#had to take a victory lap up and down the hall

[theriverpointace]

THE jonathan harker?? asexual???? in MY MURRAY MYSTERIES???????

it's more likely than you think

[randomdragonfires]

Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. 

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more. 

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms. 

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it. 

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to? 

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her. 

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.  

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious. 

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her? 

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went. 

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled. 

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?” 

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”  

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm. 

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth. 

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.” 

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife. 

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for. 

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated.  It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words. 

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?” 

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high. 

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”  

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her. 

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour. 

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.” 

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears. 

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs. 

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table. 

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties. 

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand. 

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled. 

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond. 

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands. 

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death? 

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him. 

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other. 

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more. 

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.” 

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her. 

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.” 

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would. 

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself? 

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.” 

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed. 

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment. 

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him. 

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch.  Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him. 

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all. 

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood. 

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. 

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence. 

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short. 

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone. 

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child. 

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night. 

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind. 

“Your Grace.” he bows. 

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

 “Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days. 

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.” 

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t. 

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?”  I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight. 

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married. 

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

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MASTERLIST

[ithebookhoarder]

Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness 

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field. 

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing. 

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team. 

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.  

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot… 

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was. 

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master. 

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return. 

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides. 

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage. 

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you. 

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may. 

So, you’d said yes. 

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons. 

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further. 

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.” 

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter. 

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him. 

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess. 

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.” 

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you. 

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people. 

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together. 

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her. 

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk. 

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd. 

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop. 

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.” 

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled. 

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking. 

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked. 

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one. 

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd. 

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field. 

“What about female guests though?” 

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time. 

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.” 

“Anthony?” 

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.” 

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.” 

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.” 

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-” 

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections. 

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.  

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-" 

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice. 

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently. 

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green. 

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field. 

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target. 

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?" 

Oh. You were in for it now. 

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl. 

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place. 

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread. 

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way. 

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then. 

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur. 

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy. 

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you. 

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you. 

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!" 

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured.  Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng. 

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations. 

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter? 

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream. 

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly. 

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.  

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you. 

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face. 

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you." 

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion." 

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

[bootsukki]

masterlist

atsumu fluff, female reader

It’s Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains as Atsumu drags himself into the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep. You, his wife, are standing at the stove, making breakfast, looking peaceful and radiant. Atsumu slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning in for a kiss on the cheek.

But before he can even get close, a small voice pipes up from behind them.

“Papa!” their three-year-old son yells, running into the kitchen on unsteady feet. “No kissy!” he declares with a cheeky grin, squeezing his way between you. Atsumu groans, his lips barely brushing your cheek as their son wedges himself into the middle.

Atsumu loves his son, but hates the fact that he seems to know every single time he wants to kiss you and loves to interrupt those precious moments.

“C’mon, kid, let me have my moment,” Atsumu complains, but his son just giggles, completely unfazed.

You laugh, leaning down to plant a kiss on your son’s head and forehead, the little boy giggling, grabbing onto your (Atsumu’s) shirt that you always wear to sleep.

Atsumu sighs dramatically, ruffling the boy’s hair before giving in to defeat —for now.

Later that day, Atsumu and you manage to sneak outside to the garden while the little boy plays inside the living room. You turn to check on him quietly before sitting down on the porch swing, a cold beverage on your hands. There is a slight breeze and a rare quiet moment during the spring. Atsumu, feeling bold, slips his arm around your shoulder and, with a cheeky grin, leans in, trying to kiss you.

But, just as your lips are about to meet, the screen door opens and a teary-eyed boy waddles over with his stuffed dinosaur in hand. “Mr. Dino has lost an eye.”

You gasp, leaning down to grab the little boy and hold him close to your chest as he sobs. “Don’t worry, Papa will look for it, right?”

Atsumu lets out a deep sigh and stand up from the swing. “Your timing’s impeccable…” he mutters, kissing his baby’s forehead before exchanging a look with you, still trying to calm him down.

That evening, after putting their son to bed, Atsumu walks into your bedroom, feeling a sense of victory. He collapses onto the bed next to you, already flipping through a book.

He nudges you with his shoulder, taking the book from your hands and getting closer until he’s on top of you, faces just inches apart. “Finally have you all to myself…” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her.

But just as you snake your arms around his neck and pull him down, a familiar voice calls from down the hall.

“Papa! Mama!”

Atsumu’s head drops with an exaggerated groan, the sound of tiny feet padding down the hallway confirming that you’ve been caught again. Your son appears in the doorway, clutching his blanket and looking impossibly cute.

“I had a dream,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way to the bed. Atsumu doesn’t even bother protesting this time, pulling the boy up onto the bed between them.

“Of course ya did,” Atsumu mutters, glancing over at you, trying your best not to laugh at your husband, looking as cute as the little boy between you. Your son curls up between you, putting his head on your chest, closing his eyes slowly and Atsumu can’t help but feel his heart soften at the sight of his favourite people.

The next day, Atsumu is determined to finally kiss you. He sneaks into the living room while you sit on the couch, your little boy distracted by his toys (and a fixed Mr. Dino) in the corner. Quietly, Atsumu plops down beside you and with an arm around your waist, he leans in close before his son can spot him.

“Now or never,” Atsumu whispers with a grin, his lips brushing yours for just a second before—

“Papa! Mama! KISSY ATTACK!”

Suddenly, your son sprints toward you, climbing onto Atsumu’s lap with wild determination. Before Atsumu can react, you laugh and join in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, followed by your son smothering Atsumu's face with sloppy kisses.

Atsumu’s eyes widen as he’s completely overwhelmed by your joint attack. His son is giggling uncontrollably, while you plant soft kisses along his jawline. “Alright, alright! I give up!” he laughs, wrapping his arms around both of you as you keep with the affectionate assault, ending the attack with a final kiss on his lips and a big hug from his son.

Atsumu’s face is covered in tiny, playful kisses, and his heart feels like it could burst with love. He pulls you and your son into a tight embrace, leaving some kisses on top of your heads.

As he holds you both, Atsumu realizes, not for the first time, that despite the constant interruptions, he is the luckiest man in the world. His son’s giggles, your laughter—it all reminds him that these messy, chaotic moments are what he loves most.

He couldn’t ask for anything more.

[theodorenmyth]

Reader doing a small prank where they don’t say their usual “good morning/evening/night” for a week towards Enzo and mattheo

Tiny Prank

Pairings ; Lorenzo Berkshire x GN!Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Summary ; You prank Lorenzo and Mattheo by stopping your usual morning and night greetings for a week. As they grow suspicious, they cling to you constantly, holding your hand and sticking close during cuddles. Frustrated, they demand an explanation, but when you refuse, they start smothering you with kisses. Eventually, overwhelmed by their affection, you give in, saying your usual greetings and promising not to prank them again. Even after you surrender, they continue pampering you, enjoying their victory.

A/N ; enjoy babyyy ❤️❤️

warnings ; None

word count ; 1.2k

It started innocently enough — just a small prank to see how Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo Riddle would react. For weeks now, you’d made a habit of greeting them at every turn with your usual warmth: a soft “good morning” over breakfast, a casual “good evening” when you crossed paths in the corridors after classes, and a quiet “good night” before bed when the three of you ended up cuddling in the common room or sneaking off to the Room of Requirement.

But one day, you decided to stop. No morning greetings. No “good night” kisses. No acknowledgment of their presence when it came to those endearing moments that usually made your bond so close-knit. You wanted to see if they would notice… and oh, they definitely noticed.

By day three, it was clear they were growing restless.

"Are you mad at us?" Lorenzo asked as he slid into the seat beside you in the Great Hall for breakfast, his eyes squinting in mild confusion.

You didn’t even glance up from your plate, merely taking a sip of pumpkin juice as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He stared at you, visibly unsettled by your indifference.

"Baby, what's going on?" Mattheo’s voice came from across the table. His dark curls were messy from sleep, his sharp eyes fixed on you, clearly waiting for an explanation.

You looked at him briefly, offering a slight shrug, then resumed eating without so much as a word.

Mattheo groaned audibly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird."

"I’m not acting weird," you responded simply, the first words you’d spoken directly to them in a while, but still lacking the usual affectionate tone they were used to.

Lorenzo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "You’re definitely acting weird. You haven’t said ‘good morning’ in days, and I swear if you don’t tell me why, I’ll hex you right here."

Your lips twitched upward into a sly smile, but you quickly covered it with your hand, pretending to yawn. "Maybe I’m just tired."

That, of course, was not the reason, but you enjoyed watching them squirm. You got up from your seat after finishing your meal, leaving both of them to stare after you, clearly more confused than ever.

⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ —

By the end of the week, things had escalated.

Mattheo and Lorenzo had taken to clinging to you at every possible moment. At first, it was subtle — Lorenzo holding your hand more often, Mattheo sitting a little too close during meals, their touches lingering longer than usual. But now? They were practically glued to you.

"Are you really going to ignore us all day?" Mattheo asked one afternoon, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. He was lounging beside you on the couch in the Slytherin common room, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Lorenzo, who was on your other side, let out a dramatic sigh. "This is torture, you know that?" His hand slipped down to your thigh, fingers drumming impatiently. "You haven’t said ‘good morning,’ ‘good night,’ or anything. We know something’s wrong."

"Yeah," Mattheo agreed, pulling you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. "You’re not yourself, and we don’t like it."

You rolled your eyes, trying to stifle a grin. "I’m fine."

"Clearly, you’re not," Lorenzo countered, pressing his forehead against yours. "You’re holding out on us, and we’re not letting you get away with it."

Before you could respond, Mattheo's hand slid up your back, his lips pressing against your temple. “You’re really going to make us work for it, huh?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

You shivered slightly, but you kept up the act, determined to see this prank through. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lorenzo scoffed, shifting so he could better face you. "You’re such a liar," he teased, though his tone was laced with affection. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Soft and deliberate.

You flinched, startled by the sudden affection. "What—?"

But you didn’t get to finish your sentence. Mattheo followed suit, pressing his lips against your other cheek, then your jawline. "We’re not letting you get away with this," he murmured between kisses.

Before you knew it, they had you pinned between them, Lorenzo's hands gently cradling your face as he planted kiss after kiss across your forehead and temples, while Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and shoulders.

"Alright, alright!" you gasped, wriggling in their hold, but neither of them relented.

"Not until you say it," Mattheo demanded, his lips hovering just above yours, a smug grin playing on his face.

"Say what?" you asked, feigning ignorance, even though you knew exactly what he wanted.

Lorenzo smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. "You know what we want, love. You’re not getting out of this that easily."

You tried to suppress a laugh, but it bubbled up anyway. "Okay, okay! You win!"

Mattheo pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Say it."

Rolling your eyes, you let out a long sigh before finally giving in. "Good morning. Good night. Good evening. All of it. Happy now?"

Lorenzo grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you properly, slow and sweet. "That’s more like it."

Mattheo, not wanting to be outdone, tilted your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss of his own, his hands slipping down to your waist as he pulled you even closer. "Took you long enough," he murmured against your lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, thoroughly trapped between the two of them, both of them showering you with kisses until you were breathless.

"You guys are insufferable," you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

"You love it," Mattheo shot back, a teasing glint in his eye as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Lorenzo chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder. "Maybe we’re just making up for lost time. After all, you did ignore us for a whole week."

"I didn’t ignore you," you corrected. "I just… withheld some things."

Mattheo snorted. "Same difference. But don’t think we’re done with you yet."

Lorenzo hummed in agreement. "We’ve still got a lot of kisses to make up for."

They were relentless, taking turns pampering you with affection, holding you tightly as if making up for the lost week in one single afternoon. And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

"Alright, alright!" you groaned, finally giving in to the onslaught of affection. "I get it. I won’t prank you again."

"Good," Mattheo said, leaning back just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because if you do, we’ll just do this all over again."

"And next time," Lorenzo added with a wicked grin, "we won’t let you off so easily."

You couldn’t help but laugh, thoroughly overwhelmed by their affection. "Alright, you win."

They both grinned, satisfied with your surrender, but neither of them moved away, still keeping you firmly tucked between them. You had a feeling they wouldn’t be letting you go any time soon — and honestly, you were perfectly fine with that.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Could you please write a Regina x Femme!Reader where the reader is short and a bottom (doesn’t have to include smut, but can) and Regina can’t help but tease her about it (playfully) and Reader gets all shy and flustered

Can't Focus?

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; light smut, regina teasing reader, short drabble

i really can't think of any other warnings but if y'all catch one please lmk cause i feel like i'm missing something

|| Summary; Regina and reader had a study hall period together, though Regina's distraction doesn't lead to much studying.

Requests open!

