folded by my eyes, smile lines permanently tattooed on my skin from just the past few months. What was a curse for others, was a permanent reminder of the adoration I had gained for Harry and his ability to fix what was irreparably shattered.

"What?" His whole body shook with a silent giggle, eyes reflecting the movie and an emotion I couldn't pin. I remained silent, eyes flicking down to his lips, his eyes following mine. I felt his touch tighten around my back and his body heat up.

Closer and closer, longer and longer. I panicked the closer I got to wrecking this beautiful relationship we'd built over a silly crush I'd obtained.

Sure, he was nice. He was handsome and possibly the best thing that had ever walked into my life, but stacking every single one of those reasons and more couldn't make me risk everything. I couldn't deal with someone else I loved walking out of my life.

I inched away, scared. I watched his face freeze, eyes relaxed and breath hot on my lips.

"Harry." I whimpered.

"Y/n."

"What if we fuck this up? What if after tonight you change your mind? I can't do that again Harry. I can't pick myself up again." I quietly rambled, tense, scared of the idea that I would face the hatred for my own reflection for weeks and weeks again.

"Y/n." He repeated, softer.

My mouth stopped, eyes flicking to observe his expression over and over. Trying to fight back the tears that built and built.

"I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. If you trust me, let me in just this once, I wont leave until you're kicking me out." He searched my face now, an internal fight going on in my head. He made it so hard to think being so close him.

"Love me until my breathing stops?" I asked, tears springing from under my eyes and gathering at my waterline now. Scared, just as I was all those months ago. no longer a vacant stare, but one of fear and uncertainty.

"I'll love you until my breathing stops." He wiped under my eyes, fingers quick to land on my cheeks. He waited, patiently for any sign that it would be okay to continue.

I nodded, swallowing.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He smiled, shoulders slumping like a weight had been lifted and he was at ease.

"Okay." I returned the feeling, lips brushing his. They were soft and plump. They tasted of buttery popcorn and chocolate. His nose bumped into mine, skin brushing skin and limbs tangling the longer we tried to hold onto the moment.

When we pulled away, it was breathless, and suddenly I realized the man who'd hurt me seven months, one week, seven hours and three minutes ago hadn't stolen the best parts of me, he only scared her into hiding.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty-six

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: i'm about to spam post about four chaptersss so enjoyy!

masterlist

They needed to get to the treasury, but Kaz would need some kind of cover while he picked that inscrutable lock, and there were druskelle everywhere. They rounded the corner and saw Nina, Matthias and a person they both assumed must be Bo Yul-Bayur running from the treasury. He’d been about to call out to them when the explosion hit, and everything went to hell.

‘They blew up the lab,’ he’d thought as debris rained down around them. ‘I definitely did not tell them to blow up the lab.’

“For Saint’s sake…” Y/N cursed.

All of what happened in the following few minutes had been completely improvised on Kaz’s part. All he told Matthias originally was to meet them by the ash when Black protocol began to ring. He thought he’d have more time to explain before they fell through the dark.

“This is going to sting a bit, but if we live, you’ll thank me later.”

Nina and Matthias had yet to recognize them until both Kaz and Y/N slid their hoods off. The Inferni quickly slipped the thick druskelle coat off her shoulders as well.

“Don’t pop the baleenbefore you hit the bottom,” Kaz called. Then he grabbed Bol Yul-Bayur and launched them both into the back mouth beneath the roots of the tree.

Y/N placed her hand over her heart and muttered the shortest prayer before throwing herself after them. The last thing she glimpsed was Matthias and Nina following her. She heard gunfire—and then she was falling into the black, into the cold, into the throat of Djel, into nothing at all.

She felt her back hit the water with breath-taking force, as she bit down on the baleen. It might have been a mere second too late as the air had already bee knocked out of her and when the baleen formed she felt like she was choking. The water rushed around her and clogged her ears, she tried to keep her eyes open but the current made it a painful task. Her body was thrown around and dragged through the tunnel.

Panic began to set in her bones as the strain in her chest and throat grew tighter with each passing second. She could feel her fingers begin to spark but clenched her hands in fists to prevent the water around her to heat up. If she lost control she could boil the water while they were all still under. She couldn’t risk that.

The current didn’t ease up on them for another few minutes and by the time she emerged from the water she felt so drained. The weakest she’d felt in months. Her hands crawled across the gravel that dug into her palms. Once she was far enough out of the shallows, she threw herself on her back and gasped audibly for air while resting her hands on her chest trying to control the harsh convulsions her body was experiencing.

She could faintly hear Nina and Matthias farther down the shore to her left. From the tones of their voices she could tell that something was wrong, but she had no physical strength to mover herself to see.

She felt as if the cold water seeped through, passed her flesh and into her bones, she had a chill in her body that she couldn’t seem to shake. The remains of her energy was used in her attempts of warming her body from within. She had never felt so cold in her life since her body naturally ran really warm, nearly burning at different times.

“I. Should. Let. You. Die.” Matthias’ voice could finally be heard clearly and startled Y/N.

She rolled to her side with her palm on the floor in front of her to support her weight. The body laid between Nina and Matthias was nothing but a blurry figure, but it didn’t take long before she realized who they were hunched over.

“Let me help before you crack his sternum. Does he have a pulse?”

“Kaz.” Her voice croaked and sounded foreign to her ears as she pushed herself to her knees, slowly rising to her feet. A flame licked its way up her hand to her arms stopping at her elbows in her last attempt to warm her body. She knew Kaz wouldn’t let her touch him if she felt this cold and just the thought caused a sense of desperation to kick into her system. Her chest felt hallow and her breath was shallow, a feeling she thought she would be used to, but the reasoning behind it caused despair to settle in her bones beside the unwavering chill.

Once she made it to the others she saw Nina place her hands on his chest and brought her lips to his, preforming cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

“Will he live?” Bol Yul-Bayur asked causing Y/N to startle as she forgot he was still with them. She gave him a good look over and furrowed her eyebrows, only now realizing he looked far too young to be the highly claimed scientist they have been searching for.

A sputtering cough caught her attention and she saw Kaz jolt upright, pushing Nina off of him. “Get away from me,” he gasped, wiping his gloved hand over his mouth. Kaz’s eyes were unfocused. He seemed to be staring right though the Heartrender. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re in shock, demjin,” Matthias said. “You almost drowned. You should have drowned.”

Y/N shot him a cold glare from where she sat to the side behind Kaz.

Kaz coughed again, and his entire body shuddered. “Drowned,” he repeated.

The Inferni felt her heart ache at the sight of him and forced her flames to grow slightly larger to ensure he could feel their warmth without them touching him.

Nina nodded slowly. “Ice Court, remember? Impossible heist? Near death? Three million kruge waiting for you in Ketterdam?”

Kaz blinked and his eyes cleared. “Four million.”

“I thought that might bring you around.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, wet coughs still rattling his chest. “We made it,” he said in wonder. “Djel preforms miracles.”

“You don’t deserve miracles,” said Matthias with a scowl. “You desecrated the sacred ash.”

Kaz pushed to his feet, staggered slightly, drew in another shaky breath. “It’s a symbol, Helvar. If your god is so delicate, maybe you should get a new one. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to Y/N who still sat on her knees now by his feet and held a gloved hand out to her.

Nina threw up her hands. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful wretch. Y/N, you’re really going to settle?”

The Inferni had no mental strength to respond so she only rolled her eyes and kept walking at Kaz’s side.

“I’ll thank you once we’re aboard the Ferolind. Move.” He was already dragging himself up the boulders that lined the far side of the gorge. “You can explain why our illustrious Shu scientist looks like one of Wylan’s school pals along the way.”

The group of five made it over the rocky wall of the gorge that led them to the other end of the bridge above, a bit closer to Djejrholm. Y/N had never been so physically exhausted in her life, but she couldn’t let herself rest. She had a country to save and the others had a prize waiting for them. They’d gotten further than any crew before them. They’d blown up a building at the heart of the Ice Court. But they’d never make it to the harbor without Inej and the others.

They kept moving. The only other option was to sit on a boulder and wait for the end. A rumbling began from somewhere in the direction of the Ice Court.

“Oh, Saints, please let that be Jesper,” Nina pleaded as they pulled themselved over the lip of the gorge and looked back at the bridge festooned with ribbons and ash boughs for Hingkalla.

“Whatever is coming, it’s big,” said Matthias.

“What do we do, Kaz?”

“Wait,” he said as the sound grew louder.

“How about ‘take cover’?” Nina asked, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. " ‘Have heart’? ‘I stashed twenty rifles in this convenient shrubbery’? Give us something.”

“How about a few million kruge?” said Kaz.

A tank rumbled over the hill, dust and gravel spewing from its treads. Someone was waving to them from its gun turret—no, two someones.Inej and Wylan were yelling and gesturing wildly from behind the dome.

Y/N looked at Kaz, she smiled to herself at the sight before her. “Saints, Kaz, you actually look happy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he jested back with her. There was no mistaking it. Kaz Brekker was grinning like an idiot.

“I’m assuming we know them?” asked Kuwei.

