#for the record I am not *unable* to write

[petiolata]

My relationship with my writing is so bad right now. If we were a couple, we'd be teetering on the brink of divorce.

[trashytracktales]

Okay i don’t know if you’re still receiving requests so 😭 but i absolutely ADORED inked and it actually inspired me for a request and you’re literally the only one who could give it justice. hopefully😔

so imagine reader not being able to cum for the past few times they had sex, maybe because she was stressed for work/exams/adult life and she hasn’t told lando because she feels bad for it and she doesn’t think it’s his fault. so when he finds out there’s a lil discussion and he PROMISE he SWEARS he will make it his mission on earth to help her to get out of her head and relax and enjoy herself and what they’re doing and he’s like WHATEVER IT TAKES you will orgasm again i promise, even if it takes all night!!

so he’s a man on a mission and when he succeeds they have their best sex ever and she’s having the best orgasm of her life! fireworks !!!!! 🥹🥹

The finish line | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── So… ✌🏻😗 I usually go with the flow when I’m writing, and for this one, it felt right to leave it at THAT (you’ll see). Don’t worry, there are fireworks and Lando achieved his goal. However, I felt it in my bones to keep this one leaning more on the emotional side, because sometimes, less is more. Enjoy!!

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⤿ PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOTS: Inked, Winning hand, Seasons change.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── While Lando is sound asleep after a passionate night together, she wakes up restless and frustrated, unable to ignore the weight of her own insecurities.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, mentions of sexual frustration and insecurity, emotional vulnerability such as crying and self-doubt, masturbation, obsessive behavior, fingering, swearing, use of praise and mild dominance, begging & desperation, overstimulation.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 4.5k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Jan. 29, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t want you guys to think that I’m lying. THIS is the current state of my inbox:

Just know that I am trying, but at the end of the day, I’m literally just a girl 🎀 If I didn’t post your request yet, thank you for your patience, I’ll eventually (hopefully) get to it.

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THE BEDSHEETS ARE rumpled, and there is a faint scent of sweat and sex that lingers in the air. Lando sleeps peacefully on his stomach, his arm draped lazily over her waist. His soft snores are the only sound that animate the room, but inside her head, her thoughts are louder.

It’s late, and she should be exhausted; well, she is, but mostly on a mental level. Her body feels heavy and restless, the glow of their earlier intimacy only temporarily satisfying a more deeper need that refuses to fade, no matter what she does. Her skin feels hot, especially where he touches her, and her mind races with thoughts she can’t control.

At this point, it’s been too long.

She shifts in different positions, and when it gets too much, quietly, she slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Lando, and pads her way to the bathroom. The cool tiles under her feet send a shiver down her spine as she closes the door behind her with a mellow click.

She splashes cold water on her face, hoping that she’ll wash away every little doubt that way. The shock of it is prickling her skin, but it does little to cool the constant heat simmering beneath the surface. Involuntarily, her thighs press together in a failed attempt to soothe the ache that refuses to dissipate.

Small droplets of water slide down her cheeks as she raises her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are parted, her breathing uneven, and her eyes betray the storm churning inside her. It’s become an obsessive ritual, one she can’t seem to give up until she gets all the answers. The shame coils tight in her stomach, a mix of desperation and anger at herself.

Why couldn’t she just let it go?

Why couldn’t she figure out what was wrong?

Her reflection doesn’t offer any of those answers — only a silent, maddening reminder of how close she always gets before it slips away, like sand through her fingers.

She lets out a frustrated exhale, while grabbing a towel from the rack with trembling hands, shaking it out before folding it in half and laying it on the floor. Carefully, she lowers herself onto it, her back pressing against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. The chill bites at her skin, but it keeps her guarded. She pulls her knees up slightly, legs spreading just enough to give her the space she needs, the vulnerability of the position making her heart race. Her fingers tremble as they trace the edge of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, closing her eyes to gather the remaining pieces of her patience.

The bathroom is tenderly lit by a single lamp above the mirror, casting a silver glow on her flushed face and the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

Weakly, she starts circling her fingers with increasing desperation, her slick heat betraying the arousal that never seems to reach its peak. Her breaths grow shallow, her movements frantic, but no matter how hard she tries, the pleasure stalls, hovering just out of reach. Irritation claws at her chest as her thighs tremble, the pressure building only to evaporate moments later, like a cruel joke.

Tears blur her vision as she slows, finally giving up, her head falling back. A sob escapes her lips, her mind spiraling into dark thoughts, and she pulls the towel tighter around her as if it can shield her from her own failure.

Back in their the bedroom, Lando stirs. His hand instinctively reaches out to her side of the bed, but the cool, empty sheets pull him out of his catatonic state. Half-asleep, his head lifts as he scans the room, his hair mussed and eyes hazy; it’s the faint, muffled sound that wakes him up completely. A muted cry, that he’s easily able to recognize.

His heart lurches, and he’s on his feet instantly, tugging on a pair of boxers. He follows the sound to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to it. The cries are clearer now, but they’re not purely sad — they’re mixed with hushed panting.

His brows knit together, and without thinking, Lando knocks. “Everything okay, love?” his voice is thick with sleep and worry.

She doesn’t answer.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lando insists, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

Inside, she’s too caught up in her own world to hear anything else. Her hands finally drop to her sides as she lets out another defeated sob, the tears spilling freely on her cheeks. She feels raw and vulnerable, unable to understand why her body is betraying her like this.

Sounding more concerned now, Lando knocks harder this time. “Babe, I’m coming in, alright?”

The door creaks as he steps inside, and the sight before him makes him stop in his tracks. She’s sitting there, legs spread, flushed and teary-eyed, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths. His mind takes a second to catch up to what’s happening, his gaze flickering from her damp cheeks to the towel beneath her and then finally to the source of her breakdown.

Her eyes widen when she realizes she’s not alone anymore, and she quickly moves to close her legs, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Lando—” she begins, but her voice dies in her throat.

He’s frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but then he steps closer, crouching down in front of her. His hands reach for hers, gently prying them away from where she’s trying to cover herself.

“Don’t do that,” says Lando in a tender voice. “What’s going on, babe? Talk to me.”

She looks away, the shame too much to bear. “I don’t know,” she stammers, her voice a small whisper. “I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” he prompts gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

She lets out a shaky exhale, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve been trying so hard, but I just—I can’t finish,” she admits finally, her voice breaking.

Lando’s expression softens, and he cups her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, his voice low but laced with concern.

She laughs dryly, “And say what? It’s fine, Lando. I didn’t want to bother you,” she replies, sniffling. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I thought I could just handle it myself.”

His lips quirk into a tiny, understanding smile. “Baby, you’re never a bother to me,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You know that, right?”

She nods weakly, her lips trembling as fresh tears threaten to spill. Lando doesn’t hesitate, sitting down beside her on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles pressing against his bare legs.

His hand moves tentatively to her knee, but he stops just short, his eyes searching hers. “Can I touch you?” he asks patiently.

Her nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for him. He places his hand on her knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her skin. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach the situation, but his concern outweighs his uncertainty.

“Come on, baby. It’s just us,” he says, his tone earnest. “What’s really been bothering you?”

She hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her — his — old t-shirt. The weight of the truth feels too heavy, but his steady presence makes it easier to breathe.

Finally, she exhales shakily and confesses, “I… I haven’t had an orgasm in three weeks.”

Her words hang in the air, and Lando blinks, his brows furrowing in concern. “Three weeks?” he repeats, raising his eyebrows in surprise, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

She nods again, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Look. It’s not you, Lando. I love being with you, and I love the way you make me feel,” she pauses, her voice trembling, and the tears come again, “I think something’s wrong with me. I’m so—I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her shoulders shake as she cries, and Lando’s heart breaks, seeing her in such distress. He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he says in a soothing tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise.”

“You don’t know, Lan,” she sobs into his chest, her hands clutching his bicep. “I... don’t know what else could be wrong. I just. I feel broken. Every time we’ve been together these past few weeks, I’ve tried so hard,” she trails off, the weight of her words crushing her.

Lando feels something dark coiling in his chest as the realization settles like a heavy weight in his gut. Weeks. She’s been suffering in silence for weeks, lying beneath him, taking everything he gave her, and still unable to let go. His fingers twitch with the need to fix it, to wipe away every trace of frustration she’s felt, to drag her into a pleasure so deep she forgets this ever happened. But on the outside, Lando stays calm; he can’t let his frustration show, because this isn’t about him. This is about her. And he’s going to make damn sure she never has to feel like this again.

But… how could he have been so clueless?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks in a weak tone, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I didn’t want to ruin things for you,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “You’ve been so busy lately, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. But it’s not your fault,” she reassures him. “It’s not. It’s me, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Her words cut through him, and he shakes his head, his hand cupping her cheek. “Stop saying that, you’re not doing anything wrong,” says Lando firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “God. Whatever this is, it’s not on you, okay?”

She sniffles, her lip trembling as she looks up at him. “But it feels like it is. Like my body’s just failing me all of a sudden.”

Lando’s jaw flexes, and he feels a sudden pang of anger — not at her, but at himself for not paying enough attention. For being so blind.

“I’m sorry I was so busy and distracted. I should’ve known something was off,” he sighs, voice filled with regret. “I feel so bloody stupid for not noticing how much you’ve been struggling.”

“You’re not—” she says quickly, but he cuts her off.

“No, baby. I should’ve seen that you were hurting.”

Her breath hitches at the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t want you to see. It’s fine, just… I don’t know what am I supposed to do now,” she whispers, her voice losing intensity.

Lando’s words come out so determined next time he speaks, “We’ll take our time, and we’ll work through it together.”

She looks at him, wanting to believe him, but she’s too caught up in her own head. Without thinking, her hands start trembling as they push against his chest, desperate to get some distance.

“No,” her voice is cracking. “No, you deserve better than—gosh, this so unfair. I’m always so close, and then I lose it. This never happened to me before.”

She covers her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that next time she’ll open them, everything will get back to normal. But she knows it’s not that simple, so she stays like that, pressing the bridges of her palms on her eyelids until she sees white, sparkly dots.

Lando stiffens momentarily, the weight of her words sinking in. Her pushing him away stings, but he doesn’t let it show, and he doesn’t let it deter him, either. Instead, Lando leans forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close even as she tries to fold in on herself.

“It’s okay. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he whispers, “Just, please. Don’t shut me out.”

She feels his steady embrace, his scent and warmth enveloping her like a protective blanket. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits again and again, hoping that she’ll eventually find an answer.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of her head and tightens his hold. “Is there something I can do? Right now? Something to make you feel even a little better?”

The question hangs in the air for a few seconds before she exhales shakily, attempting to lighten the mood with a weak, joking reply, “I’d like to have an orgasm,” she mutters with a sad laugh, but the vulnerability in her voice betrays her attempt to make light of the situation.

Lando pauses, his lips parting slightly. She feels his chest rise and fall behind her as he takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says simply, his tone laced with quiet determination.

She turns her head to look at him, confused. “What?”

Instead of answering, he adjusts his position so that she’s sitting between his legs. His hands come to rest on her arms, and his touch is light on her skin, as if silently asking her to put her trust in him.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her shoulders tense at first, but as his hands begin to move, caressing her arms with deliberate care, she allows herself to calm down.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” the girl tells him, tilting her head slightly to meet his eyes. Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’re always in my mind, Lando. Always.”

Her words make his stomach flip, but he shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s good, baby. But I can’t stand the thought of you feeling this way. Not when I can do something about it. So, let me try.”

He dips his head to kiss her neck, slow and measured, his lips warm against her skin. She shivers, goosebumps spreading across her arms as his hands travel up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly through her shirt. His thumbs brush over her nipples, teasing through the fabric, and her breath hitches.

“Lando…” she breathes, but her protest is weak.

“Shh,” he whispers, his lips still moving against her neck. “Let me.”

With a gentle tug, he pulls her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bare back presses against the heat of his chest, and she leans into him instinctively, her body relaxing further. One of her hands reaches back, resting against his thigh, while the other remains on his jaw, her thumb tracing his skin absentmindedly.

His kisses grow lazier, deeper, taking his time to savor her, his hands still exploring her body with quiet reverence. When his thumb brushes over her bare nipple this time, her breath catches, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

“Better?” asks Lando quietly, the question laced with affection and a hint of teasing.

She doesn’t answer with words, only nodding as her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning fully into his.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures softly. As his lips linger on her shoulder, his hand moves lower, tracing the curve of her stomach.

Her body tenses momentarily before melting into him again, exhaling sharply when his fingers trail lower, featherlight, until they dip between her legs. He feels the slight tremble in her thighs as her body reacts, and she instinctively parts her legs for him, granting Lando all the access he needs.

Her gaze drops to his arm, watching as the veins stretch under his skin with every movement. The strength in his hand contrasts with the careful way he touches her, and she can’t help but marvel at the sight. Almost instinctively, her hand moves to cover his — not to stop him or to slow him down, but to ground herself in the moment, to feel the reality of him there with her.

“Don’t think too much, yeah?” Lando instructs her, his breath warm against her. “Focus on me. I’ve got you.”

Lando’s fingers part her folds, and he has to close his eyes at the heat and wetness he finds there, evidence of the frustration and need she had been battling. When his thumb brushes against her clit, he feels it pulse under his touch, sensitive from what she had been doing before he walked in.

“Wanna see how responsive you are?” he asks with a teasing smile, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit without moving it.

She gasps silently, but he keeps his hand steady, his other arm holding her securely against him.

“Easy, baby,” he says, his tone as soothing as ever.

He holds the pressure for a few seconds, then finally rubs slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her breathing deepens, her legs shifting as he repeats the motion: firm pressure, then slow strokes, over and over. The rhythm he sets is almost hypnotic, and he feels the tension in her begin to ease as her arousal builds.

Once a new wave of wetness slicks his fingers, his lips twitch into a satisfied smile, “See that? Such a good girl,” he praises gently.

She whimpers at his words, her hips bucking slightly against his hand. He adjusts his grip, keeping her in place as his fingers move lower, teasing her entrance. He doesn’t push inside just yet, only circling the sensitive area, feeling the way her body squirms and trembles in anticipation.

“Relax for me,” he reminds her, his tone almost pleading, “I’m not going anywhere until I make a mess of you.”

She does as he says, but a soft, desperate cry still manages to escape her lips. Her arm wraps tightly around Lando’s neck, pulling him closer, her lips ghosting over his jaw as her breathing grows uneven. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispering words of encouragement, while his fingers explore her with dexterity.

“That’s it, feel me,” he soothes, his tone gentle yet commanding. “Don’t think.”

He finally pushes a finger inside her, but only the tip, teasing her repeatedly. He feels her walls soft and pillowy as he pumps it in and out, and she feels the stretch on her hole somehow differently. When he pulls out completely, her pussy clenches around nothing, instinctively trying to keep him there.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he presses his lips against her hair, smiling. “There goes your needy little hole,” he says, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “Told you there’s nothing wrong with you, baby. It’s all in your pretty head.” Lando pauses, his hand still as he tilts his head closer to hers. “Let me clear it for you.”

With that, he pushes his finger all the way in this time. Her sudden gasp hits his jaw, her hips jerking forward at the sensation. He knows it’s not enough, though the way he feels her walls fluttering around him, tells Lando he is on the right path.

“Look how perfect you are,” he praises, his voice a warm caress. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Without warning, he adds another finger — just to prove his point — stretching her and going deeper than before. Her moan is breathless, her head tipping back as her hips grind into his hand. Lando groans, feeling the slick warmth of her around him, and the way she reacts to every little movement.

“There it is,” his low voice catches her attention, “Feel that? That’s all you, my love. You just needed to be reminded of how incredible you are.”

He finally sets a rhythm, curling his fingers just right, and her cries turn into something more profound, a broken whimper of relief and pleasure as he works her open with care.

Leaning in, Lando is capturing her lips in a urgent kiss. His tongue slides against hers, coaxing soft moans from her as his fingers keep pumping in and out of her slick heat. He spreads her wetness over her puffy folds, his other hand moving to her chest, teasing and pinching her nipple until it hardens under his touch. He’s deliberate in his movements, having one clear goal in mind: to overwhelm her senses, to pull her away from the pressure of the finish line and make her fall in love with the journey.

His fingers scissor inside her, stretching her further, before curling again, brushing over the spot that makes her cry in pleasure. He presses the bridge of his palm firmly against her clit, applying just enough pressure to have her legs trembling against him. Her breathing turns erratic, her chest rising and falling quickly as the excitement starts to blur the edges of her thoughts.

Lando’s hand never falters, burying his fingers in and out of her with just the right amount of force, the wetness between her thighs making everything slick and obscene. But then, just as the wave begins to crest, he stills. His hand stops and she cries out, her walls protesting around him, as if trying to pull him back into motion.

“It’s okay, you’re doing so well,” he continues with his praise. “We’re close, yeah?” asks Lando rhetorically, waiting, feeling her body tighten and then gradually relax.

Then he starts again, the rhythm maddeningly slow.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but just as she teeters on the edge again, he stops once more.

“Fuck, Lando. Please,” she chokes out, her hips jerking against his hand, trying to create some friction. “I can’t—please, let me have it,” her voice is drenched in frustration and need.

He hums against her neck, savoring every sound she makes. “You know I will, baby. But you need to trust me,” he says, voice steady, his fingers suddenly resuming their pace. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, pretty girl?”

Her whole body shivers, her thighs trembling around his hand as she shakes her head frantically. “No,” she whimpers, “I won’t—please, please. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop again.”

The desperation in her voice tugs at something deep in him. He feels guilty, seeing her so wrecked and desperate after holding this pressure inside for weeks, but when her slickness grows, coating his fingers and hand, he knows she’s on the brink. He can physically feel it.

Smiling, Lando leans over, pressing soft kisses to her flushed cheek, talking tenderly against her skin, “Make me proud,” he whispers, his voice thick with affection and lust.

And that’s more than enough.

Her release comes in a rush, hitting her like fireworks as she cries out his name, her body spasming uncontrollably around Lando’s fingers. He keeps working her through it, whispering praises against her skin while her nails dig into his forearm, anchoring herself to him as the weeks of frustration dissolve into pure, blinding pleasure.

“Beautiful,” says Lando, dipping his head to kiss her.

He bites her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with a soft lick. Then, with a sly smirk, he shoves his tongue back into her mouth, tasting the soft gasp she lets out.

He attacks her senses from every direction — his hand between her legs, the other on her chest, his lips consuming hers. The pressure on her clit, the way his fingers still curl and stretch inside her, the heat of his body pressed to hers — everything feels right again. She’s finally losing herself, over and over, her mind emptying of everything but the way Lando feels, and the way he’s making her feel.

Just like he promised.

Her lips part against his, and the only thing she can think to say it’s his name, that escapes in a broken, breathless cry.

Her cheeks are flushed, the heat spreading through her body like wildfire. The wet, slick sounds of his hand working her fill the bathroom, blending with her breathless moans and the occasional low rasp of his voice. She feels the telltale pressure building once more in her lower abdomen, the one that makes her toes curl and her thighs tremble. And then, like clockwork, the fear starts to creep in — the same fear that’s stolen her release before.

Sensing the shift in her breathing, Lando reminds her, his voice impossibly soft, “You can,” he encourages her, “One more, baby. Look how well you take my fingers.”

Her chest heaves as she finds the strength to glance down, her half-lidded eyes catching the hypnotic way his hand works between her legs, his fingers disappearing into her again and again. The sight is enough to make her stomach tighten, and when her gaze lifts, she meets Lando’s.