Started; septmeber 21st

Finished; september 22nd

~~~

The bell rang, but you were already in the library for study hall. Looking down at the computer screen in front of you. You'd gotten here right at the end of your last class to get a head start on a project, so you'd only been here about fifteen minutes and all you have done is the title page. Any thoughts you had had on the project prior to getting here just seemed to be lost in your mind; floating around somewhere in the back but never coming to the surface.

With a heavy groan, you laid your head just in front of the keyboard. Arms stretched out on either side of the computer as your fingers danced along the wooden desk table.

You thought about how you could be doing so many better things with your time but instead you're stuck here. It's stupid.

You were so lost in your internal rant that you hadn't even notice your girlfriend coming up behind you, she wrapped her arms around you in a way that let them rest just below your chest. Her lips brushing against your neck.

"What's wrong, baby? Can't focus?" Regina asked in a murmur, her nails tracing the skin on your arms in a way that made your whole body shudder. Her nails always seemed to have that effect on you. Regina loved that about you. You were so easy," bet it's even harder now~"

"Regina..." You started to protest, but leaned into her. Letting her get away with it as your cheeks flushed. You knew there was no point in resisting, you'd done that before but she always wins. She knows how to get you where she wants you.

"Yes, baby?" She said, her tone laced with innocence but everything about her actions proved she knew what she was doing to you.

Your fingers tapped at your keyboard, saving your project. You'll just save that for home. You looked at Regina, who had a victorious smirk on her face as her hand slowly slid down your arm. Then to your thigh and all the way to your knee.

"I hate you." You murmured, though there was no real threat to your words. She knew that.

"No you don't~" She teased, kissing just below your ear lobe.

"No I don't." You sighed, trembling lightly under her touch. Her fingers played with your hair as she adjusted herself to be seated in your lap.

You usually liked to work in the more secluded end of the library, which meant no one could see the two of you.

"You don't take much convincing, do you, baby?" She continued to tease you. Her fingers moving from your hair to your jaw. Nails gripping at your chin to pull your lips closer to hers.

"I've learnt to just accept it," You murmured against her lips as she kissed you. She started it slow at first, but then it got a little more heated before she parted. Leaving you wanting more.

"You say that like it a bad thing," She whispered, eyes half lidded as she gazed into yours.

"It really isn't." You assured her, of course she already had a feeling that would be your answer; but hearing you say that...

Well, that just made her think about everything she wanted to do with you when the two of you got home.

[cas-skz]

Back to you (Crumble pt 2.)

Wooyoung x FEM!reader

| non-idol au | drama/romance | 18+!! |

Weeks apart from Wooyoung and San have effected you mentally and physically. Your travel companion has no luck breaking through to you and with all your energy drained, you pass out. What happens after the hospital will change everything.

[writers note]

THANK YOU SO SO FLIPPIN MUCH!!!! I seriously always feel so touched when I get good feed back & responses. It means a lot & I appreciate your support so so much!!!

I hope this pulls at your heart strings just as much as the first

Tag List: @a-teez-4-exo @ppeachyttae @pearltinyy @yujuvly @kiwimash12 @neteyamandloakisfoine @mayblues @miaatiny

Every part of you felt numb. Your body was heavy and heart shattered. The whole event of last night played through your head over and over again, hurting more each time.

You didn’t want it to be real. You didn’t want San and Wooyoung to be gone.

“Wake up. We’re here.” The males voice came from the front seat.

You sat up to look at your surroundings, a small cabin on a lake front with not much else in sight. To most it would be peaceful, but to you it was hell at the moment.

You took Ella from her car seat, holding her in your lap as you sighed quietly. “Guess we’re here.” You told her, exiting the car.

“Where are we?” You asked the male, who was grabbing the bags from the car.

“Somewhere safe.” He simply replied, motioning for you to follow him to the cabin.

You rolled your eyes at his answer, following inside. It was decent enough, a living room with tv, the kitchen was stocked with new pots and pans, and a pile of groceries were stacked on the floor.

You made your way down the hall, glancing in at the bathroom before finding your and Ella’s bags in a room at the end of the hall. You got her freshened up and grabbed a bottle before setting in a crib that had been set up.

You laid on your side on the bed across from the crib, watching as she played with the toys and stuffies Woo had grabbed for her. You couldn’t help but cry again, feeling hopeless and confused.

San and Wooyoung had always kept the business side of things hush hush, but over time you started to pick up on little things. Woo arranged boxing matches where people placed high bets to watch San fight an opponent.

99% of the time San was victorious, in exception for Leeknow. Every few weeks the boys would come home after a loss and chat over how to defeat him the next time. Woo always said the loss left a dent in their wallets.

The knock on the door woke you up. You groaned quietly, not even realizing you had fallen asleep.

“Sorry…she’s been fussing. I can take her if you want.” The male said.

It was only now you realized who had been accompanying you this whole time. “Mingi?”

“Yea..I didn’t think you remembered.” He chuckled, taking a few steps towards the crib.

“No.” You said quickly, “I got her.”

You rushed to your feet to swoop Ella into your arms, hushing her as you dug through one of the bags.

“Sorry.” Mingi said quietly, scratching the back of his head. “I have dinner going. It’ll be ready soon.” He smiled softly before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

You didn’t exactly remember Mingi, but he had been one of your elementary school friends and you thought he’d left town years ago.

Once you found a soother for Ella, you both made your way into the kitchen. You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep, but the cabin looked much cozier than when you arrived.

A small play area had been set up in the living room, which you placed Ella into after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you hungry?” Mingi asked from the kitchen.

“Uh, no. No thanks. Ella’s probably starving.”

“I made her mashed peas and potatoes. There’s a few pieces of pork chop cooling for her too.”

To your surprise, the food at prepared correctly for her age and was made into a smiley face on a cute dinosaur plate.

“Don’t worry, I know how to not kill a baby. I have a three year old and a handful of nieces and nephews.” Mingi smirked, passing you the plate and a baby spoon.

“Thanks.” You mumbled quietly.

You sat inside Ella’s play area and propped her inside the bumbo seat before feeding her dinner.

“I think she approves.” Mingi said from the kitchen table as he munched down on his own meal.

You ignored his comment, focusing on keeping Ella’s face clean as your thoughts wondered to Woo and San. You couldn’t help but worry and wonder where they were, if they were okay. Not to mention the hurt you felt from then suddenly leaving you.

The day creeped into night and you went along with your normal routine with Ella, bathing her and reading a couple of stories before settling her down in bed with a bottle.

Mingi had made himself comfortable in the smaller bedroom, setting up a little gaming station and some mood lighting. It seemed like he was always making someplace feel like home.

“You still haven’t eaten.”

His deep voice creeped out from his room, you peaked in to see him sitting on a bean bag chair, playing gta on a small tv screen.

“I just don’t feel hungry. I’m fine though.” You smiled softly before turning towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower. Do you mind listening out for her?”

“No problem at all.”

The hot water washed over your face as you sobbed as quiet as you could. There was a million questions running through your head. Why San would just send you off without explanation. Why they couldn’t go with you. There was no off button to the mess in your head.

As you opened the bathroom door, Mingi gave you a small wave, “She’s snoring. I’m heading to sleep soon.” He stretched out before standing up and heading to the door, leaning onto the side as he started to close it.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks. Night.”

You tried to comfort yourself with Woo’s shirt, the familiar sent of him brought you mixed emotions, which you tried your best to push aside. At some point you drifted to sleep on your tear stained pillow, thought it was nothing compared to falling asleep in Woo’s arms as he fucked you slowly.

The next few days felt numb. You went through day by day, moment by moment just focusing on Ella. You were a mess. You had barely eaten, barely spoken to Mingi. The only update you had gotten was that Leeknow had thrown a fight and his people were angry with the loss.

You were too exhausted to focus on what was being told to you as Mingi filled you in the latest events.

“I guess it’s almost resolved. There was some sort of confrontation but they ended up actually chatting.”

Your eyes tried to focus on Mingi cleaned dishes, but the room started to spin.

“If all goes well, you should be going home pretty so-”

Your body fell to the ground with a hard thud as you blacked out. The lack of food and hours of crying finally had you hitting a brick wall.

Mingi cursed as a glass dropped from his hand, he ran to your side and patted your face a few times. “Fuck. Come on, wake up.”

He grabbed your glass of water off the table and splashed it on your face, “Y/N.” He tapped your face a little harder as you woke a bit, still very fuzzy and spaced.

You remember being in the car as Mingi drove towards the nearest hospital. Ella was strapped in her seat and you laid fading in and out on the seat next to her.

The beeping of a heart monitor rang in your ears as you came out of unconsciousness, you mumbled to yourself as the nurse greeted you and let you know what was going on.

“We gave you some fluids but you’re going to need to eat before you leave, other than that, you and the baby are overall fine.”

“What?” Your tone was unexpectedly harsher than you expected.

“Well we had to run a blood test just to make sure it was lack of nutrients…I-I’m sorry, if you didn’t know.”

You stared blankly for a moment, “No-“ you paused to look at her, offering a small smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You laughed quietly as a tear fell down your cheek. “Thank you.”

After following the doctors orders and apologizing to Mingi and Ella for not taking care of your self, you were happily on your way home.

Though your heart ached for Wooyoung more than ever, you couldn’t help but smile down at your stomach.

“I think you should name them Grey.”

“Grey?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite color - well actually charcole, but that’s a weird name for a kid.”

You shook your head and laughed as the drive continued, filled with small chat and plans to make the best of things.

“By the way” Mingi started as he pulled into the long driveway down to the cabin, he paused and quickly checked his phone before pointing to a car parked near the house. “You have a visitor.”

Your eyes filled with tears at the sight of your brother as the car came to a stop, you rushed out and over to hug him tightly.

“I swear to god if you ever do that again”

“It won’t happen again. Ever.”

“Promise.”

“Promise. We’re going straight.”

San explained how Wooyoung had made a deal with Leeknow’s people to get them out of the game and in exchange they would own and operate a car repair shop.

As San continued to speak, your eyes drifted to the cabin door opening and you took off running towards Wooyoung as he walked out.

Tears were streaming down your face as you leaped into his arms, kissing his lips as deep as you could.

“You came back.” You whispered against his lips, pressing your head against his.

“I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“Good. Ella and her little brother or sister are gonna need their daddy.”

Woo looked down at you with a look of shock and wonder, which you nodded a few times to confirm what he was thinking.

He wrapped his arms around you again, spinning you around as he kissed your cheek repeatedly.

“Get a room!” San yelled with a laugh.

Woo gave him the finger as he carried you back into the cabin and closed the door behind him.

You laughed in his arms and held onto him until he put you back on the ground, “Go get your daughter.” You laughed, giving him another kiss.

“Our daughter.” He whispered.

[spikesbicth]

Your Whole World

Astarion x Reader!Female!DarkUrge One shot

approx 3.2k words.

CW: 18+, minors DNI, face fucking, oral sex, fingering, PiV, smut, choking, bleeding, biting. rough sex, creampie, blood play

cross posted on ao3

A/N: oh hi everyone… I couldn’t resist adding an Astarion smut to my repertoire. Besides, he has such a chokehold on me right now. A few things; if you have read my other posted one shot, you make notice a few similarities. I’m very proud of that fic and this being my first time writing in over a year, I borrowed a few elements from it to inspire me and get ideas flowing. It’s minor, but just FYI. also, sorry if there are any glaring grammatical mistakes/typos/tense errors. also i barely proofread. the majority of this was written in the middle of the night so I could give all of you sadistic fucks the most heinous christmas gift ever. So enjoy some sex and a dash of fluff. please don’t hesitate to give me feedback :)

Nothing sparked a glow in Astarion’s eyes like watching you standing over your most recent kill; bloodied and battered beneath you moments after landing your final strike. Lowering your hands and brushing loose hair from out of your face, you lift your gaze to meet his.

“Gods, it never gets old watching you work” he purrs, stepping towards you to further relish the moment now that the enjoyment of the bloodbath you created could begin.

Months had passed since you freed yourselves of your pasts. Astarion, exacting revenge against Cazador and ascending to his present form. Yourself through your rejection of Bhaal. Together you destroyed the Elder Brain, banishing any doubt that either of you would be puppeted by anyone, ever again. You remembered the night it all ended fondly, Astarion pressing you to accept his gift of immortality. Though you declined at the time, citing your desire to experience the rush of near death but a few more times, you assured you always planned to accept and commit to an eternity with him. You also remembered the way he fucked you that night, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy and back. How he promised to make you edge for every so-called “rush-of-near-death” you wished to experience before entering immortality with him. How he fed on you until you were nearly drained, exacting his dominance over your life. How much you

fucking.

loved it.

In the time since that night, you had parted ways with your companions and set forth on your journey together. Time was spent ravaging the nobles estates, killing off anyone who threatened you, giving in to every sadistic whim and desire. Nothing but the exacting of pure chaos as a victory lap before getting down to the real business. Power was still to be exacted.

“My Queen of the Hells…” He breathes, stepping towards you across the white tiled floor of the home belonging to whatever Mage of High Sorcery you had just butchered. Still meeting his gaze, you watch his pupils dilate as the scent of your own blood from the oozing gash on your cheek overcomes him.

You smile, extending your hand for him to take. His hand meets yours for a brief moment, before tracing his fingers up your forearm across to your waist and holding you firmly against his body. The both of you take a moment to admire the bodies that dotted the main floor of the ornate home, and the blood that so starkly contrasted the white decor.

“Shall we explore?” You ask, a cunning smile spreading across your lips. Astarion nods, his face dotted with specks of blood and his pupils so black they eclipsed his crimson irises.

“My love, you know I want to.” He affirms, his voice liquid velvet echoing the grand hall you stood in. After all this time, even his smallest endearments still fill your abdomen with warmth.

Together, you proceed up the opulent white tile staircase to the second level. There is no secret as to what you were looking for. Nothing filled you with lust and desire the way watching Astarion dominate his opponents in battle did. His most malicious attacks read like a dance, it seemed even his enemies were not immune to melting in his striking gaze. Though you promised to yourself that you would never be a servant to anyone again, the rules were much more malleable when it came to Astarion. You adored being under him, subject to his control and desires, the feeling of existing to pleasure him. Property he cherished, though still his property, he once declared.

At the end of the hallway at the top of the stairs, the former tenants bedroom lay vacant and freshly tidied. You watch as his graceful hand turns the doorknob and unlatches the door. On the other side was an appropriately opulent bed chamber dimly lit by fading mage light, now that the magic of the previous owner had begun to dispel. Upon entering the room, Astarion’s focus intensifies on you.

“Gods… you’re so beautiful…” He turns to you, his eyes examining your face, one of his fangs caught on the outside of his slightly parted lips. He brings his free hand to your bloodied cheek, pressing his thumb into it. You welcome the wince of pain at his hand and lingering for a moment. You could see the lust in his darkened eyes, hear the desire in his gruff voice.

You bring your hand to meet his on your face, and press his thumb deeper into your wound. The pain elicits a sharp exhale, and you watch Astarions eyes flicker to yours then back to your wound. Every sensation he imparts upon you was a taste of bliss. He slips his hand out from under yours, and brings his thumb to his mouth, gently licking it before closing his lips around it. A soft moan escapes him. He wants all of you.

The moment he removes his thumb from his mouth, you move to meet his lips with yours, entering a forceful and hungry kiss. You taste the slight sour of your blood in his mouth as he teases your lips with his tongue. You press your body against his, feeling a growing bulge in his pants.

“May I, darling?” He asks as his hands find the bottom of your shirt . You nod, and he tugs it over your arms and head. Your freed breasts bounce gently from the movement, and Astarion quickly brings his fingers to your erecting nipples. You press yourself further into him, kissing him hard. He hadn’t yet removed his light armour, and the coolness of the metal tingles your nipples and hardens them even further. He kneels, trailing kisses down your chest as you stand, and makes quick work of the tie holding up your trousers. He slides them off you with your undergarments and aided you in removing your shoes. He rises to standing again, gently nibbling at you on the way up to meet your lips again.

You pull away from the kiss for a moment, bringing a hand down to the base of his top, awaiting him to assist you in the removal of his layers.

“Mmmm..” He moans in anticipation, “Not this time my pet.” A sultry growl in his voice. He places his hands on your shoulders, and slowly presses you down. “On your knees, my precious thing.” He orders.

You obey, lowering to the floor. The cold hard tile digging into your kneecaps as you look up to Astarion from the ground.

You are his precious thing.

He takes a step back to remove his own armor and clothing as you watch, kneeling naked on the floor in front of him. Your heart quickened and you felt your folds dampen with arousal as Astarion removed his pants, freeing his erect cock that had been buldging for freedom just moments prior. His tip already slick with precum, glistening in the dusky room. Your mouth waters in anticipation. He indulges in a few strokes of his length before stepping closer to you, your eyes level with his muscular lower abdomen. There you sat beneath him, eyes wide with admiration and chilled from the cool tile floor, dripping in your own arousal, waiting.

“My love, do open your mouth for me.” He asks, his voice a breathy hush.

You obey, parting your lips and letting your tongue slide out. You knew how he wanted to use you, how you wanted to worship him. With your hands clasped behind your back, you welcomed his cock into your mouth. Your mouth waters at the saltiness of his precum and Astarion’s composure falters as a moan escapes him. He adored fucking you this way.

His cock quickly met the back of your throat, and you began to salivate fiercely to welcome it. You try to swallow but your throat closes around Astarion’s cock, and saliva begins to pool in your lower jaw. He slowly fucks your mouth, pulling out so that his tip met your lips, then thrusting hard to push his cock further and further down your throat, digging for your gag reflex. You cough, and your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh, that’s it pet,” He moans, pushing deeper into your throat. Tears spill over, running down your cheeks and you blink to clear your vision as well as you can. He feels the flood of saliva building in your mouth and withdraws, then cocks his head to one side in admiration of you. Saliva flows down your chin and neck, dripping on the floor between you. You gasp for air, then open your mouth once again. He smirks, and runs his hand through your hair. He aligns his cock with your mouth again once more, you allow him to enter but not before teasing the spot below his glans that you know will send thunder through him.

The delicate moment is lost upon an abrupt thrust of Astarion’s hips, forcing his cock as far down your throat as he could. He continues to fuck your face with concentrated thrusts at the back of your throat, blocking any air from entering your lungs. A burning sensation grows in your chest as you try and fail gasp for air. Your vision grows fuzzy as a dark veil begins to shroud the corners of your vision, and you begin to choke. He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you off of your cock, leaving a string of saliva pulling from your mouth to the tip of his throbbing length. Tears trail down your cheeks and you quietly gasp for air. Seconds after you inhale he shoves his cock back into you, fucking even harder than before.

“That's it my love, I know you yearn for breathlessness, I could give you this forever.” He praises, tightening his grip on your hair and humming with pleasure. You catch him with his gaze towards the ceiling, enjoying the filthy sounds. Beginning to feel the fire in your chest building again, Astarion pulls himself out and you gasp for breath, this time with enough time to notice the tears and saliva mixing with the blood from your face flowing down your bare chest.

Nearly as exerted as yourself, Astarion comes to his knees to greet you, meeting your slick and swollen lips with his own.

“Look what you’ve done to me…” you whispered between kisses, reaching up to feel the wetness on your face.

“I am not nearly done with you yet,” Astarion growls, pulling away from your lips then tonguing over his own, relishing the taste of your blood. He placed one hand on your mid back, and another to guide you down to lay gently on the floor. The chill of the tile on your warmed skin sent a shiver through your body, causing your nipples to erect once again and goosebumps to cover your body. Astarion smirks, admiring your body and the arousal leaking from between your legs. He works his way down your neck placing loose, open mouth kisses down your neck and chest, allowing his fangs to catch on your skin as he moves. He finds your left nipple and began to trace his tongue around the hardened sphere of flesh, sucking and flicking.

“Astar…ion….” you moan, fluttering your eyes. Now he was just teasing you, waiting for your patience to wane. “A..Ast..star..ion” you moan again, your clit swelling and throbbing between your legs. “P…p..please… Ast..star..ion” you beg, undulating your hips to touch his, attempting to alert him of your desires.

“Impatient tonight are we, my dear?” He coos, looking up to your eyes from where his face rested on your breast.

“P..please… touch me..” you beg, and you see a grin spread across his face, his two fangs glinting in the light.

“Now am I supposed to say no to that?” he asserts, not breaking his gaze as he begins kissing and lightly biting down your abdomen. Your stomach fluttered as you watched him move towards your pelvis. You admire his beautiful silver curls shift on his head while he moves his hands to your thighs to signal you to spread them, and you obey.