But the crew’s elation dimmed as Fjerda’s answer to the problem of the Dregs rolled over the horizon. A column of tanks had crested the hill and was crashing down the moonlit road, dust rising in plumes from their treads. Maybe Jesper hadn’t gotten the druskelle gate sealed. Or maybe they’d had tanks waiting on the grounds. Given the firepower contained behind the Ice Court’s walls, she supposed they should count themselves lucky. But it sure didn’t feel that way.

It wasn’t until Inej and Wylan were thundering over the trestles of the bridge that Y/N could make out what they were yelling; “Get out of the way!”

They leapt from the path as the tank roared past them, then came to a gear-grinding stop.

“We have a tank,” marveled Nina. “Kaz, you creepy little genius, the plan worked. You got us a tank.”

“They got us a tank.”

“We have one,” Matthias said, then pointed at the horde of metal and smoke bearing down on them. “They have a lot more.”

“Yeah, but you know what they don’t have?” Kaz asked as Jesper rotated the tanks’d giant gun. “A bridge.”

A metallic shriek went up from the armored insides of the tank. Then a violent, bone-shaking boom sounded. Y/N heard a high whistling as something shot thorugh the sir past them and collided with the bridge. The first two trestles exploded into flame, sparks and timber plummeting into the gorge below. The big gun fired again. With a groan, the trestles collapsed completely.

If the Fjerdans wanted to cross the gorge, they were going to have to fly.

“We have a tank and a moat,” said Nina.

“CLimb on!” crowed Wylan.

They boosted themselves onto the sides of the tank, clutching at any groove or lip in the metal for dear life, and then they were rolling down the road toward the harbor at top speed.

As they roared past the streetlamps, people emerged from their houses to see what was happening. Y/N tried to imagine what their wild crew must look like to these Fjerdans. What did they see as they poked their heads out of windows and doorways? A group of barely-adults clinging to a tank painted with the Fjerdan flag and charging along like some deranged float gone astray from it’s parade.

“We have a moat!”

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[chubbypie]

At the enfermary

Summary: you were a new doctor at a college, and one day, a hot and polite professor come to your office.

Warnings: smutt. Oral (v receiving). Fluff. Cute.

Wc:4.4k

It´s been some months since you started your new job, a doctor at the enfermary of the college. As you were new, every person who came to see you, the nurses would explain who they were. You were really fond of your job, especially in a cozy ambient like the college, it´s dark academia vibe always in the air, always giving you a feeling of peace and concentration.

You were used to receive a small number of students perday, always giving you time to focus on your researches on the end of the spedient. This was your reality until one very specific day, when you recieved a professor at your consultory. As the nurses told you, he was the head of the literature department. When he came in, you hold your breath for a few seconds as you took his kind face in. His features were sharp, the jaw beeing able to cut better then a scalpel, his deep green/blue eyes behind his glasses looking a bit in a rush, his thin lips pressed togheter, expressed cheekbone,some slight expression lines around his eyes. His hair was light brown, kinda long, but not to much, shaping perfect messy curls. You were informed his name was Professor Hiddleston.

"Hello." He greeted.

"Hello! Please, take a sit." You pointed to the chair in front of your table. He quickly seated. "Professor Hiddleston, right? What can i do for you today?"

"Well, i have a small knee problem, and i usually take some pain killers for it. I always cary then with me, however, this morning, i had a reunion with the staff and left my house in a hurry and i happened to forget them. Moreover, in five minutes i have another class and, therefore, i don´t have time to come back home. So i came to the conclusion that the enfermary might have some." He explained.

"Sir, would you have some diagnostic from your doctor here with you, so i could know exactly what sort of pain killers to give you?"

" Unfortunatelly, i don´t have it now. But i take ibuprofen."

You got up from your chair and went to the cabinet in the wall. As you found the medicine and turned to him, you thought you saw him glancing at your back. Of course it was your imagination. You gave him the ibuprofen, he thanked you and said good bye.

That night, you found yourself thinking about the unexpected presence of the professor at your office. A couple of weeks passed before you saw him again.

"Doctor y/n, Professor Hiddleston is here to see you. May i send him in?"

"Sure." You said in a low volume. You were startled to receive him at this time of the day, since it was 6 pm and all the teachers were supposed to have leaved to their homes. There were only students who lived at the campus this time.

"Hello," he said politely, "I hope i´m not disturbing you at this time!"

"Not at all. I have time here until 7 pm." You said with a smile. " How can I help you?"

"Well, as you know, i have a knee problem, and everything was fine until the middle of this morning. I was going to get some brunch when i suddenly felt a sharp pain run through my leg. I went directly to my office to get some medicine. I took it and waited. The hours passed and the pain lighted a little, but i can not do rough movements. Now, you might be asking yourself why i came here, instead of my doctor. This week he is at a conference in Chicago, and i don´t have any other to go. At lunch break, i remembered you, and how kind you were to me the last time, so i decided to come here."

"You are always welcome here, professor!" You said blushing as his gaze weighted on the small necklace that rested at your slight cleavege. " So, tell me everything about your knee sore."

" In the middle of last year i broke my knee while i was rehearsing for the anual play of the college. I had spent weeks at fencing training with other collegue and some day i went to rough at a step and i felt, feeling my knee deslocate and broke. I passed through a surgery and many physiotherapy. I got my knee back on the game again, but with some limited movements."

" How long did the swelling persisted?"

"About a week."

"Can you run?"

"I usually avoid."

"Did you took any other kind of medicine for pain?"

"Morphine in the begining and sometimes paroxetine."

You took some notes in your computer and then looked back at him. "Well, Professor, if you don´t mind,i would like to analise your knee to see if everything is in order."

"Sure. And, please, you can call me by my name."

"I´m sorry sir, but i´m new here, and the nurses only introduced you to me as Professor Hiddleston." You said with an uncomfortable smile.

"Oh, that´s right, i never properly introduced myself. I´m Thomas, Thomas Hiddleston. But you can call me Tom." He sais as he reaches you a hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Tom. I´m y/n l/n." You say as you shake his hand. His hand were lightly caloused. You guidded him to the litter. You hadn´t observed his character until now. He was really tall, had a lean body. Broad shoulders like a swimer. You could see he worked out those arms throught his navy blue sweater. He wore slim black jeans pants, and when he seated, you could see thigh muscles clunge to them.

As he sat, you got closer to him, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You put one hand above his knee, squeezing the top part. You feel his thigh muscles stiff. " Does it tickle?" You asked with a grin, still looking at your hand on his knee.

"A little." He says with a chuckle. He couldn´t take his eyes from your profile. He observed the hair you just lowly tired to get out of the way. He passed his eyes through your long legs while you still analyzed his injury. You were wearing a beige pantalona pants with a black social shirt buttoned until a few centimeters from your collar bone, which held a necklace. You were tall for a woman, not the skinny tipe nor the fat, right in the middle. You had thick thighs and arms. Your waist was noticable. Your hair reached your breasts, it was brown, with little curls at the end. Your pupils were black. You didn´t considered yourself to much pretty, considering that everyday you saw a bunch of skinny college girls. However, in Hiddleston´s mind, you were the prettiest woman he had ever laid his eyes on. But appearence was little for him, he really knew that he felt something for you when he noticed three books on the corner of your desk, beside your computer. You had Byron, Tolkien and Homero. Of course you had other books too, but these three caught his attention. Such different authors. His curiosity was poking him to know more about your personality.

After you finished to analize his knee, you saw his knuckles were white, probably because of the tickles. "It doesn´t surprise me you have a disconfort, your knee is a little swollen. Did you do to much effort with it lately?"

"I went swiming last night, and before i went diving, i runned a little. I think that must be cause."

"Put your leg on top of the littler please." He did as asked. "If your knee get swollen again, do exactly what i´ll do now." You put both of your hands on his ankle and started to give squeezes until his knee. When it got there, you grabbed it and with the pad of your thumbs, you messaged it gently, circling it up his thigh. The only thing he could think about is how he wished his leg was bare, so he could feel your skin. "Got it?" You asked.

"Yes, thank you so much. My doctor would just have given me some medicine instead of teatching me this." He grinned.

"I hope you get better soon. Before you sleep, do the massage again and put your leg on a pillow. If tomorrow it still hurts, let me know."

You both said good bye and went to your houses. You were happy to have seen him again, he was not only handsome, but really polite. And, honestly, you loved his thyrsty glances at your body. The next day, after you had been in your office for an hour, the nurse asked you "There is someone here, may i send him in?"

"Yes." You responded. You were happy to see it was Professor Hiddleston.

"Hello, y/n."

"Hello! Is your knee better?"

"It´s perfect. I came here to thank you for yesterday. I know you are not supposed to do this kind of appointment with members of the college, so i really appreciate it."

"Please, it was nothing. You were in pain, and it could get really serious, since it was something involving a broken bone." You said.

"Well, i-i really wanted to ask you, if you don´t mind, and if you don´t have any plans, if you´d like to go for lunch with me today." He asked shyly, getting the courage to say it looking at your eyes in the end.

You were shocked for a moment. " Yes, i´d love to. What time is good for you?"

"My last class of this morning ends at 12:15. Does this sound good for you?"

"Perfect, i´ll wait you outside your class then."

"What time do you usually take a break?" He asked.

"12".

"If you want to wait for me inside of my class, feel welcome!" He offered.

You smiled and he went back to his building on the campus.