He’s already looking at her, his eyes dark with desire but impossibly gentle, filled with reassurance and love. That’s what does it — their unyielding, pure connection. Her second orgasm crashes over her without warning, the intensity pulling a cry from deep within her chest.

“Lando, yes!” she moans, her voice breaking as she clings to him, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my—”

He doesn’t stop, his fingers working her through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. She’s crying, tears slipping down her cheeks, but these are different — they’re tears of relief; liquid euphoria.

The towel beneath her is soaked, her release spilling out in waves, and Lando lets out a low, approving groan as he feels her gush against his hand. “That’s my good girl,” he says proudly, kissing her temple as her cries fade into breathless whimpers. “Look at you. So perfect, baby. You fucking did it.”

She collapses into his chest, her body utterly spent, her mind hazy from the high of finally letting go. And for the first time in weeks, she feels nothing but peace.

Lando keeps her close, his lips brushing against her temple in the softest of kisses, waiting for her to come back to herself. She exhales shakily, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming her.

Lando tilts his head down, his curls tickling her cheek as he insists, “Next time you feel like this, come to me. Don’t keep it in, baby. We’ll work it out together like we did now,” his words are definitive, the weight of his love for her wrapped around every syllable. He leans back slightly to look at her, his eyes soft but unwavering. “The perfect fit, you and I, right?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out as his hand brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she says. “For knowing me better than anyone.”

“That’s because I love you, silly,” says Lando, his lips grazing hers in a featherlight kiss. “And loving you means taking care of you. Even when you don’t know how to let me.”

Hearing Lando’s words, a flicker of shame creeps in. She realizes she should have told him sooner. They’re a team — they always have been. And yet, she let herself spiral alone, convinced this was something she had to fix by herself.

Before she can dwell on it too much, Lando peppers more kisses to her temple and cheek, his voice deliberately teasing, but laced with something undeniably serious, “Let’s go back to bed,” he says, helping her up. “I’ve got three weeks to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a second.”

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Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[oofmybad]

I loved your GOAT Talk imagine! Could you do one where Billie and reader are on Hot Ones Versus?

HOT ONES Versus

i love this request!!! it’s so nice writing out videos she’s done - just takes so long lol. but it’s a good excuse to watch the videos back teehee :P