He traces circles with his fingers on your thighs, sending shivers through your body. Slick fluid drips through your folds and you feel your walls pulsating with the beat of your heart, you are desperate for him. You are certain you have never wanted anyone more than you have ever wanted Astarion, beautiful, powerful, Astarion. His aspirations, his ascension, and your mutual freedom, his unwavering devotion to you and only you. Gods, was there anything else you truly needed besides him?

You are snapped back to reality when he licks his cunning tongue up your folds, circling quickly around your clit. You take a sharp breath in and wrap your legs over his muscular shoulders, taking a fistful of his curls in your right hand. He wraps an arm around one leg and pressed down on your lower abdomen a few finger widths above your pelvic bone, not breaking the contact between his tongue and your clit. His ascendant strength holds you down as you adjust your hips, begging for him to indulge you. He teases your entrance with an icy finger, and you clench around nothing. A moment later, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, hooking them rhythmically to catch your G-spot. Your back arches and waves of warmth course through your body, reveling in the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. He drags you up to the “Darling, I thought you’d never ask” he responds coyley. It was often routine for him to feed on you while he fucked you, elevating his own ecstasy and you enjoying the way he held your delicious little life in his hands.

He kisses his way to your left inner thigh, and without warning, pierces his fangs into your tender skin, and blood begins to spill. You breathe out slowly, enjoying the pain he inflicts on you and the pleasure from the fingers still toying with your clit. You feel him drinking from you and your blood pressure dropping, sending a shockwave of dizziness to your head. This was pleasure like you had never experienced before him.

Astarion rises from his feed at your thigh, and slinks his way back to meet your mouth with his. Once again you taste your own blood in his mouth as he kisses you with such urgency and near corporeal desire.

“I need you… to be inside you..” he desperately speaks between kisses, and you feel him shift his weight to fumble with his throbbing cock. His facade has cracked, palpable, burning eagerness leaking through. He parts your folds and drags his cock against his bite, still exuding blood. For a moment he teases your entrance with his tip, but you know his grip on his composure was slipping. Carnal. Insatiable, it was coming.

He thrusts inside of you, and you moan with adjuration. Your walls expand for him, and you spread your legs, bending your knees to allow him the deepest thrusts he could muster. Your breasts bouncing in rhythm with him, and you reach your arms around his shoulders to pull him nearer to you. You moan hungrily in his ear, knowing this and the filthy noises of your fucking would drive him duly mad. He moans, breathing heavily and kissing you hard, enjoying every sensation of you around his cock. It was clear that he was edging to his finale, but it was now your turn.

You untangle your arms from him and press your hands on the front of your chest, and gain enough leverage to roll him off you and onto his back, you, only an instant behind him. You slide him back inside of you, then bring your hand to his mouth for another taste of your wetness and blood. He closes his eyes and licks your fingers, preparing himself for your turn of the fun.

His cock flexes inside of you and you find his wrists and guide his arms above his head, gripping them tightly to the floor. Your extended position leaves your breasts hanging just above his mouth, and he lifts his head to lick and suck. Slowly at first, you lift your hips so only the tip of his length remains inside of you, linger for a moment, only to come crashing down to him. His eyes widened and mouth opened, an aching moan coming from within him. You repeated the motion, watching him gasp and moan, withholding and flooding him with pleasure. The stickiness of your arousal, his precum, and your blood mixing on his thighs, squelching with each of your movements. After demonstrating your control over him, you release your grip from his wrists above his head, and lean back, forcing his cock to press into your walls. His hands find your hips, and he digs his fingers into you as you rhythmically fuck him. You push him closer and closer as slowly as you can handle. You push him to the edge, so, so close.

You find your swollen clit with your free hand, and begin rubbing in heavy circles. Astarion loves watching you pleasure yourself on him, using him to reach your own peak before allowing him his own. As you rub yourself and ride him, you feel intense pleasure rising within you.

“I- I’m going to come,” you moan, moving your hips faster and faster on his cock while applying more pressure on your throbbing clit.

Astarion opens his mouth to speak, but no words arrive, only fast, broken breaths.

You sing his name while you squeeze him with your thighs, gushing over his cock. Finally, you are over the edge. An intense euphoria floods through you as your walls contract around his cock. Your heart races and you gasp for breath, reveling in the pure pleasure you were experiencing. Astarion bucks his hips into you, desperate to spill himself inside. His silver curls now clung to his sweat-dampened forehead.

“O-oh f.. oh fuck…” He speaks, now fully lost his control and desperate only to join you in your pleasure. The contractions of your walls on him are sending him over. A powerful moan rises from his chest and with a few beastly thrusts inside of you, he spills. When he comes, he throws his head back and moans your name so it echoes within the tiled bed chambers.

His thrusts mellow, and eventually his twitching cock inside you calms. You lay forward on him,

His breath slows, and he wraps his arms around you, welcoming his coolness. He kisses your temple, then begins to rise. He helps you to the freshly made bed, and rests beside you.

“I love you, Astarion.” you say quietly, delighting in his arms woven around you.

There you lay together in your nakedness, the sweetness of your undying love cleansing all desire for anything more. No promise of power could be worth the sacrifice of losing each other. Despite both your aspirations and contributions to chaos, the constant of having each other for eternity was an invaluable prize to you both. You turn and delicately kiss his neck, breathing in and savouring his scent garnished with the metallic of your blood that was beginning to dry and crack on your skin. You feel his embrace tighten around you and you close your eyes, listening to his beating heart and melting into the arms of your little star. And he loves you too.

[failing-to-write-again]

Baby Photos Part 2!

Part 1

Since the lovely asker @lilithram did say to pick between Sakamaki baby photos or reader baby photos, I chose both. While the previous part was less overall fluff and more early relationship I decided to make this one closer to an established relationship. I’m a bit nervous about making the boys ooc so any feedback on parts that are good and in character or those less in character would help me work to tailor my writing.

I worked under the ages proposed by @diabolik-shu-lover from this post.

Shu Sakamaki

Visiting le château de Heinz wasn’t your ideal vacation spot if you were to be completely honest. Unfortunately a major downside to dating a crown prince is how business minded people are going to be about your relationship. Shu had delayed taking you here, sharing his wish to live a more ordinary life until his accession, and even then he still wanted to have a more “normal” relationship. So far your little trip had consisted of a dinner with Shu and his father where he quizzed you on your life, followed by two days of loneliness where Shu was kept away by business of some kind with his father. 

Waking up to day 3 of being alone you elected to at least try to find some evidence of Shu’s childhood you could tease him on. There had to be some silly sailor uniform or ruffled collar from when he was a small Victorian lad. Wandering the halls the castle was a thousand times creepier than the Sakamaki manor had ever been, especially when you were left without a lazy vampire keeping an eye on you. Karl Heinz had requested that his sons not kill you but that was before you began dating the son most likely to be forced into some arranged marriage. It didn’t help that the staff weren’t hidden familiars, they were standing in every room just looking… creepy.

Eventually your exploration landed you in a gallery, paintings decorated the hall with spotlights above each painting. Many seemed very old and depicted pretty women in the castle gardens at night. One of these paintings had a woman you were convinced was Shu and Reiji’s mother. She was under a gazebo in a red dress staring lovingly at someone standing somewhere behind the painting. 

“This must’ve been back when they were all in love before Cordelia.” You mumbled to yourself, turning away and continuing down the hall. You found some more imposing portraits of men, a few being Karl Heinz himself, and some more general landscape paintings. 

After nearly 2 hours of this you found a new hall of all six Sakamaki sons in a series of paintings, VICTORY. It’s always a bit weird when you get obvious reminders of your boyfriend being 387 years old even though he looks like a 19 year old. Seeing paintings of him in severely dated clothes and poses was just bizarre, snapping a picture of him in a wig from the Georgian period was a good form of pay back for his abandonment of you these past few days. There was one painting of him unlike all the others, he looked roughly 3 or 4 and was sat in his mother’s lap with a silver rattled as he peered down at a bundle in Karl Heinz’s lap, the raven coloured hair giving it away as Reiji. He looked so curious and his father looked so happy. He was cute, with blonde curlier locks and a big round face, he looked like any modern day child meeting their younger sibling. Seeing him with eyes so awake and full of life, and no animosity between the two oldest sons of Karl Heinz.

“She kept scolding me for not sitting still.”

Shouting in shock as you turn to see your MIA boyfriend with a shit eating grin on his face at your reaction.

“What’s with that face woman, girlfriend’s are meant to be happy when they see their boyfriend’s not scream like a banshee.” Teasing you as he stepped closer, moving his hands to sit comfortably at your waist. In response you let your head fall with a thud into his chest, wrapping your arm around his back.

“Well boyfriend’s aren’t meant to tell their girlfriend’s they’re going on vacation to then vanish off for days. We never get time together in the manor without your brothers hanging around and now your dad is keeping you busier than you’ve ever been.”

Sighing, Shu buried his nose in your hair  wrapping one arm around your shoulder and another around your lower back huddling you close. “I’m sorry. That guy wouldn’t stop talking about all this protocol and other crap about properly introducing you as my chosen queen. He wanted to rush everything.”

Pulling back just enough to look up eyes wide at what he was saying. Queen, you a queen? Not to mention having to meet more creepy vampires. Sensing some of your unease, Shu smiled.

“Relax, I managed to get him to agree to a much slower schedule, you won’t be rushed off to a ball anytime soon. For now the worst of it will be seeing some property we own and meeting his close advisory staff and my other’s old staff. After I have you to myself for another few months we’re going to graduate first.”

Letting out a sigh of relief you lay your head against his shoulder, staring back up at the painting. “As a kid you were pretty cute Shu.”

“Not as cute as you as a mini ballerina,” he shot back, absentmindedly rubbing little circles against your back as he also stared at the portrait.

“If I do end up as Queen you’re not allowed to marry anyone else, I refuse to deal with the whole situation with your mothers. And you can’t ever let our kids have such a poor relationship like you and Reiji.”

“Not if, when, princess and don’t work yourself up over stupid things. You’re mine, I'm not letting some woman try to take me away ever. Seriously such bothersome thinking.”

Leaning down he gently kissed you, as if you were so delicate and precious. Looking up at blue eyes finally looking awake and closer to that childhood Shu then he had in centuries.

Reiji Sakamaki

“The box I’m looking for is about as big as an envelope, and has a leather strap holding it shut. Let me know if you spot it.”

“Alright, anywhere you’d prefer I don’t look. I don’t want to run into some secret Laito porn stash up here.”

You hear Reiji chuckle at that. “Laito doesn’t come up here, too many spiders. I do not care where you go, we are partners, we agreed no secrets right.”

That made you smile, your relationship with Reiji was the fruit of a long journey of trying to reach an understanding. For a while you were both not fully able to understand each other, and while no relationship is perfect, especially yours, hiccups that would’ve caused serious arguments before were now easier to settle over tea. It felt good to feel like a respected partner.

Looking through the attic for this mystery box was a good time to find mementos to learn more about Reiji. Looking through older books and boxes of clothes or unused houseware most of the items in this portion of the attic seemed unimportant. Reiji focused his search on the opposite side of the room where the ceiling was higher, you were shorter than the 6ft man so were less uncomfortable searching where the roof sloped down. A small dusty window allowed some of the early morning light to stream in. Reiji had begun waking later during holidays to allow you both to have a day that had more sunlight for you. He claimed it was to reduce risk of seasonal depression or vitamin D deficiency, with the added benefit of allowing you both to go to museums and other date locations. Waking at 12am gave you the opportunity to see sunrises daily, and if you were honest the view of your boyfriend in the hazy early morning glow was always a welcome sight. 

“You’re staring.” 

“I see nothing wrong with admiring my boyfriend”

He let a smile sigh pass his lips as he smiled, shaking his head. Looking back down at the stack of cardboard boxes he was rifling through. You pull your eyes away and back to the room around you, you spot something sticking out behind a shelf. Pulling it out you find a handful of photos and a small box. The photos were black and white, Daguerreotypes, on metal sheets. The images showed a younger Reiji taking what looked like test photos. Some were of him, slightly blurred from incorrect technique, others of items. The last photo was much clearer and was of Reiji sitting in a chair with a book in his lap. He must’ve gotten a familiar to take the photo. 

“Hey Reiji can I take these down? I don’t know how to store such photos though.”

Looking up Reiji walked over, taking the photos from you to look through. He picked up a box placing them inside before handing them to you,

“I will have the familiars store them properly and make scans so you can have more stable prints of them. If you wish to have images of me to display however, I would prefer you take more modern photos with both of us.”

Smiling down at the box of photos, Reiji spoke again.

“Smiling over such trivial things as a few photos, you should be harder to please.”

“You’re probably the first man to ever say that Reiji, besides it’s nice to have childhood photos of each other. I only have my locket but what happens when your children ask to see what you looked like as a child?”

“Our children will have plenty of paintings of me to see at my father’s castle, and if we are so lucky your only response will be that they look exactly as you did as a child.” Adjusting his glasses Reiji knelt down and picked up the box you had also pulled out with the photos. Meanwhile as his words set in your face flushed slightly.

“Our children…Reiji you shouldn’t say that stuff so casually. Besides, why would you want them to look like me? I'm human.”

That was not a response he liked, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and pointer finger Reiji looked you in the eye as he spoke. “Our children should be as pretty or handsome as their mother. I’m insulted you think, after all we’ve been through, I have not grown out of the belief that blood is a final decider in terms of superiority. You are superior, you are who I want, you alone are my partner and equal so strong as to be able to hold my heart in your hands. Am I clear?”

Your blush darkens as Reiji flusters you further, you can only nod your head in response to such strong compliments said so earnestly. Smiling Reiji’s thumb gently swiped over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you. Reiji always kisses you with the aim to convey all of his feelings for you, as if you will never be able to kiss him again. Moving in tandem you ended up leaning against a shelf with Reiji’s arm pinning you there, your arms holding onto his collar to prevent him pulling away too soon. 

Unfortunately, Reiji has to ensure you take in air so moves back. Opening the box, he removes a key, turning it over in his hands.

“This key is to my father’s laboratory here, he used it when he was visiting us as children. I sealed it off years ago and elected to use my room for my experiments. However, due to the chemicals it is not safe for you to sleep there so they must be moved.” 

“What’s wrong with my room?”

“It is a guest room, I’m not going to sleep every night in a guest bedroom in my own home. No, my room must be altered to fit its needs and to do so I shall reclaim the laboratory as my own to allow you to rest safely.”

All you could do is follow along as Reiji began to return back downstairs, gazing down at the box of pictures. Looking at the sad younger Reiji you couldn’t help but compare him to the cool, confident man he had become.

Ayato Sakamaki

Ayato had demanded you meet him in the garden of the castle that evening, something about having something special to show you. You weren’t sure what to expect really, surprises with Ayato were often either very nice or sweet but messy failures. Breakfast in bed when you’ve never cooked before was a bad idea in hindsight, even he had to admit. Still as the night started to fade into dawn you made your way to the gardens, examining the sights around you as you went. 

The father of the Sakamaki’s had summoned them to return for some festival of sorts. Ayato had been vague in describing it, rather unhappy to be returning. It seemed like some carnival was being set up, you hoped it was a carnival anyway. As you ponder the pros of encouraging Ayato’s competitiveness to win you stuffed toys you eventually reach the garden. Opening the glass doors you see Ayato sitting on a blanket, under the stone gazebo and some candles lit around. He had a few plates of your favourite deserts around as well as takoyaki. He grinned as you approached, arms crossed and pride beaming from his face.

“I set this all up, yours truly is the best boyfriend ever, and I have a present for you.” Pulling out a box with a bow stuck on the lid, he gestured for you to open it. You sat down cross legged, opening the box to reveal a collection of photos. 

Lifting some out you realise these were the photos Ayato had burnt after he had first met you, before you had started dating. They looked untouched. Ayato, not trusting your silence, began to speak again.

“Ore-sama got the familiars to find copies and I had those losers in the tech club at school print them. They couldn't say no to yours truly. Do you like it?”

“Why did you do all this, you threw them into the fire.” Ayato blushed before looking away, a hand on his neck.

“I…felt…bad about making you cry like that. It’s only fun when you cry from my bites, not over that stuff.” 

Your sniffling brought his attention back to you, panic spreading across his face. Pulling you into his lap and holding you close as his brain froze trying to find the best course of action. Your hands rising up to hold his cheeks as you attempted to calm down, a smile on your face.

“It’s ok, they’re happy tears. I’m happy Ayato.”

“Are you sure, don’t lie to yours truly.”

“I’m not, I swear! Thank you Ayato, these photos are important to me.”

Sighing in relief, Ayato leant back letting his head thunk against one of the gazebo pillars. 

“Damn it, you’re not meant to cry when Ore-sama gives you gifts.”

Running his fingers along your back. You began rifling through some of the photos noticing some new additions to the collection. There, between the photos of a younger you were pictures of you and Ayato on various dates. You, completely unaware of the camera while Ayato was looking and seemingly taking each photo. There was also one picture of a painting, it was of three boys with the child on the left resembling a much younger version of your boyfriend. 

“I didn’t know you had any childhood photos of Ayato.”

“It’s the only one, you can’t have a collection of photos without one of yours truly to admire.”

Giggling you sit back leaning against his chest while you both began to enjoy your picnic and company. 

Laito Sakamaki

You were currently facing a big problem, for some reason the 2nd year history department had decided to assign a project discussing your family history…in detail. So you were currently stressed out of your mind trying to figure out how to worm your way out of this one. Laito was covered, his family history well laid out as a royal and all of his ancestors having false human lives, it basically wrote itself. Yet here you were unable to write anything. It’s not that you were necessarily ashamed of your orphan status, and your close companions now also ‘brides’ of the Sakamaki’s were virtually sisters and you could maybe write about them. But people always got weird about orphans, and while you weren’t ashamed to be one by any means, being Laito’s girlfriend let alone a Sakamaki girlfriend involved gossip, it came with the territory. Extra rich boys in a school full of rich kids would always mean they were an aim for many girls and their parents alike, let alone Laito’s colourful past meaning he’d slept with basically any 2nd year heiress he could say a word to. All of them convinced they’d be the one to make him want to stay, and all of them feeling the same disappointment or satisfaction when one failed. Then in comes a girl under a sponsorship by said extra rich kid’s father who then ends up dating each of them effectively removing them from the market, and meaning every single girl, generally all conventionally very attractive and whom most men would gladly keep as girlfriend, being ‘beaten’ as they saw it by someone with no assets. 

So to put a long story short, while you weren't super torn up about not having an easy to explain family tree, you weren’t ready to deal with everyone’s response to that little tidbit. All of this led you to now, sitting with Laito as he brushed your hair listening to your predicament.

“Like whatever about the teacher getting weird, I’ll gladly take the free pass to ask for extra stuff. But you really made everything difficult. I can handle snide remarks from Hana, Aoi, and Emiko; they're mostly harmless. Yet, if they get it in their heads that I don’t have parents to cause any issues they might get worse.” You stopped to pick up some popcorn, holding your arm backwards to give Laito some. He took the opportunity to lick your fingers, snickering as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on your jeans. 

“Don’t be nasty, I'm having a serious talk. I just… some of the 1st year girls were horrid to Subaru’s girlfriend just for finding out she had been at a boarding school. They cornered her in the bathroom and stuck gum in her hair. Gum! Like yeah me and the girls tore them a new one but…gum!”

Humming thoughtfully, Laito placed down the brush switching to running his fingers through your hair. He moved to rest his head on your shoulder, letting a comfortable silence sit over you while he thought of what to say.

“If you want, I can get you a family tree in full detail”

“How would you even do that, if you just make people up and anyone finds out then it's worse.”

“We could always make one~”

A pillow to the face shut that idea down, laughing as he fell backwards against the cushions while you were glaring at him.

“Be serious! What am I meant to do?”

Sitting back up, Laito took your hand pulling you up.

“Follow me.”

Walking through the manor, Laito took you to a less well maintained wing. Cobwebs littered the hallway and the wallpaper was peeling slightly in patches, there weren't any electrical lights either, only wall sconces with candles Laito lit as you walked by. Laito was silent for most of the journey, only giving a hand squeeze of reassurance whenever you caught his eye. You weren’t sure if the squeeze he gave passing a portrait of Cordelia was to reassure you or him, whenever you even heard of that woman it sent shivers down your spine.

Paintings became more common the further you walked, most were of adults with a vague similarity to Laito and his brothers, others were portraits of women in beautiful dresses with a characteristic pale visage. Finally stopping in front of a picture of three young boys with a signature red and purple haired look.

“This is the only painting or picture of me and any of my brothers together. Me and the other triplets don't argue as much as Shu and Reiji but we aren’t close,” he turned, taking your hands in his. “You have sisters, actual sisters who you have stories and pictures with. Anyone who disagrees, I will handle.” 