It was 12. You took your coat and headed to his class. You thought if you´d enter or not, but decided you would. You took a sit in the huge anfitriat. He was giving a lecture about Hamlet. You were sad you couldn´t hear it from the beggining.

His class finished and you headed to a restaurant out of the campus, so you could have privacy. You sat and ordered. As you waited, conversation floated around you two.

"So, you told you were new at the college. Where did you work before?" Tom asked.

"Actually, i was a resident at Burke´s hospital before i came here. I finished residency last year. And i thought, how i wanted to do some research, a quiet place to work would be nice, and nothing better then a college to work."

"What research are you doning right now?"

"Mostly some drug research, on how it´s lack of some specific condiments can affect the brain."

"It sounds amazing."

"Talking about amazing, i heard the end of your lecture today, it was trully interesting. I wish i had heard it from the beggining."

"You like Hamlet?" He asked with his brows rised.

"I love it. It´s one of my favourite plays. Not that i´ve read much of them, but still."

"What are your thoughts about it?"

"Well, i think my opinion is the most common one: the play exceed some niitch existentialism (if you consider him an existentialist), how beautiful Horatio and Hamlet´s friendship was, how incredulous was Claudius, how blind was his mother... You know, i hadn´t really depth myself on the play yet, so i could only notice this yet." As you finished, he was mesmerized.

"Well, after this brieth demonstration, i can assume that you are a really well read person." He said.

"It depends, actually, i just happen to know some stuff. But after this class today, i can see that you really knows are you talk about in this matter."

"It trully is my passion. Sorry my intrusion, but i saw yesterday that you had Homero on your desk. I would love to hear what you have to say about him."

"Oh, those books are the ones i haven´t read yet. That Homero will be my first book of his. But after i finish it, you´ll be the first one to know my thoughts about it. I´m curious, actually. As a literature professor, what do you like to read?"

"I really like Shakespeare roman plays, like Coriolanus, or Anthonio and Cleopatra. But i usually read phylosophers too."

"I´m really fond of phylosophy. What philoshopher did you last read?"

" My last one was Emmanuel Kant, do you know his work?"

"Toughth one! I know his work, but in a rude way. I like his idea of trying a truce between rationalism and empiricism. But his conception of morality, i´m absolutely passionated about it. What do you think of him?" You noticed his smile.

"It´s nice to find a like minded person. I am myself passionate about his morality thesys too. However, sometimes it can be dangerous, in my opinion." You frowned your brows in confusion."Well" he explained, "think of two people usying his concept of morality, one is considered goog, the other bad. The good person is prone to always think straight, to not take alternative paths to benefit them. Although, the bad person, they will try to convince themself that the thing they are trying to do is right, that in the end everyone would do the same, beacuse everyone´d want the same resoult as the person thinking about it. It can be considered a very subjective moral. And, lately, i´ve connected a few points that it lead me to Machiavelli, because, if the person considered bad use Kant´s morality concept, they would be gently impliyng that 'the end justifies the means', so, this person could be called machiavellic, thus, leading them to not being moral at their whole beeing, because everybody knows Machiavelli used to say how someone who wanted to stay in power could forget the morality for a little, for the greater good. So, it´s actually a paradox the Kant´s morality in bad people."

The food came and conversation went by. You went back to the college and since that lunch, you grew closer each day.

Two onths passed. The status of your realtionship growed to dates and more dates. Dinners at fancy restaurants, lunches at his office or yours, making out at movie theaters and at your office, you even spent nights at each others houses. But the making out never lead to anything more, it was just kisses, naughty hands and cuddles. So, at the beggining of the third month, you decided that it was time. You could feel that his hands always wanted to go down further, his mouth wanted to explore more of your body.

You headed to one of his lectures, it was in the middle. You just loved to watch him working. He always smiled blushing as he saw you at one of the chairs, always paying attention to every single world. His lecture finished. After everyone got out, you went to the wooden aisle and gave him a kiss on the cheek and invited him to your house this evening. He could clearly see your intentions in your gaze, and he was eager for you as well as you were for him.

"Consider it a pajama party, honey. So, now you know what to wear." You whispered at his ear and left his class. The night came, you put one of his shirts that he'd forgotten at your place one day, and you decided to wear nothing undernath it. Only a blood red lace penties.

He arrived. As you opened the door, you saw him in a pajama shirt and shorts. He was holding a piece of pie that he bought at your favorite place. You two dine,and he insisted on helping you do the dishes. He could make every moment special. As you washed and he dried, you two were listening to music and dancing with the song. After, you went to the couch to watch a movie, as always. But today you´d make a movement. Little you knew what he had in mind.

"Darling, what do you think if we watch it at your bedroom´s tv?" Without thinkin, you took his hand and went there. You both laid on the bed and you lighted some candles, so the lights would be better. As you were laid, he sat at the edge of the bed, in the middle of your ankles. He took one of your legs and started massaging it while looking softly at you.

"I remember the first time you touched me. I record that it was not a really good day for me, since i could barely walk because of the pain. But then you toutched me and my mind cleared for the first time in hours. Since that day, i was eager to feel more of you, and i think that it is finally the time, if you consent." You nodded. "Words, dove."

"Yes."

"Good. And if you let me, i´d like to take my time before worshiping you." You sighed as he changed the leg. His hands felt like soft cotton. After a while, he had moved behinde you, making you sit, then massaging your backs, slowly, with the right pressure. You laid again and he hovered your body, kissing you gently on the mouth before lowering himself to face your blood red lace panties. He took them of carefully, than inhaled sharply at the vision of your core, eyes hungry. He smoothed it with one hand, than lowered his face to kiss it. He took your legs on his hands and placed then above his shoulders. He trailed kisses through your inner thighs until your folds. Your breaths were heavy. Then, he started to slowly lick your clit, making you give quiet moans. He toyed with the tip of his fingers your entrance. One finger entered you, then another, curling themselves inside you. The fingers movement followed by his mouth working in your core made you a moaning mess. You arched your back and with his other hand he placed it gently at your pelvis. After a couple of minutes you say "T-Tom, i´m gonna cum."

"Please, my dove, whenever you are ready." It didn´t take you to long before cuming on his mouth. You could feel him licking your juices and humming in approval. "So pretty, so incredible perfect." He said locking at your body, making you blush inexpectedly.

You sat on the bed and went to give him a kiss on his neck. Your hand took the hem of his shirt and pulled it of. You had never seen him shirtless, only felt his muscles throw his sweaters. God, he was defined, his belly was slim as a wall, his shoulders and arms strong as the ones of a soldier. As you looked you ran your fingertips throug his pale skin, making him shiver below. With a bold attitude, you lean against him and kiss his mouth, one of your hands grabbing his manhood, gently squeezing, eager to know it. He took of his pants and went to kiss you again, but you avoided his mouth, looking at him and saying. "Are you that shy?"

"I beg your pardon?" He asks in confusion.

"Take of your boxers, silly." You say with a mischivious grin. He took of, exposing his length. It was perfect, a little thick and longer then the average. Perfect. You pushed him to lay down as you straddled his lap. You gave gentle thrusts on his cock with your hands. He was already hard so you hovered over his lap and sat back down, both of you moaning. It was the first time you heard him moan, and you loved the sound. It was deep and huski. You went for a kiss, but as you broke it for air, you realised he was now on top of you. He started to wickedly suck your neck as he thrusted slowly into you. After a while he starts to go harder. You were already starting to feel the heat on your lower stomach when he started to go faster. You screamed his name as he pushed you up and down whith his cock. "I know i´m wearing a condom, but i still feel the urge to ask, may i come inside you?"

"Of course, honey." In a metter of minutes, you cum, soon followed by him, as he felt your walls clunge on his length. Still inside you, he embraces your torso and pulls you to top him. "Am i not to heavy to stay with all my weight on top of you like this?" You shyly ask, with concern in your eyes.

"Darling, you weight less then my books." He says massaging your lower back. You kiss him passionately, thinking what you did to deserve this man. After cuddling for a while, you push his cock out of you and invites him to a shower.

Now, both bathed and ready to sleep, he whispers in your ear "I can not wait for more pajama nights like this."

[daydream-cement]

Stately Sequoia Ch. 6

I am rampaging, folks. I might be busy for the rest of the weekend so I felt compelled to get all of these ideas out on paper before the plots get all jumbled or I forget and move on to a separate idea. 

Thank you for all the support and comments. I literally read all of it and love hearing what you have to say!

You had avoided Larissa at all costs. The school year was off to a good start and you found out quite quickly the students were your favorite part of the job. Bianca and Wednesday were two stand out students in your advanced botany course. Eugene was a quiet student, but he certainly had a skill for plant identification. 

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking about Larissa however. Faculty meetings were the worst as you tried to remain focused on the task at hand, but Larissa was truly too beautiful to resist a glance or two.

You knew you were having to put effort into avoiding Principal Weems as she has sought out your company many times since your last date. You remember on one specific occasion she stopped by the greenhouse about two weeks after your parting. 

“Fern. We really need to talk.” Larissa’s voice was gentle as she watched you seeding a batch of wildflowers for Eugene to keep for his bees. 

“I really don’t think we do. What else is there to say?” You didn’t look up, you didn’t give her the satisfaction of even stopping what you were doing to speak to her.

You could feel Larissa behind you, inching closer, “I wanted to apologize.”