warnings: fluff, suggestive jokes, not proofread

a/n: hi gang! i had my tattoo today, it was only five hours long so not too bad. i had planned to write a ton of requests while i was there but i ended up getting my right arm tattooed so no can do, whoopsie!

~~~~~~~

“you spin first baby, you wanted to” billie points to you across the table.

you take the hot sauce wheel between your fingers and spin it. after many turns it lands facing billie.

“you go first!” “my turn” you and billie say at the same time.

to your left, there is a stack of cue cards placed face down. you pick one up and begin to read out the question.

“as a songwriter, there’s a constant need to document your inner-most thoughts and feelings.” you pause to tsk, “read your last notes app entry out loud” you wince at billie.

“ruh rohhhh” billie sings, clearly unable to remember the last thing she wrote in there. she fishes her phone out of her back pocket and brings it up to read from.

her leg bounces in anticipation as she makes her way to the app.

suddenly, out of nowhere, billie lets out her signature loud cackle, throwing her head back in the process.

“yall! it’s a quoute from my dad” billie goes on to explain the context of the note before revealing what it actually says:

“your mom says i have bird eyes” she laughs, making you laugh with her.

she continues, “and that i look like a baby dinosaur”

“what the fuck, maggie?!” you chime in, “way to woo him” you joke.

“look at mom!” billie point over to maggie behind the cameras while laughing, “she’s like, ‘yep!’”

you notice that maggie is also filming the scene, so you decide to tease her about it, “she’s also filming as though there aren’t a hundred cameras in here. you know, just to get that magic shot” you quip.

billie laughs with you, before going on to read out the next question for you. “i just released my latest project, hit me hard and soft, were there any arguments while i was working on the record?” she reads out, looking to you once she’s completed the question. she takes off her glasses now, hoping to get a better look at you.

“ummm” you think, “yes” you say plainly.

billie laughs at your short sentence, “you gonna give any context to that, or?”

“i would come in the room a lot while you were recording a take and mess it up. that would piss you off” you say. billie laughs heavily in agreement.

“let me defend myself, though” you put a hand up, “i cant knock ‘cause that makes a noise, but i can’t just come in ‘cause that distracts you. so what exactly am i meant to do?”

“um, not come in” billie says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“bil, you were recording for like two years. sometimes i needed you” you explain, making eye contact with the cameras, looking for comradery.

“hell yeah you did” billie says like a twelve year old boy, turning your sentence dirty.

“shut UP! i did not!… well-” you trail off.

“sorry mom” billie giggles. you just grit your teeth in maggies direction, making an ‘eek’ face.

“ok next question pleaseeeee” you sing out, trying to move on from the now awkward conversation.

you pick up another cue card and read it out to billie.

“in addition to being a grammy award winning singer, you’re also a style icon. rate these classic billie fits on a scale from 1-10.”

“jesus christ” billie huffs.

you pull up the first image of her in a camo vest and grey sweatpants, already giggling at her.

billie deliberates, “one to ten? we’re gonna give that like a… three.” she goes on, “i had the idea, the idea was there, but the execution was off. it really doesn’t look good on, though.”

“was that at laneway?” you ask.

“mhm, in perthhhhhhh” she says questioningly, causing you to make fun of her cadense.

“p-u-r-r-r-r-r-th?” you spell out before picking up the next image.

“aw this was cute” you comment.

“that was cute. that’s like a 7/8. anything anime is like the coolest shit ever.” billie answers, “anytime i have a shirt with an anime character on it, it’s the coolest shirt i own.”

holding out the next image billie jumps in, “oof. this was a person who’s shit did not stink.”

“uhhhhh” you disagree, “she was, in a word: mean”

“hahahahaHAHA” billie laughs in her baby voice, “that’s not true!“

“don’t even, bil. you hated me back then” you mock pout.

“no i didn’t, i could never hate you” billie attempts to defend herself but you cut her off regardless, “you can and you have, bil.”

the two of you continue to score fit pictures, before billie gets too embarassed to continue.

she reads out the next question.

“as a fellow producer and songwriter, you’ve worked with everyone form justin bieber to kid cudi. name one person you’d never want to be in the studio with again” billie laughs out at the end of the question, a mischevious look on her face.

“hehehe” she devilishly chuckles.

“oh no” you hesitate to answer, already having someone in mind.

“yeah! YEAHHH!” billie screams in triumph, happy you’re gonna have to eat a death wing.

“um… um….” you blow a big puff of air out, “i don’t wanna punch down.”

“savage, y/n” billie quips.

“well?! i could punch WAY down” you laugh. “…sure, sure, i’ll eat a wing.”

you go to take a nibble out of the soy meat, the heat already hitting you like a cloud of smoke.

“woah! that was a fat bite, baby” billie exclaims.

“i’m hungry” you mumble back as you chew, but make sure to cover your mouth.

“careful with your eyes, pretty girl” billie warns you. you’re sat their with your hands out, palms to the sky, consciously putting them nowhere near your face.

“mmm, that’s yummy!” you shimmy your shoulders as you eat and go to pick up the next card.

“couple test! i’m going to write down my answer, and you have to guess my response. guess wrong and eat a death wing” you say the final part in a faux suspenseful voice.

billie chuckles at that.

“what is my favorite billie eilish song?” you ask.

the two of you both pick up ypur white boards as you ponder on your answers.

“i have no idea-“ billie beginds to say.

“dont over think it” you butt in.

“new or old?”

“new-ish” you reply, tryna help her out.

billie’s face shows utter confusion as she answers, “you like so many of my songs though”

“of course!”

“i mean, maybe skinny?” billie confirms her guess.

“good guess! it’s what was i made for”

“awww, you cutiepatootie” bille coos at you, “i literally forgot that song existed” she laughs.

“how?!” you question her, “i literally play it everyday.”

“i wanna eat a wing!” billie interrupts you, whining in her baby voice. the two of you really should have eaten before you go here.

“well you got it wrong so go ahead, baby” you laugh at her childish behavior.

“oooo, yum dude” billie comments once she’s taken a bite.

the director speaks to you from behind the cameras, “y/n, why did you pick what was i made for?”

“well,” you think on it, “i got to tag along with billie. we became part of the barbie entourage which was such a fun group to be part of. i just liked leeching” you joke.

“how’s the spice hitting?” the director goes on to ask billie.

“it’s great. just a little hard to think” she smiles at the camera.

now her turn to read a carsd, billie reads aloud, “couple test!” in a voice of mockery.

“what is my biggest fear?”

“surely it has to be something being under your bed. or furniture in general. you still jump up into bed from three feet out.”

“close! good answer. but nope. it is the salt monster” billie corrects you.

“oh yeah!” you laugh, clapping your hands in enjoyment.

“ok. fuck” you huff, preparing to eat another wing.

“i thought you were gonna get that one” she says

“sorry” you mumble as you take a bite.

“dont say sorry, my love. i just feel bad you have to eat another wing” billie reaches her hand out across the table for yours.

you smile at her kind ways.

“that one wasn’t so bad. the first one just lingers for so long. at least it’s yummy soy” you ramble on with your mouth full.

while you read out the next card, billie sits across from you, watching your mouth as you read. her own mouth is slightly swollen from the hot sauce. she looks how she looks in the bedroom… you shoudn’t be thinking of this right now.

“rank these artists form most to least tanented” you furrow your eyebrows as you speak, knowing this will be a tough one for billie.

“woah! who?!” she asks you, looking frightened already.

“tyler the creator, lana del rey, childish gambino, and justin bieber”

“i dont know if i can do it” billie shakes her head.

you nod understandingly, “ok, well, eat a death wing then.”

billie picks up a wing, bringing it to her face to smell it before she takes a bite. she hesitates and says, “it’s the lips that are a problem. the mouth is fine.”

“really? yeah, they do look a little red my love” you tease her.

billie goes ahead and takes a bite, doing her best to avoid her lips.

“you eat like a horse” you casually observe her, just saying what’s on your mind.

“hey! rude!” billie shouts back.

“not normally, just, with your lips all curled up like that” you scoff.

“mmm, yum!” billie expresses with her hand. “what’s awesome about hot ones is when the interview is over, we get to KEEP suffering.”

“true, true” you nod.

“alright,” billie says, “wildcard.”

as she says it, horns start to blare around the room, startling you both. you look utterly exhausted by the commotion whereas billie looks like a deer in headlights. she turns her head to the direction of the noise, her whole body jumping in a fright.

“what the fuck, dude” you say to the director, tired of their antics.

billie begins to read out another card, “it’s trajish- it’s a trajish- WOAH!” but her words come put as complete jibberish. clearly the spice is getting to her head.

you tease her blunder, “purrrr, exactly what i was thinking, bil!”

“shut up” she glares at you, “it’s tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing. you and your opponent can add an extra dab to your final wings now.”

you simply let out a long sigh at the suggestion and take a sip of water whilst billie takes off her flannel.

“what’s the question?” you interrogate billie.

“give me a second, mama” she glares at you again. “don’t smile at me… challenge your other half to a compliement battle. first person to smile must eat a death wing.”

taking another chug of water, you say nothing, but silently hope for the pain in your mouth to ease. you just stare in front of you blankly.

“dude this is so sad” billie says, “i don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“that’s sweet, but not true” you side eye her.

billie’s mouth falls wide open and she kicks your leg under the table in annoyance at your innuendo.

“see! she’s even kicking me now” you make eye contact with the cameras.

the director steps in, counting you two down to your compliement battle.

“1… 2… 3… go!” he says.

billie goes first, “you’re the most talented person i know.”

no smile from you, the game continues.

“you’re a fast driver” you scoff, your face still neutral, “you’ve never been in a car accident, right?”

billie looks up and to the side, “um, nope. but is that even a compliment?”

she continues, “you’re the smartest person i know.”

“bil, i feel like you already said that.”

suddenly, all of your hearing goes black, all you can hear is a high-pitched ringing in your left ear. “i’ve gone deaf in one ear!” you cackle.

billie’s head shoots up like a meercat, she peers around the room looking for reassurance that you’re ok. her eyes fall on you now, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

you giggle the pain away, playing it off with a blasé “that’s crazy.”

billie begins to giggle alongside you, no longer worrying for her baby, but finding it funny now. she proceeds to put an extra dab of hot sauce on your wing, no regard for your recent injury.

“holy shit, billie. that’s so much” you take the wing and wipe some of the sauce off onto billie’s wing.

maggie cackles from behing the camera.

“uhm…” you think, “you look good in the DUMBEST fucking clothing” you ‘compliment’ her.

at this, billie lets out the loudest cackle, your favorite laugh of hers echoing around the room.

knowing she’s just lost, billie goes ahead and picks up the final wing.

“i laughed too, though” you pick up a wing as well, in solidarity.

“are you good, though?” billie checks in with you.

“it cant get worse” you shrug.

billie raises her eyebrows in a ‘for real?!’ look, “it can! it totally can.”

“well, bone apple teeth” you cheers your wings together

“love you” billie says before she takes a bite. as soon as she does, “ugh! that’s disgusting!”

“it’s a tie!” the producer calls out.

“a tie?! i didn’t take one sip of drink the whole time!” billie tries to bargain her way into a win.

“you’re so competetive” you roll your eyes, “billie, who doesn’t have enough trophies…” you joke, “congratulations, this is yours” you hand her the trophy.

billie holds up the plastic chicken wing triumphantly and makes a speech, “thank you so much for having me on the show…”

her sentence trails off and she just looks around the room for a long pregnant pause. the room fills with laughter at her comedic timing.

“stream hit me hard and soft… i’m like feeling the need to tell you all the people i’ve ever hooked up with for some reason” she rambles on.

“ahahaha” you burst out laughing.

billie goes to take a bit of the trophy but to no avail, “oh my god! you didn’t even make that a little bit edible.”

at his, the room erupts into applause and you two have finished the interview.

“good job, baby” you congratulate billie on her win.

“thanks, love” billie stands up and walks over to you. “are you ok?” she asks.

“i think i have hot sauce in my eye” you laugh while rubbing your eyes.

“come here” billie commands as she dips a clean serviette into her ice water. she goes to wipe your eyes and clean them out.

“better?” billie questions you, your face cupped in her hand.

“much” you cheese before leaning in for a kiss.

billie steps back and goes back towards her seat before yelling in a silly voice, “should i eat the last one… or nah?!”

you laugh at her, stopped by her hurling her chair into the distance.

“steve from blues clues throws a chair into the liminal space” you joke, causing billie to keel over in laughter.

[kombuuuu]

Can you write Miles 42 where you do that one TikTok prank on him where someone keeps texting you and he gets mad and stuff and tries to look at your phone 😭

Give me the Phone.

E42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“Not gon’ say nothin’, chiquita?”

i’m gonna be real i have no clue what that trend is but the idea was adorbs 🤭

The decision to mess with him, in hindsight, may have been stupid.

But you just couldn’t help it.

So you hit record, and your friend, Anita, started bombarding you with texts, in on the bit.

It was so fun just to toy with him every now and then, get him riled up. A little angry, it was all in good fun. So it didn’t really matter in the long run, he always forgave you.

And the way he would eye you from across the room, as you giggled and smiled at your phone—.

Was pretty much worth it.

He was unable to do anything about it though, with everyone else around. Of course, you’d decided to mess with him in front of his family. When you couldn’t be called out.

His Mom and Uncle were barely two feet away from him, talking amongst themselves and occasionally addressing someone else at the inconveniently timed family gathering.

He watched you snort again as you glanced at the message, quickly smirking at the mystery-person’s notif.

No one is so eager to text with a friend. No one giggles and smiles when talking through text.

You don’t giggle at texts.

Miles leans back from his seat on the couch opposite to you, coffee table between the two of you. He drapes a hand over his knee and watches as your eyes trail him up.

He tips his head back and sighs, glaring at you from under his eyelashes. Your posture straightens and you eye his Adams apple before your screen flashes again, and your attention is gone.

This goes on for around another eight minutes before he loses his mind. He groans, checking the faces around you both to see no one in his belated family paying either of you attention.

Slowly, he gets up. Stretching to his full height and glowering down at you. You glance up at him innocently, another small smirk settled on your lips and he huffs a quick breath.

Miles rolls the joints in his neck and you can’t help but observe the way his tense posture makes him look ever-more menacing. A jolt of attraction shocking your spine.

The way his smirk curved his soft lips up,how his sunken eyes glowed threateningly on an up-cast light.

“C’mon, Mami.”

“Hmm?”

“Get up.”

He side stepped the table, being close to you now, his height towering over you from your sat position.

You sheltered the phone screen, making sure he couldn’t see you record.

“I’m busy—,”

“Now, Chiquita.”

“You can’t make me.”

The way you pouted up at him drove him mad, your eyebrows furrowing in defiance and your tone lifting.

"Bueno, entonces hagamos la cuenta regresiva."

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god Miles! I’m not a kid.” You placed your phone face down beside you on the couch. He hummed.

Lowly, under his breath he spoke, “Three.”

“Fuck—, whatever fine. I’m up.” You roll your eyes, and push yourself up, grabbing your phone as you went.

“Talk t’me like a damn child.”

“‘S cause ya’ actin’ like a damn child.”

“Am not.”

He paused, dropping his face deadpan, and you snorted at the irony.

“See?”

“Whatever, loser. You’re just jealous i’m more fun.”

“Not what I’m jealous about.”

He slipped his palm over yours, linking your fingers with his. A few of his family members glanced your way, and you shifted in embarrassment before they looked away, paying you no mind.

Miles dragged you along with him, politely excusing himself, and you, from people who approached and made his way to his room. You following begrudgingly behind him.

He opened the door with a grip too tight, swung it open and clambered you both inside, before letting go of your hand and slowly shutting the door behind you both. Placing the key in the lock, twisting but not taking it out.

Never the type of man to trap you, or intimidate — you kind of felt bad for messing with him.

His back still to you, you let your knees hit the bed before sitting on the ledge, hands folded neatly in your lap and phone under them, shielding the screen.

Miles cracked his neck, muscles going taught before relaxing again as he turned. Eyes catching your own with a certain glee in them that felt more challenging than happy.

“Wanna ‘xplain yourself, mami?”

You huffed, only watching and pouting as he approached. Crossing your arms over your chest, and griping your forearms.

Unknowingly leaving your phone vulnerable to the man now much closer to you, just like before. Except now there wasn’t anyone stopping him from fucking with you.

“Not gon’ say nothin’, chiquita?”

Your phone buzzed.

You bit your lip and evaded smiling, smugness coming from the small win.

“Mm.” The low rumble of his voice made your eye flick back to his face, curiosity lacing your features for a spilt moment before you schooled them.

While unfocused on anything but his face, he took the opportunity to swipe your phone right from your lap, reflexes much quicker than yours.

“Hh—, Wait—!“ Your hand outstretched to try and catch the phone from his grip, but he was quicker. Holding the phone up high and placing his other hand over your shoulder so you couldn’t stand to grab it.

“Who the fuck—,” He flipped the screen toward himself, and when all he saw was your camera app open, recording for 13 minutes, and a notification from Anita, his smirk raised. One only of disbelief.

“You kiddin’?”

The camera was fixed on your sat body, and he stopped the recording, clicking Anita’s name and watching the texts appear.

You still there?

Did he find out LMAO

BROOO ARE U GETTING UR ASS BEAT LMFAOAOA

i’ll beat his ass tho fr, fight for u bbg 🫶

sorry in advance pumpkin 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

tiktoks gonna luv this

“Anita.”

He let his gaze fall on you, amusement and annoyance dancing with his emotions.

“No..” You pouted, dragging your hands back to your laps and smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, [Name].”

“It’s a prank?” Even you sounded unsure.

He snorted and glared at you, pushing you back until your back hit the bed.

“You wan’ make a tiktok? We don’ make one.”

“Wha—“

You heard the record button play before you could speak, and felt your instincts kick in a second too late bfore a pillow hit your face. You spluttered—

—Before clambering up the bed to get a pillow too.

“Oh, Fuck you!”

“Nah, Mami, wrecked your chances.”

You grabbed a pillow and swung back behind you, hitting him square in the face before he snatched it off you with a playfully pissed expression. One hand still holding the phone towards you.

You smirked at him and flipped the camera off. “Eat shit, loser.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret that.”

You squealed and laughed, trying to grab another pillow in time before your ankle was grabbed and dragged down the bed, your laughter following.

You did in fact, regret it.

—

+BONUS!!!

“How’s it feel to fuckin’ lose?”

Miles grinned behind the camera, braids loosened slightly due to the tussling between you two—,

“Die.”

He laughed and ended the recording.

“Y’know I love you?”

You pouted, resisting the need in your fluttering heart to smile up at him.

“Yeah, yeah— whatever, big boy.”

“Good, cause i’m posting that.”

“Morales!”

—

DONE!!! HOPE I DIDNT BUTCHER IT :3

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (10/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, smut, the angst, squirting, semi-public intimacy, description drug overdose, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although she hadn't written him back since their rather tumultuous phone call, her uncle had tried to soothe her anger by sending her pictures and videos of Vhagar at various frames and times of the day.

Through this, in the morning she would see her owner pouring food into her bowl, ordering her to stay still, listening to her squeals of impatience, then she could see her proudly carrying a big stick between her sharp fangs, and in the evening she would listen to him recording close-up footage of her dark eyes and wet nose asking her if she had missed her, with Vhagar then licking his phone.

She knew it was wrong, but some part of her felt happy about it and waited impatiently for each new message from him, because even though she didn't write him back she knew what he meant to tell her in this way: he wanted her to understand that he thought of her every day, anytime, anywhere.

She waited impatiently for news that would doom him in her eyes definitively, words from Daemon that he had killed someone again, hurt someone again, any confirmation that he was unable to change, that there was no going back for him.

There was something touching in that realisation, in the thought that he wasn't lying when he said he cared.

They both risked keeping in touch and because of that she had to have two phone cards to avoid attracting Daemon's attention, but other than that her uncle didn't try to call her or approach her, respecting her personal space.

He, however, surprised her by calling her one afternoon while she was in class. She didn't know what to do for a moment and then left the room to the surprise of everyone gathered, apologising to her professor, saying it was an urgent matter, led away by Robb's anxious, watchful gaze.

He hadn't spoken to her since his confrontation with her uncle, and she felt bad about it, but preferred not to approach him.

She had made the mistake of telling him too much and now she had to pay for it.

She sighed heavily as she stepped out into the corridor and answered, putting her phone to her ear.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?" She asked simultaneously frustrated and horrified.

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said excitedly, loud and clear, like a small child boasting to his mother that he had got the best mark in the class.

She blinked and shook her head, smiling involuntarily, feeling relieved at the thought that perhaps there was still hope for him.

He was really trying.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed from the bottom of her heart, wanting him to feel appreciated, to know that this was the right path for him and that she would support him in it without looking at what he had done to her in the past.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please." He muttered, and she felt discomfort in her stomach, her whole body tensed.

"No." She said immediately, feeling fear, thinking this was another trap, another excuse to weaken Daemon.

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He insisted, a plea in his voice from which she felt a sting in her heart, longing to see him and needing to keep him at bay.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She said in a trembling voice, wanting to be honest with him.

She felt he deserved it.

She heard him swallow hard and fell silent for a long moment, making her feel remorseful, her heart pounding like mad.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said in a tone from which she felt an unpleasant shudder of self-regret, because some part of her wanted to please him, to be with him, to be happy with him, to make love to him.

But that was not enough.

"– Aemond –" She muttered, but he hung up, leaving her with an unpleasant, uncomfortable void in her heart.

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, trying not to cry, thinking that she had done the right and sensible thing, that she had to look out for herself and not cross the line she had drawn for herself.

It was better for her and for him.

However, she couldn't stop the unpleasant feeling of disappointment and sadness when he didn't send her any photos or messages that day or any day after. She thought that he was punishing her in this way and that it was a painful form of manipulation on his part to which she could not react.

He wanted to break her, to force her to be with him again, to make her feel remorse and let him do what he wanted with her.

She was not going to make the same mistake.

She felt for the first time that something was wrong when her professor accosted her in the corridor.

"Your friend got the best score of all the participants in the exams, Miss Strong, but he has not yet submitted all the documents. He shouldn't delay, if he doesn't do it by Wednesday, someone else will take his place." He explained, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'll pass it on to him." She muttered and as soon as she said goodbye to him, she texted him.

He, however, did not write her back either that day or the next, making her cry again through the night because of him.

Was he punishing her in this way?

Was he showing her that if she did not meet his expectations he would do nothing to change?

That her presence was supposed to be the payment for him going to University?

She thought it was terribly unfair of him and that she didn't want to know him only to send him another message in despair.

He, however, continued not to reply and she had lost hope that anything would change.

"You haven't been eating lately. What's going on?" Asked Daemon, driving with her to the supermarket to buy things for dinner.

He took her to various places under his watchful eye, trying to find her activities to keep her from sitting in her room and torturing herself with thoughts.

She swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to talk about it or lie to his face. She heard her step-father sigh heavily at her lack of response, impatient, and he was already about to say something when suddenly his phone rang in the car.

He answered by clicking the hands-free mode, connecting directly to the car's control panel.

"Boss, there's a small problem at the Moon & Stars club. There has been an incident, someone has tried to rob the safe. We suspect it was Hightower's people, but they managed to run away. They didn't take anything."