“Gum in my hair Laito. It’s not a good look.” Laito sighs, pulling you close before you hear him mutter.

“Theirs will look worse when I cut it all off.”

Kanato Sakamaki

“Dolly, why are you in here?”

Turning to greet Kanato from where you sat in the quiet wing of the Sakamaki manor, placing your sketchbook back down beside you and making room for your boyfriend to sit nearby.

“I come here to sketch the portraits since I can’t get a good wifi connection to look up references. I really like this painting, it’s of you right?” 

Kanato sat down looking up at the painting then to your sketch. It was different to the painting in many ways, the main difference being that it was a younger him alone with teddy. You had changed his posing too slightly to make him look less nervous. He was pinching his fingertips though, a sign he was uncomfortable that he picked up from the exercises he had copied you doing to help regulation. You could see he was struggling to find his wording. Scooting closer you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to reassure him you cared and were listening. 

“It’s pretty, but dolly I don’t like you being here.”

“Why Kanato? It’s nice here, nobody comes here to interrupt or be loud and there's all these pretty paintings. What’s wrong?” Continuing to play with his fingers, he moves closer to you turning to face you straight on.

“This is where…her room used to be. We have to leave me and Teddy hate it here.” Immediately you were filled with questions. While you knew Kanato, Ayato, and Laito killed their mother and have mixed feelings towards her, you had never seen Kanato spooked. It did explain why this area was not well maintained. You had to bring a brush with you during your first visits to the wing to remove some of the largest cobwebs and first from your seat. However, you had to admit that with the newfound knowledge that these halls were where your boyfriend had been tormented by his own mother for centuries it changed the atmosphere. Suddenly the quiet was now tense, the weathered appearance of the halls becoming creepy signs of lifetimes long since passed. 

So you went along with Kanato’s instruction, returning to the more familiar manor where Reiji had familiars ensuring everything was organised and dustless. Following behind while mulling over the best way to approach this particular conversation. He led you to his room, sitting on his bed with your sketchbook and flipping through it. Pacing the path from his bedside locker to his balcony doors slowly, Kanato watched you. Around your fifth lap he gently grabbed your forearm guiding you to sit next to him, playing with the pages of your sketchbook. He turned to one of your favourites, you had drawn Kanato sitting in front of a backdrop of rose bushes. A small smile on his lips and a glint of childish glee in his eyes.

“I’m hanging this one up.”

“That one isn’t fully vanished, it's only a sketch.”

“But I like it, so it’s finished and I want it on my wall. And I want a matching one of you to go beside it.”

Sighing in acceptance you took his hand winding your fingers with his. It was probably better to shelf some questions anyway, while you were well past the stage of Kanato stabbing you with a fork for too many questions it was still not always easy to bring up sensitive topics. 

Subaru Sakamaki

“Oi, idiot the car is outside. Are you ready to go or what?”

Grabbing your earrings and standing, you began walking over to your boyfriend in a new sundress and short heels for a lunch meeting with Christa at some new vampire restaurant she had taken a liking to. In the years following yours and Subaru’s relationship, both of you had begun to put work into  helping both Subaru and his mother move forwards in their lives and reducing the impact their past traumas had on them. It was a slow and difficult progress with what felt like 100 steps back after every step forward but Christa had reached the point where her good days outnumbered her bad ones with the help of a team of specialists and patience. 

Within the last half a year Christa had begun to travel short distances from her home, a fairly new cottage Subaru had built her close to the manor after we graduated from Ryoutei Academy. Today’s trip was to a cafe she had been to numerous times with her trusted hand maids, so it was an obvious choice for the first excursion you and Subaru were joining in on. On Subaru’s part you had nothing but admiration and pride for the strides he had taken, he still had periods of self doubt often linked to birthdays and when his father was involved. However, such episodes were short and he had grown into more healthy responses to these thoughts, that still didn’t reduce his worries when interacting with his mother in environments that could trigger an episode. It took reassurances from Christa and her therapist to show that there was a set of precautions to ensure her safety before he agreed to this lunch. 

That brought you to today, where your boyfriend adjusted the collar of his pale grey shirt and looked at you with eyes that clearly showed his trepidation about this trip. Looping your arm around his as you made your way to the car you offered reassurance.

“She’s been looking forward to this lunch, she goes there every week at this point it's basically the same as when we have dinner with her.”

“The first time we had dinner with her she started screaming at your halfway through thinking you were a thief, before she tried to cut your hair off.”

“That’s not a fair comparison and you know it. Christa has found medicines that work and worked with Dr. Estelle for years now.”

“You know she  wants you to call her mum.”

“She’ll be mum when you get on the ring choosing we both agreed last time at dinner remember. She even offered to help you plan everything.”

Grunting, he looked away squeezing your arm while opening the passenger side door of his porsche. The ride was mostly quiet with you running your shared spotify playlist with Subaru mentioning concerns for you to counter with considerations made to address them. Once you arrived at the cafe Subaru relaxed quickly seeing Christa behaving normally. 

As always, you were greeted with hugs and excited interrogations as to the going ons of your life since your last visit. Christa had been so kind as to give recommendations based on your individual tastes, having an excellent grasp on the menu. She was also so kind as to bring an album of photos her staff had made of Subaru growing up to allow her to feel more included in his life while locked in that tower. 

“Oh my goodness! He looks so cute here, when was this one?”

You pointed to a photo of a roughly 8 year old Subaru sitting on a wooden table licking a spoon covered in some batter. Smudges of the batter were on his cheeks and shirt as a fire was lit in the background. It was a cosy image and something you had seen Subaru do before. Anytime you baked anything he insisted on spoon cleaning duty to ‘make it easier to clean’.

“Ah, one of my ladies in waiting had that painted after she heard me talking about how happy I was during that visit.”

“I love it, Subaru was such a cute kid!”

“I don’t see what's so cute, I’m just stuffing my face there.”

“Oh shish Subaru. She’s right, you were an adorable kid with cute little cheeks.” To emphasise her point she pinched his cheeks while cooing at him. Subaru only scowled in response, but it held no actual malice behind his glare.

While leaving the cafe, after nearly 5 hours of catching up, Christa pulled you aside to give you the picture claiming she had hundreds more. During the drive home Subaru kept looking at you admiring the photo. 

“You can always take pictures of me ya now. You don’t need to use a kid photo of me for that.”

“I have photos of you, I just like this one, it's special.”

“You’re such a weird woman.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 2

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 2: constricting deals

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"Come on Mrs. Dragon Demon, you really think I don't have cameras everywhere?" Vox remarked from his chair. We were in his dressing room, where there were no visible cameras, and I sat on the other only comfortable chair in the room. We were both exhibiting relaxed, nonchalant behavior. Vox was leaning his screen on his hand while the other tapped or gestured every so often.

I was leaning back in the chair, legs crossed elegantly, and hands folded comfortably in my lap. "You haven't noticed anything strange about trucks going into certain towns or cities?"

I wore the same outfit I always wore when dealing with anything outside the haven. It was the same maroon shirt and gray dress pants I wore when interrogating the women from Blackwater's remaining clan. My Demon attributes were clearly visible, minus my wings, and my face was set in a hard stare.

"Hundreds of trucks go into cities. None of them have Blackwater's symbol on them."

"He--they--wouldn't be that obvious," I reminded.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He turned both palms to the sky in annoyance.

I let out a sigh, showing my own annoyance. "I want you to watch all the trucks that come into major cities and park in suspicious areas and alleys."

"You must have a lot of faith in my abilities." His annoyance turned to smugness, his sharp blue teeth making their appearance. "But I cannot focus my attention on over a hundred cities and towns."

"Just cities. The clan is small so they'll go to places with the most buyers. And you have plenty of souls to do that work for you."

"And why exactly would I do this?" he raised a single eyebrow in question, "This doesn't fall under the terms of our deal."

"Everyone wants to claim victory over Blackwater. You would share that victory with me."

"Now that you've told me how to do it, why would I need to share it with you?"

I abruptly stood up at that. "Need I remind you who actually killed him?" His smile fell. "I don't actually need your help. It would make things easier but I am in no need of your assistance. If you do not wish to be known as one of the Overlords who rid the surface of the last traces of Blackwater, then this conversation is over."

I turned, tail smoothly flicking behind me, and walked to the door. I had grabbed the door handle when he asked, "You consider yourself an Overlord, now?"

There was a pause. "I do. What of it?" I looked over my shoulder, not yet fully facing him.

"I figured you would keep the title open for Alastor's return." He paused. "He has returned, hasn't he? It's been seven years."

"It's been eight, actually." I finally faced him and slid my hands into my pockets. "And no, he hasn't. I will not stand by and wait for him to return. I have more important things to take care of in his absence."

Vox stood from his chair and crossed the room. He put his hands behind his back like Alastor, one of the many traits he purposefully picked up, and said with a smile, "He hasn't even left a note for you?"

"This conversation is about Blackwater, not Alastor," I hissed, baring my teeth, "Will you assist me or will you hide away in your station to let me do all the hard work?"

Again, his smile fell. "I'll let you know if I find anything suspicious." His sarcastic, bothered tone was bothering me.

I nodded and opened the door. Before disappearing down the hall I said, "Give Valentino my regards," and flipped him off.

****

I finished the cold glass of water and placed it quietly in the sink. A vision about Adam being in Nym and Thatcher's room had interrupted a dream. I had immediately checked their room but they were both sound asleep in their own beds. Adam was nowhere in sight.

I noticed my hand shaking as I put the cup in the sink. I gripped the edges of the counter and leaned over, forcefully taking deep breaths to calm myself. It had been awhile since I last shook like this, since I last felt such a strong sense of fear. One day he was going to intervene again and he was going to use Nym and Thatcher. Since I moved them into the house to join the family, I had been very careful to keep them separated from my life outside the haven.

The vision hadn't shown them dying, only him keeping them really close as a threat. That meant I still had the chance to keep them safe when he did come. Why was he going to intervene again? Was I on Heaven's radar now? Had I become as much of a problem as Alastor had? What exactly did they not like about my actions that warranted an intervention? Was it because I was half Angel? Was it because I was successful half Demon?

My questions would remain unanswered.

Finally composing myself, I left the kitchen and stretched out on the couch. Bad nightmares or visions always made it impossible to go back to sleep in my room. I spread out my magic as I drifted into a half sleep, my magic keeping vigil for any unwanted, divine visitors.

The familiar, warm presence of my family surrounded my mind. Their colorful souls lay still as they drifted in their dreams, as did the rest of the haven. The warmth of the sun touched my feet as it tried desperately to squeezed through the curtains. Soon the children would wake up and pull me from a restless sleep.

Yet it wasn't them who woke me up.

Alastor's hallucination came back. It was the fourth time this week he had appeared. I thought I had gotten over his disappearance but the anniversary of it two days ago seemed to send me back twelve steps. My emotions were all over the place and my irritation with Blackwater's legacy was ever growing.

I looked over my shoulder at the hallucination to acknowledge it, which was the first step in dealing with them, then turned back to press my face into the couch.

"I'm back, my love."

My ears pinned back against my head. It had been years since one of his hallucinations spoke. The first two years of it had been torturous for me, sending me up and down and back and forth. It took help from Lucifer to learn how to manage them. Eventually they turned into speechless hallucinations until they no longer plagued me.

But now they were returning. It was getting bad again.

"Go away," I said. It didn't answer me right away.

"Darling?"

"I said go away. I know you're not real." The second step to the speaking hallucination was to repeatedly remind myself it wasn't actually there. "I know you're not real."

"My love I am very real." Those were the exact words his previous ones had spoken, too.

"I just want to sleep. Go away. You're not real."

"My darling, I am real. I am back. I am home." I heard it shuffle and turned to see his hallucination kneeling beside the couch, hand grabbing my shoulder.

I freaked.

I slapped the hand off my shoulder and launched myself backwards off the couch. "No! This isn't happening again!" I scrambled back into the corner of the room and covered myself with my wings. My claws dug dangerously hard into my scalp as I squeezed my eyes shut.

The last time a hallucination had gotten physical, I nearly lost myself to my trapped souls. Had Charlie not come to meet with me about the haven, she wouldn't have gotten her father in time and my own magic and owned souls would have torn me apart.

"You're not real! You're not real! Go away! You can't take me again!" I repeatedly yelled, careful not to be too loud. I didn't want Nym and Thatcher to see me like this. Worst of all, I didn't want them to be unable to see my hallucination. It terrified me when people couldn't see what I could see. It made me feel alone in the struggle, fearful of something that no one could protect me against.

But Lucifer could help. He led me through it last time, he could do it again.

I reached for Reagan's soul and grabbed it. She jerked awake in time to hear my call. Her feet tapped loudly on the wood as she jumped every two stairs. The quick patter of her feet stopped at the entrance of the living room.

"You."

I lowered my wings just enough to see her standing in her night clothes, eyes fixated on Alastor's towering figure near the fireplace.

My wings disappeared as I slowly pushed myself to my knees. My mouth dropped open, my eyes jumped from him to her, and my heart drummed in my ears. She could see him. She could see him.

"You can see him?" I asked quietly. Reagan's eyes were sympathetic at my question.

"My dear, I am real. I am home. This isn't—"

"Get away from her!" Reagan snapped, jumping between me and him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"How long has it been?" he asked carefully, voice restrained and full of radio static.

"Eight fucking years."

There was a pause. "Do not speak to me in such a way." He took a step forward but Reagan didn't move. Once upon a time, she was barely past his hip height and hardly spent five seconds in the same room as him. Now, she stood at his shoulder level going toe to toe with him.

"Then don't treat my mother in such a way," she shot back.

"Mother?" Alastor's eyes fell on my huddled form. He attempted to move past her again but she stepped in his way. He slammed his cane on the floor loudly. "This is a matter between the two of us. Kindly step aside."

"Your disappearance did so much damage that it's become a matter between all of us." She gestured widely, referring to everyone I knew.

As if on cue, Husker walked in the front door. His eyes instantly fell on his old master and his fur stood straight up. "You're back?" he hissed, "Where have you been?"

Alastor was visibly frustrated. "I wish to have a conversation with her alone."

Everyone turned their eyes on me. I had fallen back in the corner with my claws digging into my scalp, whispering to myself that it was just a dream. I would wake up soon. It was just a nightmare.

Time to wake up.

"Look what you've done to her!" Regan pointed a finger at my pathetic, huddled form. "This involves all of us, especially me and Husker, because we're the ones who had to deal with how it affected her."

Deal with?

I glanced at Husker but he wasn't looking at me. Had I been difficult to be around? Everyone kept telling me to rely on them, to talk to them, to not keep everything bottled up. It had become annoying to me that they kept asking so I eventually obliged. Had that been the wrong decision? Had they regretted telling me to open up?

I watched something in Alastor's eyes and demeanor change. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. He said, "This is the last time I ask. Step aside so I can speak with her alone."

Reagan touched her shoulder blades together and lifted her chin defiantly.

"No."

Alastor's shadow slipped from his feet to grab her legs. I launched from the corner as Alcine snatched his shadow away. I morphed into a form halfway between my Demon and Dragon form, claws firmly on either side of Reagan and mouth open in a slimy snarl over her shoulder.

"Do not touch her," I snapped near his face. He stumbled back into the mantle, causing the frame of his mother's picture to shatter on the floor. Something red snapped in my mind, in his mind, a moment before both of us were engulfed in shadows.

I wrestled with his magic and managed to pull myself out and splash into the ocean. I casted myself onto the beach as he manifested. His black tentacles sprouted from his back to grab at my limbs. I changed into my Dragon form and closed my jaws around the tentacles. Several more grabbed at my arms and feet but I casted water to slice them off.

I spun around with my tail outstretched. He disappeared a breath's moment before it contacted his body. My tail slammed painfully into the sharp rocks.

Stop! Stop fighting! Calm down!

My own thoughts had no control over my actions. The most I could do was pull my punches but it wasn't a great amount. I was so angry. It was blinding. It was satisfying. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

His presence striked down on my mind and physically slammed my head into the sand with it. I followed his magic and attempted to do the same to him. His mind abruptly closed shut before I could, slingshotting me back into my own body.

He attempted to deprive me of oxygen but that was easy to deflect, forcefully opening my throat and sucking the air in. I felt him manifest behind me and kicked up sand in his face. I heard him yell as his grip on my mind loosened.

I wrenched my head off the ground and lunged for him. My body unwillingly changed into my Demon form before I could reach him. Tentacles grabbed my body and pulled me so hard into the ground that it knocked the wind out of me.

Alastor's magic grabbed my mind more forcefully, enveloping it in his magic and squeezing my veins painfully tight. I contorted in the sand, mouth agape in a silent scream, as he moved to stand beside me.

My anger changed to fury. I pushed against his mind as my body pushed against his tentacles. I attempted magic again but he shut that down instantaneously. My face dug roughly into the sand as I tried to physically wiggle out of the extra limbs to no avail.

Tears streamed down my face at the helplessness, at the hurt, at the rage I was feeling towards someone I cared so much about. I hadn't even realized until he was gone how much I actually cared about him. Our relationship had progressed so far but was stripped away when he disappeared. Struggling in the sand, it felt like we had gone back to when I was first trapped in the house.

"Darling, please hear what I have to say," he tried gently.

"You left me!" I screamed. I dug my heels into the sand further until my claws were separating to a painful degree.

"It was not intentional."

"You did it anyway!" I pressed my chest off the beach, slowly pushing myself to all fours. "Why the hell did you leave me?" The tears wouldn't stop. I looked so pathetic trapped by his magic, sobbing, and screaming. My breathing came in horrible gasped whines.

"If you will calm yourself enough to have a conversation, I can explain myself."

"I have every right to be angry." I managed to lift my head enough to glare up at his red, towering form. His claw was clinging to his microphone, the other arm behind his back. I attempted magic again, this time reaching for his soul. Something sharp and vile grabbed at my own soul in response. My strength was ripped from my grip and I fell back into the sand.

"Do not attempt that again," he commanded.

"I'll do whatever I want." I coughed on inhaled sand. "It's what I've been doing since you left eight years ago."

He let out an irritated sigh. "You are being difficult. I am attempting to be civil so we can properly reunite."

His tentacles were bruising me. "Properly? You didn't properly leave!"

I was pulled up to my knees and he roughly grabbed my chin so we would meet eyes. "This is as painful for me as it is for you. You deserve the right to an explanation. That is what I am attempting to give you."

I jerked my chain out of his grip and stared down at the black appendages. My ears were pinned back and my throat squeezed from another onslaught of tears. I had so much anger still left in me.

He knelt down so we were eye level and held out a red claw. "I have missed you so much, my dear. Please allow me to explain what happened, to explain why I couldn't return sooner."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" I grumbled, glancing once at his red eyes.

"Couldn't."

I looked at him again. His smile was close-lipped and as small as I had ever seen him able to do. The tears clouded my vision so I dropped my head further, my hair a curtain between both our faces. My anger was dissipating and slowly being replaced with overwhelming sadness.

He withdrew his magic from my mind and his tentacles from my body. I slumped backwards on my tail before repositioning on my heels. I folded my arms in my lap and kept my face downcasted. I had to force my breathing in a steady pattern.

I heard him let out a sigh as he stood up. "I dealt my soul to someone long ago." He came to kneel in front of me again, black clothed knee coming into view. He tried to touch my hand but I pulled it away. He didn't press. "They called upon me and I could not ignore it."

I took a deep breath before asking, "Why didn't you leave a note?"

"It was sudden. I was called and trapped within...something."

"What do you mean?" I lifted my head just enough to see the collar flaps of his coat.

"It was...dark. There was nothing and no one else around me. I suppose you could call it a type of limbo."

I was inclined to believe him. For all eight years I had no way of reaching him in Hell or on the surface. "You couldn't leave?"

"Not until my dealer permitted me so," the answer sounded angry and strained.

"Why did they...do that to you?"

"They wouldn't explain."

That one felt like a lie.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, feeling the invisible bruises from our fight. Was this real or would I wake up tomorrow to an empty bed and broken soulbond?

"You were the only thing on my mind," he went on, "I wanted to do nothing more than to return to you. I knew you were suffering on my behalf but I wasn't aware how badly."

"I don't believe you're actually here."

"I am here, my love." He dared a gentle claw on my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his own. "I am real. I am here in front of you. I am home. I will not leave you alone again. That was not fair to you."

I pulled my face away as tears fell down my cheeks. He softly cupped my face with both claws and pulled my head up again. I grabbed his wrists and tried to pull free from his grip.

"Please do not fight me, love."