Your stubbornness was getting the best of you as you planted your hands against the table in front of you. You took a deep breath and still didn’t acknowledge her words.

Larissa closed the gap between you both by wrapping her arms around your middle, hugging you from behind. You felt her warm lips against your neck, involuntarily you tilt your head to the side, granting her more access to you.

Much to your dismay, she unraveled her arms and left you longing for her warmth. 

———-

A month into the semester and it was finally Parents Weekend. Before the arrival of parents, there was a brief meeting among teachers. You listened to Larissa’s instructions while listening to Rowan’s smart ass comments on the side. 

“Parents weekend can’t get over soon enough,” Rowan huffed as you both made your way towards the quad. Student’s of hers quickly call her over to make introductions between their favorite vampire professor and their parents. You remained near a pillar, observing the interactions between your beloved students and their family members. A familiar presence appeared at your side, towering over you.

You had been considering re-initiating your relationship with Larissa, but after your behavior weeks ago, you found it hard to believe Larissa would want anything to do with you. Now, your relationship seemed to have returned to strictly professional.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Larissa asked looking out across the sea of students and guardians. 

You stared up at your principal, eyes not leaving her face as you respond, “Yes... Lovely.”

Larissa met your gaze, that beautiful smirk gracing her red lips once again. You stood there for a moment watching each other before you were brutally interrupted.

“Larissa!” A dark haired beauty approached the principal with open arms. More importantly, you saw Weems’s face fall before she forced a smile. The approaching parent wore a tight fitting black dress and was accompanied by a Latin man. Peaking around them, the annoyed face of Wednesday Addams followed after them. 

“Morticia. How lovely to see you.” Larissa accepted the embrace and you took that as your sign to mingle with the other parents present.

————

“You must be the botany professor my daughter speaks so highly of.” 

You were on your hands and knees digging in the conservatory to plant a sequoia tree of your own. You had been inspired recently and had a small sapling shipped from the west coast. 

You sit back on your feet and glance up at Morticia Addams, who had now graced your conservatory. From observing her earlier this morning, she seems to have a natural flirtation about her.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Addams. I’m Dr. Rogers.” You decided to keep the introduction as formal as possible due to Larissa’s seemingly negative reaction to seeing her old roommate. 

“Oh, please, you can call me Morticia.” She took another step towards you, causing you to have to crane your neck even higher to look at her. You were sure this was some kind of power move.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Morticia?” You faked a smile before turning back to your sapling at hand. 

“Oh… No… Just touring around… Larissa speaks very highly of you...” She glanced upwards and around at the different trees, vines, and shrubs you had cultivated. Morticia drew a hand innocently across your back as she stepped behind you and moved onward to explore your greenhouse.

“I’m glad to hear she is pleased with my performance. I enjoy my work here.”

“Oh, yes... You know, she used to enjoy my performance as well. I was just thinking-” Morticia began a story that you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to hear. From Rowan’s stories, it was revealed to you that Principle Weems and Morticia Addams were once romantically entangled. 

“Morticia.” A stern voice barked from the entrance to the greenhouse. Larissa loomed in the doorway, “It seems Gomez is looking for you. Perhaps you should go check on him. Separation anxiety, I assume.”

Larissa’s dig caused your eyes to widen and Morticia’s jaw clenched in response. There was a tension here between these women and with both of their dominating demeanor, you would rather stay out of it. 

“Don’t worry, Fern. We can continue this conversation at a later date. I’m sure you would love to hear the rest,” Morticia’s words seemed to be directed at Larissa as she took her exit.

Rather than question the intensity of Morticia and Larissa’s interaction, you turned your head back the the small tree. Once a hole was large enough for the roots, you gently inserted the small tree. 

Larissa couldn’t help herself as she found her way to your side, kneeling next to you, “What are you doing?”

Her tone had been so soft with you since your miscommunication. You glanced up at her and gestured down to the plant, “It’s a sequoia tree. I’ve never grown one before…”

Larissa watched as you leveled out the soil, gently packing it down so the little tree stands upright. She hums in approval, watching your movements. 

“Would you like to try?” You ask, tilting the watering can over, thoroughly watering it in. 

“Try what?”

You hold out your hand, requesting hers in return. Obeying, she offers up her gloved hand.  You absentmindedly smile, gently pulling at the fingertips of the glove so you can slide it off, laying it off to the side. 

You push her palm down into the soil, laying both of yours on top. That familiar warmth travels from your chest and down your arms to your fingers. Larissa gasps as she feels the energy travel through her hand, down into the soil. In return, the sapling began to shift, its roots taking hold and the branches began to spread and its trunk expanding. 

You held Larissa there until the few inch sapling grew to nearly four feet tall, not wanting it too big. 

“Beautiful.” Larissa whispered still mesmerized by the sight of the tree in front of her.

You turn your head to make eye contact, once again mesmerized by Weems beauty, “Yes, beautiful…” 

In an instant you collided with one another, Larissa couldn’t help herself any longer. Her gloved hand and dirt covered hand pressed to the sides of your face as she covered your lips with hers. You felt desperate for her.  Her strong arms had you swept up in an instant. Her dirty hand remained on your face, while the other guided you into her lap. You were happy to oblige. 

Now straddling her lap, the intensity of the kiss built. Your mouth opened at the probing of her tongue, your own arms wrapping around Larissa’s neck. She caught your lip between her teeth causing you to let out a soft moan before diving back in. 

You continued like this, making out until you finally pulled away, her lips seemed to chase yours for a moment until she realized you needed a breather. Larissa stifled a laugh, brushing your face with her gloved hand to remove the muddy smudge that now graced your cheek, “This seems to be a trend between you and I.”

Link to Chapter 7

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: My Time at Sandrock

Rating: M

Pairing: Fang x F!builder

AO3

Chapter 1: a visit

Summer, 104

Sage

—

Sage stepped off the bus from Portia as a cloud of dust floated up into the air and she reeled back breathing it in, eyes watering and nose tickling. She sneezed into her sleeve and reopened her burning eyes to be greeted by Logan. Taller than her by at least half a foot, and eyes as blue as the oasis, Sage understood why her twin sister was immediately magnetized to the man the day she saw him. On a wanted poster no less. It still made Sage chuckle to this day.

Logan stole her suitcase right out of her hand and beamed at her.

“Where’s Violet?” She asked.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“You need to make her take days off.”

“You think I can make her do anything? She’s as stubborn as a boxing jack. Worse actually.”

Sage sighed. “Yes. She is.”

“She says you ain’t much different.”

“Perhaps. But have you considered there is a reason she gets that first place trophy every year?”

“She told me once, that you let her win.”

“I’m here to tell you she’s lying.”

Logan chuckled at that while curling his hand around his belt buckle. “Well, come on, maybe once she sees you, she’ll realize her commissions can wait.”

“I do admire your optimism,” Sage said as she trailed after Logan.

It was just a short stretch to walk from the bus stop to Violet’s workshop. But it was enough for Sage to realize she’s over dressed, roasting under her long sleeved shirt with a matching belted harness and cape. Her trousers were loose at least, and laced boots knee high to keep all the sand out. But every piece of her outfit was too much black for a desert sun. She mumbled an almost inaudible incantation to keep herself cool while lagging behind Logan’s long-legged stride, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Though, the man probably knew their family secret. Still, better to be safe.

“Does my sister have to run to keep up with you?” Sage commented when they arrived at the gate.

She steadied herself on the fence to catch her breath and wished she would’ve kept up her training with Arlo the past year.

Logan laughed. “I have to run to keep up with her!”

He held the gate open and Sage peeled herself off the fence to follow him into the yard. Somehow she believed that what Logan said was true. Violet was always flitting about like a bee, buzzing along to her next task. Veering to the right, past the stables, Sage spotted her sister slouched over, painting steady strokes of blue onto some flower boxes. Her white shirt sleeves were rolled up to her muscled shoulders, sweat shining in rivulets that trailed down her tanned triceps. Sage was similar in build, though she’d been kissed more delicately by Portia’s summer sun, her freckles less prominent.

“Hey Darlin’, look who’s here,” Logan said.

Violet glanced up from her work, her dark blue locks pulled back into a thick braid while a few strands framed her face, her grin spreading wide as the bright sunlight glinted off her nose ring. The brightness almost obscured the freckles that dusted her nose and apples of her cheeks. She set the box aside, wiping her hands on her red and white striped work apron and threw her arms around Sage. She wrapped her sister up in a long, overdue hug and squeezed. When they finally parted, a string of half dried paint clung to her shirt and Violet swept it away with a chuckle.

“You want to take a tour of the town?” Violet asked. I need the paint to dry on those boxes so might as well give you the lay of the land.” She plucked her leather work gloves off and pocketed them in the front of her apron.

“You act like I’ve never been here before.”

“A weekend at the Blue Moon Saloon and the church, mostly cluttering up your schedule with wedding duties is hardly what I’d call getting a feel for Sandrock. Besides, Mi-an, Wei and I have spruced up so much more since you were here last month.”

“Very well, show me your pride and joy,” Sage said with a smile and Violet clapped enthusiastically.

Violet practically vibrated with joy. “You’re gonna love our little town, Sage. Can’t wait to show you around. Maybe I can even convince you to move here, yet.”