She looked at her father, who sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Do I have to do everything myself? I'll be right there." He hissed impatiently and turned off the road, heading in a completely different direction.

He didn't usually take her with him to do his business, but now apparently the matter was serious and they were too far from home to turn back.

As they went inside, Daemon pointed his finger at one of the guest lodges to her.

"Wait here for me and stay where you are. Ten minutes and I'm back. Is that clear? You can order yourself something to drink, just have them pour it by your side in a glass." He said and she nodded, having no intention of doing anything but sitting.

Old rock classics were playing all around her, posters of bands and various guitars everywhere, red and blue lights blinking all around her, tormenting her already tired eyes.

She hadn't slept well the past few nights.

"Rhaenys?" She heard someone's voice behind her and turned, surprised to see a woman in front of her, the same one she had met when Daemon had shown her what her uncle had done to Robert.

She looked at her with big eyes, confused and terrified, because no one but him had ever called her by that name.

"Alys. We've already met." She introduced herself, extending her hand to her, holding her drink in the other, and she shook it.

The woman grinned in a way she didn't like and sat down across from her, making her feel uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to spot Daemon in the crowd, tense.

"Don't be scared. I'm a friend of Aemond's and an old acquaintance of your step-father's." Alys said calmly, taking a sip of whisky from her glass.

She looked at her with her heart beating fast, playing with her fingers in a gesture of concern.

"– but –" She muttered, unsure if she wanted to know how she knew the name that only her uncle called her by.

How close friends they were.

It seemed to her that Alys saw the question written all over her face, because she grinned even wider.

"He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident. Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him." She said softly, without a grimace of anger or frustration, as if she found it amusing.

She swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant sting in her heart at the thought that she was having sex with him, that he was comfortable with another woman.

On the other hand, her words sounded in her ears making her grow hot.

It slipped out of him in a moment of elation because he forgot that it wasn't you lying beneath him.

Alys sighed, spreading herself out comfortably on the couch, seeing that her words had completely shocked her and she didn't know how to act.

"Don't worry. We were never in a romantic relationship. I find the fact that he is so deeply in love with someone quite charming. For a long time I didn't know who the mysterious Rhaenys was, as there was no girl in our society with that name. It wasn't until recently that I found out for what reason Aemond kept his feelings to himself. An uncle should care for his niece, but not that much, right?" She sneered, and she swallowed hard with a loud snort of air.

Was she trying to scare her?

To blackmail her?

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked horrified, making the woman raise her eyebrows high.

"I want to help. I suspect your father didn't tell you that Aemond had recently overdosed on sleep drugs." She said, and she froze, feeling herself go deaf for a moment, and everything around her stopped.

"What?"

"He's in hospital in intensive care. I found out about it from his grandfather's co-workers. Everyone is whispering about it being a suicide attempt, thinking it was because Otto decided to make Aegon his successor. But I think otherwise." She said calmly, tilting her glass, drinking its entire contents to the end in one gulp, and set it down on the table.

"When he came to talk to me last time, he talked about you. He wanted me to help him with the Larys Strong case. Fear not: we've had nothing more in common than business for over a year. Since your name slipped out of his mouth, he was no longer comfortable with this form of intimacy, which is quite understandable. I learned his sweet little secret, but honestly, looking at you, I don't blame him." She said lightly with a simultaneously heartfelt and disturbing smirk.

Their relation was deep, she thought with regret, even if they were not together.

Something in that thought saddened her, the image of their bodies entwined together.

Did he feel the same when he saw Robb?

Are you two together again?

Are you in love with him?

"It hurts you that he slept with me. That he didn't wait for you." She stated calmly, as if she had come to some obvious, ordinary conclusion. She twisted in her seat, feeling panic rising within her, her bright green eyes seeming to pierce her to the core.

"I don't know what you mean." She muttered, looking away, red with embarrassment.

"I know he hurt you. What he did to you. In a way, I admire how you endangered yourself for him having Daemon under your nose. It's tragic that you love him so much, but it's even more tragic that he reciprocates your feelings. It saddens me to see such a young, innocent girl fall down with him because of his greed." She said dryly, making her shake her head, clenching her eyes, feeling hot tears under her eyelids.

"Leave her alone, Alys. Don't mess with her head." Daemon said, grabbing her arm and lifted her upright. The black-haired woman looked at him, sighing heavily, the expression on her face not changing one bit.

"I was just offering her my condolences."

As soon as they got into the car, her step-father began his interrogation.

"What did that witch want from you? I like her, but she's a specific person and I'd rather you didn't talk to her alone." He scoffed, pulling out of the car park. She looked blankly out of the window, feeling horribly tired.

"That Aemond has overdosed and is in hospital."

Daemon rolled his eyes, impatient, and licked his lower lip.

"I didn't want to burden you even more. To make you think it's your fault. Your uncle is trying to make himself a victim."

"He killed Larys Strong for me." She muttered and heard Daemon take a deep breath, frustrated.

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

"He did. Because of that rape pill. Against his grandfather's will."

"How do you know that? I forbade you to contact him. Do you want me to take your phone away from you so you'll finally wise up?"

"I don't want him to die."

Daemon fell silent and stopped at the side of the road, turning on the emergency lights. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment – they continued like that for a moment in a silence filled with tension, her fingers involuntarily tracing over the scars on her wrists.

Her reminder of what he had done to her.

"We can't help him if he doesn't want it himself. Do you understand?"

"He wants it."

"You're the only one who believes that."

"After they imprisoned me in their house, he stayed in one room with me all the time. He cried constantly, like he was a little baby. He is broken. He begged me for forgiveness."

"If he had really cared about you, he would never have done this to you."

"If your father had bequeathed in his will what was due to you to someone else, would you have left it that way?" She asked, glancing at him. Daemon shook his head, sighing heavily, shaking the dust off his trousers.

"If you cared about peace, you would have made a deal with them. My mother doesn't think justice has been done, but she remains silent for your sake. She will not stand up to you." She said coldly. Daemon looked at her with a gaze from which she froze.

"Careful now."

"Or what? You've always resented me for lying. But can you be told the truth without fear of the consequences? Do you only want to hear the kind of truth that is convenient for you?"

"Your grandfather bequeathed to your mother what he wanted in his will. Nobody forced him to do that. Do you think I'm going to give it back to them so they won't be sad? So that your poor one-eyed uncle doesn't cry? Wake up. Why do you think Viserys passed everything on to Rhaenyra? Hm? Is it because he's in love with me? Because he despised his sons? No. Because he knew that whatever he bequeathed to them, Otto would take it. He showed him that he never really trusted him and he was absolutely right."

They stared at each other in silence, the air around them so thick she felt she had trouble catching her breath. She turned her head away, feeling only fatigue, only regret.

"Take me home."

Daemon snorted and shook his head, taking off with a screech of tyres, furious.

Only money mattered, only influence, only power.

Everything else was just an obstacle to the goal.

When they got home Daemon held out his hand to her, startling her.

"Give me your phone."

She pressed her lips together, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad in rage.

"No."

She saw her step-father smack the inside of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, standing with his hand stretched out in front of him.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"No."

"Should I call your mother? Are you going to tell her that you talk to your uncle and what you do with him in your free time?" He sneered, making her feel a squeeze in her throat. "Come to your senses."

"Tell her what you want. I don't care." She said dryly and moved ahead, running upstairs to her room.

She locked herself in the bathroom and changed the card in her phone, looking in her contacts for Helaena's old number, the one she'd given her when they were still little girls, praying she'd answer.

"Hello?" She heard her soft voice on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I know Aemond is in hospital. He's passed his university exam, but the deadline for submitting his documents is today. They should be in his flat in the envelope he got from the University. Are you able to fill them out and bring them to the Archaeology Department tomorrow?" She asked in a whisper, afraid that someone outside would hear her conversation.

"Oh. Okay. Okay, I'll try." She muttered, and she breathed out heavily, feeling relieved.

"Thank you. How is he?" She asked quickly.

"He's still not awake, but his condition is stable. The worst is behind us. Our mum tried to call him but he didn't answer, so she drove there to see what had happened. Thank goodness she had spare keys to his flat."

The next day she set it as a point of honour to convince her professor and dean, appearing with Helaena, that the situation was exceptional and procedures could be bent in this situation.

"I didn't know my friend was in hospital. It happened suddenly and for this reason he could not bring the documents yesterday, which however his sister has with her today."

"We cannot accept them without his signature." Said the dean, making her feel an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach at the thought that her uncle would wake up only to find that his chance was gone.

"I ask for your understanding in this unique situation. He is unconscious at the moment and fighting for his life. As soon as he is able, he will come to sign the documents in person. The professor told me that he passed the exam with the best result. He's been through a lot and I don't want his work to be in vain." She said, and the man sighed heavily and nodded.

"Very well. But as soon as he is able, he is to appear here immediately and explain to me in person."

She sent him another message that same day, knowing from Helaena that he was finally awake and that nothing was threatening his life anymore.

He, however, did not write her back.

Was it because of her that he had done this to himself?

Was it because she had not met him?

She felt anger and remorse at the same time, but mostly she was relieved that he was still alive.

Lying alone in bed late at night, she thought she would go mad if she didn't find out why he had done it, so in a gesture of despair she decided to call him to find out how he felt.

She shuddered when she heard him pick up, but he was quiet, complete silence on the other end of the receiver.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, wondering if she was about to hear a litany from him about how much he had suffered because of her, that he didn't want to live because of her.

Would he try to manipulate her with remorse.

"Exactly as I deserve."

She swallowed hard, completely not expecting such an answer, not knowing what to make of his words.

Exactly as I deserve.

She lowered her gaze, playing with her duvet between her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered, dreading his answer, and he laughed, as if something in her question amused him for some reason.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

She froze, feeling her breath get stuck in her lungs, her eyebrows arching in pain at his words.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years." She muttered, simultaneously wanting to see him again and forget him, to run away from him and let herself be locked in his arms once more.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am." He choked out with difficulty, whooping with tears, making her freeze completely, just listening to him.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, feeling as one by one tears ran down her face.

Some part of her understood him, knew how hurt and disappointed he must have been, but another couldn't forgive him for somehow using her to get revenge on Daemon and her mother.

She felt like her head was going to burst.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest." She asked, impatient, and heard him swallow heavily.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling the heat in her stomach and chest, for which she rebuked herself in spirit, trying to remain sober in her mind.

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

It was only then that she understood why he had actually overdosed.

He had lost his business.

He had lost his grandfather's respect.

He had lost her.

He was alone, exactly as he was then.

His face contorted in pain and despair, his red cheeks flooded with tears, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists then, as he stood up to his waist in the sea water, alone and terrified.

"The University Library." She said feeling that she had made up her mind.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked excitedly, as if she had given him a wonderful surprise, and she swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

She didn't care about their business, their money, their eternal need to prove to themselves who was in charge of this town.

She just wanted her friend back.

The next day she turned up at the agreed place all tense, hiding her little pocket knife in her bra beforehand, afraid that he would trick her again.

That he would betray her again.

So many emotions were rattling through her head that her hands were shaking and although she tried to concentrate on reading her textbook, she couldn't. When she heard the sound of the door opening and raised her head from the book, she drew in a breath, seeing his silhouette emerge from behind the bookcases.

He stood still, as if petrified, his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"Hi." He muttered as if choking.

"Hi." She replied, looking at him watchfully, ready to run away.

She swallowed hard as he simply pulled off his leather jacket and sat down next to her on the big, soft cushions.

Afraid of how much her heart was pounding, how euphoric she felt at the sight of him, she decided to turn her thoughts away from that and get to the point, pulling from her backpack her notebooks that she had brought for him.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said indifferently, handing them to him one by one. He nodded and swallowed hard, taking them from her, clearly not knowing how to act.

"Thank you."

Having no idea what more she could say, she leaned back and sank into reading her textbook again, afraid to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his gaze.

She shuddered and took a breath as he lay down beside her and put his head on her shoulder, exactly as she had done when they had read books together as small children.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling tears squeeze into her eyes at this tender memory.

He heard her uneven breath, his moist, soft lips brushed her neck as his hand touched her waist, locking her in a warm embrace that felt too good, too safe.

No.

"– please –" She muttered, but didn't have time to say anything else because he interrupted her.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, surprising her completely, taking out a rose-shaped red lollipop from his pocket after a moment. "– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –"

She felt touched and at the same time pained at the thought of how sweet and thoughtful this gift was. She took it from him, turning it in her fingers, no longer able to remember the last time anyone had given her something without an occasion to just make her smile.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly, putting the lollipop aside, and he nodded, his face pressed against her cheek as his fingers ran slowly over her face.

For some reason she didn't understand when he leaned back, her body followed him, laying next to him on the soft material. She let his arm draw her closer, his hand combing through her hair as her fingers touched his chest.

He nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck, and she closed her eyes, smelling the pleasant scent of his aftershave and his masculine perfume, making a wonderful warmth spill over her lower abdomen.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, not wanting to forget who he was or what he had done.

She heard him sigh quietly, his fingers trailing over her head and down her back, playing with the curls of her hair.

Why did she feel so surprisingly safe in his arms, why was she so relaxed, so calm, why did her chest fill with some strange, unnatural relief?

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…" He didn't finish, and she swallowed hard, knowing what he meant.

She decided she had to ask him this question, even though she was so afraid of his answer.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?"

To her surprise, he seemed to have expected her to ask him this, for he answered almost immediately, without hesitation or uncertainty in his voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control."

Something in his words, in the confidence with which they left his throat made her feel hot in her heart. She lifted herself up on her arm, wanting to look at his face, knowing that even if his lips lied to her, she would see the truth in the look of his healthy eye.

"What's your plan?"

Her uncle hummed under his breath, his hand from her neck sliding down between her breasts, trailing along the buttons of her dress, making a hot shiver run down her spine.

He was doing this on purpose, she thought.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously and looked at her with a glint in his eye that she didn't like.

"What do you mean?" She muttered involuntarily.

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He sneered, saying the words as if he was proud of himself.

She stared at him in disbelief, not expecting such a response from him, the fact that he would dare to think of cutting himself off from his grandfather, of breaking away from his leash.

His words surprised her so much that she didn't know what to say, what she felt, what she thought about what she had just heard.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when his finger tapped her breast where her pocket knife was tucked under her bra, feeling the cold sweat on her back at the thought of him noticing it.

"– wise girl –" He hummed, using this as an excuse to tease her through the material of her dress, rubbing the spot under where he knew her nipple was.

She swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of pleasurable heat surge through her entire body, the place between her thighs pulsed painfully hard, embarrassingly wet and eager for him not to stop.

She thought she would not give him that satisfaction.

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her with a smirk, shamelessly closing his hand on her breast again and again, no longer even pretending that he meant anything other than to feel her.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He muttered, spreading himself more comfortably on the cushion, already focusing only on where his hand was and what it was doing to her. She shuddered as another wave of tickling pleasure and tension shook her loins, her fingers involuntarily clenching on his wrist.

"– stop – someone will see –" She mumbled, looking around, terrified that Robb or anyone else who knew her might see them.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

She swallowed heavily, looking up at him in shock, feeling her heart get stuck in her throat and stop beating for a second.

I want it back.

I want what we had during that summer.

His words, so childish, simple and ill-considered were too painfully honest for her, his gaze hot and thirsty, full of what he was speaking of.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She whispered pleadingly, shaking her head, unable to even imagine what it would look like.

To him, however, it clearly didn't matter anymore, and that shocked her the most.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, making her turn all red at his words, her cunt all slick from her moisture clenched greedily around nothing.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment, involuntarily feeling him inside her again, the thrusts of his hips forcing him deep, deep into her delicate flesh.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, sinking his hand into her hair, looking at her in a way that made her want to cry.

Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins.

Making love.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life."

She burst out crying at his words, because although he had hurt her so much, some sick part of her had longed to hear it for eight years. She moaned quietly as his lips began to place quick, helpless kisses on her face, his wide hands enclosing her in his embrace, trying to comfort her.

But she knew there was no comfort for them.

There was no future for them.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –"

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mumbled, choking on her own tears, involuntarily seeking relief in his proximity, feeling grief at the thought that he could not be the strange man she was allowed to love.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She looked up at him and froze, breathing hard, looking straight into his eyes, one empty and dead, the other filled with the hot affection she so feared.

"Do you like me?" He asked, and she blinked, not understanding what he meant. She nodded, however, wanting him to know that no matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of hating him.

"Very much?" He continued and smiled as she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth, trying to calm the convulsions of her body.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

What?

The two of them, then, by the sea, walking side by side, the white shells in her hand, his soft, moist lips that evening on hers, his warm embrace as she lay snuggled into his body at night, in his room, in his bed.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture so tender that her voice stuck in her throat.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered with difficulty.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He whispered, his broad, warm hand running over her cheek.

I'll wait as long as it takes.

She was terrified by the fact that everything inside her screamed that she wanted him back.

She wanted him to be close.

She wanted him to touch her.

She wanted him to love her.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered, to her surprise instead of shame feeling relieved.

Against everything and everyone, morals and good manners, everything she valued in life.

They were together.

To her simultaneous annoyance and delight, her uncle took her words very loosely: he didn't kiss her lips and his hands didn't go near the area of her panties, but over the following weeks, when they met in secret in the library, his fingers travelled over every other part of her body.

She deliberately stopped wearing a bra, knowing that the thought that someone might have noticed her nipples under her T-shirt drove him to fury.

As she spread herself comfortably between his thighs with her textbook that they were reading together, satisfaction filled her body as she felt his hard manhood pushing greedily against her buttocks, his hand in some subconscious motion slipping under the material, enclosing itself on her soft, plump breast.

"– you are doing this on purpose –" He breathed out into her ear, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his throbbing length against the space between her buttocks, trailing his lips down her long neck, leaving wet, sticky marks on her bare skin. "– you let others look at what is mine – you punish me –"

She sighed, closing her eyes, tilting her head back so that she rested it on his shoulder, showing him grace – she clenched her thighs involuntarily, feeling a wonderful pulsing between them as his lips sank greedily into the hollow of her neck, her hand clamped down on his wrist, encouraging him not to stop.

"– let me look at them – take pity on me –" He exhaled, completely losing interest in reading, kneading the silken, smooth structure of her breast with his fingers as his other hand slid down to her bare thigh, stroking it affectionately.

"– we can't – someone will see us –" She muttered, her breath heavy and deep, her whole body hot and tense from the waves of tickling, overpowering pleasure, his hands, his scent, his closeness driving her mad.

It always ended the same way.

"– there are no cameras here – please – I haven't seen you all week – I've been good, haven't I? – hm? –" He gasped, and she swallowed hard at the thought of what he had done.

He, accompanied by Criston Cole and a handful of trusted men, had carried out attacks on all of the clubs owned by Larys Strong at once, taking over the entirety of his inheritance, depriving his grandfather of half of his trusted associates.

An expression of their displeasure at having nominated Aegon as his successor.

Daemon was shocked by this turn of events, having enemies on two fronts wondering, in fact, whether to respond to her uncle's offer to make a deal.

Aemond could have given Daemon the advantage over Otto that he so needed.

It was probably only the chaos and what was going on around him that made Daemon not ask her why she was going to the library in the middle of the summer, thinking apparently that she was trying to escape from what was going on around her that way.

It was partly true.

She knew that her boyfriend's conciliatory attitude was not because he had suddenly fallen in love with her step-father or brother, but because he wanted her, and she had the power to reward him for being faithful to her and for keeping his promises.

It was a dangerous game and they both knew it.

She sighed and turned in his embrace, sitting down on top of him, pulling her Tshirt over her head without much finesse. Her uncle froze for a moment, staring at the sight before him, his swollen erection beneath her pulsed hard again and again.

She decided to tease him a little and began to rock her hips back and forth, pressing down on what was beneath her, a muffled, low groan came from his throat.

"– fuck –" He mumbled, stroking her naked waist, watching her bare silhouette as if he were staring at something sacred that he held in reverence, for a moment afraid to touch her as he desired.

She rested her hands on his chest as he began to roll his hips, and after a moment he leaned in, sinking his face between her soft breasts.