"You were gone for so long." My voice wavered. "I had to...had to pick myself up and piece it back together again."

"That must've been hard." He drew my face in closer, touching our foreheads despite my attempts to keep away.

"I had to protect the haven. I had to take care of everyone. I had to take care of myself. All on my own."

"You did well."

"I had to live every day like I didn't love you."

"Love me?"

I stopped resisting. My eyes widened, jumping up to see his surprise.

I wrenched my face free from his hands and hopped away. He grabbed my tail and held it long enough to wrap an arm around my waist. My hands closed around his wrists but he was impossibly stronger than me, arms fully encasing me in a tight embrace.

He held my back firmly against his chest as his face rubbed against my red cheek. I dropped my weight but, as expected, it did nothing. His one arm was over my shoulder and holding onto the other while his second arm stayed hooked on my hip. My claws gripped his arms dangerously tight.

"Do you mean that?" I felt his smile against my neck.

"Mean what?" I muttered with a sniffle.

"That you love me."

"I did until you left me." I pushed back into him but all it did was make him take a step back to catch himself.

He placed a kiss on my cheek and it brought me to a screeching halt. "I am sorry I caused you such pain. It was not of my own choosing and I was suffering just the same."

He drew me into his mind just enough to see the vast emptiness. I could only see his red claws and coat. There was no sound, no light, no soul, nothing. It felt cold.

I blinked back to the beach. He unwrapped his arms and I turned around to face him. His smile had no teeth and his eyes looked concerned. I couldn't hear his thoughts but I could feel the ghost traces of something painful.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I have missed you so much." He drew one hand up to run the back of his knuckles along my cheek, just like he used to do. "May I kiss you?"

I almost laughed. Blunt and forthcoming. That was the way of Alastor.

My nod was so small I worried he didn't see it. A second later, though, he leaned down to press his warm lips into mine. His claws hooked on that sweet spot behind my jaw and under my ear, pulling me further into the kiss. A jolt of excitement coursed through my body.

It felt foreign yet familiar. Warmth radiated off him as if it were sun stroking my cheek. His hair brushed against my forehead and his lips moved ever slightly against mine.

He pulled away too soon and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. Something unraveled in me.

I dropped my head as I choked on a sob. He put a hand on the back of my head as the other drew me in from behind. I fisted the back of his coat, face pressing firmly into his chest. I could barely smell his sweet, smokey wood scent through my clogged nose.

My whole body shook with every sob. The tears were releasing every possible emotion and feeling I had stored away so deeply for so long. The anger, the sadness, the confusion, the relief, all of it. It hurt my head and turned everything white when I coughed on my own spit.

"You will make yourself sick, darling." He pulled me away just enough to look down at my wet face. He used magic to dampen the overwhelming feelings, drying my face, unclogging my nose, and easing the headache.

"I've been through worse," I gurgled.

"You won't have to face anything alone, anymore." He kissed my forehead again.

I sniffed on nothing. "I wasn't done crying, you know."

"I know." He pulled me in for another hug. This time I drew in long, deep breaths of his scent. I heard him do the same on the top of my head. "But I need you to calm a raging teenager before she reaches us."

I looked over my shoulder to see Reagan sprinting up the beach. I didn't realize how far we had gone from the house. I could see it sitting on the cliffside but the haven wasn't visible from here. We were on the uninhabited side.

"She's not a teenager anymore. She's twenty-one now." I saw Husker flapping from the land side.

"Good thing Humans don't live long."

I pulled out of his embrace and crossed my arms. "I have half the mind to let her rip you apart on my behalf."

"That would not be ideal," he remarked gently.

I smiled despite myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Ta daaaaa

I wrote this scene like four different times before I settled on this version

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

[corroded-hellfire]

Where the Heart Is, Part 5 - Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 4

Summary: It’s your Spring Break and you and Eddie are headed out on a road trip. With a large looming question that you want to ask him hanging over your head, will you find a reason why you shouldn’t ask it, chicken out, or go through with it?

Note: I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I started this story. Honestly, it was never supposed to be a series. I thought it would be a one and done cute little story. But I was amazed by the number of people who said they’d love to see a continuation, and now here we are! Part 5 is the last part, but rest assured, there will be a epilogue soon to come.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral (m and f receiving), previously agreed upon somnophilia

Words: 17.5k

[Where the Heart Is masterlist]

The countdown to spring break is almost at its end. For you and Nancy, the timer headed for zero is just about to take its victory lap. Both you and your best friend have elected to take the Friday before break off, giving you a jumpstart on your vacation. The two of you only had one class each that day, and they were classes you could afford to skip. 

This way, Nancy can catch an earlier flight back to Indianapolis and get started on her and Steve’s romantic little getaway to Chicago, and you and Eddie can get your road trip down the Atlantic coast started before some of that other Spring Break traffic weaves its way onto the major highways. 

Bags are already packed and shoved into the corners of your respective dorms, only the essentials you’ll need for the night and in the morning not zipped away yet. Nancy has a pretty early flight out of Boston in the morning and Eddie’s catching the red eye in, so morning is going to come quickly for the three of you. You get to sleep in a little bit longer since Eddie is renting the car you’ll be taking on your road trip at the airport, then driving it down to pick you up on campus. You’d be a fool not to take advantage of those extra minutes of beauty sleep while awaiting your handsome prince to arrive with his chariot. 

The dark morning will arrive sooner than either of you’d like, so it was decided that you and Nancy would have a nice, long dinner together in the dining hall before retiring to your dorms to relax and try to get some sleep. Realistically though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to relax until you triple checked you had everything packed that you needed, and even then, the excitement of seeing your boyfriend would keep you awake. 

“How many bathing suits did you pack?” Nancy asks you as she drizzles the ranch dressing onto her salad. The dining hall is at about its usual capacity, just a bit louder than normal since everyone is high on the prospect of their impending freedom. 

“Three,” you answer Nancy as you spear a rogue grape with your fork. “I had two that I brought with me to school, then that one I got when we went to the mall together the other week.”

“Oh yeah,” Nancy says. Even looking down at her plate full of colorful salad can’t hide the smirk Nancy’s got going on. “That was a great buy.”

“Because you picked it out,” you say through a laugh. 

“And Eddie will thank me.” She gives you an innocent shrug of her shoulders and stuffs some lettuce and spinach in her mouth. 

The heat in your cheeks increases even as you shake your head at your friend in amusement. The two-piece did look good on you, though. It’s hard for you to admit when something—especially a bathing suit—looks good on you, but Nancy did well picking this one out for you. 

“What about you?” you ask Nancy, eager to have the conversation turned away from you. “Enough dresses for all that fancy schmancy Stancy stuff you’re going to be doing?”

Nancy breaks into giggles at your words, the rhyming scheme including the amalgamation of her and her boyfriend’s names being the cherry on top. 

“Yes,” she finally answers when she’s able to speak coherently. “I’ve got some nice outfits with me. But you make it seem like we’re going to the opera and Windsor Castle. It’s just Chicago. Theatres and restaurants and lots of rats walking down the roads.”

“Make sure to tell them that their pizza is too thick there,” you say, making Nancy roll her eyes.

“I’m not getting into a fight about pizza in Chicago—I’d like to make it to sophomore year here, you know.”

“And away from that friggin’ asylum,” you say, jabbing a fork over your shoulder, in the general direction of where your dorm building is. 

“Yes, thank God,” Nancy concurs with a sigh of relief. She pops a cherry tomato and a basil croton into her mouth and looks as though she’s deliberating something while she chews. “So, when are you going to ask him?”

You knew the question was coming but that doesn’t make you any less twitchy when you hear it. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyes suddenly finding the fruits and cheeses that roll around your plate interesting. “I’m nervous…”

It’s not until Nancy reaches over and places her hand on top of yours that you realize you’ve been shaking. 

“Hey,” Nancy starts softly, ducking her head so she can meet your gaze and give you a comforting smile. “You’re just letting him know it’s an option. You’re not forcing him into anything.”

“I know,” you answer softly. And you do. The fact that it’s a big step is what’s been circling your brain as of late. Would he want it? Would he be ready for it? Are you ready for it? It’s these questions and more that plague your mind every time you try to sleep at night. Yet with all those hours spent pondering, an answer still never comes to you.

The early spring night still has a bit of a chill to it as you and Nancy make the journey from the dining hall back to your dorm building. The two of you part at your room, hugging one another tight enough to potentially cut off some air supply.

“I want to hear about everything when we get back,” Nancy says. She pauses for a moment before amending her statement. “I want to hear about almost everything.” The smirk she gives you has you playfully swatting at her and shooing her down the hall towards her room. 

“Bye!” Nancy calls as she rounds the corner.

The warmth of your dorm room envelops you as you step inside, and triple check your luggage yet again to make sure you have everything you’ll need on your trip. Once you’re satisfied, you pop your VHS tape of Grease into the VCR and curl up in your bed. 

Listening to Frankie Valli sing Grease is the Word is the last thing you remember before you drift off, drooling on your pillow. 

Usually when your alarm wakes you up all you want is to shut it up for at least another hour. But today, the overly shrill chirp has you bright-eyed and bushy tailed as soon as you hear it. It signals that it’s time to see Eddie, which is the best wake up call you could possibly ask for. 

You’re pretty sure you get dressed in record time and nearly trip over your own feet as you shuffle to grab your duffel bag and throw the strap over your shoulder. The stuffed backpack that looks like it’s about to burst at the seams gets balanced precariously on your shoulder as you snatch your keys up from your desk. 

No one told the elevator that you’re supposed to be meeting your boyfriend now, so it takes a year and a day for it to finally ding and let you know it’s ready to take you downstairs. If you weren’t carrying enough to inevitably make you trip down the stairs, you would’ve hoofed it down to the ground floor by now. 

The cool spring morning air greets your skin, and your eyes hungrily search for the familiar mop of curly hair you’ve been dying to see. When your eyes finally catch on him standing near the curb, you have to do a double take. There he stands, handsome as ever with that million-watt smile and intoxicating eyes. But you were expecting to see him standing next to a car, not a van. It’s about the same size as the one he has back in Hawkins, only this one isn’t in dire need of a tune up and a wash. 

Smile never leaving your face, your eyebrows pinch together in confusion as you walk towards him. He meets you halfway and takes the bags from you, setting them on the sidewalk before yanking you into his arms and holding you tight against his chest.

“God, I fucking missed you,” Eddie mumbles into your hair. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his lithe waist, a giddy giggle bursting out of you at being in your boyfriend’s embrace once more. It feels simultaneously like just yesterday and a year since you’ve seen him. 

“Hi, handsome,” you speak into his neck as you burrow your head there. The familiar scent of cigarettes, a hint of weed, and what can only be described as Eddie floods your senses and it almost brings you to tears how happy you are to be with him again. 

“Hi, my gorgeous girl.” Reluctantly, Eddie pulls back, only so he can cup your cheeks in his large ringed hands and press the sweetest and most seductive of kisses to your lips. It’s almost enough to have your knees buckling right then and there in front of your dorm building. 

As you slowly recover from the kiss, your eyes are drawn back to the blue and silver van parked a few feet away from you. It’s oddly reminiscent of Scooby Doo’s Mystery Machine. 

“I thought you were getting a car, baby,” you say as you pick your backpack off the ground. 

“Well,” he says as he hefts the strap of your duffle bag over his shoulder, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you follow Eddie over to the vehicle. 

He yanks open the back door of the van and your jaw drops at the sight. It’s piled with so many pillows and blankets that it looks like he robbed a Bed, Bath, & Beyond. They’re all illuminated in an array of colors as well, as Eddie has clipped multi-colored Christmas lights up around the rim of the ceiling. It looks like the perfect little haven made for just you and Eddie.

“For one,” Eddie says as he shoves your bag over to the side where his are, “it’s cheaper than getting a place to stay every night. Two, it’s uh, cozier.” The mischievous glimmer in his eye has you smiling.

“Cozier, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says as you drop your backpack in the back of the van as well. “More private. Just you and me, cuddled up close. We can even open the door and look at the stars…until we lock ourselves in for the night.”

“I like the way you think, Munson.” You slip your arms around his neck, and he wastes no time wrapping his around your waist. 

“Glad to hear it, baby. Let’s see what other fun ideas I can come up with on this trip.”

The first stop before you really get on the road is the grocery store. You quickly realize that Eddie intends to have more food in the van than actual luggage. 

“Eddie,” you admonish with a laugh as you peer inside the cart. “If you buy one more bag of chips there isn’t going to be any room for us in the van.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Eddie says with a snap of his fingers. He turns down the next aisle, forcing you to follow in his wake. Your boyfriend snatches up a can of whipped cream and you’re not sure how he expects all the cold items you’re buying to fit into the small cooler you have. 

“What is that even for?” you ask, eyes scanning for what the whipped cream could possibly be sprayed on top of.

“Oh, you’ll see.” Eddie playfully gives your ass a light smack before pushing the now-heavy cart toward the checkout counters. 

Once the two of you officially commence on your road trip, you immediately realize you underestimated how hard being the navigator was going to be. The large map is stretched out across your lap and half of the dashboard. The sound of crinkling paper is a constant in the car as you fuss with the map, turning it this way and that to figure out how you’re supposed to be looking at it. 

“Please don’t have us driving off a cliff,” Eddie begs. “I’d like for us to make it to North Carolina in one piece.”

“Cliffs? Nah. But will I inadvertently tell you to make a turn that leads us to Midtown Manhattan? Very possibly.”

“Why?”

“Les Miserables opened on Broadway not too long ago,” you say with a shrug. 

Eddie lets out a guffaw of laughter and shakes his head. “Not until you and me go to see Metallica together, babe.”

Despite all the food the two of you just purchased, the first stop you make is at a diner in New Jersey for lunch. You’ve been on the road for about four hours and your legs are aching to move. 

A long groan emanates from your throat as you hop out of the van and stretch every muscle that you possibly can. There’s a sign just down the road from the diner and if you squint, you can make out what it says.

“Welcome to Woodbridge. Cool, guess we’re in Woodbridge.”

Eddie knocks the driver’s side door of the van closed and walks over to your side. Pinching his thumb, forefinger, and middle fingers together and shaking them in front of him, Eddie says in the worst New Jersey accent that you’ve ever heard, “Welcome to Joisey!”

Lunch is a nice break from driving, but you two haven’t made it terribly far yet so you’re eager to get back on the road. Unfortunately, it isn’t long before the two of you drive right into the middle of a raging storm. 

At first, you’re okay, just hoping the storm will pass by quickly and you’ll be in the clear. But it seems the further you get into it, the darker the skies get and the heavier the rain pounds against the windshield. A particularly loud clap of thunder makes you jump in your seat and let out a little yelp.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says, taking one hand off the wheel and reaching over to take one of yours. “It’s okay.”

You flinch and shake Eddie’s hand off of yours, the motion only making your anxiety worse.

“Please put both hands on the wheel!” you beg, voice wobbling. 

“Okay,” Eddie says as he places his hands back at the ten and two positions. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t want to make it too obvious because you’d probably just yell at him to keep his eyes on the road. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I just…” you trail off, pausing to take a breath. “I don’t like driving in storms. It makes me really, really nervous.”

“All right,” Eddie says, purposely keeping his voice even and calm. “Look, that sign right there says there’s a rest stop in two miles. We’ll pull off there and wait for it to pass, okay?”

“O-Okay,” you stutter. 

In your opinion, it takes an agonizingly long time to go those two miles. But finally, Eddie takes the exit for the rest stop and finds a parking space close to the picnic area—that is currently flooding. The thunder is still roaring above, and the rain sounds like a white noise, blocking out anything else. 

“Hey, c’mere.” Eddie nods his head towards the back of the van and unbuckles his seatbelt. He maneuvers himself between his and your seats and manages to climb into the back. You take a deep breath and follow him, instantly falling into his open arms. Eddie grabs a blanket and wraps it around your body, holding you close against his chest. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”

“I-I know,” you sniffle. 

Eddie presses a few kisses to the top of your head and rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. Being in the hollow bed of the van seems to make the echo of the thunder louder than it was while you were driving. The way you tense up even further in Eddie’s hold has him furrowing his brow. He reaches over and flicks the strings of Christmas lights on.

“You know, these are the ones we bought together,” he tells you. “When you came to stay for Christmas.”

“R-Really?” you ask, mildly trembling. 

“Mhmm. Was worried security at the airport would question me about what I was doing with half a dozen strands of lights, but apparently, they have bigger problems.”

You give a huff of laughter in response, but Eddie can tell that it’s forced. His eyes scan the back of the van and land on his guitar case tucked up against the back of the driver’s seat. He unwraps one arm from you and reaches to bring it closer. Impressively, he unlatches the clasps with one hand and slips his guitar out. 

“Here, princess.” Eddie gently moves you so you’re nuzzled up into a pile of blankets and settles the guitar in his lap. He clears his throat and starts to gently strum at the strings, plucking them harder to amp up the volume and hopefully distract you from the loud sounds of the storm. 

It works. The more you focus on Eddie, both watching and listening to him, the calmer you feel yourself become. A small smile tugs at your lips when Eddie throws a wink your way. He plays and plays until his fingers start to cramp, the storm outside still trying to outshine him. With a sigh, Eddie sets his guitar back in the case and scoots over to you in the mass of blankets. He snuggles up into the pile with you and you curl into his side, laying your head right over his heart. 

“Thank you,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

The rain somehow sounds soothing when you’re nestled up with Eddie. His hands softly trail over your body, relaxing you further. 

Eddie looks down at you and a small smile curls the edges of his mouth when he sees your eyes growing heavy. He wracks his brain for a slow, soft song that could help lull you into a nap. Gently, Eddie lays his head against yours and begins to hum Open Arms by Journey. Before he can even finish the song, your eyes are fully closed, and your breathing has evened out. Eddie knows he won’t be able to move without waking you up, but he doesn’t mind one bit as he holds you in his arms. His right arm, left arm, hell, his whole body could fall asleep, but he still wouldn’t move a muscle.

The first thing you think as you start to wake up is how comfortable you are. Wrapped in soft blankets, strong arms around you, and your head resting on your boyfriend’s chest. Slowly, you open your eyes and blink them a few times, the multicolored little lights looking blurry to your adjusting eyes. 

“Well, good morning.”

Stretching your muscles as much as you can in your cocoon of blankets, you tip your head up to give Eddie a sleepy smile.

“Mm, it’s not really morning, is it?” you ask, still somewhat groggy.

“No, it’s only been a couple of hours.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you say. “Much more relaxed.” The source of your original anxiety comes back to you and only then do you realize that there’s no sound of wind, rain, thunder, or anything at all. 

“Good.”

“Thank you for helping me,” you say as you sit up, letting Eddie move for the first time in hours. 

“Always, baby,” he says as he shakes his arms out, trying to get the blood flowing again. 

Slowly, you crawl over to peek out the front window from between the seats. You’d swear it was like there was never a single raindrop with how lovely it looks outside. 

“The sun looks so pretty now,” you remark, squeezing one eye shut as the bright light hurts your still-sleepy eyes. 

“Oh!” Eddie says with a snap of his fingers. “That reminds me.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to see Eddie rummaging through an old, red duffle bag emblazoned with the Marlboro insignia on the sign. The tip of his tongue pokes out in concentration as he continues his search, and you just sit back on your heels and watch him.

“What’re you look—”

“Aha!” Eddie raises his fist above his head in victory, accidentally bumping it against the roof. He lets out a small huff of pain as he zips the duffle closed with the other hand and turns to face you. “Come here.”

As best as you can in the cramped space, you turn and crawl on your knees in his direction. When you stop in front of him, you look up at him expectantly. 

“Okay. I was a good dog and obeyed my command,” you tease. “Do I get a treat?”

“Actually…” Eddie trails off, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You do.” Eddie grabs one of your hands and holds it palm side up. He gently places a small black velvet bag in your hand, then curls your fingers around it.

“What’s this?” you ask when he releases your hands. You inspect the bag but there’s no name or any indication of where this came from or what it is. 

“It’s called a gift.”

You glare at him from beneath your eyelashes before focusing on the object in your hands again.

“Smartass,” you mumble. Carefully, you open the bag and something tiny and silver tumbles out into your palm. You set the bag down and pinch the gift between two fingers to get a closer look at it. It’s a charm for your bracelet. A small sun stares back at you, shiny silver rays haloing the circle.

“You know,” Eddie says, voice unusually sheepish, as you inspect your present. “Since we’re going to the beach for Spring Break.” 

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. Each charm on your bracelet stands for a special moment in your relationship with Eddie, and this is no different. The fact that he wants to commemorate these moments as much as you do gives you a fuzzy feeling far better than the cozy nap you just took. You lower the charm so you’re able to see your boyfriend’s beautiful face. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