—

The valley stretched as far as her eyes could see but Sage’s drifted up to the sky. Inside the tram cart, she imagined herself flying and free. The way the fluffy clouds swirled on the horizon, soaking up the sun's rays and glowing in orange, with ruffles of purple, made her wish she had wings. She was ready to float on air after a day of endless introductions and small talk.

“It’s gorgeous up here.” She dangled her arms over the side of the cart and watched a bird flit across the sky and disappear behind a distant peak.

“It is,” Violet replied from beside her with a little sigh.

“Can’t believe you built this.”

“Me neither. I didn’t do it alone though,” she continued. “The Sandrockers are just always working together to pull through for me. They’re good people. Real good.”

“They are. The way you talk about this place, plus the views and the warmth of the people—makes me want to leave my old life behind and live here.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because—well, Vi.” There was only one reason really but she didn’t know how to say it. “I just can’t.”

“You can. You’ve told me time and time again how you’ve never wanted to be a builder. So, why don’t you stop holdin’ yourself back and start working toward your future? Logan and I would be more than willing to get you settled in here.”

“You would?” Sage cocked her head sideways at her sister.

“Of course.” She grinned while throwing her arm around Sage’s shoulder. “Plus you know me, I always want you around. It would be so nice to have you here in Sandrock. You could come with me to Saturday night story time with Owen and Sunday fireside meetin’s that always end up with a little party back at my place and—”

Violet launched into a speech of activities to participate in together as Sage turned back to the view. The sun sunk halfway below the horizon, brushing the sky with hues of pink and orange that had her believing her sister's words. She could move to Sandrock. Minus all those activities she was planning.

There was nothing holding her back. Well, nothing except her misplaced hope that he might return.

—

Sage pulled fresh rolls from the oven and slid the tray on top of the stove. The savory scent of caramelized onion and garlic she added to the dough before it baked filled her nose and her stomach rumbled.

“That smells heavenly,” Violet told her in a sing-song voice and then the doorbell rang.

“Did you invite someone over for dinner?” Sage asked.

“I sure did. But it’s a surprise so you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“This better not be a blind date. You know I’m not ready. I didn’t come here for that.”

Violet booped her nose and chuckled. “Not a date. I promise. He’s a friend and I just think you’d get along. He’s quiet. More than you, even. But he’s real kind.” She hurried towards the door but stopped in the frame and glanced back over her shoulder. “But it wouldn’t hurt to put the feelers out.”

Sage inhaled deeply to keep from shouting at her sister and turned back to the rolls. Violet disappeared and Sage reminded herself that her sister’s intentions came from a good place. Sweet even. Another deep breath and she noted that the tops were perfectly browned and ready to serve and smiled to herself with pride. She dug around in the cupboards for a basket to put them in and spotted one high up on the refrigerator and climbed the counter, stretching herself across the small gap. The tops of her fingers curled around the basket. She teetered but regained her balance, snatching the basket and clenching it against her chest, she crouched down and then jumped to the floor.

She busied herself with setting the table and then stirred the stewed mushrooms on the stovetop. Adding just a hint of extra cilantro, she left them to simmer a tad more while tossing the alfalfa salad with a few extra fresh veggies and a light vinaigrette. She set the salad bowl on the table with tongs and returned to the stovetop just as her sister ushered in the most beautiful man with blue eyes and long silken black hair she’s ever laid eyes on. He was nearly as tall as Logan but much more slight, dressed in a simple white button up and slightly tattered trousers, she gathered before averting her gaze. It’s rude to stare, she reminded herself.

“Sage, I want you to meet Doctor Fang,” Violet said.

The name sounded so familiar but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before. She raised her hand in a small greeting. An awkward wave. “Hi,” she said.

Doctor Fang’s expression was unreadable as his eyes fell on her. A raven suddenly swooped in from behind him and landed on his shoulder. It whistled then said, “Pretty bird! Who’s this?”

“It’s—the builder’s sister,” Doctor Fang said in the softest, most comforting voice Sage had ever heard. She wanted to wrap herself up in it like a cozy blanket and fall asleep under the stars.

Picking her jaw up off the floor, Sage blinked. “That’s right. I’m Vi’s sister, Sage” she said to the bird.

“This is—X,” said Doctor Fang.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you, X.” She offered a small smile. “And you, Doctor Fang.”

“Now that we’ve got all the introductions out of the way,” Violet clapped excitedly, “let’s have a seat, dig in and eat!”

Sage slid into the chair next to her sister and filled her plate with salad and then buttered her roll liberally, delighting in the way the softness just melted in her mouth as she took a bite. Meanwhile Violet told a story about her most recent adventure. Something about trying to collect cactus flowers for Doctor Fang when a boxing jack (which Sage had heard about plenty of times but fortunately had never come across) knocked her on her ass. Thankfully Logan had been at his outpost and spotted her in time to assist. Violet and Logan took turns telling the story of his heroic save and Sage listened while filling her stomach with the delicious foods on the table. By the end of their storytelling, Sage was done eating and collected her dirty dish from the table. She didn’t learn a thing about Doctor Fang because he barely said a word. Not like he could really get a word in edgewise anyway.

Eventually Logan and Violet dropped their plates in the sink and she was surprised when the Doctor joined her, drying the dishes she'd set in the drying rack.

“The rolls—did you make them?” He asked as he pulled open the cupboard, stacking the plates he'd dried.

“Yes,” she replied.

“They were very—good.”

“Thank you,” she said as she worked at cleaning the pot next.

She bit down on her lip while she scrubbed, channeling all her focus into cleaning. She almost forgot that Doctor Fang was with her and that she’d left him in silence for a decent length of time. But she only had one dish left.

Sage wiped the last dish clean and handed it to Doctor Fang. The walls shook and there was a low groan that

filtered through the floorboards as she briefly grazed his long fingers in the dish exchange. Flushing red, she muttered an apology. But Fang acted like it was nothing.

“I must—return home,” he said as another moan, much louder and longer than before, washed over them.

Sage refused to be left in the house with her sister and Logan, so at the risk of sounding desperate she asked, “can I please walk you home?” She cringed.

“Yes,” he stated simply, unaffected by the sounds going on around them. Or at least appearing not to be anyway.

Sage wished she had half his decorum.

“Thank you,” she breathed, following after him as he made his way toward the door.

The cool air washed over her as she sighed with relief, easily keeping pace with the Doctor as he led the way to his home in the night.

—

“You live in the clinic?” She asked once he stopped just outside the door, one hand pushing on it, letting the light spill out, grazing the top curve of her black boots.

“Yes,” he said simply. One foot was in the doorway, the other with her.

She wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to go or for her to come in. Each minute passed made her second guessing worse.

“Come in!” Squawked X. “Don’t be shy! Shy!”

“X! Be quiet,” Doctor Fang said softly.

Sage took that as a sign.

“Wanna go back?” X squawked again.

Sage stared at the two of them a bit baffled. “Not particularly. I need to find something else to do while—” she hesitated. There was no need for an explanation. He was a stranger. They owed nothing to each other. “I hope you two have a good night,” she said instead and turned around.

“Thank you.” Fang’s words were a whisper of a hand on her shoulder but as she glanced back, the door clicked shut as the clinic bathed her in its warm red lighting.

Sage knew she couldn’t go back to her sisters just yet and she didn’t want to go to the Saloon. There was just too much noise and brightness there and she was far too exhausted from the day. She wandered over to the bench, situated between the clinic and the Golden Goose, and took a page out of her good friend Mint’s book. Curling up with one arm under her head as a pillow, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

But it wasn’t long before she dreamt of the Rogue Knight again. He had pinned her to the ground, his sword at her chest and his laughter echoed as his mask melted away. The kind brown eyes of a betrothed betrayer mocked her. She thrashed and glanced away, not wanting to see the face behind the mask. Pain rippled through her nerves as the edge of his blade tore through her clothes and nicked her skin. Then he plunged it deep. A sharp intake of breath and she threw her eyes open, jolting upright. Five years gone and she hated the hold he had on her even after all this time.

X was pecking at her shirt and she didn’t mean to swat at him. “Wanna go back!” He was shouting over and over as she came to, blinking. It was still night.

She sat up and X landed on the shoulder of Doctor Fang. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I just—I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

Doctor Fang stared at her, tilting his head quizzically then turned away. He gestured for her to follow. “Come with me.”

[loudlooks]

Day 20 Discovering the first early bloomers

30 day challenge notes: quantity over quality, limited editing, stand-alone/unrelated stories unless specifically stated otherwise, not always tiva, chronologically randomly set in whatever pre-s11 season seems to fit

A/N: Season 7 Ziva contemplating life after Somalia, i just realized i've been forgetting to tag, so if you want to be tagged for the last 10 stories let me know, I have a headache, so, whatever

Tag for blocking/following: 30 days of spring

Prompt: Discovering the first early bloomers

Word count: 529

-

The changing of the seasons was one of the things Ziva had appreciated about living in Washington. Not every season was as enjoyable, but she liked how they signaled a passage of time and change.

Since being brought home, the seasons had mostly blurred together. Yes, warmer clothes had to be bought again, that was a given, but the first leaves falling, the first snow falling, had had little to no impact on her.