"– ah –" She sighed, tilting her head back in pleasure, feeling her swollen pussy throb around nothing as his slick tongue ran over her sternum.

Her fingers combed through his short hair as his face moved slightly to the side, blindly searching for her nipple, around which his puffy lips clamped down after a moment, beginning to suck.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, snuggling his head closer to her chest, involuntarily wanting to feel him harder, closer, deeper, the sweat of exertion and emotion trickling down her bare spine.

His face pressed against her breasts, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her nipples were the furthest form of their intimacy, something lewd and wonderful at the same time, a perpetual torment with no possibility of fulfilment.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He exhaled wearily, switching from one breast to the other, squeezing it between his fingers, directing her hard, sensitive nipple to his lips, which he clamped around it.

Shivers and waves of delightful tension shook her whole body making her mind all foggy, the space between her thighs all throbbing and moist, ready to welcome him deep inside her.

She rose suddenly from her knees, grabbing the material of her T-shirt, putting it over her head as if nothing had happened, feeling a drop of her own wetness run down her thighs.

"– baby –" He muttered, touching her bare leg, trying to stop her, desperate and thirsty.

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, looking at him over her shoulder, knowing how ambiguous her words sounded and that was exactly what she meant.

She saw him swallow hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his erection twiched hard in his trousers.

"– do you mean it? –" He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if the very thought made him faint.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained, taking her backpack in her hand, getting up from the ground.

He stood up with her, grabbing her aggressively around the waist, her body slamming against his.

"– promise me –" He whispered in a trembling voice into her ear, making her leaking pussy clench hard around nothing.

He groaned when, instead of words, her lips found his in a loud, deep kiss that took his breath away. His fingers clenched on her hair, not allowing her to move away, her tongue thrust deep between his teeth with his loud sigh of delight, colliding with his, which she licked invitingly.

She pushed him away and stepped back, trying to calm herself, in his healthy eye a heat and madness she had never seen before in her life.

He was on the verge of fucking her right here and now, ripping off her shorts and panties and slamming into her on the cold library floor.

She wouldn't stand up to him, and her moist cunt would gladly accept him deep inside her.

But he didn't know that.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled, having increasing trouble pretending indifference and that she felt nothing for him.

He nodded his head like a small child and she gave him one comforting smile.

"– I love you –" He muttered in a trembling voice, and she felt a twinge in her stomach at his words, her heart filling with heat.

"– I love you too –" She finally confessed with shame, feeling her voice break. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to cry, his eyebrows arched in pain.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled pleadingly and turned away, moving towards the exit, afraid that if she stayed with him a moment longer, she would finally give in to him.

Daemon was not happy with the idea of her leaving for so long.

"– the situation is still tense – someone of my people would have to be there with you –" He said.

"It's an archaeological excavations. I need a change of environment. I've been answering your every call for the last few months. I'm tired. I want to get away from what's going on and earn some money. Drive me there yourself if you're afraid I'm lying. You can call my professor, he will confirm that I have expressed my willingness to go with him again as his assistant. He's a good man. We'll sit in research all day and at night in a hotel."

"In what hotel? I need to know." He said impatiently.

"There is only one small hotel in this village on the main street." She explained, and her father sighed heavily.

"Please. This fortress is an important site. These excavations will count as practices, that way I won't have to do so many of them during the academic year. I haven't even swum in the lake this year, I just want to be alone for a while and do what I really enjoy."

Her stepfather sighed heavily and nodded.

"So be it. But I'll drive you away personally."

The next day she decided to text him to set things up.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily when he didn't write back then or the next day, clearly furious at the thought of having to look at her ex's face, but there was nothing she could do about it.

When Daemon drove her there he personally inspected her hotel room and furrowed his brow when he saw two single beds in it, not one.

"Who are you going to spend the night with?" He asked dryly.

"Certainly with some female friend." She shrugged her shoulders, placing her bags on the floor, feigning indifference.

She found with concern that lying to him was coming more and more easily to her.

He sighed and nodded.

"Report to me every day: text me or your mother in the morning and evening that you are fine. If you don't, I'll come here personally." He said warningly, and she smiled in his direction and nodded, for some reason happy.

She would spend a two weeks with him.

"Okay, Dad."

Daemon liked it when she called him that.

His gaze softened and he left her alone, throwing over his shoulder that she should watch over herself and not do anything stupid.

Too late, she thought with amusement.

She was joyful, and the sight of herself smiling in the mirror seemed unnatural to her.

She was certain that this happy little girl had died a few years ago.

She waited two hours to be sure her step-father is far away and went out into the corridor, looking for her professor. She wanted to inform him that she would be spending the night in a room with her boyfriend, while texting her uncle that Daemon had already left and he could enter the building in peace.

As she had found out from one of the students, their professor was overseeing the setting up of equipment and research tents near the site where they were to carry out the excavation, so that's where she went.

The sight of Robb among several other people she knew well did not fill her with optimism.

Her ex-boyfriend lowered his gaze as she approached their professor, who was just talking to one of the museum workers from the fortress they were about to research. Professor Addams smiled at the sight of her.

"Miss Strong! It is wonderful that you have made it. Will your friend also arrive as planned?" He asked lightly, and Robb looked at them surprised, tense.

"Yes, my boyfriend will be here soon. I also wanted to ask if he could spend the night in my room. We'll both be more comfortable that way." She said without stammering, making her ex-boyfriend turn pale and red all at the same time.

Their professor laughed and nodded.

"It's your room and you're adults after all. Just remember to focus on work, not dating." He said and she smiled involuntarily, casting a defiant glance at the boy she once thought would change her life.

"We will, Professor."

She turned as she heard someone's footsteps and beamed all over as she saw her uncle, clearly terrified and excited, throwing a menacing, displeased look at Robb.

"Speak of the devil. Today we'll just set up the equipment and figure out the details, work will start tomorrow. Everyone is to be here at eight in the morning right after breakfast. Get some shopping done at a nearby supermarket and get a good night's sleep." Their professor said.

She knew that surely the last thing awaiting her that night was sleep.

She was not mistaken – the moment they crossed the threshold of their room her uncle literally threw himself at her.

There was something animal and primal in the way he tore off her clothes, in his gaze black with desire, in his loud, heavy breath as he finally exposed her entire naked body, something he should never see, should never desire, should never have.

And yet.

For a moment he just stared at her, breathing loudly, as if he wanted to remember this moment, her, exposed beneath him – his hand ran slowly over her cheek, along her jawline and neck, sliding down between her breasts to her stomach.

It seemed obvious to her that the time for quiet, slow, tender lovemaking would come later, once the sun had set, once they were both just writhing in each other's embrace, unable to separate.

Now, however, they were hot with desire that burned their skin, and his lips, swollen with lust, after a moment clamped down on her hard, sensitive nipple, sucking on it as greedily as if there was no tomorrow to come.

She moaned loudly, too loudly when his fingers slid down her stomach, deep between her thighs, finding her hot, throbbing, leaking pussy at last, her hands pressing his face to her chest.

"– I hate that son of a bitch – I hate the way he looks at you – as if he's the one who wants to protect you – as if he's the one who knows what you need – bullshit –" He hissed furiously between the licks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers digging into the silky, moist skin of her swollen folds.

She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider, feeling the arousal fill her belly at the thought of how jealous he was of her.

Even when he was with another woman, he dreamt that she was the one lying beneath him.

She could not allow him to doubt the depth of her feelings, to doubt her intention or her fidelity.

"– I don't care about him, uncle – you can kiss me in his presence if that's what you want –" She cooed innocently, looking up at him with her lips parted in deep breaths, his dark gaze clouded and filled with something that sent a shiver through her.

He pulled away from her, as if her words had brought him to an edge from which there was no turning back, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the belt from his trousers and his zipper.

All she could do was, in a natural, simple reflex, spread her thighs even wider in front of him and entwine her legs on his back as he leaned down, sliding the material of his boxers lower, releasing his throbbing, fat erection.

Holding the base of his cock in his hand he guided the thick, pink head of it, leaking from his precum, onto her heat, teasing it, soaking his manhood in her wetness to use it as a lube.

"– may I? –" He asked in a trembling voice, leaning on his elbow right next to her head, and she nodded quickly, not knowing what else she could say.

"– ah –" She gasped along with him, running her fingers through the fabric of his t-shirt on his back as he sank into her with one, slow, sure thrust.

He slid into her with astonishing ease, and her slickness made him start to move inside her immediately, as if the warmth of her clenching walls had awakened some primal instinct in him, ordering him to just take what he wanted.

Nothing more than whimpers and grunts escaped their lips as their hips began to slam against each other with loud clicks of her wetness, his erection so fat and swollen that she barely fit it inside her, his forehead pressed against her.

His scent, his neck into which she snuggled her face as he thrust into her again and again with lewd slaps, his body lying on top of her, all of it was so familiar, so longed for.

"– Aemond –" She breathed out, tilting her head back, enclosing him in the helpless embrace of her body, feeling him with her whole self at last, connecting with him the way she had always wanted to, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.

"– fuck – fuck, baby – I missed you –" He mumbled with difficulty, quickening his pace, with each push rubbing the tip of his erection against the spot inside her from where she could see the stars.

"– I missed you too –" She confessed in shame, listening to the perverted sound of him opening her wide on his cock with wet clicks of her moisture.

He surprised her when he suddenly took her legs in his hands, forcing her to take a new position, putting her knees on his shoulders.

She moaned in shock as he began to move inside her anew with a loud slaps of their hips, feeling a flash of pleasure flow through her body again and again.

Her insides began to squeeze his manhood in delight, pulling high pitched, boyish moans of pleasure from his throat, his lips parted wide, his brow arched as if he was in pain.

"– you're so beautiful – I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He exhaled, no longer sliding out of her, all sticky from her moisture, invading her insides with violent, sharp, quick stabs from which she threw her head back.

"– Aemond, God, yes, yes, yes, here, fuck me here, ah –" She mewled, writhing beneath him in ecstasy, feeling the tension in her lower abdomen and her throbbing pussy about to reach its peak.

He leaned over her, pressing her body against the bed with her own thighs in a position where her calves were at the level of her head.

She clenched her fingers against his back, moaning helplessly as she felt the pressure on her clit from which tears pooled under her eyelids, each successive thrust of his hips sending her body into a state of ecstasy which forced him to close her mouth with his.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, not so loud – mmm – I know – your uncle is close too –" He breathed out into her throat between loud, sticky kisses full of their slick tongues, hearing her squeal of pleasure.

Tears of relief ran down her cheeks red from exertion as her body was shaken by such a powerful orgasm that she just burst out crying.

She heard his loud moans and panting, felt how aggressively his cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his release, how their bodies convulsed as a wave of her moisture flowed out of her, so much that they both drew in air loudly, his face pressed against her hot cheek.

"– 'm sorry –" She muttered embarrassed, not fully understanding what had happened, the wet, large stain under her buttocks made her uncomfortable.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – it's okay –" He whispered tenderly, placing loud, sticky kisses on her face.

"– uh – what have you done to me? – we'll have to change the sheets now –" She sighed, combing her fingers through his short hair in an attempt to calm herself, the last waves of pleasant warmth and tickling flowed through her body, putting her in a state of perfect bliss.

She dropped her legs lower, returning to her original position, allowing him to lie between her thighs and she squirmed when he suddenly lifted her by the buttocks and stood up with her.

"– don't worry – we'll just sleep on the other bed – see? –" He hummed, heading with her towards the single bed on the other side, laying down on his back with a sigh of exertion.

She spread herself comfortably on top of him, placing her palm on his shoulder, letting his hands wander over her bare body.

"– can I stay inside you? – you're so warm –" He mumbled like a little boy, and she nodded, dreaming of nothing else.

"– yes –" She whispered, lying with her eyes closed, concentrating on the smell of his perfume and his sweat, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

She heard him let out a loud breath, something like delight and relief in his words.

"– this is the most beautiful day of my life –"

______

Author notes: You can thank my husband for the last scene, lol. He did things to me.

[rekino2114]

Fem!kaiser and fem!ness with a cold reader

A/n:I've decided that I'm gonna do a blue lock post basically every week (or just when I feel like it) because again it's my current obsession. I wrote this because I am currently freezing to death (when am I not?) And i didn't feel like doing a request (the next bllk posts will probably be requests though) I chose kaiser and ness because i assume it's colder in Germany.

Fem!Michael kaiser

Michelle is naturally used to the cold. She has a higher body temperature and she had nothing no cover herself with when she was a child so she's used to it

She also already knows that you don't do well with the cold. She saw you shiver and freeze a lot during those cold days spent together in the streets of Berlin when you were children who only had each other (I love childhood friends to lovers kaiser and will mostly write for her with that in mind or implied)

But she still definitely teases you for being unable to withstand a bit of cold temperatures. She doesn't actually mind, though, since she thinks you look adorable bundled up in blankets

She doesn't like seeing you uncomfortable, so when she sees the temperature is getting colder and you're shivering, she asks you to cuddle and tells Ness to bring a blanket

You two just cuddle and watch whatever football match is going on, with kaiser constantly complaining about every mistakes the strikers do and saying how you two could do so much better

If there's no match currently going on, you'll just watch the highlight reel of your most recent match while she's constantly complimenting you on every action you did during the game (she expects you to do the same)

She also likes to take long warm baths with you. It's an opportunity to warm up and get even more comfortable together. You don't do much most of the time. Just wash each other and talk about whatever comes to your mind, it's one of the more relaxing and calm things you do in your relationship and it's also perfect to make yourself warm

If you have to play during a cold day or in a cold place kaiser complains to noa about it, while he looks at her like "wtf am I supposed to do about it" but then gives you some gloves specially made for the cold to help you

"Schatz, are you really that bothered by a bit of cold, I thought you'd be used to German weather by now"

"I think you of all people should know how I am with cold temperatures"

"Don't worry I know, should I ask ness to bring a blanket or two?"

"Yeah I'd like that thanks"

"Of course, anything for you, schatz."

Fem!Alexis ness

This girl is literally the definition of would do anything for you. It's genuinely concerning how fast she says yes to anything you ask her

You could literally ask her to help you hide a body, and she'd somehow already have a shovel and know a perfect spot to do it. Your happiness is literally the most important thing in the world to her, and she will do literally anything to make you happy

So the exact moment she saw you shiver even once she already went to grab 3 heated blankets, the softest pillows in all the buildings, and two cups of your favorite hot drink that she somehow made in record time

Cuddling is one of her favorite things to do with you (don't ask her which one is her favorite she genuinely couldn't decide) and the fact that it's cold means that she gets to cuddle with you basically always. Cuddling with Alexis genuinely fells like heaven she's so damn warm and comfortable it's insane. She also can adapt to whatever your cuddling preference is. If you like being the little spoon, then she's an amazing big spoon and the same goes for the opposite. She's at least top 3 best cuddlers in blue lock change my mind

If you have to go anywhere when it's cold she'll offer to go instead because she doesn't want you to get sick or even slightly uncomfortable with the cold. But if you do have to go then she comes with you, tells you to wear warm clothes and holds your hand the entire time both to warm it up and because she loves doing it

If you have to play in the cold then she tries her best to make you comfortable, including bringing hot tea in a thermos so she can give it to you to drink during break time

"Are you alright y/n? Do you need anything else?"

"N-no it's fine lexi, I already have everything I need"

"Are you sure? More tea, maybe? Are the blankets warm enough? Should I put on a movie? Or maybe a match? Do you-"

"Lexi please calm down I'm fine it's not a big deal"

"But you told me you didn't like the cold, I'm just doing anything I can to make you warm and comfortable liebling"

".....I swear every day I fall more in love with you, do you wanna cuddle? I'm sure your love will warm me right up"

"Awww thanks so much y/n, I love you so so so so so so so much, of course I'll cuddle you, the cold has nothing on me, especially if It's for you"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?” 

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass. 

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.” 

She gives him a look. 

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps. 

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.” 

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands. 

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.” 

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face. 

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.” 

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-” 

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.” 

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?” 

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.” 

*

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go. 

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone. 

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.” 

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks. 

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?” 

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?” 

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him. 

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months. 

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss. 

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat. 

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction. 

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him. 

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access- 

-and that’s when it happens. 

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like. 

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches. 

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin. 

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too. 

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses. 

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom. 

More Steddie Bingo

[anarchy-and-piglins]

do you have more c technoblade analysis? your thoughts are really well articulated and usually i agree with you

i wasnt there for dsmp stuff so you can talk about anything you’d like

Oh boy, I have a ton of cTechno thoughts all the time, but I feel like I'm bad at pulling them out randomly unless people want to ask/hear about anything specific (which, for the record, I very much embrace; I love cTechno lore questions)

HOWEVER, you're in luck today. Because I did have thoughts this morning!

Specifically, I am thinking once again about cTechno's conversation with cTubbo about the Red Festival during their Saving Michael stream.

Techno's situation during the Red Festival is kind of interesting to me because we know it is a fight Techno would have lost, and thus he decided not to engage with it. We see this as a returning character trait. Techno isn't only a good fighter, he's a smart fighter. He's not reckless.

That is to say, cTechno and ccTechno have both confirmed that in the case of the Red Festival, Techno pulled the trigger on Tubbo (AFTER trying to get out of the situation, dissuade Schlatt of the entire affair, and stall for time so their allies could come help, none of which worked) because he knew that if he refused, then he'd be entering a fight he could not win. He would not have been able to keep Tubbo and himself safe against a crowd of armored and armed people, especially as Tubbo was completely without weapons and armor. The most likely outcome would have been for them both to just be killed anyway, or maybe if they're lucky for one of them to die and the other escape.

And Techno only has one life.

Now, a few characters (mainly cTommy) do believe Techno could have fought his way out of that situation easy-peasy. The problem is that Tommy is in this case wrong. Again, both cTechno and ccTechno confirmed he could not have won, and in fact, we see that Techno's health dropped significantly and he almost died, leaving him to flee, and that is after shooting Tubbo. So yeah, no way would he have made it out with both of their lives intact. (Sadly, some of the fandom also decided to take Tommy's word for it despite cTommy being extremely wrong in this case but that's another post)

Here's why I'm talking about all this. During the Saving Michael stream, Techno apologizes to Tubbo about the events of the Red Festival, but these are the exact words he uses:

"I should have been willing to die for my beliefs back then"

This line still drives me up the wall and makes me chew the isolation /pos. Techno isn't saying he would have survived the Red Festival. He's not saying that he lied about being able to win that fight. HE'S SAYING HE SHOULD HAVE TRIED ANYWAY EVEN IF IT KILLS HIM.

And this comes literally minutes after he admits he only has one life.

Techno's 'belief' in this case is in reference to anarchy, obviously. I could write full dissertations about how Techno's understanding of the concept that is anarchy evolves to be more nuanced and complex throughout the dsmp, and how it is one of my favorite arcs, and why it makes him such a compelling character, but the main point for this post is that Techno got others involved in his cause.

Anarchy is not just Techno's thing anymore. It's the Syndicate's thing. Techno's friends. And one of Techno's defying character traits is that while he's not reckless, he's very much willing to put himself in danger for his friends. So now he feels that he should have put himself in harm's way during the Red Festival because that's what he would do now, after his character development.

He's not apologizing for being unable to save Tubbo - because he still doesn't think he'd be able to, and he's probably right about that. He's apologizing because he has one life and he was unwilling to sacrifice it. But now he is.

[apomaro-mellow]

The Road to You 2

Part 1

As far as Doug, Jeff, and Gareth knew, Eddie was simply running from the police and Jason’s mob. The less they knew about monsters he had faced, the better. They visited him in the hospital once they had heard where he was. All three were surprised to see that Steve Harrington was in the room. They were even more surprised to find that this was a regular thing from Eddie’s uncle. Then they learned from Dustin that apparently Steve had been with Eddie during all of this. 

It made a solid rock of guilt settle in their stomachs. Jeff was the only one who had said anything outright to Eddie about it though.

“I wish you hadn’t been alone”, Jeff had said.

“I wasn’t alone”, Eddie replied. “I had a whole party with me.”

Jeff scoffed. “I love Dustin, but the rest of them? Especially Steve?”

“Steve was…”, Eddie chuckled. “He was the MVP, man.”

“Not the way Henderson says it. If you let him tell the story, you saved the whole world.”

Eddie smiled. “Let’s call it a team effort.”

It was an odd new status quo to get used to. But there wasn’t much to do about it but getting used to it. Anytime they wanted to visit Eddie, Steve seemed to be there. Eventually, someone had to say something about it. And that someone was Gareth. 

“So can we talk about how weird this is?”, Gareth said, in between snacking on chips.

“Look, I get it”, Eddie said. “But if you knew him like I knew him…” He shook his head and smiled. “Harrington’s actually kind of a dork. He’s not…” Eddie was about to say Steve wasn’t like he was in high school, but that wasn’t true. Eddie didn’t truly know Steve back then. It took the end of the world for him to see him as he was. “He’s not what I thought he was. He’s cool. Case in point, he got me this tape recorder”, Eddie gestured to it, sitting on the floor.