Eddie catches you as you practically throw your body against his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. Emotions aren’t always the easiest to express, but you hope that you’re conveying just how touched you are by the strength in which you’re holding onto him. 

“Good,” Eddie says as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Do you want me to put it on you?”

“Yes!” Reluctantly, you let Eddie slip out of your arms and present your left wrist to him. He easily attaches the fourth charm to your bracelet, and it joins the music note, telephone, and “E” that already reside on your favorite piece of jewelry. 

“There ya go,” Eddie says as he watches you admire your new addition. 

“How did I get the sweetest boyfriend in the world?” you ask as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his. 

“I guess you’re just that amazing, huh?” You feel his breath hit your lips as Eddie lets out a small chuckle. “Mm, what do you say we get back on the road?”

In your own perfect little bubble with Eddie right now, you forgot that the two of you were even headed somewhere. It even takes your mind a second to remember where, because it’s so filled with Eddie. 

The beach, you remind yourself. We’re going to the beach in North Carolina because Eddie’s never seen the ocean and that’s another “first” checked off his list. 

“Yeah, I guess we should.” As you climb back into the passenger seat, you notice the clock on the dashboard. There’s a slight grimace on your face as you turn towards Eddie, who is buckling himself back into the driver’s seat. “I don’t think we’ll get there by sundown.”

Eddie’s eyes go from the clock, to the meticulously positioned map on the dash, then to you.

“Nah, we’re too far out,” he agrees. “We don’t want to push ourselves and we’re not in a hurry. How about we drive a little more for today, then see if we can find a place to park it for the night?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

There’s no more bad weather as you drive down the interstate. The skies are bright blue and powdery clouds float by from time to time. There isn’t much to look at outside the windows, as the highway is surrounded by woods on both sides. Watching pine tree after pine tree go by in a blur can only entertain someone for so long. Occasionally, you’ll see a deer or two out at the edge of the trees, and you squeal in delight each time. It startled Eddie the first couple of times, but he finds your enthusiasm and joy so endearing that he doesn’t care one bit. 

The road stretches on ahead of you, seeming like it will never stop; you’ll be passing the same handful of cars forever until you collectively fall off the edge of the earth. There are signs for exits every few miles, but nothing more interesting than some fast food, gas stations, and hotels. 

The dimmer the sun’s light becomes in the sky, the more you pay attention to the signs you’re passing. Maybe there will be a campsite or a rest stop where you’ll be able to spend the night. But the further you drive, the more agitated you become at not seeing a suitable place for you to stop. Just as you’re about to tip from agitation into anger though, you pass a sign that gives you an idea.

“Hey, Eds? Try taking this exit here,” you say.

“You see something?” he asks as he checks his mirrors to make sure he can safely switch lanes.

“Yeah, something that might work.” 

As Eddie pulls the van off onto the exit ramp, you keep your eyes peeled for a sign of which direction to go now. A blue sign with an arrow pointing right comes into view and you nod your head in that direction.

“This way.”

“Uh, babe?” Eddie says as he pulls out onto the highway. “This seems like a busy little area. I don’t think there’s gonna be any campsites or rest stops down here.”

“Well, apparently there aren’t any on this stretch of the east coast,” you sigh. “But, no, I had an idea. Just keep going this way.”

Eddie has no idea what you could have come up with, but he trusts you, so he follows your directions. 

Just after driving two miles down the road, you spot it.

“Ah, there!” You point to the tall building that seems to rule over all the smaller buildings surrounding it.

“A hospital?” Eddie asks. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at the building, sure he must be wrong about what this place is. But no, there it is on the sign: Mary Washington Hospital. “Why are we at a hospital?”

“Well, think about it,” you say with a shrug. “People are parked at hospitals all hours of the day. It’s not uncommon—especially in front of the emergency room—for families to wait in their car when they’re waiting on someone who’s being seen inside. There are security guards around and it’s pretty well lit, so it’s safe. We’ll just need to hang one of the blankets up to block out any light from coming in through the front windshield.” 

Eddie can’t help but smile as he listens to your reasoning. He’s always known how smart you are, but sometimes the overt cleverness sneaks up and takes him by surprise.

“That is so smart, sweetheart. And we could always walk in and use the public bathrooms in there,” he adds.

“Exactly! And…” you trail off as you try to crane your neck around the area. “Aha! A McDonald’s just across the street. Food and more bathrooms there.”

The van pulls into the parking lot of the hospital and you both decide it’s better to park in the emergency room parking lot, though nowhere close to the building because that’s for people who come here with actual emergencies. 

“All right,” Eddie says as he puts the van into park. “Hungry?”

“A little, yeah,” you say.

“If only we had gummy worms,” Eddie laments, dramatically flopping his head back as if this lack of sugary treat has killed him. 

“I’m so sorry the grocery store by my school didn’t have gummy worms, Eddie. When I get back, I’ll write a formal complaint.”

Eddie peeks over at you and nods. “Tell them they’ve lost a customer forever.”

“I told you that you could’ve just gotten the gummy bears tho—”

“They are not the same!” 

Once Eddie calms down about his lack of gelatin annelids, the two of you get out of the van and walk hand in hand to the crosswalk that will lead you across the street to McDonald’s. There was plenty of food in the van—minus what Eddie had already eaten through today—but, as Eddie pointed out, the van does not have French fries and McDonald’s does. It was a foolproof, winning argument. 

The two of you decide to order for one another, pinky promising that whatever it is will come with fries. Eddie orders you a chicken nuggets meal, and knowing the size of his appetite, go with a Big Mac for him. Deciding that he wants to squeeze in on the same side of a booth as you, Eddie playfully squishes you between his body and the wall once you’ve chosen a table. 

As much as you are enjoying your nuggets and fries, Eddie keeps distracting you every few minutes by resting his hand on your upper thigh. It causes you to almost spew soda out of your nose. Of course, this only makes it funnier to your boyfriend, who takes it as a sign to keep teasing you. Next, his arm “accidentally” brushes up against the side of your boob, which has you giving Eddie major side-eye as you bite into an overcooked, crispy fry. At one point, you look down to realize you have Big Mac Special Sauce both on the inseam of your pants and on the shoulder of your shirt. You can’t even recall one of his hands touching your shoulder at all. Leave it to Eddie to find a way, though.

After you’ve finished your dinners and probably overstayed your welcome at the table once all of your food was gone, you and Eddie take your time walking back to the van. It’s fully dark out by now, but as you’re right on a major highway, there are tons of lights around. There’s actually a bit of a glare between the lampposts, the car headlights, and all the lights illuminating from within the different shops and restaurants. 

You stroll hand and hand up a few blocks, giggling together about nothing in particular, until you come to a stoplight and Eddie presses the button that alerts the crosswalk that you’re waiting there to cross the street. 

“I don’t know about you,” Eddie whispers into your ear. There isn’t a need to whisper since there’s no one around, but you know his intentions when a shiver runs down your spine and he lets out a low chuckle. “But I think I’m ready to get back into the van. Hmm? Maybe spread some blankets out in the back? I’d say change into our pajamas, but I’d really prefer we wear nothing.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” you say with a coy smile. A grin lights up Eddie’s face and it sends another shiver through you. You lace your fingers with his, soft skin meeting his rougher callouses, as the orange hand on the crosswalk sign fades into the white walking figure. 

When you get back into the parking lot of the hospital, Eddie is practically skipping over to the van. An airy giggle escapes you when he yanks open the back door, bows, and gestures for you to go inside. He climbs in after you and makes sure the back doors are securely closed and slides the lock into place. 

“Just you and me now, baby,” Eddie says as he turns towards you. 

“Whatever shall we do?” you ponder with an over exaggerated shrug and shake of your head. 

“Well,” Eddie says as he gets on his hands and knees. It’s amusing to see him crawling in the small space, blankets and luggage getting knocked around. “First thing we gotta do is hang a sheet up separating us from the front seats. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let anyone who might be passing by get a glimpse of my girl in a compromising position. Oh, no. That’s all for me.”  He practically purrs the last word, and it has your toes curling in your shoes. 

Eager to help him and get this show on the road, you grab a maroon sheet out of the massive pile of linens and hand one corner to Eddie. He reaches up and touches the ceiling right behind the passenger seat. The strands of lights are being held up by tacks and it’s easy for Eddie to finagle one to hold up the sheet as well. After watching how he did it, you copy Eddie’s actions and hang the curtain up on the driver’s side. 

Eddie purses his lips and plucks out one more tack that wasn’t necessary for the lights and uses it to fasten the middle of the sheet to the roof. 

“Perfect,” you say. Now no one can see the two of you back there, and you’ll be protected from the sun coming in and blinding you in the morning. 

The blankets scattered around the bottom of the van have shifted and bunched into piles from the way you and Eddie had been moving around. Trying the best he can in the cramped space, your boyfriend layers the thickest of the blankets one on top of another to provide some cushion for the two of you to lay on. You toss some of the pillows up towards the front of the van and they land with a light thump, brushing against the curtain. 

Eddie is still inspecting the blankets around him, but you’ve decided it’s been long enough, and you’ve run out of patience. With no preamble, you whip your shirt off over your head and toss it in the general direction of your duffle bag. That certainly gets Eddie’s attention. His eyes are drawn to you like moths to a porch light. Hungrily, he looks you up and down, finding every bit of you even sexier than the last. 

“Pants,” he growls. Who are you to deny him? It’s difficult in the limited space, but you manage to slide your jeans off and lay down on the downy bed of blankets. 

Eddie’s own shirt joins yours, tossed aside as he crawls over you and hovers his body mere inches above your skin. He’s so close yet way too far away. 

“Pants,” you repeat his command.

A cocky smirk grows on his plush pink lips, but he does as you say. He balances his body weight on one forearm while undoing his handcuff belt and fly with his other hand. The way he wiggles his hips to get the jeans off has you getting even wetter than you already were. His eyes glance down first at your bra and panties, then his own boxers that are covering his burgeoning erection.

“I suppose you want me naked now, huh?” he asks.

“No.” The smug smile along with the unexpected word has Eddie furrowing his brow in confusion. “I believe I requested you bring a certain piece of clothing with you on this trip?”

It takes Eddie a moment but when he realizes what you mean, he gives a playful roll of his eyes and chuckles. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it,” he feigns annoyance as he reaches over for one of his bags that is just beyond your head. How he’s doing this all with one hand is both impressive and hot. The muscles of the left arm ripple and move beneath his pale skin as that limb holds the weight of his entire torso up. 

Completely on purpose, Eddie pulls the hockey jersey out of his bag and lets it fall flat on your face. The peal of your laughter makes him smile as he slowly pulls the rough material down, letting it reveal you bit by bit. First, the hair, then the eyebrows, then your eyes that shine as they meet his. 

“I really think you should dress up as a fairy or a hot elf for me since I’m doing this for you,” Eddie says as he slips the Boston Bruins jersey over his head. Silently, you wonder if he’s worn it at all since the two of you bought the jerseys together in Boston. Anytime you watched a game on that tiny little screen in your dorm, you’d wear yours.

Eddie brings your attention back to the present as you watch him kick his boxers off and resettle himself over you.

“Noted,” you reply to his comment, already thinking of places to look for such an outfit. 

“Ready to be fucked by a hockey player?” Eddie teases as he reaches down and lets two of his fingers dip below the waistband of your panties.

“Mm, no.” It’s hard to focus on your words when Eddie’s hands are desperately close to where you need them to be. “I-I’m ready to be fucked by my hot as fuck boyfriend while he wears a hockey jersey.”

A self-satisfied smirk graces Eddie’s features as he brings his body back down to hover over yours.

“You’re still wearing too much,” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips. 

“Let me fix that, then.” You arch your back just enough to unhook your bra, and Eddie is happy to help you slip it off your arms and all the way off. The panties are tricky since Eddie’s body is so close to yours, but writhing your body just right gets the trick done—as well as turn your boyfriend on even more. 

Eddie dips his head and starts leaving a trail of barely-there kisses from the curve of your shoulder all the way up to your jaw. Tension you weren’t even aware you had releases from your body, melting away under his touch. Soft lips climb to behind your ear, causing you to let out a shaky breath. You’re so busy focusing on the feeling of Eddie up near your head that you’re taken by surprise as your boyfriend presses his hips down against yours, pinning your pelvis between him and the blankets.

“Fuck,” you whine out as his hard cock presses up against your thigh.

“Mmm, what’s the matter, baby?” Eddie croons in your ear. 

You’re tempted to play the brat; tell him that nothing is wrong and pretend he’s not driving you as wild as he is. But it’s been far too long since you’ve seen him–you can play games later, now you just need him. 

“Please, Eddie,” you plead, voice edging on desperate. 

“Please what?” You can practically hear him smirking against your skin. 

“D-Don’t tease me. Not now,” you beg. 

“You just need me that bad, huh?” Eddie knows he’s playing a dangerous game; he needs to be inside of you. But he loves getting you all worked up. The way you whine and writhe beneath him is addicting, and Eddie looks forward to when he can tease you like this for as long as he’d like. For now, though, he’ll pretend to give in to you. 

“I gotcha baby, don’t worry,” he says softly, sending a pleasant tingle throughout your body.

A large hand grips your hip and gives it a gentle squeeze before he slides his fingers underneath your thigh and hikes your leg up. Letting that hand slip down to your core, Eddie drags two fingers through your folds. He lifts his head up so he’s able to look you in the eye. The cocky look on his face shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.

“Already drenched for me, aren’t ya, Princess?” Without giving you time to answer, his fingers disappear, and he brings them up to his mouth. “So fucking good.” He makes sure to lick all of your arousal off before leaning in and capturing your mouth with his own. 

The moan you make is muffled against his lips as his tongue darts out for a taste of you–of your mouth this time. Your hitched up leg wraps around Eddie’s hips, which causes his cock to brush right over your clit. Instinctively, your hands reach up and grab onto Eddie’s shoulders, fisting the material of the jersey. The pressure with which you’re hanging on to him is sure to leave a number of bruises on his shoulder blades in the morning. 

Eddie cups your face as he deepens the kiss, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth that he’s missed for so long. All the time apart just makes him even more grateful that you’re here in his arms now. Every ounce of yearning and love is conveyed through the kiss, both of you understanding all of this without a word needing to be spoken. The safety and security you find in one another leaves you sure beyond a doubt that Eddie’s soul is tied to yours. Wrapped up in a bright red bow, double knotted, never to come undone. 

Feeling like a branding iron on your skin, Eddie slides his hand down from your cheek, trailing over your shoulder, breast, tummy, then down between your legs. Your back arches up into the scratchy material above you, reacting to the feeling of Eddie positioning himself at your entrance. The pleasurable stretch as he pushes into you has you clinging to the man you love, bliss overtaking you at the joining of your bodies again. 

Only the way your lungs begin to feel on fire could have you pulling away from Eddie’s mouth. You gulp down air as he bottoms out. Frizzy curls tickle your neck and chin as your boyfriend’s head drops down to your shoulder. His grunts and groans as he pulls almost all the way out are music to your ears.

“Feel so good,” you mumble into his hair. 

“God, you too, Princess.” The two of you moan in tandem as he thrusts back into you. “So fucking perfect.”

“Missed this. Missed you.”

A low chuckle rumbles out of his chest. “You’re stuck with me for the next week. And in pretty close quarters.”

“Good,” you say, wrapping your other leg around Eddie’s. “Want you close as possible.”

“Don’t think we can get much closer than this—oh, fuck, you’re so tight.”

“This. Off. Now.” Your words are stilted and choppy as you tug on the hem of the jersey. He looked hot in it and fucked you in it, but now it’s time to see him fully naked, scars and all. 

He obeys, quickly shedding himself of the clothing before dipping back down and gently nipping at your neck.

You lick over your lips as Eddie picks his head back up, staring into your eyes as his hips begin to move back and forth, rocking your bodies together with every breath he takes.

The way those big brown eyes never leave yours, even for a second, makes this moment all the hotter. The drag of Eddie’s cock against your walls as he stares into your soul, seeing every little part of you, has you feeling lightheaded with joy. 

“I love you,” you breathe out more than speak.

“I love you too, sweet girl.” 

Eddie gives a few more slow and steady thrusts before he begins to pick up the pace. Whimpers tumble out of your mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as Eddie pounds into you again and again and again. He slightly adjusts the angle of his hips and that causes him to hit that special spot inside of you just right.

“Yes!” Your shout echoes around the hollow van, but neither of you care. If your eyes could roll so far back they’d fall into your brain, they would right now as Eddie leads you to pure ecstasy. A particularly hard slam of his hips against yours causes your walls to clench around Eddie’s cock, evidence of just how incredible he’s making you feel.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back. He closes his eyes as his teeth gnash at his bottom lip. “So tight, so wet.” When your walls give another spasm at his words, Eddie knows what direction to take this dirty talk in. “Oh, you love when I praise your pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The only response you’re capable of is a feeble nod of the head. It’s not enough of a reaction for Eddie though, so he keeps going. 

“Such a perfect fucking pussy. God, so fucking pretty and it tastes even better. Do you know I thought about that every day?” Eddie smirks when you look up at him, eyes blown out, lost in lust. “It’s true,” he continues. “I’d come home from work and wrap my hand around my cock. Think about how unbelievably good you taste, baby. Such a sweet fucking pussy. And it’s all mine, right? Say it. Fucking say it’s all mine.”

“I-It’s all yours,” you stutter. 

“Goddamn right.” 

A fingertip gently presses against your throat, and you look up at Eddie, his hair swaying back and forth with every rock of his hips. The rough calloused finger slowly and delicately trails up your neck, the curve up to your chin as you tilt your head up, and finally stops right beneath the edge of your chin. Eddie has positioned your head so you’re looking directly in his eyes. The look that finds you there is possessive, protective, and a little domineering. It almost makes you cum on the spot. 

“That’s my good girl.”

“Oh fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna cum.”

A triumphant smile graces his pretty lips. It only seemed fair to him to go for your weakness, with how you clenching around him already brought him so close to finishing. He needed to even the score. 

“Gonna cum with me, yeah?” Eddie asks. Fuck, you better hurry up then, he thinks. 

“Y-Yes, Eddie.” You nod your head and slide your hands up until your fingers tangle in his hair. The feeling of his curls wrapping around your fingers is something you missed almost as much as having sex with him. 

“Good girl,” Eddie praises again, only nudging you further towards the end of the cliff. 

“I can’t last m-much longer,” you moan and Eddie silently thanks God. He knows he’s about thirty seconds from bursting.

“Okay, baby. Come on. Cum for me.” 

With one last cant of his hips, the spark catches. The feeling of his warm releasing coating your walls only intensifies your own orgasm. Breath gets caught in your chest as the wave washes over you. Eddie’s hips keep pumping throughout it, but once he’s spent, he feels like he can’t move a muscle. 

You lay there beneath him, watching his chest rise and fall and the small beads of sweat sliding down his chest. He looks so perfect like this. At that moment, you realize this is a sight that will forever be stored in your memory. Spent and happy, tired yet exhilarated. What makes it even better is that it’s because of you. This is far from the first time you’ve slept together but it’s still a dizzying, mystifying thought that it’s you that makes this beautiful, wonderful man feel so good. God, how you wish he never had to pull out of you.

As if not wanting that contact between the two of you to end either, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his own forehead against it. 

“Stay here,” you whisper.

“Where exactly do you think I’d go?” he whispers in reply, huffing a small laugh.

“No,” you say, only slightly louder. “Stay on top of me. Inside me.”

“Yeah?” Eddie looks at you in concern, his eyebrows pulling slightly together. “I’m not hurting you?”

“Very much the opposite,” you assure him with a smile. 

“Okay.” Eddie slowly lowers until most of his weight is on top of you. He nuzzles his head into your neck, and you reach up to stroke his hair. 

Both of you know he’ll just naturally slip out of you as his cock softens, but right now it feels so good to have a little extra time to be connected in this way. 

“Love you, baby,” Eddie mumbles into your neck. From the slight slur of his speech, you know he’s falling headfirst into sleep. The yawn you let out tells you that you’re right behind him.

“I love you, too, handsome. Goodnight.”

A soft sound comes from Eddie, maybe a small groan of acknowledgment. But you chuckle to yourself because you know he’s already fast asleep. 

When you wake up, you see that clearly you and Eddie move around much more in your sleep than you would’ve thought. The two of you are not even close to being in the same positions as when you fell asleep. Then, he was on top of you, and you were gently stroking his hair. Now, you’re on the blanket face down, laying on your tummy, and Eddie is sprawled out like a starfish, his left arm slung across your lower back. 

There’s a pounding between your eyes that makes you wince; you notice now that you’re more fully awake. A sharp, stabbing headache radiates up to the very top of your head. 

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Hmm?” Eddie says, his head popping up like a daisy out of the ground. “Whasgoin on?” He pushes himself up onto his elbows and lets out the world’s longest yawn. 

“I just woke up with a horrible headache.” You reach up on top of your head and try to put pressure on it, which sometimes will relieve your headaches. No dice this time. 

Eddie frowns and tilts his head to the side. “I don’t think we bought aspirin at the grocery store.”

“Must be the one thing in the store you missed,” you joke, trying to smile through the pain.