Tony’s comments on wardrobe changes, whining about the weather and his bad knee, or chatting about seasonal traditions he knew she had come to appreciate a lot, had all felt a little hollow and gray.

But now, as she stood there in the park, panting and sweating halfway through her morning run, she couldn’t stop staring at the green buds that were beginning to bloom.

Coming to terms with everything that had happened in Somalia—and before Somalia—had been a long and difficult process. She knew she wasn’t there yet. Maybe she never would get there, or know what, or where, there even was.

Maybe there was a who.

Her chest clenched uncomfortably, and she took a deep breath. Most relationships had been repaired the past six months, some, or one in particular, would take a lot more work.

She gently touched one of the green buds, careful not to cause any damage, and smiled softly. Things were changing for the better every day. The dark cloud that had seemed to follow her around, was clearing up and getting lighter with every small step forward. Abby celebrating her coming home, in her own complicated way. Ducky inviting her over for tea, as usual. McGee, well, McGee being McGee, supportive as always.

A very slow bumblebee plopped down on a half open flower. So close, she wondered if it could smell the nectar.

Her citizenship was getting closer. Memories of Gibbs’ doubts and initial reluctance bubbled to the surface. It wasn’t until he had invited her to the shooting range and then dinner at his place—fireplace cooked steak was new to her—that she knew for certain that they had finally started a new chapter.

She watched the bee take off haphazardly, looking for new life, and sighed heavily.

Her upcoming citizenship meant a lot to her, a real new beginning. A new life. And while she wasn’t worried about passing the exam, everyone had been very helpful—well, not quite everyone—the thought of starting that new chapter of her life, without having fully mended her relationship with Tony bothered her more than she would ever care to admit.

She knew he cared for her deeply, despite everything. She also knew she had hurt him just as deeply. But as the months passed, and her own healing had gained momentum, she had noticed his jokes had fewer and fewer barbs. Just last week she had caught him staring at her with such love, she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

They had both done a lot of healing, a lot of changing, like the seasons. She could only hope that their friendship had survived the harsh winter, and would start blooming again soon.

-

Tagging: @hopeless-nostalgiac

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor & Rosie - One Hell of a Team

TW: 18+

Their first murder leaves Alastor and Rosie with a special taste…

The scorching summer sun shone mercilessly down on the Louisiana Country Club, which stood out like a filthy stain in the wasteland of endless farmland and vast countryside. The country club was surrounded by rough, dry meadows and extensive woods.

The heat blazed over the lush green of the golf course. Sprinklers danced and the sun painted glittering rainbows as white golf balls flew through the air and across the grass.

A gentle breeze allowed the mellow grass to sway lazily in the warm wind, while countless bugs buzzed and hummed restlessly in the stifling heat.

The polished windows of the main building reflected the glaring sunlight, while the clear sky stretched above Alastor’s and Rosie's heads and not a single cloud dared to spoil the idyllic picture of pure blue. Even the birds were silent, with only the lively twittering of overzealous crickets interrupting the peace and quiet of the afternoon teatime.

Alastor and Rosie sat in the protective shade of a parasol at a table on the terrace with a cup of tea.

"Hm..." Rosie enthused, lavishly. "Today really is a wonderful day, wouldn't you say, Alastor?" she inquired of her best friend, the gentleman seated opposite her in a white shirt, black bow tie, and round glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"Heaven on earth and a pure bliss," Alastor replied serenely, a smile curling his lips. "Care for more tea, my dearest Rosie?"

"Indubitably."

Alastor rose elegantly from his chair, lifted the teapot, and with a gentle hand, poured some more for the lady. The sound of Fats Waller's rich voice and how she sang the lyrics of "Ain't Misbehavin'" spilled from the speakers of the small table radio, sizzling and static-ridden, the rustling melody accompanied by his piano playing.

"I dare to say, the jazz craze is taking over, eh?" Rosie steeped her Assam with sugar cane. Slowly, her spoon stirred in her cup until the crystals dissolved into the dark brew. Sideways, she caught Alastor's grimace at the sight of the huge amount of sugar cane in her tea. "The rhythm, the spontaneity. Quite the bee’s knees. Heard of the new jazz joint downtown? Been there yet?" She rested the spoon on the saucer and brought the porcelain to her lips.

"Jazz, eh? Haven't stepped in yet, but the music and its leading voices quite captivate me." Alastor sipped his own Assam, prefering his tea without sugar. "These country clubs, so buttoned-up, they create their own lost world. Everything there is so... stiff… Jazz on my radio broadcasts could be the cat's pajamas, a real breath of fresh air, or should I say, a blast from Louis Armstrong's trumpet?"

"Alastor, miming the wag for once," Rosie sniggered in amusement. "But you're right. Jazz is the new sound for the escapism this spoiled society craves."

"Absolutely, a splendid escape. Speaking of escape, heard about the party next weekend at the Fitzgeralds’. They’re promising something ‘unprecedented and utterly daring’.” Alastor gestured grandly, then leaned close to Rosies ear, ensuring their chat wouldn’t have an unwanted audience. “I suspect they’re just desperately aim to outdo the Morgans’ bash from last month. Rumor has it, they're planning to introduce the Charleston to the elite. It’ll be quite the spectacle, watching the old guard cutting a rug."

"Oh, the competition never ends, does it? These bashes, tiresome, and becoming more and more of competitions for the biggest show-off. Who can be the most extravagant, be the talk of the town. Like we're all characters in a novel, vying for the most dramatic storyline."

"Indeed." Alastor always had more tea to spill during his outings with Rosie, ever keen on the latest gossip and sharing it with his best friend. "Caught wind of the Robinson debacle? Their latest venture has failed spectacularly. They're practically social pariahs now. It’s all the town can talk about. Seems their stock’s is falling faster than hemlines!"

Rosie waved it off. "Heard, and can't say I'm all wet," she whispered, swiftly glancing all around. "Always too big for their britches… They were always so utterly confident, almost arrogant. Watching their fall from grace is like observing a meticulously planned fireworks display that ends in a fizzle. There’s a certain… satisfaction in it…"

A broad grin graced Alastor’s grimace. "Schadenfreude, my dear friend, which is the word you were looking for, a really snazzy German term. But it’s hard not to indulge when the high and mighty take such a spectacular nosedive. It’s the most entertainment we get around here, apart from my fantastic radio broadcasts."

"Spot-on..." Rosie muttered, downing the last of her Assam. The contents of the teapot were completely bone dry. "Speaking of entertainment," she changed the subject of their conversation. "I was mulling over of hosting a little soirée of my own. Nothing like these grandiose displays, mind you. More intimate, with real jazz musicians. I want to see our peers let their hair down, for once. We’ll have it all—music, dance, and maybe even a bit of bootlegged gin, the hooch to loosen up the stiff collars."

Alastor applauded his hands with zest. "A really splendid idea, my dearest Rosie! Let's show them how it’s done and give them something to jaw about. This time we could be the trendsetters. Just imagine the talk it’ll stir up, us hosting something so… authentic. It’ll be the cat’s pajamas!"

"Exactly my thought, Alastor!" Rosie beamed, her enthusiasm palpable. "High time we spiffed up these gatherings with some genuine fun. Let's put our heads together on it. It'll be our little project, a gem of authenticity in a sea of fakery. We'll be the talk of the town, the big cheese, the darlings of the Jazz Age, flappers and philosophers in equal measure."

Alastor scrutinized, swirling the empty teapot back and forth. "Oh, I'm all in. Let’s shake up this stiff status quo. More tea, or shall we start planning our soirée? After all, rebellion is the greatest form of flattery in these modern times, wouldn’t you agree?"

Dusk painted the grasslands and woodlands of the Louisiana Country Club in the most beautiful colors, a brilliant yellow and a blazing orange. In the last light of the fading sun, the shadows grew. The heat was waning and the staff had already started to close the parasols. The first exterior lights flickered noisily to life, the electricity crackling. A bunch of boys were busily collecting the white golf balls scattered across the green grass.

"I reckon it's time to beat it..." sighed Rosie melancholically as Alastor, ever the thoughtful gentleman, offered his assistance and helped her to stand up. Further planning of the soirée would be postponed until their next outing. "The day's wearing thin and you know how angry Franklin can get if I'm not back before the lights are out..."

"Hm..." Alastor muttered as he handed her her hat and offered her his arm. When Alastor touched her, she winced. "Oh, Rosie..." He read her straight through. "You're a very special kind of actress, but even your smile for your old pal can’t mask the anguish in your eyes." Before Rosie could respond, he had carefully taken her wrist and exposed her arm. Under the silky fabric of her dress, gruesome abrasions, ghastly scratches and deep blue marks appeared on her pale skin. She froze in horror in his hold. "You know I've got no use for your husband," he spoke in a soft voice. His fingertips dragged their comforting circles over her arm. "I don't like the way he treats you and his manners towards a dame are distasteful. I would prefer to make him-"

"Alastor, don't-" Rosie interrupted him in his sentence as she quickly freed herself from his hold and hid the cruel sight of her arm under the fabric of her dress again. She closed her eyes as her fingers clawed into the cloth of his shirt. Her voice fell to a faint whisper. "You know how my father promised me to my husband. It was a business deal and I wasn't given the say or the luxury of complaints." She sighed. "I-It... It's gotten unbearable with him, Alastor. This marriage... it's... suffocating..." The rest of her words died on the tip of her tongue. Her voice trembled as her fingernails dug into his flesh. They strolled slowly around the country club building.