“What for?”, Gareth asked.

“Song ideas. One great thing about near death experiences - inspiration”, Eddie grinned. He had felt inspired since he’d awakened. But one of the not-so-great things about near death experiences was losing control over your body, even if it wasn’t permanent. Eddie had been unable to write down his ideas. He couldn’t even doodle. Dustin was the one to bring up recording his voice. But it was Steve that bought it for him.

“Can’t believe you got me this. Wait. Am I dying? Do I only have three months? Oh say it isn’t so, Steve!”

“Yeah, yeah just don’t make me regret it”, Steve rolled his eyes.

Now whenever the feeling struck Eddie, he could record them, whether it was lyrics or a hummed melody. He was slowly regaining his fine motor skills, so it would happen someday. But for now, this helped.

-----------------------

Mike, Will, and Dustin started clearing their stuff, packing it away. Eddie blinked, then he looked at the clock and just barely held back a sigh. Visiting hours were just about up.

“You nerds got any plans tonight?”, he asked conversationally. 

“Yeah, we’re having a movie night at Mike’s”, Will said.

Eddie knew who was included when they said ‘we’. Their whole crew usually turned up to these things. And that included Steve. Eddie found himself almost wishing he could go. What was Steve like when he watched movies? It was odd but he wanted to know. He got the next best thing though - talking about it with him the next day.

“Of course, Dustin thinks he could totally beat the Thing”, Steve said, legs crossed, magazine over his lap.

Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Didn’t he raise one of those monsters in his turtle tank?”

“Exactly! Everyone else had to remind him too.”

“Do you think you could figure it out?”, Eddie asked.

“I guessed who it was and was right every time. I’m pretty much an expert on the Thing”, Steve said.

“It’s pretty crazy how it got MacReady so early.”

“....What are you talking about? MacReady wasn’t a Thing.”

---------------------

Doug heard shouting from Eddie’s room and it didn’t raise any alarms until he realized it was Steve Harrington’s voice he was hearing. He picked up the pace and thrust the door open, only to see Steve pacing around Eddie’s bed, gesturing wildly.

“It was Childs! It was goddamn Childs!”

“It got MacReady when he was leaving that message!”, Eddie shouted, arms moving stiffly but still conveying his frustration.

But Doug knew when Eddie was arguing, versus when he was debating. Eddie argued when he felt he was in the right and someone was trying to tell him he was wrong. His temper would rise, his voice would start cracking, and he looked almost mean enough to scare small children. But sometimes Eddie liked to argue for the fun of it. Debating. He’d still get loud, but there was no irritation in his voice. And he smiled. Like he was doing at Steve right now.

Steve looked frustrated but wasn’t backing down. If Doug didn’t know any better, he’d say that Harrington was enjoying himself too. 

----------------------

Eddie wasn’t better, but he was well enough to be discharged at last. Solid foods were no longer off limits. He could stand for short periods of time. And his mobility had improved. And there was also the fact that he’d been cleared of all charges. Eddie had grown sick of that room in all this time. The same plain ceilings, floors, and walls. But now that he was being pushed towards the exit in a wheelchair, he felt nervous.

Wayne put a hand on his shoulder. He knew his uncle could sense his apprehension. If it were anyone else, Eddie would hate how they were able to see right through him. But he knew Wayne would never use it against him.

“Ready to go back out into the world?”

Eddie took a deep breath before nodding. Wayne brought him outside. And there was Steve. Leaning against his uncle’s car. Suddenly the outside world didn’t seem as scary. Eddie tried tamping that feeling down but it won out and bubbled up when Steve saw them and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So uh, your uncle asked me to come and take your chair in my car. Said his didn’t have enough room and with your van totaled…”

“Harrington’s moving service, you’ve really diversified.”

“Shut up”, Steve smiled.

Steve took the chair and put it in his car once Eddie was situated in Wayne’s. They took off then, but Eddie was confused to see them pull up to Steve’s house and not the little place Wayne had gotten for his troubles. But Eddie figured it out when he saw a small face (possibly Erica’s) in the corner of a window. She disappeared, presumably to tell the others that they had arrived. It was the best surprise-not-surprise party ever thrown for him. 

The party lasted hours and at times Eddie felt overwhelmed. He didn’t think there were enough people in his life that cared this much. And he certainly never thought police chief Hopper would ever attend a party in his honor. It reminded him that he still had to learn about his part in all of this. Eddie had learned bits and pieces here and there, but it was hard to really string the story together like that. He’d save that for later though. Right now, he could use some air. He asked Wayne to wheel him outside and he sat by the pool. He lit up and was able to get a few drags in before Steve came out to join him.

“Here to lecture me at Buckley’s behest?”, Eddie teased.

“No, I’m here to bum one off you”, Steve said. He pulled up a lawn chair right next to him. Eddie handed a cigarette to Steve, then his lighter. Eddie averted his eyes, pretending to be interested in the treeline. For some reason, watching Steve felt like too much right now.

“God what I would do for some weed”, Steve breathed out.

“You and me both”, Eddie said, bringing the cigarette to his lips. “But Rick’s still in jail. And my stash went through the Earth’s crust.”

“Shit, don’t remind me. I could use the weed for that too.”

“...The memories?”, Eddie ventured to ask.

Steve lied back on the chair, eyes to the sky. “Don’t you wish you could forget? Even just a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah of course I do. Shit the nightmares I get…” Eddie’s hand went to his side. Sometimes he still felt the teeth in him. There were nights where he swore there was a hole that went through his stomach. He’d wake up in a sweat, afraid to touch and find that his hands went all the way through. “Does it ever get easier?”

“I don’t know”, Steve answered honestly. “Never gone that long without the next crisis.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel. There seemed to be this finality with things but also everyone still seemed on edge. Like it was the end but…was it? Even Eddie felt like that was too good to be true. But the thought of having to deal with this all over again before a full year had even passed… Eddie didn’t want this to happen again in ten years, let alone ten months.

“What if it’s really over?”

Steve blew smoke out of his mouth before replying. “I don’t know.”

Eddie let that hang in the air. Because he didn’t know either. Every single plan, idea, and dream he had back in March seemed like nothing now. 

“Your agenda’s open then. Good”, Eddie nodded.

“Good?”, Steve raised a brow.

“Yeah. It means you can be my manservant now that I’m discharged. It’s gonna be a lot of work, but I think you’re up to it.”

“I don’t come cheap, Munson.”

“Rick’s not my only plug”, Eddie winked.

“Deal.”

Part 3

[absurdthirst]

High for the Holiday {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Drug use, smoking weed, sex while high, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, cock riding, anal fingering, unprotected sex.

Comments: We just wanted to fuck Dieter high. That's it.

A/N: Happy Hot Box Day to those that celebrate!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“We haaaaaaave to smoke.” Dieter’s voice takes on that whiny quality he uses to get his way. The plaintive actor literally pouting at you as if he was four years old and being denied a cookie rather than in his forties and being told that maybe smoking weed on Easter wasn’t a good idea. “It’s 4/20, we have to!” He practically stamps his foot in his crocs and makes you snort in amusement as he frowns at you. 

“It’s also Easter.” You huff, not really caring either way, but it’s amusing to see him get wound up by the stoner’s holiday. “You like to go out when you smoke now and do you want to traumatize kids by stumbling into an Easter egg hunt and trying to fuck the Easter bunny?” Since being isolated for so long in that hotel filming Cliff Beasts, Dieter wants to be out when he’s high. Socializing. Sometimes that leads to awkward situations and you’d rather not outrage the religious communities in the area today of all days.

Dieter bites his lip, tilting his head as he imagines the scenario, “is the bunny hot?” He asks and you snort, slapping his upper arm which makes him whine in protest. “Fine. Fine. Let’s get high here. Fuck Christmas, fuck Easter, fuck all the holidays. The only one that matters is 4/20 and I am a very devout worshipper.” He says with seriousness, “so can we smoke?” He shifts to his knees, shuffling closer until his arms are wrapped around your legs, “please baby.” He murmurs, looking up at you with wide eyes.

He’s good at begging. You’ve seen the man on his knees several times since you started sleeping together, especially when he’s feeling a little subby. “Only if we order UberEats or DoorDash when you get the munchies.” You warn. “No popping out to the taco truck.” You don’t even want to imagine the push back if he does something numb. “You just got signed on with Marvel. Can’t jeopardize that.”

Dieter nods, unable to refuse you anything when you use that tone with him. He swallows harshly, unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to your covered belly. Within seconds, he’s jumping back to his feet to find his stash so he can start to roll a joint from the top tier weed he had delivered a few days ago.

You sigh, shaking your head as you watch him rush off. He’s a handful most days, but he’s actually a sweetheart when you peel beneath the layers of sarcasm, narcissism and entitlement. “Here we fucking go.” You snort, wondering how bad this is going to turn out.

Dieter chuckles, licking the paper after he’s expertly rolls two joints. “Come here, baby.” He orders, “wait - put a record on.” He demands as you walk towards the living room.

“Okay.” You know Dieter loves to vibe. He is incredibly artistic and the music can set the mood for him in chaos. You smirk to yourself as you select a record that is more sensual than he normally listens to, a smooth blues album you enjoy. The music starts to play through the speakers that are perfectly blended into the walls and you walk over where he is lighting up the first joint, “are we doing gummies too?” You ask.

Dieter nods, “let’s see how hard this hits. Duncan said it’s a new strand he grew.” He reveals, inhaling deeply. He holds it in his lungs as he hands the joint to you, closing his eyes as the music relaxes him. “Fuck that’s good.” He says as he exhales.

“Smells good.” You admit as you bring the joint up to your lips. The first hit is always your favorite. The almost sweet taste tingles your taste buds and is better than any of the pure THC pens you normally bring when you travel. Dieter loves the real stuff, but sometimes you just can’t be bothered with dealing with it. “Wow.” You blow out the smoke slowly. “Better than the Indica he gave you last time.”

He nods in agreement, taking the blunt from between your fingers to have another puff. “Fuck. That’s good.” He sighs, smoke filling the air as he leans into the sofa. “You look so fucking sexy smoking weed.” He tells you like he’s stating the obvious.

You smirk and wink at him. “Good to know.” You tease and soon enough you’ve finished the joint and Dieter is complaining about being hungry. “We need to order food.” He complains, leaning against you and rubbing your thigh possessively. “Already done baby.” You coo, feeling nice and relaxed, enjoying his touch. You wave your phone around like a trophy. “Allllllll our favorite snackies are on the way.” You promise. “Including a sackful of cheeseburgers.”

He groans, leaning towards you to bury his face between your tits in your tank top. “Fuck now I’m horny and hungry.” He complains, “and you’re too fucking sexy.” He grumbles into your cleavage. “Lemme eat you out before the food comes.”

You moan softly, knowing that Dieter loves to eat you out while he’s high. Your fingers run through his hair and you press on the back of his head gently, encouraging him towards your nipple. “Yes, baby, eat my pussy.” You order. “Make me cum all over your face.”

He groans, loving hearing you say that shit, and he bites down on your nipple through your tank top. “That’s it.” You sigh and he smirks against your skin, gripping the neckline to tug it down so he can expose your flesh to his hungry mouth.

He’s like a hungry baby, latching onto your tit and sucking so hard it’s like he’s sure that there is milk for him. You moan, loving how that tugging pulls deep in your belly, turning you on and making your pussy wet with need. His hand cupping your other breast and squeezing as he flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh. 

He groans, the vibration is harsh against your skin until he switches to the other nipple, licking and sucking and biting until he’s tugging on the material. “Take that off.” He demands while pushing it up to expose your stomach. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, hooking his fingers in your leggings as he surges forward to bury his face between your thighs so he can smell you.

You lift the tank top and pull it off, flinging it somewhere in the living room. Then it’s your hips that come up, letting Dieter drag down the material and he groans when he spreads your legs wide to see your pussy. “Eat it.” You hum, caressing his cheek before you guide his mouth to your clit.

He opens his mouth dramatically wide before he devours you. His mouth suctioning your pussy and your cry makes him groan. His tongue eagerly comes out to slide through your folds, circling your clit slowly enough to make you squirm. “That’s it.” You moan, rocking your hips up into his face but he grunts, swinging his arm over your belly to keep you still.

Even though he’s taking orders, it’s obvious that he wants to be in charge. Wanting you to be at his mercy or to just accept what he gives you. You groan and look down at him, the Oscar winner between your legs and eating your pussy like he’s starving. “Good boy.”

He groans at your praise, loving how you sound when his tongue flicks over your clit. He sucks it between his lips, happy when you moan his name loud and proud. He loves hearing your praise and he sucks hard, wanting you to fall apart for him like this. He slides his tongue lower to push into your dripping cunt, his thumb finding your clit.

Dieter is messy. He’s chaotic and drives you crazy half the time, but the man can eat a pussy. He has learned exactly what you love and his need for praise, that constant need for validation, works in your favor. Moans and praises fall from your lips as he nearly unhinges his jaw to push his tongue deeper into your soaked walls. “Oh goddamn.” You whimper, biting your lip when he finds just the right combination of pressure and pumping of his tongue. “Too bad you can’t just eat pussy when you're high.” 

He pulls back for a moment to look up at you, “you know I fucking would if I could, baby.” He rushes out then dives back in. Sucking and licking and plunging his tongue over your dripping cunt and he loves it. It’s absolutely intoxicating and he groans when your fingers tug on his hair. “Oh fuck.” You moan, tilting your head back, and Dieter grabs your hips, tugging you even closer to his mouth.

One hand let’s go of your hip and he reaches down, squeezing his cock and rubbing it while he continues to devour you. “That’s it baby.” You moan, watching him with heavy, lust filled eyes. “Touch your cock.” He groans into your folds. “After I cum, do you want me to suck you off or ride that perfect, hard, thick cock?”

He groans, loving your words and he pulls back for a second to answer you. “I want you to ride me.” He decides with a nod and he dives back into you. His tongue pushing deep so his nose presses against your clit.

You love riding Dieter. The faces he makes and the pretty little moans drive you crazy. “Then we’ll smoke while I ride you.” You suggest, smirking when he pants at the idea. “Fuck baby, suck on my clit.

He sucks on your clit, humming around it as he closes his eyes. He loves how wrecked you look right now as he eats you out like a man starved. He wants you to cum for him. He wants to taste you, hear you as you fall apart on his tongue.

Your body is sensitive, like it always is when you get high. Moaning as he drives you close to the edge. “Dee, baby, I’m gonna cum.” You pant breathlessly, raking your fingers through his hair. “Fuck baby, holy shiiiiiiit.” You cry out when you come apart and your thighs squeeze his head tightly.

He fucking loves when you cum. The way your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands like a woman crazed by lust. He laps eagerly at your cum, groaning as he devours everything you offer him.

He doesn’t pull away until every tremor has rocketed through your body, slumping down onto the sofa as you whimper his name and push his tongue away from your oversensitive clit. “Get on the couch.” You order. “Take your fucking pants off.”

He groans, loving how you look when you are in the aftermath of your orgasm. “Yes ma’am.” He nods, shifting to stand up so he can shove his sweatpants down, dramatically kicking off his crocs while he tugs his shirt over his head. You shift and give him room to lay down on the sofa and he looks at you with hungry, eager eyes while his hand squeezes his cock. “Ready to ride.”

He looks so good, his eyes are blown wide, his face wet with your juices. Hand wrapped around his cock and pumping it lightly. “Fuck baby, I think you look so fucking good just like that.” You pick up a bag of the gummies he likes and pulls one out to bite it in half. “Open your mouth.”

He eagerly opens his mouth, accepting the gummy with a grin. He chews and swallows, squeezing his cock again. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He murmurs dreamily when you shift to straddle him. His hands immediately find your waist, sliding up to squeeze your tits.

“You’re just saying that because I’m about to fuck you.” You teased, leaning down and pressing your lips to his. With him still holding his cock, you line up and start to sink down on his thick length, moaning softly into the kiss.

His cock twitches as you take him deep inside you. His hand squeezes your ass but he lets you control this. “You’re so goddamn perfect.” He groans, the high still buzzing through him as he watches you with reddened eyes.

You giggle and clench down around him, loving how his mouth drops open and he moans. His legs shift under you and you know that his toes are curling behind you. “You want me to ride you hard or you want to smoke a little while I ride you?”

“Fuck. You’re a goddamn angel.” He murmurs in awe, “let’s smoke. No rush, right?” He asks and you nod, reaching for the other joint he rolled to light it up. You inhale deeply and hand the joint to him so he can take a hit.

Dieter inhales and you lean down to press your lips to his, blowing the smoke from your lungs into his to add to his own hit. Groaning when he blows it back into your mouth after a moment. Only to let the smoke escape when you slide your tongue into his mouth as you start to slowly roll your hips.

This is his literal wet dream. You riding him while smoking some of the best weed he’s ever had. He groans into your mouth, letting you use him, and he desperately needs you. “Fuck.” He pants, bringing the joint to his lips to have another drag and he lifts it to your lips. “You’re so fucking sexy. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” He confesses in a puff of smoke.

You hum as you take a drag off of the joint and smile as you tilt your head back and let it sit in your system for a moment before you exhale straight up into the air. Your walls clench around his cock and you moan when you feel him squeeze your tits. “You have a fantastic cock and amazing head game.” You tease.

He chuckles, thrusting up into you to make you cry out for a moment while he pinches your nipples. “I like to think it’s my in-depth knowledge of 1980s thriller movies.” He teases and you giggle, holding the joint between two fingers as you rock your hips to grind down onto his cock.

It’s sensual and erotic and everything you’ve ever wanted at this moment. You love how he looks up at you. He rocks his hips up, meeting your slow pace and you love how deep he feels inside you. Deep in your guts and pulsing every time he moves. “That’s it.” You agree.

No more words need to be spoken as you pass the joint back and forth until you lean over to place it in the ashtray. Smoke curling up from the coffee table while Dieter’s hands caress your body, touching every inch he can. You feel like silk and maybe it’s the high but he swears you almost are a dream and not real.

His smiles are dream-like, beaming wide as he looks up at you as if you are an angel. You slowly swivel your hips and then lean forward. Rocking back quickly and biting his jaw before you start to bounce on his cock faster, moaning his name as you kiss along his neck.

He groans your name, his hands sliding along your back, and he fucking loves it. The way you rock on top of him and he tilts his head, greedy for more of your kisses. His hands slide lower, squeezing your ass, and he slaps your cheeks.

“Dee!” You squeal and your walls clamp down around his cock when the sting of the slap registers. Giggling as you bite his jaw again. “Fuck, do that again, baby. Slap my ass.”

He loves when you beg him like that and he repeats the action, slapping your ass cheeks. You clench around him and he groans, sliding his fingers between your cheeks until he’s pressing a digit against your puckered hole.

“Ohhhh fuck.” Dieter wants to be nasty today. You close your eyes and rock back onto his touch, pressing a little harder against your asshole. “You want to stick it in?” You ask breathlessly. “Finger my ass and feel your cock through the thin wall?”

“Jesus Christ yes.” He groans, slowly working his finger into your ass. He loves it when you let him fuck your ass but right now he’s desperate to fuck your pussy. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He pants when he pushes his finger deeper until he can feel his cock pressing against the thin wall.

You love double penetration. Love feeling full and Dieter has no problem using his fingers or toys. Hell, he would even bring another person into the bedroom if you wanted, but you are greedy and you are not Anika. “You’re fucking perfect.” You pant, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly pump his finger in and out.

He preens at the compliment, loving the way you react to his touch, and he loves how you grind down onto his cock and his finger. He twitches inside you, lost in the sensations and the high. He loves how he feels right now. The only thing that could make it better would be you cumming on his cock.

“Dee…” you collapse onto his chest, burying your face into his neck as you continue to rock back on his cock. He feels incredible. “Fuck, fuck, I want-“ you clench down around him and it makes his hips jerk up in response. “Yessss.” You whine. “Just like that.”

He grunts, repeating the action, and he hisses your name when you start to flutter around him again. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Gotta cum for me.” He pleads, needing to feel it as he thrusts up into you while working his finger in and out of your ass.

You feel incredible. Your stressors and anxiety have faded and all you can do is feel the pleasure that he’s giving you. “I’m gonna.” You whimper. “Gonna cum all over your cock.” You moan again and rock your hips frantically a few times as the desperate need to cum take you over. “Fuck!” You cry out when he thrusts his hips up again and sends you over the edge.

Dieter groans at the way you squeeze his cock, soaking him thoroughly, and he hisses, rocking his hips to work you through it. He pulls his finger from your ass slowly and shifts until he is sitting up, grabbing your ass to pull you closer so he can kiss you.

His kiss is hot, slightly sloppy but you don’t care. It’s perfectly desperate, just like he is when he gets inside you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you caress his tongue with yours, moaning so loudly that it seems to echo in your own ears.

He slowly kisses you, not in a rush to cum, and he slides his hands along your spine. “So fucking hot.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “Fuck, I love how I can last when I’m high.” He chuckles, kissing down your neck.

“You do last longer.” You giggle. “Remember when you came in two pumps?” You ask, making him huff in embarrassment. “I took it as a compliment.” You promise. He had claimed you had the tightest pussy he’s ever fucked.

Dieter buries his face in your neck, “in my defense I didn’t have sex for like 4 weeks because you didn’t come with me to the shoot and I didn’t have much time to jerk off.” He confesses, “but you are so fucking tight.” He groans, cock twitching inside you.

“That’s why it’s a compliment.” You murmur softly, stroking his back as you slowly bounce on his cock again. “But you also made sure I came after you recovered. Multiple times.”

“Damn right I did.” He smirks, grabbing your waist so he can shift you onto your back on the sofa. His weight on his knees as he starts to slowly fuck you. “You are the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

“So sentimental when you’re high.” You tease, smirking up at him and kissing him softly. Dieter can be such a softie sometimes and it’s sweet. One time he had cried when he was high. 

He kisses you and thrusts hard, “can be sour sometimes.” He teases, pushing deep into you and he starts to fuck you a little harder. He wants to hear you scream for him. He grabs your thigh, lifting it higher to push it back into your stomach as he starts to thrust hard and faster into your dripping cunt.

You squeal, hands gripping his shoulders as he fucks your harder. Watching as he hovers over you, his eyes wide and fixed on you. “Cum Dee.” You moan, “want to feel it.”

He clenches his jaw, nostrils flared, and he watches you as he fucks you harder. Your tits bounce, eyes focused on him, and it doesn’t take long to send him over the edge. He practically growls when he cums, pushing deep to paint your walls. “Fuck.” He pants, twitching inside you, and he desperately needs you to cum for him one last time. His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles, “cum for me baby.”

His cock is still throbbing inside you, but he’s working your clit, grinding his hips into you as you bite your lip. “Oh fuck, baby��..” you pant, feeling your body pull tight again as he throws you over the edge again. “Deeeeee!”

Dieter pants, loving how your nose scrunches up with your cum. Fuck, you’re so beautiful. He leans in to kiss you, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “I fucking love you, baby.” He murmurs, starting to soften inside you, and he doesn’t pull out. He wants to remain inside you as long as possible.

“I love you too.” You promise, your phone dinging and your eyes light up. “Foood!” You gasp out happily, recognizing the sound the DoorDash app makes when your food has been delivered.

Dieter whines, wrapping his arms around you, “fuck the food. I wanna stay inside you.” You chuckle and run your fingers through his hair, “I got tacos from your favorite place.” He lifts his head and slowly pulls out of you, “I’ll get the plates.” He grabs his robe, wrapping it around himself as he walks to the door to get the food while you lay on the sofa, trying to not let his cum drip from you.