“Oh, my girlfriend is so funny.” Eddie’s voice is monotone as he picks up a pillow and throws it at you–but he makes sure to steer clear of your head. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and we’ll find a pharmacy. Gotta be one on this road somewhere. Seems to have every other type of establishment.” Suddenly, Eddie perks up and his eyes widen. “Ooh! Do you think there’s a game shop where I can get some new dice?”

Slowly, with your hand still pressed against your skull, you lift your head up to stare him down.

He sighs and rolls his eyes in response.

“Well, no shit, after we get you some medicine.”

After you’ve washed down a few Advil with some orange Gatorade, Eddie does look up and down the main highway to see if there’s a place he can find a new D20—in your favorite color he assures you, trying to appeal to your less-than-happy state from the pain. He comes up empty, so he just figures he’ll get some souvenir dice somewhere in North Carolina. 

When he pulls the van onto the main highway, he glances over at you and sees you resting your head back against the headrest with your eyes closed.

“Are you gonna try and get a little bit more sleep, babe?”

“No,” you say. “Just resting my eyes, trying to get rid of this headache.”

He reaches over and gives your thigh a quick squeeze of affection. A few silent minutes go by before Eddie clicks on the radio. All of the stations are unknown to him since this is a new area, so he turns the dial to scan through, looking for some music to suit his tastes. Shot in the Dark by Ozzy Osbourne comes in through some static and Eddie excitedly keeps the station on. He keeps it at a reasonably low volume, but it’s still enough to prick the pain pulsating behind your eyes. 

“Eds, can we turn the music off? My head is pounding.”

Your boyfriend glances over at you before looking back at the road. He shifts in his seat before responding.

“Uh, it kind of helps me concentrate on the road, babe,” he says. “Cause like, yesterday we were talking, and it kept my mind focused. But the quiet, it um, makes me wander off.”

“Once the Advil kicks in, you can play it again.” Part of you realizes that his reasoning is solid and fair, but your annoyance tolerance is way down. 

“Well, how long is that gonna take?” he asks.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you snap. “I’m not a doctor. It shouldn’t be too long. Just please.” 

With an irritated huff, he smacks the button that turns the radio on and off. Silence fills the van and though it may be peaceful for your ailing head, the tension in the air makes you feel ill in a different way. 

I know this is just a dumb little fight, you think to yourself. But what if we keep having dumb little fights? Will they add up and become bigger fights? What if we end up arguing more than speaking civilly to one another? Would this be what it’s like to be sharing the same space as him for a while? What if we don’t work together in any other way than seeing each other every few months? Shit, now I’m not sure if I should have the conversation with him about Boston. Nancy would be calling me a coward right about now, and she’s probably right. I’m blowing everything way out of proportion. Too many “what ifs.” But…what if I’m wrong? Thinking about all of this while my head is throbbing is not a great idea, anyway. Now my mind is wandering. Maybe Eddie had a point about the music.

Eventually, the pain in your head begins to ease, which brings another matter to your attention. 

“Uh, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we pull off at the next rest stop?”

“Yeah.”

The cold reply is well-deserved, but it still irks you. Refusing to be the one to break this new silence, you cross your arms over your chest and watch out the window, waiting impatiently to see a sign for your next respite.

Fortunately, it’s only about two miles up the road. Eddie parks into a spot close to the bathroom and you hop out without a word. Once he sees you disappear into the building, Eddie gets out of the van so he can stretch his legs. Long arms reach up high over his head to stretch out the other muscles in his body. He twists his torso and feels his back crack with a satisfying pop. His eyes catch on the vending machines as he’s facing the other way. 

“Hmm,” he hums to himself as he walks over to it. Yes, there’s a ton of food in the van, but maybe Eddie can get one of your favorite candies for you. It’ll be like an olive branch.

A few minutes later, when you come out of the bathroom, your eyes catch on the vending machines across the way. Maybe a peace offering in the form of food would be the best way to make up. You secure the bag of Skittles and head back down to the van. Eddie sees you, his eyes drop down to your hands, and he lets out a laugh.

“Looks like you and I think alike,” Eddie says, brandishing a KitKat. 

“I’m sorry I was crabby,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip. “Can I buy back your affection with some Skittles?”

Eddie pretends to consider it as he taps the chocolate bar against his chin thoughtfully.

“Okay. But only if you give me a kiss.”

“Done.” 

You hand him his Skittles, he hands you your KitKat, and then you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his body. The warm and safe feeling of him encircling your waist with his arms sends butterflies erupting from your belly.

“I love you,” you whisper before leaning in and pressing your lips firmly against his. The kiss is returned enthusiastically, and you can feel him smiling against your mouth.

“I love you, too,” he says once you part.

The sound of a child crying has the two of you separating. Eddie opens his mouth to say something when his eyes catch something over your shoulder. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, but not to you. Gently releasing you from his grip, your boyfriend steps around you and crouches down to be at the level of a boy who can’t be more than five or six. “Are you okay?”

“I-I can’t find my mommy,” he says through the loudest sniffles you’ve ever heard. He rubs his eye with a small fist, his chest rising and falling quickly with his shallow breathing. 

“Where’d you last see her?” Eddie asks. 

The way Eddie tilts his head and speaks so softly and calmly to the child makes something inside your heart flutter. While there’s a little boy lost and crying in front of you, you do your best not to smile, though you’re suddenly filled with a strange sense of joy. 

“Okay,” you hear your boyfriend respond to whatever it is the child said. He presses his hand against his own chest. “My name is Eddie. I’m sure we can find your mom.”

“Drew? Drew!”

A woman’s voice calls throughout the parking lot and your head turns in her direction. 

“Are you Drew?” Eddie asks. When the little boy nods, Eddie smiles at him. “Then I think we found your mom. See? That was easy.”

You’re able to flag down the woman and let her know her son is about three cars down with your boyfriend. She sighs in relief and follows you over to her son. Drew runs into his mother’s arms and Eddie stands back up. The mother can’t thank you enough, though you assure her that you’d just stumbled upon him a few seconds ago. 

Once they walk away, you sidle up next to Eddie and wrap your arm around his waist. 

“You’re good with kids.”

A strong arm wraps around you and pulls your chest flush against his.

“I mean, I’ve learned that if you’re mean to them, they tend to cry and scream. I hate that shit.” 

Back on the road, it’s smooth sailing for a while, but eventually, you run into traffic. It’s spotty in a few places, slowing down and speeding up again. The red taillights that keep popping up every so often are not as fun as the Christmas lights blinking behind the curtain at your backs. 

After about an hour of touch-and-go stopping, the whole stretch of highway comes to a complete stop. Eddie finished his Skittles long ago and his frustration has been growing ever since. Leaning forward, you pop the radio on and scan for a song that might calm him down. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend, it’s that music is a balm for his soul. Head by Prince comes over the sound waves and it sparks a brilliant idea in you.

“Baby? I think you need to relax.”

He sighs and drops his head back against the headrest, his hair bouncing back in reverberation.

“Easier said than done.”

Even though he isn’t looking your way, you feel yourself blush at what you’re about to suggest. As if he didn’t basically fuck you to sleep last night. 

“I think I might be able to help you with that, though…”

At the sound of your seatbelt unclicking, Eddie looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “What are you doing?”

You slide out of your seat and onto your knees on the van floor. The last time you attempted to do this Dustin rammed the back of Eddie’s van. Hopefully this attempt goes better. Eddie raises an eyebrow at you, still unsure about what you’re doing until you shuffle close enough to pull at his belt.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie moans. A smile lights up his face and he’s scrambling to help you shove his pants and boxers down his hips. Just the idea of you giving him road head already has him half hard, so it doesn’t take very much to start getting him worked up as you pump him with your hand.

“Want you to feel better, Eddie,” you say, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes you can manage. The way his cock twitches in your grip boosts your ego. You lean down and lick a stripe up the side of his cock. 

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

You press soft kisses all the way up his length, only to take him into your mouth as you get to the tip. Eddie’s foot presses harder on the break as he watches himself disappear in your mouth.

“Fuck, I better put this in park.” He shifts the gear since the traffic isn’t moving anyway, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. It sends a vibration up his cock that has him reaching down and clutching the back of your head.

Your pace starts out slow, bobbing your head, taking him a little bit deeper each time. Eddie’s thick fingers tense against you and it encourages you to take him in as far as you can, until your nose brushes against the dark curls at his base. His hand is warm against your head, firm, but not pushing you. 

You pull off, breathing heavily, and dive back in to swipe your tongue over his balls the best you can from this position.

“Holy shit.” Eddie lets go of you and he rubs over his face with both hands. You’re pretty sure his soul is about to leave his body when you suck a ball into your mouth. You let it go with a pop, only to engulf him in the wet warmth of your mouth again. 

“My God, you’re fucking perfect.”

He’s painfully hard against your tongue. It encourages you to bob your head faster than before, eager to get Eddie to his release. It’s not long until his breathing turns shallow, and you can feel his legs tensing up beneath your hands. 

“G-Gonna cum, baby,” he warns you, giving you time to pull off if you want. But you don’t. A soft hum around him lets him know that you want him to finish in your mouth. That’s all he needs, a groan emanating from the back of his throat as he cums down yours.

You do your best to swallow everything he gives you, only pulling off when you’re satisfied with your own work. As you sit back on your knees, you bring your hand up to wipe off anything on your face that you might have missed. Eddie’s panting, pressed back against the seat, a lazy smile on his face as his gaze shifts to you.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he says. 

“More relaxed?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs with a laugh. “Definitely feel better.”

Once traffic gets moving again, the rest of the highway is a breeze. When it starts to get dark, there’s not much farther to go until you reach the coast. A few miles before you get there, you spot a cozy little restaurant that looks like the perfect hole-in-the-wall kind of place for dinner. You’ve both been holed up in the van all day though, so you hop into the back and change into different, nicer clothes. As you’re looking for your new outfit in just your bra and panties, Eddie comes up behind you and promises to return the favor for relaxing him so much earlier. It takes all of your mental energy to put those new clothes on instead of taking the little left that you’re wearing off. 

How you manage to hold your ground, you’re not sure, but you do. The air this close to the ocean is a little chillier at night so you opt for a nice purple, long sleeved shirt, and Eddie slips his leather jacket over one of the multiple Metallica shirts he packed. It’s not a far walk from the van to the front door of the restaurant, but Eddie insists on holding your hand the whole way there anyway. Keeping up his streak of being a gentleman, he opens the door and gestures for you to walk inside. The instant you step over the threshold you’re greeted by the scent of baking bread and something cooking that’s heavy on the garlic. It immediately gets your mouth watering. 

“Hi, how many this evening?” the hostess asks as you and Eddie step up to her small, sturdy podium.

“Two,” you say. 

“All right, you can follow me.” 

Eddie laces his fingers with yours just for the twenty foot walk over to where you’re seated. The hostess leads you between tables covered in white tablecloths with small copper lanterns sitting in the middle of each. The lighting in the whole restaurant is dim, but it adds to the calm and quiet ambiance. The beautiful orchestrations coming from overhead speakers are the cherry on top of this romantic scenery, which is most definitely the vibe they were going for.  

Before Eddie steps around to his side of the table, he pulls your chair out for you. There is never a shortage of sweet gestures with Eddie, but you’re not sure if you’ve ever been in a place this nice with him. The chivalry plus the romantic setting has you feeling giddy and bubbly.

Once Eddie has slid you in closer to the table, he notices a shiver and the way your shoulders hunch up. He slips his leather jacket off and gently drapes it over your shoulders. You’re not expecting it, so it startles you at first, but then you just giggle as you wrap it tighter around you.

“Thank you, handsome,” you say as he takes his seat on the opposite side of the table from you. 

“Your waitress this evening will be Miranda, and she should be with you shortly,” the hostess informs you.

“Thank you,” you say before she walks back towards the front of the restaurant. 

Now that it’s just the two of you together, you take advantage of looking around the place. Three of the interior walls of the restaurant are made to look like gray stone—you wonder if it actually is and have the sudden urge to touch it. The fourth wall is an accent wall, painted a deep red. Waiters walk around in white button-up shirts and black ties. It’s such a charming little place and you’re glad that you get to experience it with Eddie. 

Miranda, your waitress, comes to take your orders, and by the look of confusion on both your and Eddie’s faces, she tries to explain what some of the fancier sounding dishes are. She’s very kind and thoughtful without being condescending. A perfect “mom” temperament, you think. 

As soon as she leaves with your orders, Eddie reaches across the table and takes your hand in his own. His thumb traces patterns on the palm of your hand for a few moments before purposefully tickling your hand. A small squeak escapes your lips, and you yank your hand back. Eddie chuckles and when you look up at him, ready to give him some kind of witty remark, it dries up on your tongue. The way Eddie is looking at you steals your breath. There’s a smile on his face and his eyes are crinkled in the corners, but it’s the way his eyes are focused on you. The look could be described as nothing less than adoring. Heat rises to your cheeks at the unwavering attention. Normally anyone looking at you this long would make you uncomfortable, but this is Eddie. There is not a thing about him that has made you uncomfortable since you met him. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Eddie asks, tilting his head like an inquisitive puppy. 

“You. How I’m still not sure how it’s possible to be this happy.”

The honesty of the answer and the sincerity in your voice cause a wave of emotions to crash over Eddie as well. Again, he reaches over and takes your hand. But this time all he does is lace his fingers with yours and simply hold it. 

Small soft conversations are held between the two of you as you wait for your food. But more than with words, the two of you silently communicate with one another. The squeeze of a hand, a facial expression, or the look in the other’s eyes. When silence settles over your table it’s not awkward in the least. It’s comfortable. It’s you and your person, just being together. Being in his presence is all you need. 

Ironically, when the food arrives, you talk more. Before, your mouths weren’t busy, yet there were sparse words spoken. But now that you both have to talk between bites—of spaghetti in his case and eggplant in yours—the conversation flows open and freely. 

“All right,” Eddie says as he twirls some pasta around his fork. “Five movies you’d wanna watch together. Because you want to show it to me or just because you wanna watch it in general. Go.”

“Oh jeez,” you say with a sigh. “There’s just so many great ones out there. Okay, let me think… Little Shop of Horrors—the new one. Um… The Outsiders, one of my favorites.”

“Because of Rob Lowe?” Eddie asks, a smirky smile on his face.

“No. Well, not just because of him,” you say. “Hmm…oh, The Shining. I’ve never been able to finish because I always get scared. But that just gives me an excuse to be held by you, though.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie promises with a wink. 

“My hero.” You blow him a kiss, then try to think of two more movies. “Some Like it Hot. Can’t go wrong with a Marilyn Monroe flick. Let’s see, one more. Oh! And E.T. I always cry at that one. And want Reese’s Pieces.”

“I think I can provide those for a movie night,” Eddie says. 

It’s wonderful to talk about future plans with Eddie. Yeah, there are the bigger questions to be asked when you intend to be committed to a person, but these smaller, more detailed don’t-have-to-be-too-far-in-the-future plans are great fun to think about. Planning what you’d like to do for his next birthday, or thinking of places that you’d love to vacation together. Just to have these thoughts, ideas, fantasies about doing all these incredible things with the person you’re in love with is enough to make you feel lovesick. 

After you’ve eaten enough eggplant that you feel you’re close to bursting, you set your napkin down on the table and slip Eddie’s jacket from your shoulders.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna use the bathroom,” you say as you stand up and hang his jacket on the back of your chair. As you walk past Eddie in the direction of the restrooms, you lean in and press a quick kiss to the top of his head before you keep going.

Eddie smiles to himself and tries to get the last few noodles on his plate to cooperate and get on his fork. Someone clearing their throat gets Eddie’s attention and his head snaps up. An older lady with snowy white hair and a pageboy haircut sitting at the table next to yours leans in towards Eddie, trying to get his attention. She’s seated on the far side of the table, just like you, so it’s easy for Eddie to spot her. He can see the woman’s husband in his peripheral vision as well.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she says, an apologetic look pinching her face, “but I just wanted to let you know that you two are adorable.”

The words instantly have Eddie grinning like a madman. He’s momentarily flustered, and that’s a feat very few people accomplish. 

“Thank you,” he finally says. 

Now, the husband turns towards Eddie and leans over as if he’s going to let the younger man in on a secret.

“You be good to her,” the man says, kindly, but firm enough to make his point. 

“Oh, there’s no worry about that,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I’m going to marry that girl someday.”

The woman clasps her hands together under her chin and looks at Eddie with eyes that he can practically hear saying, “awwwwww!” Some heat rises to his cheeks, but when you walk back up to the table, he does his best to compose himself. 

You slip Eddie’s jacket back on, reveling in the warmth and scent of your boyfriend. As you’re debating on whether or not you want one last bite of the eggplant, the woman seated at the table on your right catches your attention. 

“I just have to say,” she starts, with a melancholic smile, “you two remind me of me and my husband back when we were young.” 

For some reason, that comment makes you more emotional than any other compliment she could have paid you. An older and seemingly happy couple sees themselves in you when they were young. It brings you visions of an elderly you and Eddie sitting outside on the front porch, watching your grandchildren play in the yard. A soft rain begins to come from the sky and all the kids run up onto the porch to take cover. Eddie snatches up the youngest and holds them prisoner in his lap while he tickles them. You have to force yourself out of that daydream because you’re making yourself emotional. 

Soon after, the older couple gets up from their chairs and bids you and Eddie a goodnight before they leave. Just as the two of you are discussing if you should order dessert or not, Miranda delivers a hot fudge sundae to your table. For a brief moment you wonder if she’s a mind reader.

“Um, we didn’t order this,” Eddie says, clearly confused about the confection as well. 

Miranda beams, the corners of her eyes crinkling up the subtle crow’s feet around her eyes. She looks as if she has a huge secret, and she can’t wait to share it with someone.

“George and Rhonda wanted to send this over. The couple who was seated here next to you.” Miranda points to the table the elderly couple were sitting at. “They’re regulars, but I don’t think they’ve ever ordered anything for someone else before.” She seems so overjoyed just at sharing this news, but her eyes light up with an extra spark as she remembers something. “They also paid your bill.”

At first, you’re sure that Miranda isn’t talking to you and Eddie. This type of kind gesture is something you’ve only seen on television or movies. The warmth of tears begins to build behind your eyes and your throat feels tight as you turn to look at your boyfriend. He looks just as baffled as you do. Though, where you look overwhelmed and emotional, Eddie looks flustered. His mouth keeps opening and closing, wanting to say something, but is coming up blank. 

“Wow,” he finally manages, all other words failing him.

“Are they still here?” you ask, clearing your throat once you hear how shaky your voice is.

“No, they left a few minutes ago.”

Eddie knocks a chunky ring against the table, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His face is slightly pinched, clearly thinking about something.

“You said they’re regulars, right?” he asks.

“They are,” Miranda affirms. “Come in at least twice a month.”

Eddie’s head swivels to you and he raises his eyebrows. “How does writing them a thank you letter sound?”

His absolute thoughtfulness once again astounds you. Sometimes you think about how rough the beginning of Eddie’s life was, and how it definitely hasn’t been a piece of cake since then either. His heart has been played with, broken, crushed—and that doesn’t even include any physical pain he’s gone through. But he still has this kind heart that’s never been beaten out of him.

“I like that idea,” you agree. Now you wish you had brought your purse instead of just shoving your wallet in your pocket. There’s a pen and probably thirty scraps of paper in there. “Miranda, do you have a pad and pen we can borrow?”

“Of course.” Miranda looks equally moved by Eddie’s proposal, and she doesn’t even know the half of how incredible he is.

After Miranda returns with a pen bearing the restaurant’s name and a receipt pad, Eddie hunches over the table, tapping the pen against the surface as he thinks of what to write. Inspiration strikes and Eddie scribbles against the paper. Silently, you wonder if you’ll have to rewrite it if your boyfriend’s chicken scratch is illegible. 

Eddie slides the pad over to you and you lean in to read it.

Dear George and Rhonda,

We already couldn’t thank you enough for your kind words to us, but now we’re pretty speechless with the dessert and paid bill. We asked Miranda to give you this note the next time you’re here so we can at least show you a fraction of how grateful we are.

That’s where the note stops, so you pick up the pen and write beneath his words. 

This is possibly the nicest thing that’s ever been done for us. You’ve put the cherry on top of our first vacation together…and I’m not just saying that because there’s a cherry on top of this sundae we’re staring at right now. We wish there was some way that we could repay your goodwill. I guarantee you that we’ll find a way to pay it forward though.

You show Eddie to get his approval on it. Once he nods in agreement, you both sign your names on the bottom. Both of you are still stunned as you walk out of the restaurant full of ice cream and hot fudge. 

The night sky is a black canvas dotted with intermittent sparkles shining down as you walk back to the van with Eddie. Even with how far you are away from the beach, you can smell the salt blowing in the wind. 