"Rosie..." Slowly, the everlasting smile slipped from Alastor's face. "I have known you for years, you are my oldest and closest confidant. I was reluctantly forced to watch you fade into a shadow of yourself in the presence of that abominable man, and I must admit that it pains me greatly to see you so diminished. What he is doing to you is not-"

"Alastor, please pipe down your voice," Rosie pleaded. Nervously, she began to chew on her lower lip and quickly looked all around. "Franklin is a man of high repute, no doubt revered by many, a man above reproach. And I... I am merely his arm candy, the canary with clipped wings and caged in gold, sweating to live up to what society expects of me… I gotta play the dutiful wife, because I am the fool…”

"You can't be justifying his violent behavior towards you!" Alastor objected, full of anger and protest, but also helplessness. "Neither his age nor his wealth, let alone his position as your husband, allow him such a right."

Rosie fought down a harsh sob as teardrops shimmered in the corners of her eyes, threatening to blur her vision. She quickly blinked them away. "What’s to be done, Alastor?" she desperately asked her best friend. "I can't find a way out of this marriage. Filing for divorce and leaving Franklin would cause a scandal and shame... I’d be a marked doll. I probably wouldn't be able to step outside the door again."

"Oh, my dearest Rosie..." Alastor sighed softly. When they reached the waiting car in the driveway, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her before opening the door to the back seat for her and they separated. "I promise you, you're not in this alone. We'll scout out an escape, somehow we'll dig up a way for you," he whispered. "I promise you that you can count on me."

Rosie took a deep breath, wiping the traces of tears from her cheeks. There was a weak smile on her lips, overshadowed by her somber expression and the hopelessness in her eyes. "You are my port in a storm. Thanks, Alastor."

"Sure thing! In case of need, you know who to buzz." He gave her an encouraging smile as he bid her goodbye "I wish you a good night, Rosie."

"Nighty-night, Alastor."

The next night was dreadfully dark.

The starry shape of the moon was missing from the firmament. A black moon ruled over the darkness and the dense clouds drowned out the last light of the stars. Sheer endless stacks of gloomy black clouds smothered the sky. A warm wind blew. Its hideous howling echoed like a dog's whining and wailing between the buildings. In the distance, thunder rumbled sinisterly and glaring flashes of light split the sky, roaring and crashing.

A severe storm was looming on the horizon.

The glaring flashes of lightning shattered the deep darkness of the night as the thunderclap that followed tore Alastor roughly from his peaceful dreamland. He was startled out of his sleep with a strangled shriek as the ceiling above his head trembled. Again and again, the sky was split into thousands of pieces by glaring light, the stars shattered into shards and the earth seemed to shake, while the storm and the wind raged against one another like two wild beasts in battle. Rain roared.

Alastor sighed sorrowfully. He closed his eyes and rubbed his raging temples when suddenly the soft ringing of the telephone from the kitchen reached his ear, the sound muffled by the closed bedroom door. "The phone?" Surprised, he glanced at the clock display on his wall. "Who would...?" he pondered as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. "Rosie!" Filled with fright, Alastor leapt from his bed. His leg tangled in his lay and he didn't take a very glamorous fall onto the hard wooden floor.

"Damn..." Under bated breath and between curses, Alastor pulled himself back onto two legs before sprinting barefoot out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to the phone. He yanked the receiver from its stand. "Rosie?" He listened to the stunned silence on the other end of the line as irritated fingers rubbed the sore spot on his arm from his fall off the bed. He stifled a yawn and tried to keep the sleep out of his voice. "Rosie? What's the matter? It's quite an ungodly hour for a call from you..."

"Alastor?" A strangled whisper broke through the static, her voice trembling. "I-I... I find myself in quite the predicament... I... I fret I've done something dreadfully wrong... Something most unfortunate has happened to my husband. Alastor, y-you must come here immediately..." Rosie's voice broke off.

"What happened?" Alastor was wide awake, frantically rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. "Rosie, I need you to speak to me more clearly. Are you in harm’s way?" The silence and the incessant static on the other end of the line were driving him crazy. "Rosie? Rosie, please talk to me."

"Oh, Alastor... I don't dare over the phone. Could you possibly make your way here?"

He heard her unsteady breaths and heavy sobs through the receiver. "Hang in there, Rosie. Promise me you'll stay up wherever you are, do you hear ? I am getting dressed and making my way out as we speak, please leave the door ajar for me. Whatever happened, we'll deal with it together."

"Please, just make haste, Alastor..."

"I’ll be there posthaste. Please try to stay sane until then, will you?" he promised, when the next moment lightning struck with a roaring thunderclap and the line went dead. He clenched his fists, cursing, and slammed the receiver back into its holder. Alastor had to get to Rosie pronto.

"Rosie!" His voice cracked. Frantically, he strove to shout her name against the crushing silence as he rushed through the heavy front door of the mansion, his boots muddy and his clothes soaked to the bone by the pouring rain. Dark strands of hair hung in his face, the lenses of his glasses were blind and he had armed himself with an axe, just in case.

Alastor strained to hear. "Where are you, Rosie?" The eerie silence seemed almost peaceful as he listened to the rapid, fast-circulating blood rushing through his veins and his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears. His knuckles turned white as they clutched the wet handle of the axe tighter.

"Rosie?" whispered Alastor. The dim light of the antique lanterns along the walls flickered nervously. The reddish glow of the rising morning sun fell against the rigid walls of the mansion, creating ominous shadows, dust specks danced bustling in the first sunshine. In the distance, the bells of the church chimed solemnly for the full hour. Faintly, almost tenderly, each of the individual strokes against the dull metal mingled with the bizarrely cheerful chirping of the birds and echoed hauntingly in Alastor's head, while his wheezing breath slowly strangled his throat and filled his lungs with wadding.

"Where are you, Rosie?" His mouth was dry, his hurried footsteps bouncing back from the towering brick walls of the mansion, betraying his panic as his restless gaze twitched back and forth, keeping a careful eye on the shadows.

"H-Here..." Suddenly, the wretched sound of her voice came from the kitchen.

Alastor dashed towards the kitchen.

"Goodness gracious, Rosie! What has happened here?" As Alastor entered the room, he suddenly stepped in something moist. A sticky liquid stained the tips of his boots and the stinging smell of a mixture of iron and salt crept into his nose. The smell of blood clouded his senses as he stood stiff and silent in the red puddle, but then he spotted Rosie.

Her silhouette crouched on the ground with her head down and her shoulders slumped. The gleam of the knife blade in her hands shed an ominous, shimmering glow on the scene. Her husband's body laid amidst shards of glass and a smashed chair.

Alastor took a deep breath, then crossed the pool of blood on the kitchen tiles with steady steps and sat down with his best friend, sighing in sadness. The brass handles of the cupboard doors dug into his spine. "My dear Rosie, let's set the knife aside, shall we?" Carefully, he freed it from her tight grip.

"Oh, Alastor..." her voice whispered weakly, stifled by heavy sobs. "W-What have I done?" Eyes sunken and cheeks wet with tears, she stared stunned at her bloodied hands. "I didn't mean for it to come to this. Oh, Alastor, I had no wish to cause harm and hurt him. My only desire was to protect myself from him but then the things took a dreadful turn…”

"Is he dead?" Alastor demanded to know, his voice low. He rose and stalked over to her husband, his chest rising and falling weakly with rattling breaths. More and more blood oozed from the wounds of his injuries as the pool on the floor grew.

Rosie shook her head swiftly. "I believe he is still drawing breath, albeit faintly. I am filled with fright, Alastor, truly frightened..."

"Hm..." Lost in thought, his boot nudged his body, Franklin tried to stir with a grave groan. "Rosie, listen carefully. We must remain composed now. Taking him to a hospital is out of the question, as it would raise far too many inquiries. Yet, do not fret, we get through this predicament together..."

Rosie looked at her best friend, her eyes wide with fear. "But what shall we do for him, Alastor? If he... if he succumbs, I shall be branded a murderess!"

"Now, now, my dearest Rosie, please do not distress yourself with such thoughts..." Alastor asserted. He got down on his knees next to her husband and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "No one will talk about you as a murderess" he promised her. "No one will ever know what happened here and no one shall cause you harm evermore." An ice-cold smile graced his lips as he stared deep into Franklin's eyes and wrapped his hand around his throat.

Franklin gasped. A mixture of blood and drool gushed from his mouth, snot ran from his nose and spread across his chin. His eyes bulged out of the sockets of his skull as Alastor firmly squeezed his throat. Deep crimson color built in his face, Franklin spat and spluttered blood. Alastor stared him straight in the eyes with a gleaming grin as the last of his life drained from them.

A low laugh escaped Alastor, he smiled in satisfaction, as he rose quickly and kicked the lifeless body on the ground one last time for good measure with the tip of his boot.

Franklin was dead.

"Rosie? Are you all right?" Alastor asked carefully.

"Yes, thanks to you... I am truly grateful, Alastor..." Rosie sniffled. She wiped the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her dress.

"I-I... I cannot fathom what I would have done without you. The fear was overwhelming, yet now you are here, and it seems as though all could be well once more..."