You giggle when he doesn’t a little happy wiggle of his hips when he sees the tacos. There’s also a bag from the drug store, full of candy that makes him light up. “Figured we would want to snack.” You him, watching as he skips back to you.

He sets the bags down on the coffee table, “snacks and a movie. Perfect fucking day.” He murmurs, “perfect holiday.” You giggle as you sit up after pulling on his t-shirt. “Easter?” You tease and he snorts, grabbing a bag of m&m’s. “No. 4/20 baby. Best holiday ever.” He declares, tossing some candy into his mouth and he winks at you. You know exactly what he needs and the Easter Bunny and Snoop Dogg could never deliver anything better than what he already has with you.

[hoiststowline]

Glad you could get out of work early !! It’s always the best feeling ! know that if you Do write a sideswipe x reader I’ll be all over it; Your writing is genuinely wonderful and I love to see updates on your blog (both of imagines/hcs/etc, and of your day to day)

_sideswipe x reader

[a/n: yess it is such a good feeling!! i am so happy to not be there so late! & thank you so much lovely!! 🫶 i appreciate you, you're the best! have a great weekend!!]

the time that elapsed between the sent text message and the sound of someone stumbling down the hallway wasn't very long, your study now trained on the door before it dramatically slides over. how he had escaped whatever he was doing previously in record time deserved a round of applause, so with a soft laugh, you extend the gesture.

sideswipe bulldozes his way into the room with little deftness, entire face alight with one of his familiar smiles prevalent. hastily, he enters the space, gaze trained on you except to spare a glance over his shoulder that the door had actually closed over at his unsteady actions.

"I thought you had work all night," he teases, wasting no time in crossing the room to join you atop his berth, now bathed in his massive shadow. "Hi. 'M so happy to see you."

it was approaching two weeks since you both had seen each other, tugged apart by responsibilities and misaligned sleep schedules. mostly the latter courtesy of yourself, but whenever he had a moment to escape for a small window of time, you were already sound asleep. it was always a devastating feeling to find his pleads over message to see you at four in the morning.

"I'm so happy to see you too! And, I did, originally." you hum, unable to stop the smile that now lay permanently across your lips. "I got called off. I thought maybe we could start our reunion a little early?"

the initial plan from the get-go was to meet up tomorrow to spend the entire day together, per sideswipe's insistence on the subject. however, after an unexpected night off, it only made sense to reconnect earlier than anticipated. you had only to hope that he wasn't too busy currently, or else your revelation would be inefficacious.

yet, he wastes no time, throwing a leg over your form atop the berth before gathering you into his arms. sideswipe was always gentle, but often unrelenting to get what he wants. be that as he may, all he wants in this very instant is to be as close to you as remotely possible, pulled to you like a strong magnet.

at your squeak of surprise, he can't help the rumble of laughter that travels up from this throat, mumbling into your front.

"I missed you." emphasizing the middle word, sideswipe can't contain his excitement at your improvised arrival.

it's not anomalous to observe this behavior from him, trying to stifle your laughs at the ticklish sensation of the trail of kisses he drags up your sternum. somewhat awkward, his nose bumping your shoulder as sideswipe struggles to find a satisfactory position due to the size difference.

"I missed you too," you hum, just above a whisper as if subconsciously fearful to ruin a perfect moment.

as if he wasn't close enough, he leaves one more sloppy kiss on your neck before carefully setting you back on the berth. you hardly blink before he's on his stomach, yourself now caged by his arms as they wind around your back. one of his digits runs up the length of your spine, causing a short shudder to break free.

here, he slowly tugs you closer, looming overhead. "What, you couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

when you tilt your head backwards and laugh, sideswipe visibly melts until all that remains is a placid smile. he's staring with utmost love, dipping closer until you lean back against his hands.

"Perhaps," you jest, looking up at him with blatant adoration. "Seems like you couldn't."

he mulls the joke over, so fulfilled he can hardly carry on with the banter. "Sure. I did think about staking out your job once or twice, 'M not gonna lie."

he collapses in full against the metal slab, cheek smushed up against his left arm, reduced to do nothing other than take in your small form in its entirety. still, his finger draws lazy circles on your back, over the cotton sweatshirt, entranced by the warmth you give off even under a layer or two of clothes.

"You say that as if you've never done that before," leaning forward, you land a kiss on each of his cheeks before he steals one off the top of your head.

"Staking out and hanging out are two different things." sideswipe insists, all in good fun. "I just...missed you. A lot. I just figured out how to go one day without seeing you, how was I ever supposed to survive two weeks?"

"We'll manage," you offer, fingers splaying underneath his chin, beveling your head to the side to match his pose. "It wasn't easy, but it'll be alright."

"Yeah, but how do you know that?" sideswipe mumbles, trying to divert his focus from your lingering touch to the guise upon your face. there's something mixed with the serenity, especially a cause for concern when he can't resolve what it is.

he surveys how your jaw dips twice in anticipation to console, the third time the truth comes out.

"I don't." you put forward. "But we made it through this, yeah? I think we can handle it."

"Maybe you." he answers. "I'll still complain about it."

to his delight, you roll your eyes comically. "That's okay, it's to be expected."

you erupt in a fit of giggles as he finally pounces, tickling your sides with a single digit, stealing kisses off your rosy cheeks every now and then until he finally concedes. there was much to discuss, sideswipe typically looking forward to your humorous work stories, and blatantly curious how your days had been. you had started to ask him how his mission went, voice dipping into a hushed tone as his optics shuttered.

he happily answered all your questions, his lips moving against your knee, now entranced by your laugh and hums of acknowledgment. yet somehow, he found himself resting his chin in your lap as he fought the urge to doze off, absolutely enamored by your comforting presence.

[randomfoggytiger]

Fox Mulder: Jewish, Dutch, Or Other Some Such (UPDATED)

In my curiosity to explore Jewish cultural practices, I stumbled on an enlightening article (and a couple noteworthy theories.)

AUTHORIAL INTENT AND OTHER INTERPRETATIONS

I've briefly explored this concept in another meta post here, but it's wisest to tackle the subject as thoroughly as possible.

**Note**: This post has been shelved, since it failed to achieve its original goal. Proceed at your own peril.

Chris Carter named the Mulders in honor of his mother, a descendant of Dutch-Americans.

April 2001:

Loyal “X-Files” fans may know that Fox Mulder, the brainy protagonist played by David Duchovny, was named after Carter’s mother, the late Catherine Mulder Carter. (Scully was named for longtime-Los Angeles Dodgers’ baseball commentator Vin Scully – no relation). But very few people know that Carter’s mother was born to a Dutch-American family in Manhattan, Mont.

According to McCoy [Carter's cousin], the Mulder family moved to the Amsterdam-Manhattan area from Grand Rapids, Mich. Seven of their nine children were born in the Gallatin Valley and after an unsuccessful turn farming here, the Mulders moved to Southern California to start a feed and grain business in Bellflower, Calif. Norman Mulder was the only one of the nine children in the family to return to the Gallatin Valley. While McCoy and Mulder are Carter’s closest area relatives, there are probably many distant relatives still living in the Gallatin Valley’s Dutch community, McCoy said. She added that the California and Montana Mulders have always been, and remain, close.

(**Note**: While Kuiper, Tena Mulder's maiden name, is also of Dutch origin, that does not exclude the possibility of Jewish heritage.)

Meanwhile, David Duchovny and Vince Gilligan had a differing view. David inherently played any character through his experience of the world-- culturally-ish Jewish-- while Vince worked in a reference to Mulder's "Jewishness" in a deleted portion of Drive's script:

Crump: You know... what kinda name is Mulder, anyway? What is that, like, Jewish?

Mulder: Excuse me?

Crump: Jewish. It is, right?

Mulder: No it's not, yes I am....

But there is, yet again, another schism of dissent: Howard Gordon, write of the episode Kaddish, agreed with Carter's perspective, stating that he didn't think Mulder was Jewish "or even half-Jewish." The purpose of his work was to set Mulder up as the outsider peering inward: "We had never dealt with the horrors of antisemitism and the power of the word [on The X-Files]. And because I'm Jewish, it was something that was really compelling to me personally." As explained in Paula Vitaris's Cinefantastique article, Gordon purposefully wrote in three references to Mulder's Gentile identity: Mulder is unable to identify a Jewish book, does not read or speak the language himself (" I don't speak Hebrew, I don't know what that means"), and is unwilling to pass up a reference to Jesus Christ's Christian resurrection ("A Jew pulled it off 2000 years ago") in response to an antisemite. Gordon's Mulder, then, is a man who related to all people while still remaining, fixedly, an outsider.

CHANGES IN JEWISH CUSTOM

When toying with the idea of Mulder's Jewish ancestry, I had assumed that matrilineal lineage was the opening and closing authority on the subject.

Not so, apparently (or not completely.)

REFORM

Chabad.org

The Code of Jewish Law clearly states that a child of a Jewish mother is Jewish, regardless of the father’s lineage (or whatever else may show up in a DNA test), while the child of a non-Jewish mother is not Jewish. Matrilineal descent has been a fundamental principle of Torah since the Jewish people came into existence.

The code, however, has gone under intense scrutiny in recent years.

As My Jewish Learning explains: Although the Hebrew Bible defines Jewish identity in patrilineal terms (determined by the identity of the father) the Mishnah [a record of the oral Torah in the aftermath of the destruction of the Second Temple, 70 CE] states that the offspring of a Jewish mother and a non-Jewish father is recognized as a Jew, while the offspring of a non-Jewish mother and a Jewish father is considered a non-Jew. This talmudic position became normative in Jewish law.

This continued as the religious and ethnic norm for many centuries until, about, 1947: ...the CCAR adopted a resolution that stated that if a Jewish father and a gentile mother wanted to raise their children as Jewish, “the declaration of the parents to raise them as Jews shall be deemed sufficient for conversion.” And though the wording changed somewhat in 1961 ["The insistence on a “conversion” was dropped completely...."]

But it did not become-- in effect-- law until 1983 resolution:

By 1983, the CCAR was ready to spell out the patrilineal descent resolution in greater detail. By this time there was a broad-based commitment to egalitarianism. To many, it seemed unnecessarily biased to accept the child of a Jewish mother and a gentile father as Jewish while rejecting the child of a Jewish father and a gentile mother. 

[Rabbit Alexander] Schindler initiated a process that eventually led to the CCAR voting in favor of what became known as the Patrilineal Descent Resolution....

What this meant was that if a child was born of either a Jewish father or a Jewish mother, and was raised as Jewish, that child would be regarded by the Reform movement as Jewish. They were, however, expected to participate in the various Jewish life-cycle ceremonies which usually mark the life stages of a Jewish person.

1996 brought another development:  ...the CCAR created an 11-member task force to interpret and develop guidelines for the successful implementation of the patrilineal descent policy. The task force recommended that the resolution be referred to as “equilineal descent” or simply “Jewish descent” rather than patrilineal descent since the resolution accepted descent from either the mother or the father.

The radical shift, encapsulated, is as follows: While Jewish children had always been asked to prepare for their bar and bat mitzvahs, their Jewishness was never contingent upon successful completion of that ceremony or any other.  The Patrilineal Descent Resolution shifted the emphasis from birth to conscious choice.

DISSENT

Regardless, there is still broad disputation between Conservative and Orthodox Jews and Reform Jews:

...However, patrilineal Jews are likely to encounter problems later in life if they decide to become more traditional in their observance. A problem arises if Reform Jews who are Jewish by patrilineal descent choose to participate in ritual or celebrations at more observant synagogues. 

...Conservative and Orthodox Jews do not recognize patrilineal descent as a valid means of passing on Judaism. “Who is a Jew?” has been a controversial issue for several decades, and the Patrilineal Descent Resolution deepened the division between the opposing viewpoints. 

The article also raises an intriguing point:

Interestingly, this created the possibility that someone who had a Jewish mother, but had not been raised Jewish and had not had any public religious acts of identification such as a Jewish baby-naming ceremony, a bar or bat mitzvah, or a Jewish confirmation service could theoretically be regarded as a non-Jew despite his or her lineage. However, many rabbis recognize lineage alone.

SECULAR JUDAISM

If we work off of the assumption that Tena Mulder was a Jew, then Mulder's heritage is without question, as matrilineal descent is a core part of the Jewish identity.

It would then inherently inform Mulder's branch of Judaism, nonbeliever that he is--

Phoebe Maltz Bovy, The Canadian Jewish News:

Secular Jews are in some sense a process-of-elimination category. If other Jews register you as Jewish, if antisemites hate you for being Jewish, but you are not a practising member of any religion, then you are a secular Jew. It’s roughly the same as being nominally Jewish. It’s Jewishness, rather than Judaism, perhaps. A convert from Judaism to another faith might be culturally or ethnically Jewish but is not, obviously, a secular Jew. I will not belabour the terminological aspects of this....

“Secular” is a spectrum, and means different things to different people. It might mean avowed atheism, it might not. Secular Jews pick and choose from elements of their—our—religious heritage, but tend to interpret these as cultural, rather than spiritual, traditions. Though “pick and choose” suggests more intent than may enter into it.

MULDER'S EARLY PARENTAGE: A DIFFERING THEORY

Early canon states that Bill Mulder was Mulder's father, while later canon debates the issue back and forth a bit before settling on CSM in Season 9. In spite of this, the world en masse wouldn't have known the murky nature of Mulder's paternal origins; and, thus, would have regarded him in line with Bill's (and Tena's) ethnic heritage.

That being said, I do find it interesting that Mulder wouldn't have been considered a Jew until the 80s by the broader, entrenched community had his father-- and not his mother-- been a Jew.

Regardless, this speculation bears little weight on canon; and is just an interesting thought exercise.

CANONICAL INTERPRETATIONS (AND GAPS)

We are shown three Mulder family funerals: Bill Mulder's in The Blessing Way, Fox Mulder's in Field Trip, and Fox Mulder's again in Deadalive.

For Bill's funeral, Tena Mulder made the executive decision (or carried out his expressed wishes) to involve a minister, not Jewish Rabbi, in her ex-husband's final service:

For Mulder's Season 6 funeral, Scully glimpses a cross of white flowers standing above her partner's casket; and doesn't bat an eye:

For Mulder's Season 8 funeral, Scully chose a Protestant (or derivative thereof) minister-- not rabbi or priest-- to read from scripture and pray over her partner:

We aren't shown Tena Mulder's funeral; however, her burial wasn't within the traditional twenty-four hour timetable for Jewish custom (i.e. her body was likely preserved for multiple days while Mulder was tracking his sister.) Barring Shabbat or other religious observances, this points to two possibilities:

Tena Kuiper-Mulder was, like Carter originally imagined, a "generalized" American with Dutch roots.

Tena Kuiper-Mulder was a nonsecular Jew (with or without Dutch roots.)

Both interpretations work for her son, as well. Referring back to Howard Gordon's Kaddish, Mulder can't read or speak Hebrew; additionally, he is nonreligious (and devoutly so.) However: as @waxworkdaughter and @leiascully both pointed out (here and here, respectively), Jewish identity is a complicated, personalized topic that expands beyond simplified, black-and-white thinking. Mulder's lack of familiarity in Gordon's script could (and can) easily be explained if Tena Mulder distanced herself-- and by extension, her children-- from her heritage, for a myriad of reasons. Mulder's familiarity with other religious observances (i.e. kneeling in a Christian church and weeping for his sister in Conduit) could as equally be explained by many other factors without erasing a tie to that Jewish heritage.

With reference to the end scene in Conduit, Mulder's observance could simply be a shadow of Bill Mulder's WASP upbringing: Protestant symbolism tied to his father's upper crust, in-group sensibilities-- a societal expectation passed down as tradition.

CONCLUSION

Church and prayer, funerals and flags, could all be part of the nostalgic American 90s, symbols of meaning rather than actual belief.

Mulder could have been raised Christian, Jewish, agnostic; or all three. Mulder himself could be Jewish or Dutch or Dutch Jew or generic American (or a combination thereof.)

Tena Mulder could have been Jewish. Or Bill Mulder. Or neither.

The truth is, ultimately, what you make of it: everyone has their own perspective.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[sssammich]

💘 supercorp bc its on brand for them

omg ok i finally have some time to write the rest of these so we're gonna tackle this one!

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

ask meme

---

Lena has to chew on her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing, forcing her face muscles to stay absolutely still. She covers her face with her hand, pressing her palm up to her lips as she attempts to make sense of what Alex is saying to her...to them.

She drops her hand down on her lap and is about to respond when Kara, having been equally quiet beside her on the couch, rests her elbows on her knees and asks the question that's on the tip of Lena's tongue.

"You want us to be in a pretend relationship?"

"I don't just want you two to be in a pretend relationship, I need you two to be in a pretend relationship."

"That's--"

"It can't be that hard," Alex reasons, almost talking to herself, her hands on her hips as she stands across the coffee table of Kara's apartment staring at them with a completely serious face. Lena and Kara share a shocked look with one another.

"And why not?" she challenges, unable to help herself.

"Because you two are best friends," Alex responds smoothly and stares at them expectantly. Hard to fault Alex about that. She and Kara are best friends with each other.

"Run it back again," Kara interrupts. "Explain one more time why we need to be dating."

Alex huffs, though by the way she drops to her knees in front of the coffee table, steepling her hands as she rests her elbows on the wooden surface, Lena suspects that Alex thinks that she's hooked them.

"Because the entire operation hinges on the fact that you're already in a relationship. And since this is so last minute, the most believable option we have going for you is your best friend who you already spend so much time with."

Lena tilts her head. It all makes sense, all things considered. She already spends almost all of her free time with Kara whether at her penthouse or at Kara's apartment (which, for the record, is where they are currently, and where she had been for the better part of the last three hours since finishing up some work earlier that afternoon).

"It makes sense," she says out loud, as if considering Alex's words.

"I knew you were the best Luthor out there," Alex quips, leaning forward. Lena can guess that Alex feels so close to attaining what she needs from the two of them, but Kara beside her doesn't sound as sold.

"I don't know, Alex. Don't you think we've done our fair share of deception and lying?"

Alex rolls her eyes, her hands pressed flat on the table in front of her. "Kara. You are a superhero vigilante with a secret identity. Deception and lying is literally part of your everyday life."

Kara turns to Lena for support, the corners of her lips tugged down and strained. Lena gives her a supportive albeit apologetic smile. "She has a point, darling," she says finally.

The pout on Kara's face is worth a hundred kisses to make go away, Lena thinks, but she doesn't move. "I thought you were on my side?"

"I am on your side. But so far, your sister is making good points. Even though the why is still a bit flimsy."

"I just said the operation--"

"But why does this supposed operation require Kara being in a relationship? Can't she simply be unavailable or that she's not currently in the headspace to date?" she asks, her hand placed on Kara's back, rubbing soothing circles between Kara's shoulder blades. She resists smiling when Kara leans a bit closer to her, as if Lena can't reach her. There's literally no space of distance between them already on the couch.

"Because," Alex starts. "There are going to be relatives and family friends from Kelly's side that'll be relentless--" and this is where Lena is baffled by how Alex is acting, "--to insist that they will have the best and most suitable eligible single daughter or son that's perfect for you, Kara. And you too, Lena. Don't think you'll get out of this scot-free."

Her face furrows in confusion. "Me?"

"Yes! They will, undoubtedly, ruin the wedding by trying to set both of you two up with other people, and we honestly can't have you two distract everyone from our big day."

Lena's eyes narrow at Alex whose own gaze is fixed in staring at her sister. It's an odd request, and her suspicions are raising alarms inside of her mind. Still, she keeps quiet, especially when Kara leans forward, her strong hand somehow landing on Lena's knee as she does so.

"You think we'll be distracting you and Kelly on your guys' big day?"

Lena pretends to scratch at her chin to try and cover her mouth knowing that she can just about hear the pout in Kara's voice.

"God, no. That's not--" Alex takes a deep breath as she straightens herself up from where she's kneeling by the coffee table. "Kara. It's not you two I'm worried about, it's them. They are going to make a big deal and I'm just trying to protect the both of you. And, of course, my wedding day with Kelly. And the truth of the matter is that there's no reason to wait for things to happen when we can prepare and cover all of our bases. That's all."

The truth of the matter. That's an interesting choice of words, Lena ponders, but she keeps those thoughts to herself.

Kara worries her bottom lip between her teeth even as her hand stays on Lena's knee. From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Alex's gaze dropping to Kara's hand and Lena's leg, no doubt making a mental note of what she's seeing. But Lena's attention is pulled back to Kara who has now twisted her body to better look at Lena beside her. For her part, Lena stays in her exact position, hand on Kara's back, and waits for Kara's lead.

"What do you think?" she asks, her face serious, though something flashes in her eyes before Lena could really read what it had been.

"I think..." Lena begins to say, weighing every word that comes out of her mouth. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

Kara stares at her for a long moment, like it's just the two of them in the room, before sighing and leaning back, suspending Lena's hand between her back and the couch. Lena doesn't mind in the slightest, instead lets the tips of her fingers gently scratch Kara's back.

"That's all?" Kara asks, this time the question directed to her sister.

Lena turns her face enough to witness how Alex strains from smiling too wide when she nods emphatically and says, "That's all. That's it."

The longest five seconds seem to pass over all three of them until Kara sighs. "Fine. We'll do it."

Alex struggles to keep her fist pump under control and Lena wants to roll her eyes.

"Great. Figure out whatever cover story you two think will work the best. Remember, closer to the truth works best."

"I think we'll figure it out just fine, Alex," she comments, her voice taking on an airy tone. "It's not the first time we've had to give a cover story."

Alex nods again before rising to her feet. "Right, right. Okay, I'm gonna go home to the missus, and you two can work on your cover story."

Kara's just about to get up when Alex stops her. "You stay put, I'll let myself out. Have your story figured out by brunch this weekend. Sound good?"

She and Kara glance at one another before returning their focus on Alex. With her free hand, she offers a mock salute just as Kara nods up at her sister.

When Alex shuts the door behind her and leaves the two of them still on the couch, it's Kara who breaks first, tugging at Lena's arm from behind her so she can perch it around Kara's shoulder, their fingers tangled by Kara's bicep, before slumping further down on the couch with a loud exhale. She rests her head on Lena's shoulder, and Lena places a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

"You know, she used to be so much better at lying. Like I didn't even know she worked for a shadow government organization."

Lena chuckles, despite herself, and pulls Kara closer to her. "She was laying it on rather thick, I thought."

Kara tilts her head up, her ear resting on Lena's shoulder as their faces sit only a few short inches apart.

"Good work on the pouting, though. I think you really sold it."

The sleepy smile on Kara's face widens into a proud one. "You like that? I was really considering the waterworks but I think I would have given it away if I did."

"Mm, probably."

"You're a little actress yourself, Luthor," Kara comments with barely contained laughter. "Better safe than sorry. Pfft. You were practically having Alex eat out of the palm of your hands with how much you were agreeing with her. So devious."

"If there's anything Lex ever taught me, it's having the theatrical range."

Kara snorts before shuffling to sit back up. "How mad do you think Alex will be when she finds out that we're already dating?"

Lena shrugs, thinking about all of Alex's possible reactions. "Oh, I'm sure she'll never let you live it down."

"Us, babe," Kara says, leaning forward, the tips of their noses brushing with each other. "She'll never let us live it down."

"She shouldn't assume then," Lena answers before closing the remaining gap between them. Their lips slotting perfectly in place pressed against each other. It's still new, this feeling, but Lena thinks that she'll never tire of it.

Her breath hitches when she feels Kara's strong hand release her fingers only to grip her nape, followed by the smirk she knows is on Kara's lips.

"Wanna figure out our cover story in bed?"

She raises a brow, but Kara just shrugs. "So is that a no?"

Lena rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms around Kara's neck as Kara carries her towards the bed.

"I was thinking we tell people it was love at first sight," Kara muses.

Lena throws her head back in laughter, just in time for Kara to place a kiss on the hollow of her throat. She thinks love at first sight is not too far from the truth at all, and didn't Alex say the closer it is to the truth, the better?

[universefcb]

Hii! Can you do a pic where the reader is doing higher studies, maybe like a PhD, and is far away from home and hasn't seen pedri in a long time. So when pedri gets a break, he comes and surprises her. Maybe before that the reader's roommate teases them and send pedri how the reader is always looking at pedri's pictures and tiktoks. I've been looking for something like this :) it would be so great if you can write something like this pleaseee 🥹🙏 Thank you in advance!! 💙

↬❥ Longing

Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

a/n: I'm sorry if it's bad or too long. I'm not confident about this imagine :(

REQUESTED

warnings: no.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The university library was practically his second home. The pages of his article were open on his laptop, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. His cell phone, resting next to the keyboard, still showed the latest notification from Instagram: a new photo of Pedri, smiling after training.

You sighed. The last time you saw each other had been months ago, and video calls no longer seemed like enough.

“There you go again…” your roommate Sofia’s drawling voice sounded behind you. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up printing one of those pictures out and sticking it on the wall.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to help but smile.

“Stop exaggerating.”

Sofia arched her eyebrow and pulled out her cell phone.

“Exaggeration? Look at this! You literally have a favorites folder of just his TikTok videos.”

Before I could stop her, she had already taken a screenshot and sent it.

For Pedri.

His heart raced.

“Sofi!” you tried to grab the phone, but she backed away, laughing.

“Relax, he’ll think it’s cute. And honestly? It was just the push he needed.”

You spent the rest of the day restless, waiting for some kind of answer. But nothing came.

The next few days passed slowly, and Pedri still hadn’t mentioned anything about Sofia’s message. Maybe he was too busy. Maybe he thought it was strange.

That Friday night, exhausted, you arrived at your apartment and threw your backpack on the couch. Sofia wasn't home, which meant a quiet night. You went straight to your bedroom, already thinking about getting under the covers, but then...

The doorbell rang.

Frowning, you walked to the door. You weren't expecting anyone.

When he opened it, his heart stopped.

Pedri was there, standing in the hallway, wearing a black sweatshirt and a crooked smile on his face.

"Surprise.!"

It took your brain a few seconds to process.

“What…? How…?”

Before you could formulate a coherent sentence, he dropped his backpack on the floor and pulled you into a tight hug. The warmth of his body, the familiar smell, everything made the accumulated longing disappear all at once.

“I had a few days off,” he murmured against her hair. “And after what your friend sent me, I thought it was time to see you.”

His face heated up.

“Oh my God… did you see that?”

He laughed, holding her face in his hands.

“I saw it. And to be honest, I liked it. But you know what I prefer?”

"What?"

He tilted his head, his lips brushing against hers.

“You, here, now.”

And then he kissed you, killing once and for all the longing you had been carrying.

You pulled Pedri inside before the neighbors started to notice. Closing the door with a quick movement, you still felt in shock.

“You’re really here.” His voice came out lower than he expected, as if he feared it was all a dream.

Pedri smiled, taking off his hoodie and throwing it on the couch before turning to you.

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t just watch you stalk me on TikTok and do nothing, would I?”

His face heated up.

“You didn’t need to remember that.”

He chuckled and pulled you by the waist, bringing you back into his arms.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You sighed, relaxing into his touch.

"Me too."

He rested his forehead against yours, his dark eyes analyzing every detail of your face as if he wanted to record it all in his memory.

“How are you? With your doctorate, your research…?”

You shrugged.

“Tired. Stressed. A little lonely.”

Pedri frowned.

“You should have told me.”

You smiled weakly.

“I didn’t want to worry you. You already have a lot on your plate with training, games…”

He squeezed her waist.

“You know that doesn’t matter, right? If you’re feeling bad, I want to know. I want to be here, even if it’s just by phone.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

"I know."

Pedri sighed, as if he wanted to say something else, but he just pulled you closer again.

“It’s decided.” He spoke into her hair. “Now that I’m here, we’ll forget about any worries. Just you and me, okay?”

"Combined."

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, you both threw yourselves on the bed, covered in a comfortable silence. Pedri was lying on his side, watching you, tracing small circles on your arm with his fingers.

“You’re staring at me again,” you muttered.

He smiled, not looking away.

“It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen you up close like this. I had forgotten how beautiful you are.”

His stomach churned.

“Stop saying things like that,” you grumbled, hiding your face against the pillow.

Pedri chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“You look cute when you try to run away.”

You huffed, but couldn’t resist when he grabbed your chin and tilted your head so your eyes met.

“You know, I was afraid that the distance would change things between us,” he confessed quietly.

His heart sank.

“Pedri…”

He looked away for a second before continuing.

“But I realized that no matter how much time passes, or how many miles there are between us, I will always come back to you.”

Your chest warmed, and you didn't think twice before pulling him into a slow kiss, as if you wanted to prove that he was right. That nothing between you had changed.

You woke up feeling the weight of an arm around your waist. Blinking to adjust to the dim morning light, you smiled when you saw Pedri still asleep beside you.

He looked calm, his features relaxed.

Carefully, you traced a finger along his jawline, down to his parted lips. He stirred slightly, but didn't wake up.

“I know you’re staring at me,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep.

You held your breath.

Pedri opened one eye and smiled lazily.

“I knew it. You can’t stop admiring me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You think it’s too much, huh?”

He chuckled, pulling you closer.

“I'm just telling the truth.”

You sighed, hiding your face against his chest.

“I wish you could stay longer.”

He was silent for a moment before kissing the top of her head.

“Me too. But we still have a few days… and I want to enjoy every second with you.”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott

[kittycatfite]

Stobotnik fic! It's called "People Throw Rocks At Things That Shine"

I don't have an archive account yet (I am working on figuring out how to) so here you go! I wrote out the tags I plan to put (if people have suggestions for more I will gladly add). Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik/Agent Stone, Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Agent Stone, Male OC who was created to be a jerk for Agent Stone to kill, Commander Walters, People talking shit about Robotnik, Badass Agent Stone!!, Maybe a little OOC but I am trying my best (God damn is it hard to write Robotnik), Robotnik is an asshole but hey Stone's going to stay, Latte with steamed Austrian Goat Milk, Stone centric (It's from his pov), Agent Stone is in love with Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik has no idea what love is but he's trying, Protective Agent Stone, Possessive Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Title is a lyric from Ours by Taylor Swift, Swears! I put swears in here!, I will get better at tagging this when its actually on Archive, First Fic! Whoop!,

This is somehow 3,600ish words so it is below the cut:)

fic time!

“Don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours"

And it's not theirs to speculate if it's wrong and

Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong and

I'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you”

-Ours by Taylor Swift

Every person who had ever worked for or met Dr. Ivo Robotnik agreed the man was insane. He was a genius, of course, but that genius came with a level of cruelty and brutality that was so extreme it was considered a punishment position to be assigned as an assistant to the doctor. No agent lasted longer than a week before either quitting, being fired, or experiencing an injury so badly that they were unable to continue working. (The best record for being fired the quickest was 13 minutes and 37 seconds) Sometimes an agent would come along, someone slightly smarter than the rest, that had quick reflexes, or knew how to keep their mouth shut. Those agents would last longer, but even then it was only a month or two before they were sent packing. The other government agents would watch the poor souls as they ran out crying, yelling profanities, vowing revenge, or just dead inside. Robotnik did not tolerate anything below perfection and no human could ever be held to his sky-high standards. There were rumors and betting games about how long each assistant would last. No one who valued their money bet over a week. 

Or at least that was what Agent Stone had heard.  

“-You’re the greatest G.U.N has ever had, Agent Stone. Which is why we need to assign you to Dr. Robotnik.” Commander Walters said “Of course, working so closely with the Doctor will come with higher pay because the hours he demands are irregular and the level of attention this job will require is high.”

“I am happy to accept the position.”

“Wait, really? I usually have to promise everything under the sun to even get someone to consider working for the doctor. Are you sure, Agent?”

“Quite sure, Commander.”

“I...Thank you, Stone. This is a last shot since he has pretty much fired or permanently injured any agent that would be willing to work for him and scared off any other potential candidates. I wish I could say keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid but this is Robotnik so just, be careful. This will be a temporary position, but try to last longer than a week until we can come up with a more permanent situation.”

Stone grimaced as he exited the office. He would start today since Robotnik’s previous agent had met an explosive termination of position just that morning. He had heard the rumors, hell he had seen the man in person a few times (it was four but it wasn’t like he was actively counting or anything) during meetings when the Doctor would show off his incredible creations to the higher ups but nothing could have ever prepared for actually meeting the hurricane of a man the was Dr. Robotnik.

“Oh GREAT. Another Agent Babysitter here to disrupt my work by not being able to follow simple instructions or take insults without whining like a child. Be better than Agent What-his-name and you can leave with your hands intact.” The genius was standing now.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I have heard interesting things about your employment strategies, and I am excited to begin my new position.” Stone was smiling. Most agents showed up begrudgingly or with misplaced optimism. No one had ever shown up excited or eager to work for Robotnik.

The doctor threw back his head and laughed. It was loud, it was cruel, and Stone found it strangely appealing. “We both know that working for me will not be a PLEASURE, Agent.” Robotnik had crossed the room in seconds and was now so close to Stone that he took a step back not really out of fear, but more respect. He had heard the doctor didn’t like physical contact. His back found the wall and it made his heart start beating harder. Every time he had been previously threatened on a field mission he had stood his ground, but he wanted to please the doctor for some strange reason as a feeling kept tugging at his chest. “You are not here for a good time or a long time. You will keep quiet, do as I say, and don’t question anything. Or you will be out on your ass within the hour.”

Agent Stone nodded, making sure to keep it a small moment so as to not knock his head into the doctor or against the wall. He didn’t dare speak, the doctor had told him to keep quiet. 

“Hmph.” The doctor stalked off back to his chair. “Make me a latte. Figure out how to do it right and you might get to stay longer than the rest.”

____________

Five months had passed and so far Stone had been threatened with position termination 76 times, physical termination 42 times, and pinned to a wall more times than he could count. Robotnik had stuck gloved fingers in his mouth, electrocuted him, and used him as training practice for the badniks. But Stone was still working by his side. So what if Stone felt a little (Ok, A lot) of pride being Dr. Robotnik’s longest lasting assistant? He was just good at his job as an assistant/bodyguard/warm body that could offer praise at every genius thing the doctor said and agreement when the doctor complained about anything under the sun/personal latte maker. Sure it was more jobs than he had expected, but then again he had only expected to be in Robotnik’s employment for a week.

Stone spent every day of the week in Robotnik’s lab only leaving for coffee or food for the doctor or himself. He didn’t get to help on the machines; it was mostly paperwork or listening to the doctor talk about how smart he was. He was supposed to leave the lab at nine for eight hours every night, but he had started sleeping on the still couch in the breakroom after just the first week. It was important that he stayed close, especially since the doctor was constantly working and might need something from him at anypoint. Like a latte at 2am (His caffeine intake scared Stone, but he wasn’t about to say anything). The couch sucked at first for his back but Robotnik slept in his chair most nights so Stone decided he still had it better. At least he got eight hours of sleep over the doctor's occasional three. The doctor was the kind of person who slept where he crashed and Stone only moved him somewhere more comfortable when he was on the floor or actively holding a soldering iron (Stone had learned the hard way that Robotnik had few self preservation skills over the first month of his employment when the agent had discovered the doctor hadn’t anything besides half a granola bar in 72 hours). 

Monday had rolled around again and Stone stood in the break room as he prepared a breakfast burrito (the doctor didn’t have to eat, but Stone was sure as hell going to provide food) and brewing a morning latte for the doctor. He had been carefully experimenting to discover what exactly the doctor liked in his coffee based on his reaction to what was brought. So far he knew: 

Goat milk, steamed

Three spoonfuls of sugar dissolved into the milk

Hint of cinnamon 

Three fourths coffee to 1 fourth milk

Keep the foam

Likes latte foam art

Prefers his own face or logo

Smiles at badnik designs when he thinks no one is looking

Doesn’t comment on hearts or other simpler designs

Sometimes he will ask for a syrup flavor

Half a pump of vanilla 

Hates pumpkin, if he ever asks for that, stay out of his way or face his wrath (Stone would face his wrath any day of the week).

And the rare: Half a pump of caramel with drizzle on the sides of the glass. Stone had realised this was a latte that he ordered when something wasn’t going right.

Stone’s first job as a barista when he was barely sixteen had finally come in handy he supposed. This skill was never this useful in the military outside of having a steady hand when aiming a weapon.

It was calming to make the doctor his latte. A rare moment of serenity in the whirlwind that was working for Robotnik, not that he would give up this position for the world. He loved watching the genius work, he loved making him lattes, he loved watching him praise his badniks (Stone had even seen Robotnik kiss them on the ‘head’ before when he thought no one was looking), he loved to hear the doctor’s robot noises when he was feeling particularly relaxed, but what Stone really enjoyed was that he got to experience it all. He found what other people considered horrible, oddly enduring and it didn’t help that Robotnik was quite handsome in Stone’s personal opinion.

Past agents (or anyone who had ever met him, really) called Robotnik an asshole, egotistical, a mad man, a labrat, a physiological tyre fire, or even down right evil. Stone kept his true feelings of the doctor a secret to them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to defend the doctor every time someone sidled up to him with a “So sorry you have to work with him,” or “It's gotta suck being his agent”. They were trying to be chummy, and Stone would usually put on a customer service voice and disengage. He hated them all, but he wasn’t about to say that. Telling the world how much it sucked was Robotnik’s job.

Well that was usually. But today? Oh, today he was fucking done with it all. 

“Hey, I’m making a new bet that you can’t last a year with that freak show.” 

“Don’t call him that.”

“Hah! You don’t have to defend the stubborn bastard. He's not here and those drones of his won’t bother to listen in for him.” (oh they would, they really, really, would. Stone knew they were. SC-918 was always following the agent around.) The man reached over to grab at something in front of Stone when the agent's hand shot out and forcibly wrapped around his wrist. The man had his hand poised over Robotnik’s half finished coffee.

“Hey, now, man you don’t have to act like that hah-hah. Let me go. I wasn’t gonna touch his damn coffee.” The man’s words were strained as he struggled to get free of the agent’s grasp. Stone had already reached for his weapon from its holder that was flush against his chest.

“Do you think I am so stupid, that I can’t recognize an assassination attempt right in fucking front of me?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. A dangerous whisper.

Stone had pressed the man to the counter with the arm he had grabbed pinned so far behind his back it threatened to snap in two. Stone’s gun now pointed at the back of the man’s head. “Especially such a poorly planned and executed attempt? There are very few agents that use this break room since it is only for people who work under the doctor and so few of them actually use it regularly in fear that they will be fired if they ever see him. I have their faces memorized. You are not one of them.” The barrel of the gun was pressed into the man's head so hard it caused the man to squirm and try to free himself. “And they know better than to insult the doctor to my face.”

“I'M doing the world A FUCKING FAVO-” The bang that followed sounded through the whole lab. In the moment Stone decided two things, one he was going to ask the doctor for a personal kitchen within the lab or at least a coffee machine for safety reasons and two he was going to keep a spare change of clothes in his locker. Sure his black on black ensemble would hide the deep maroon splattered across his chest and legs but he really didn’t want to deal with the crunch of dried blood all day and the doctor always complained about the metallic smell.

As Stone cleaned up the blood splatter on the floor and prepared a new cup of coffee since the last one had not only been poisoned, but also had some idiot’s blood in it. The burrito was a little cold now, but it would have sat on the desk for an hour before Robotnik finally ate it anyway. When he returned to the doctor’s side with the fresh cup, the man actually seemed to have slight concern underneath the anger at Stone’s tardiness. 

“Sorry that took so long, sir. There was an assassination attempt on you. It has been handled and cleaned accordingly.”

“I heard the shot. And you're wrong as always, agent, you are still covered in the imbecile’s blood. Go change or wash up or whatever. There's a spare suit in the box by your locker - yes, it's your size. I don’t appreciate the smell of blood so be through but quick since there's paperwork for you to do. More now that there's a dead body in the kitchen.”

“Oh, he’s not in the kitchen anymore, and no one will ever find him. So I think I can escape the government's paperwork this time since you and I were the only witnesses, if that’s ok with you.” He said with a wink at the doctor, one hundred percent sure that the older man had seen it reflected in his holo screens. The adrenaline was making him brave. 

The agent spoke so nonchalantly as he turned to follow the doctor’s orders that he almost missed the doctor visibly tense as he looked up at him from where he had slumped down in his chair to drink his latte. They never did find the bodies when Stone or the badnik foiled an assassination attempt on the doctor and noone at the government really knew the extent of who or how many Stone had killed for Robotnik. Half the time Robotnik himself didn’t even know when another potential killer had been taken down by his agent.

Robotnik didn’t respond to Stone’s wink so the agent took that as his que to leave and change. Proud to see the doctor grab the cold burrito before staring at his computer screens.

Stone had pulled his shirt off and was scrubbing at the blood that had seeped through onto his chest with a towel when he heard someone enter the room. He immediately tensed and whirled around hand itching toward his waist where his gun sat against his hip, visible without his suit jacket.

“Jeez, Agent. It’s me.” Robotnik leaned against the doorframe frame. His eyes flicked over the agent's frame before settling on his latte, and Stone would have sworn his ears had turned pink.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sir, I am still feeling the effect of adrenaline, so-.”

“You're jumpy. It's fine, I will let it slide this time, Agent.” Still looking so intensely at the coffee, like he was trying to drink it with his eyes. “What did the assassin want to kill me for, this time? I still want a debrief, Stone, even if you don’t do the paperwork for G.U.N.”

“Ah, He never got a chance to say really. I believe he wanted to do the world a favor or something. He tried to poison your coffee while I was staring directly at it, so it wasn’t a very good plan. I have a suspicion that he was a disgruntled past agent, which implies G.U.N needs to up their security, honestly.” When Stone finally pulled on the clean shirt, Robotnik looked up, saw that it was still unbuttoned and promptly looked at the ceiling, ears turning from pink to red. Robotnik looked back down as Stone buttoned up his shirt.

“Hmm, they always leave so angry or broken. Not like you, Stone. You won’t leave, no matter what I do.”

“I plan to stay your agent, as long as you’ll have me.”

Robotnik gave a pleased hum. “You’re still here because you’re the only decent assistant I have been assigned, Stone and because you willingly stay by my side. You are MY agent, Stone. Never forget that.”

How could he forget? He loved being Robotnik’s agent. He adored everything about the genius. 

Suddenly, Robotnik was in his personal space. “MINE.”

This had put their interaction squarely in the realm of flirting which only made Robotnik’s blush spread down to his cheeks. Stone was sure he hadn’t meant that to sound romantic, but Stone felt like it was one of the most romantic things he had ever heard. “I am yours, Doctor.” 

“I really don’t like to share.”

“Only yours.”

There was no space between them. Roboniks chest was pressed against his. Stone was sure the older man could hear or at least feel the Agent’s heart beating with the proximity. 

“Really?” there was hesitancy in the doctor’s voice. Stone knew that he wasn’t used to having people stick around. He was the only person who had willingly stayed by Robotnik’s side for so long.

“I really do mean it when I say I will stay by your side forever, Sir.” Stone shifted forward to rest his chin against the doctor’s chest. He could be fired for this, but HR was never really a concern between them. Robotnik didn’t give two shits about boundaries but Stone had never set any up in the first place.

In the end, Stone was the one who moved first, slipping his hand into Robotnik’s gloved one and gently squeezing. The doctor’s breath audibly caught in his throat. 

“Never speak of this to anyone, Agent.”

“I would never share such a private moment. This is our’s alone to treasure, Sir.”

Stone would never grow tired of the sight of the doctor’s ears burning red.

__________

Stone knew it was going to be a bad day when the lab doors opened to reveal Dr. Robotnik shouting at the top of his lungs. After a year working with the doctor he knew his mood even before entering the door. He quickly discerned that Walters was the source of his frustration most likely since he was the target of his words.

As he walked closer

“We threw Agent Stone at you as a last resort. He wasn't supposed to last. A week or two and then he would be fired. We need him back in the field, Robotnik. He is the best shot we have at getting this information ba-”

“No! You assigned a half-way decent agent to ME. HE IS MY AGENT, AND I INTEND TO KEEP HIM UNTIL HE FUCKS UP. (Stone would have snickered at how much of a lie this was if they had been alone. He had fucked up.) Do you understand, Commander?” Robotnik had stalked over to Stone and thrown an arm around the agent's neck pulling him into more of a chokehold against his chest than an embrace. Stone held his arms still so as to not spill the coffee, but still allowed himself to be yanked around as the doctor continued his rage-filled rant. Possessive was one of the few words that floated around Stone’s brain. The proximity to Robotnik had shut everything else down.

Walters tried a different tactic and started to ask the agent what he wanted.

“If you ever try and reassign me, I will quit on the spot.” Stone was still aggressively pinned to Robotnik’s side, but he made sure his words sounded serious despite the less than serious predicament. When he glanced up he could see Robotnik was grinning almost manically. It was a grin that screamed ‘I won’. Stone treasured that grin, maybe a little bit more since everyone else seemed to fear it.

“Go find a new Agent to boss around, Walters,” The doctor’s voice was a viciously sing-song tone now that Stone had stated his own opinion on the matter. “This is my loyal sycophant.”

Robotnik’s eyes were flashing with what Stone knew to be amusement and a twisted sense of adoration when he looked at Stone but he also knew the rest of the world saw it as something evil. Maybe it did have a few malicious undertones, but so did the agent's own grin as he stared back. It was enough for Walters to give up.

They watched Walters' retreating form leave the lab, he knew better than to fight a losing war.

“Your latte, sir,” Stone handed him the cup with the steaming drink after the door slammed shut behind the commander.

The doctor took a sip, “I really do love the way you make them, Agent. Now come on, there is work to be done. Walters will be back in an hour to propose the idea that we do this recon mission together and we should prepare my babies.” Robotnik let go of the agent and disappeared into the rows of badnik along one side of the lab.

Stone was left reeling for a second with the sudden loss of the limbs that were partially obscuring his airway before taking up his place next to the doctor.

[narcissistcookbook]

Are we supposed to draw any connection between the pages on the island being so full of writing that they are unable to be read and the narrator taping over used tapes to record his thoughts? Or am I overthrowing again?

yes, that's deliberate 💜