"Indeed, all shall be well," Alastor assured her.

His best friend looked up at him silently as he got down on his knees in front of her, regardless of the pool of blood. He cupped her cheeks with his bloody hands. "What should we do with his body now?" she wanted to know calmly. "I surely cannot bury Franklin in the flower garden. Would that not be the first place they would search?" She scrunched her nose up, still sniffling. "Moreover, I fear his decomposing remains would mar my roses..."

"Hm... Perhaps I am aware of a more covert method to ensure he 'vanishes'..." Alastor murmured, lost in his thoughts as the last tears escaped Rosie's eyes and the salt water mixed with the blood on her cheeks. Carefully, his fingertips wiped over her cheekbones. "Hm," he hummed with delight as he licked his bloody fingertips.

Suddenly the expression in Rosie's eyes changed, her gaze became hungry. Saliva collected in the corner of her mouth as her tongue licked over her lips. Her fingernails dug firmly into Alastor's flesh as her cold fingers wrapped around his wrist and she turned his palm towards her. Then slowly, her tongue began to lick over his bloodied hands.

"Are you still in possession of the recipe for jambalaya I shared with you, the one from my mother, my dearest Rosie?" Alastor asked.

"Yes, but the quantity of meat would be excessive for our consumption," Rosie added with a deep frown. She cast a cursory glance at the calendar on the kitchen wall. "We're lucky!" she said cheerfully. "Fortuitously, the elementary school is slated to host a summer festival this weekend. Franklin was to be the guest of honor, and the committee had requested I contribute a culinary dish or dessert. I had contemplated a cake, but jambalaya might indeed be more fitting."

"That's my brave dame," Alastor stated proudly as he helped his best friend to her feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Arm in arm, they stood embraced on the sill between the cold tiles and the warm pool of blood, dancing in small circles around each other, holding each other still and silent. Their hands found one another and their fingers intertwined. In the middle of the dawn, in the warm glow of the rising sun and the stone floor at their feet, they swayed gently to the music of a song that no one but they would ever hear. They hummed to the melody that the wailing wind sang for them alone. The horrors were forgotten and for the moment the storm completely ceased its rampage. "Now, take deep breaths, Rosie. I am here for you, you are not alone. Gather the pots and pans, and I shall retrieve the necessary tools from the shed."

"Don't we make one hell of a team, Alastor?"

"Indeed, my dearest Rosie!"

[heniareth]

For @snarky-bee for OC kiss week

(Set in a verse in which Kallian is herself and Astala is her Companion AU self, that is, the Warden's sister. Enjoy! ^^)

The room was dark and smelled musty. The windows were nailed shut. This had probably been somebody's home before the Vints had taken it over.

Astala leaned her head against the bars of her cage and mechanically massaged her bruised ribs. Those bastards who called themselves healers had taken none too kindly to her escape attempt. Who knew magic could bruise as much as a club? And it hadn't even hit her. It had just sort of flared up and all her muscles had locked up and she hadn't been able to breathe. It'd been scary. It was good, she supposed, that it was her and not Kallian.

Oh, Kallian. If only she could've done something to keep from that Grey Warden.

"Don't go," she'd told her when Kallian had told her where she was going. "Please, let me-"

"What?" Kallian had asked. Astala remembered the harshness in her voice like they'd just spoken yesterday. She hadn't meant it, Astala knew that. "Do what? The guards already know my face. And you've heard them, I have to leave Denerim."

"But not with that shem!" Astala had shouted. Kallian, still in her blood-drenched wedding dress and the stolen armor, had looked over both her shoulders before stepping in close. "Listen," she had whisper-hissed. "I want this. I want out of here, I don't want to get married. I'm leaving." Astala had felt the blood drain from her face. "Kallian-" "It's no goodbye," Kallian had insisted. She was trying to keep her expression neutral, Astala could tell, but the air around her had been vibrating with excitement. "You'll see me again, just you wait. I just have to talk to Shianni real quick." "She's inside," Astala had answered tonelessly. Kallian had left her standing outside the house in her hurry. A few moments later, she had stepped out again, pushed out by an equally excited Shianni, wearing old gear that Astala swore she had still been able to see blood stains on. Kallian had waved, and then hurried towards the shem waiting for her. A glare was the only thing Astala had been able to give him for taking Kallian away. And then they'd been gone.

That had been a good year ago.

Sweet Andraste. A year already. Astala looked at the ceiling and swallowed down a ball of bitterness.

They all disappeared, didn't they? First Adaia. Then Kallian; they had received news of the defeat at Ostagar a month and a half after that disaster of a wedding, and Astala desperately wished she had insisted on giving Kallian a proper goodbye. Then, the purge had come. Astala and Shianni had done their best to look after their family. But the plague and these Vints had followed, and taken first Valora, then Cyrion, and now Astala. Worst of all? She'd landed herself in here while trying to get her family out. She'd never had Kallian's ability for stealth and thievery.

They made a pretty trio, and all good things come in pairs of three. Adaia, in her blood-soaked shroud. Kallian, in the wedding dress smeared with blood. And she, Astala, in nothing but her shift and the few drops of blood she got when the magic made her muscles clamp up and her teeth bite down on her lip.

Lady Andraste, she was so tired. She shivered, pulled her knees up to her chest, and hugged her arms around herself.

Steps. Several people, out in the hallway. Astala stayed where she was. She probably should be standing up, to face her destiny with her chin raised and her back straight. But she didn't find it in her to pull herself up. So she stayed where she was. Would they be sold together? Would she end up somewhere close to everybody else? They'd sell Cyrion and Valora for housework, which they did best, but she'd shown the Vints that she was well able to fight, and strong. Field work, perhaps. Or maybe even an arena? People died there, she'd heard. People died there quickly.

It was too soon. She thought they would've taken longer to get her.

Voices, clanking of weapons and armor, the door swung open. Astala's fingers found the bars behind her, wrapped around them, not yet, please-

"Astala?"

Kallian.

Astala whipped her head around, and there she was: blonde hair, slight frame, alive, alive! Astala scrambled to her feet, sent the bars of her cage rattling when she hit against them.

"Kallian!!" she gasped. "Get me out. Get me out of here!"

Thieves' tools jangled, the door to her cage swung open, Astala clambered out, out! Next thing she knew, she had her arms slung around Kallian and Kallian was hugging her back fiercely. She had grown a bit. She had put on muscle. She smelled a bit strange, something acrid and far too sweet under the smell of dust and sweat and iron, but Astala shoved that thought aside. Everything would be alright now.

"You're alive," she muttered into the hug. "We thought you'd died!"

She felt and heard Kallian laugh triumphantly, and wanted to bottle the moment in.

"Takes a bit more to kill me than some darkspawn," Kallian answered. "Are you alright? What did they do to you?"

"I'm fine now," Astala said. And she was. "I'm fine. They just locked me up. But-"

Suddenly, everything came rushing back.

"Kallian, they've taken him. They've taken Pa, out and to the back! There's another warehouse behind this one. They take them there, and then down to the docks and onto a ship, I saw it when I snuck in. You might just catch them. Kallian, they're Vints. Blood mages!"

Kallian's expression hardened. "I know. Don't worry, we got this."

She turned around to her companions. Only now did Astala take the time to actually look at them and at Kallian herself. They were armed, and their armor looked expensive and well-cared for. Kallian held herself... differently. Yes, this was the girl who had broken her mirror and stolen strawberry-rhubarb cake for her, but she was also so much more now. Where had those scars come from? Where the quiet self-confidence and liquid grace in her movements, the way she got all of her companions up to speed and took the lead among this bunch of shemlen and one- Ah. The way the other elf was speaking to her and trailing after her was interesting. Astala smiled to herself and decided to ask all of the questions once they were out of this slaver den and safe.

"What's with that smile?" Kallian asked.

"Nothing," Astala said and shrugged, not bothering to tone her smile down.

"You smell like money now, is all."

"Ugh! Stop it."

Astala laughed as Kallian swatted her arm. Kallian grinned back.

Then, her expression sobered. "We'll get Pa out, alright? You stay here."

"Alright," Astala said. "Promise me you'll stay safe, yeah?"

Kallian lifted an eyebrow. "No 'please let me keep you safe' this time?"

"I think you're doing a pretty good job," Astala said lightheartedly. "And, to be honest... I don't think I can keep up with you anymore."

Something fluttered over Kallian's expression. Then, she pointed to her right.

"We came that way, and you should find nothing but dead shemlen there. Take the back door."

"I'll wait for you at home," Astala said. Then she pulled Kallian in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Stay safe, please," she said again. "Ma would be so proud of you."

Kallian didn't look at her for a moment, and Astala let her.

"No goodbyes?" Kallian finally said.

Astala smiled. "No goodbyes."

With a last squeeze to Kallian's shoulder—what bit of shoulder she could get past the armor—Astala left the room and turned to the right. Kallian and her companions turned to the left. Astala listened until the clanking of their armor had faded away, and then for some more time.

Silence.

Astala took a deep breath, and ran. She skidded down the hallway, jumped over a few shemlen corpses, and burst into a wide open hall. The back door was right there. Astala ran, through the door, down the street, and halfway to home until she slowed down and took a big lungful of fresh air.

She was free.

And Kallian was alive.