Eddie jingles the keys to the van as he slips the keyring over his forefinger. Instead of opening the door, he leans up against the multicolored siding and tugs you by your hips until you’re pressed up against him.

“How’s watching the sunrise over the ocean tomorrow morning sound?” he asks.

“Literally can’t think of a better way to show you the beach for the first time.” You wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to press a few chaste kisses to his lips.

“It’s really nice out,” Eddie says, looking up at the sky and around at the sleepy coastal town. “What do you say we find somewhere to park the van and I’ll climb up and put a blanket on the top so we can lay there and look at the stars?”

You stare at him without answering, which has him cocking an eyebrow. When you start poking his chest and shoulders with your finger, he becomes even more confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Proving that you’re real,” you say. 

Eddie huffs a laugh and tugs you forward by your still outstretched finger. He squishes you against his chest, completely engulfing you in his arms.

“Is that a yes?”

The perfect spot to park the van for the evening is only a few blocks from the beach, in the back of a motel parking lot. There are cars parked closer to the building, but there’s no one out walking around or making any noise to disrupt the sound of the waves crashing against the beach in the near distance. 

This is the perfect time to ask Eddie the question you’ve been intending to on this trip. Realizing that you’re really about to ask this, to possibly take this step, or possibly feel disheartened and a bit rejected, has your stomach tying itself in a knot. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you should ask later in the trip so if he says no then it won’t be a gray cloud looming over the rest of Spring Break. No, you decide. It’s going to be now.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, was wondering if–I mean, I wanted to ask, uh, if…do–uh, um...”

As your rambling trails off, you feel Eddie’s fingers intertwine with yours where your hands lay between your bodies.

“What’s gotcha tongue tied, baby?” he asks. 

“I want to, I mean, I’m trying to–to...” You’re just flustering yourself at this point and let out an irritated sigh.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie assures you, rubbing his thumb against the side of your hand. “Why don’t I go first, huh?”

“Okay.” You weren’t aware there was something he wanted to say.

Carefully, Eddie maneuvers onto his side so he’s facing you. When you move to do the same, he helps you stay steady until you’re lying face to face. He leans in and presses a kiss to your nose, making you wrinkle up your face and let out a small giggle.

Eddie raises his right hand to slip his mood ring off and holds it up between the two of you.

“Can I give you this?” he asks, soft voice almost carried away on the breeze. “Mostly because I would love for you to wear my ring, but maybe also a little bit so I can know what your mood is.” The last part is a joke, but also kind of not.

Words fail you again, so you nod enthusiastically. “I would love to wear it.”

Eddie slides it onto your left thumb–the only finger it won’t fall off of–and brings your cold fingertips up to his lips.

“I’ll love you forever,” he whispers.

“That’s how long I’ll wear this ring.”

“Yeah?”

“I promise.” You kiss the stone set in the ring and Eddie gives it a kiss after you.

The courage to ask Eddie what you wanted to has come out of hiding now that his ring is on your finger. It asks you why you were ever scared to ask him in the first place. It’s Eddie. 

“So, I wanted to ask you something. Or—talk to you about something. Well, kind of both I guess…” You’re blabbering again, but it’s a bit more cohesive this time. Now it's more a matter of not knowing how to phrase it.

A warm and encouraging hand lands on your upper arm and rubs up and down soothingly.

“It’s okay, baby. Take all the time you need.”

“You, um, you know how I’m coming home for the summer, right?” You internally cringe, knowing you’re not off to the best start. 

“Yeah, isn’t that how semesters work?” Eddie asks with a playful smirk. 

“All right, Mr. Smarty Pants,” you say with a playful slap to the chest. “Then you know that I’ll be going back again in the fall.”

“Unfortunately,” he says.

“Well…when the next semester starts, Nancy and I are going to get an apartment together,” you explain.

“That’s a good idea. Both of you had such shitty roommates this year and you don’t wanna take that chance again.”

“Right! Exactly.” You say it a bit too loud, but you reign yourself in. “So, Steve’s actually going to come move up to Boston and live with us. He and Nancy will have their room, I’ll have mine.”

Eddie isn’t sure how to react at first. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about that because, one, it feels like he’s losing another friend to Boston. Two, even though Steve is a great friend, Eddie is a little uncomfortable having his girlfriend live with another guy.

His silence has your courage ready to slink away with its tail between its legs, so you just keep going before it goes back in hibernation mode for good.

“And I, um, I was wondering—I mean, Nancy and I have talked about it, of course, and only if you want to…”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie interrupts with a chuckle. “You can say anything to me, you know that.”

“WouldyouwannamovetoBostonandlivewithus?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Uh, h-how would you feel about maybe moving to Boston too? Nance a-and Steve would have their room, and w-we could have ours. I know we haven’t been together a long time or even known each other a long time, but…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel too fast for me. I mean, it might for you, I-I don’t know. If someone had told me five months ago that I’d be ready to live with a guy after four months of knowing one another I’d have said they were crazy. But…here I am. I-I don’t want you to feel pressured or rushed or anything like that, I just wanted to put the offer out there in case you want to think about it or—”

Eddie silences your rambling by cupping your face and pressing his lips up against yours. It lasts a few seconds before he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours.

“There is nothing that would make me happier than falling asleep next to you every night and waking up next to you every morning.” 

His answer has a load lifting off of your shoulders that you hadn’t realized was quite this heavy. Between relief and happiness, emotion bubbles up until there are tears streaming down your face. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, wanting to make sure. “You c-can think about it.”

“I did,” he says seriously. “Only took about a second because I’m so sure. I’d love to live with you, baby.”

You bury your face in Eddie’s neck, careful not to be forceful enough to knock him towards the edge of the roof. He rests his head against yours as you cling to him, the tears still flowing.

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So fucking much.” 

He chuckles as he holds you even closer, causing you to peek up at him.

“What?”

“Just thinking how it’s good I got this van, huh? Getting us used to sleeping practically on top of one another.”

“Eddie, we can get a bigger bed, we won’t have to sleep—”

“Oh, we most certainly will.”

Eddie is the first to wake up the next morning. He doesn’t want to move from the pile of blankets he’s lying on. That causes some confusion in him, though. When he fell asleep, there was definitely a blanket on top of him, and not nearly this many under him. Forcing himself to open his eyes and move from his comfortable position, Eddie sits up and looks through squinted eyes to see what shape your bed area is in.

Somehow the blanket Eddie fell asleep beneath is now under your head. You’re also practically curled into your own duffle bag on the side of the van. He’s still not sure how he ended up laying amongst the mass of blankets, but he shrugs it off. 

The muscles in Eddie’s back and abdomen thank him as he stretches his body over towards the maroon sheet acting as your bedroom door. He moves it aside to see the sky just beginning to wake up. Perfect. The faint call of seagulls calling and waves crashing to shore tugs the corners of his mouth up in a smile. He’s actually going to see the ocean today. Another first, with you, the only one he’d want to experience all firsts with. 

A sound comes from you, but Eddie isn’t sure if it’s a yawn or a hiccup. He chuckles and turns back around to see you roll onto your back. One of your arms goes up to rest above your head, the other resting across your stomach. When your legs move, opening slightly to adjust your hips, an idea forms in Eddie’s mind. He did say he was going to repay the favor from when you gave him road head yesterday. Plus, he remembers your exact words after you woke him up with a blowjob back when he stayed with you in January: “Waking up with you between my legs sounds insanely hot, actually.”

As stealthily as he can manage, Eddie crawls over and slowly spreads your legs wide enough until he can kneel between them. The Megadeth t-shirt of his that you slept in last night has ridden up a little in your sleep, so Eddie doesn’t need to adjust that before he slowly and gently hooks his fingers into the sides of your lacy green panties. He takes his time, not wanting to wake you or inadvertently rip your underwear. It’s challenging to get the panties over the curve of your ass, but Eddie manages. He also manages to take his time to feel your ass up properly. 

Once he finally gets the garment all the way off you, he breathes a sigh of relief. Hopefully this would be the hardest part. He starts to wonder how you pulled down his pajama pants and boxers when you woke him up like this a few months back. But then it hits Eddie: he sleeps like the dead. 

The blankets on the floor make it easy for Eddie to slide down to his stomach quickly and quietly. When he goes a little too far back, however, he needs to army crawl his way back until he’s close enough. 

Gently and carefully as to not hurt you or jostle you too much, Eddie spreads your legs further apart until your pussy is on display for him. A low groan reverberates through Eddie’s chest and he’s not sure how he’s going to be able to keep himself quiet while enjoying his favorite thing to eat. Eddie wraps his left arm under your leg to steady himself before he goes in and takes the first lick of your delicious pussy that he’s been craving since the last time his mouth was down here. 

Eddie moves your right leg so it’s resting over his shoulder, and it gives him an even better vantage point as he spreads your labia to get a look at the goods beneath. He swears, this must be how happy the kids felt when they found those Golden Tickets in their damn Wonka bars. Elation and excitement is dancing up and down his veins. 

Determined to waste no more time, Eddie dives in properly and instantly moans against your clit as he relishes in your taste. His addiction is being fed and he’s not sure how he’s been able to go this long without it. His long tongue runs over your entrance, dipping in a few times just to be a tease. Your leg over his shoulder moves just slightly and the smallest of grunts comes from above him. Eddie doesn’t plan on taking his mouth off of your pussy long enough to check if you’re awake or not, though. 

Eddie tilts his head up just slightly and flicks your clit with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it. Now, you’re really starting to get animated. More indistinguishable noises and small movements. When Eddie goes back to lapping at your hole, he makes sure his nose bumps up against your clit. A pleasurable moan that Eddie’s come to know very well fills the air.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie,” you whine as you arch your back. “God, that feels so good.”

Now that you’re awake, Eddie kicks it up a notch and starts to devour your pussy. He buries his face so far between your legs that you wonder how he can breathe. A string of involuntary moans and whimpers fall from your lips as you turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut.

The muscles in your body begin to tighten and you try to tell your body that you don’t want to cum yet, that you want to keep enjoying this. Looking down was a mistake though, because the moment you see Eddie’s head between your thighs you feel like you could cum on the spot.

With your top teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you reach down for the crown of Eddie’s head with one hand, eager to grab at it and get your fingers lost in the frizzy mess. 

“E-Eddie?”

“Mm?” He hums the responses against your pussy, too busy trying to taste every bit of you. There’s no time for words when his mouth is occupied for a far better reason. 

“Look at me. Want you to look up at me,” you say, shallow breaths and little whines punctuating the sentence. 

Eddie does as he’s told and lifts his head a bit so he can cast his eyes up and meet your gaze. The way that those molten chocolate eyes never waver, never look away while he keeps pleasuring you is your tipping point. 

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” you stutter, your one hand gripping onto Eddie’s head for dear life, and the other one clutching at a plush blue blanket so hard that your knuckles turn whiter than the whipped cream you shared at dinner last night. 

Two thick fingers breach your hole, and the tongue focuses solely on your clit now. 

“Eddie, I’m not gonna…I-I can’t,” you ramble. “Can't hold out. Gotta cum.”

Moaning as if he was the one getting the best oral sex of his life, Eddie pulls away from your pussy to say, “Cum on my tongue, sweet girl. Please.”

Your hips want to jerk, and your legs want to close around Eddie’s head; somehow, you’re able to resist. The vice grip he has on you probably has something to do with it. 

With one last moan of your boyfriend’s name, your back arches off the blanket below you and a feeling of euphoria crashes over you. Eddie helps work you through it, pumping his fingers as sparks shoot off behind your closed eyes and your breathing turns erratic. The high spreads all throughout your body, and as it fades, leaves complete satisfaction and tranquility in its wake. 

Eddie slips his fingers from your pussy, the sensation causing a brief moment of longing in your otherwise content body. Lazily, you blink your eyes open to see the two fingers that were just inside of you in Eddie’s mouth. He winks at you, causing you to give a breathy chuckle, your breathing still trying to return to its normal rhythm. There’s a soft thud next to you when Eddie plops down to lie at your side. You waste no time scooting closer and laying your head on his bare chest. A comforting arm wraps around you, and you return the gesture by placing a few soft kisses along a particularly deep scar on his chest.

“Morning, beautiful,” Eddie says quietly.

“That’s one hell of a way to wake up, handsome.” You tilt your head up to grin at him, only to find him beaming right back down at you. 

Heaving an overdramatic groan, Eddie takes you by surprise and pulls you impossibly tight against his chest, arms holding you prisoner there.

“Can’t breathe.”

“Geez,” Eddie whines, “what’s more important? My hugs or your precious air supply?”

The goofy and flirty tone keeps up as the two of you get ready for the day. Being in such a cramped space, the two of you keep bumping into one another as you look for your swimsuits. Eddie takes advantage of the moments of closeness by stealing kisses. His surprised face is priceless when you turn the tables and steal one from him.

Once you’ve got your bathing suit out, laying on top of your pile of clothes, you shrug out of your shirt. As you pick up the swimsuit, you see Eddie staring at you from the corner of your eye. A loud chuckle busts out of you as you look over to see him ogling your boobs.

“Aren’t you used to seeing them by now?”

Eddie shakes his head and makes grabby hands for you. “No. Gimme.”

You roll your eyes but let him grope your chest as you pull the dark green bathing suit up your legs and over your ass. Eddie’s hands are forced out of the way as you situate the top of your suit to get it to sit right. He may let go of your boobs, but he gives your ass a smack before changing into his own bathing suit.

“Have you had enough?” you ask once his trunks are on. “Can we go see the ocean now?”

“Never enough. But yes, let’s go.”

It’s only a few blocks to the beach and Eddie finds the prime spot since it’s so early in the morning. Sandy dunes littered with beach grass block your view of the ocean, but the sound and smell are unmistakable. The call of a seagull adds to the symphony of waves as you and Eddie get out of the van. A glimpse at Eddie’s face shows he’s grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. It makes your heart skip a beat as you slip your hand into his. He tosses both of your towels on the opposite shoulder and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready to see the ocean?” you ask.

“Let’s do it.”

The two of you walk onto the small boardwalk that takes you over the sand dunes. The excitement is practically radiating off of Eddie as you get to the peak of the dock. You’re paying more attention to him than where you’re walking, so you hope you don’t trip.

The moment Eddie’s eyes first see the water, his hand reflexively tightens around yours. His entire face is lit up, his eyes bright and smile infectious. It makes him look years younger, his inner child filled with glee. With every step closer to the water, the antsier he gets. The beach is mostly empty, not a whole lot of people are here to watch the sunrise. And those who are waiting for the dawn are so spread out that you can barely hear the laughter that blows along with the gentle breeze. 

You find a spot far enough from the water and kick off your sandals. Eddie follows your lead and spreads the two towels out, though they’re going to get covered in sand anyway. The sun should be rising any minute, heating up the already decently warm air. You trail your eyes from the purpling horizon to your boyfriend. Pale fingers fidget with the hem of his t-shirt and you immediately realize what’s going on in his head.

“Hey,” you murmur. His gaze shifts to you and you step forward and rest your hands on his chest. “You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to. In fact, I think I want you to keep it on. I know there’s nobody around us now, but if some hot girl comes by later, I’ll have to kick her ass if she tries to steal you from me. But I also wouldn’t be able to blame her. All this…” you slip your hands beneath his shirt and drag your fingers over his abdomen, “is too fucking hot. I’d have to take a run at you too if you weren’t already the love of my life.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes at you, but the dusting of pink along his cheeks makes you think you made him feel at least a little better. You’re proven right when he slips his tee off and lets it fall to the towels. Unable to help yourself, you drink in your sexy boyfriend’s body, biting your lip as you scan him up and down. When your eyes trail back up, Eddie is looking out at the water with a mixture of longing and hesitation. 

“Wanna go in?” you ask. His eyes meet yours and he looks a little surer.

“Is it going to be cold?”

“Probably, babe.”

“Keep me warm?” he asks.

You pretend to think about it, your forefinger tapping your chin.

“Nope.” You giggle and gently push him in the direction of the water. He gives you a playful glare in return. The sand wriggles between your toes as you start to walk backward, making your way towards the water. Giving Eddie a reassuring smile, you outstretch your arms and offer your hands to him. It only takes him a few seconds before he’s following down after you, gladly slipping his hands into yours. 

A wave rushes the shore and you let out a peal of laughter as it engulfs your feet. Eddie yelps in surprise, making you laugh even harder. Your grip on his hands tightens slightly, silently telling him not to run away, to keep going with you. Though his muscles tense up and his shoulders bunch up towards his ears, Eddie keeps his hands firmly grasped in yours.

The farther you walk in, the water level rises up your legs. A wave breaks against your back, but the look of alarm on Eddie’s face registers in your mind before the large splash. Once you start to laugh at the wetness now all over the back of your body, Eddie visibly relaxes. Now that more of you has been subjected to the cold water, you crouch down into the sea, gently tugging on your boyfriend’s hands so he’ll join you. 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Eddie lowers his body down and shudders at the chill that washes over his skin. Slowly, you move a little deeper, making sure not to get too far away from the shore. Strong arms wrap around your waist and tug your chest up against his. Your natural response is to slip your arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Congratulations,” you say just loud enough to be heard above the ebb and flow of the ocean around you. “You’re no longer an ocean virgin.”

“Just popping all my cherries with you, huh?” he asks with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t I be the one with the cherry popped?” You wrinkle up your nose and Eddie gently nips at it.

The first rays of light appear over the horizon and the two of you adjust yourselves so you can both watch it while you languidly rock back and forth in the waves. Silence falls between the two of you as the sun inches its way higher. The blue-black of the predawn bleeds into a pink and orange tapestry for all in its presence to admire. The thought of watching a sunrise was never something you’d thought of as emotional before. But as you rest your head against Eddie’s and feel his grip tighten around you, a warm, glowing happiness bubbles up within you. This is the closest anything in life can come to perfection, you think. 

Once the sun finishes its debut for the day, Eddie nuzzles his nose against the side of your head until you look up at him. The moment you do, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and slow, lazy and cozy. It ends when both of you are smiling too widely to keep your mouths together.

“Can we have more firsts together?” you ask.

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Well,” you start, “I’m assuming we won’t always wanna bunk with Nancy and Steve, so maybe we’d get a place of our own someday? It doesn’t have to be in Boston; we could even move to Indiana so you can be close to your uncle, or—” You cut yourself off as you realize you’re rambling on. But your boyfriend looks far from annoyed; in fact, the look in his eyes is nothing less than adoring. 

“We can figure that out,” he reassures you, pressing another gentle kiss to your nose. He pauses before admitting, “I’ve never felt safe like this before. There’s just something about you.”

“I’m gonna take it that you like this something about me.”

“Good guess.” 

“Eddie Munson, I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything.”

[slafkovskys]

been thinking of you and slaf watching some cheesy show that he SWEARS he doesn’t actually like, until one day you watch it without him when he’s gone and he won’t speak to you for the rest of the day bc why would you betray him like that?

🌹

he doesn’t catch you rewinding it to the beginning. no, you’re caught when a juicy part happens and you don’t even look up from your phone. he squeezes at your ankle, “you missed a big part.”

“oh, did i?” you look up to see that you had indeed missed the part and you’re eyes go wide, “we can just back it up a little bit-”

“like you did earlier?” he questions, eyes narrowing, “how far along did you go?”

“uh, not that- i finished the season while you were gone, okay? but it was only three episodes!” you insist, but he’s having none of it. he pushes your feet off of his lap and crosses his arms over his chest, pushing his lips out in a pout, “juraj-”

“is not fun any more. you watched our show without me,” he huffs, “silent treatment.”

you don’t think he’s serious or has the will power, but oh were you wrong. he doesn’t utter a word to you, nor give you more than a glance until it’s time for bed. even then, he walks into your shared bedroom, grabs his pillow and favorite blanket before walking out. you hear the familiar sound of his big body collapsing onto the couch and you roll your eyes, “seriously?”

making your way down the hall, you find him curled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. you pout, “you know that you’re going to be sore if you sleep there. just give it up and come to bed.”

silence.

“okay, fine,” you mutter, walking around the sofa and pulling the blanket off of him. he doesn’t fight as you maneuver his body so that it would be easy for you to lay on top of him, pulling the blanket over you two and snuggling into his chest. you press a kiss to his chin, “good night.”

“this will not work. couch is too small for us both,” he mutters, obviously annoyed.

you lift your head, smirking in victory, “you’re speaking to me now?”

he goes quiet again with a grunt and you snuggle back into the familiar warmth of his body. it only takes five minutes before he’s nudging you away, lifting you and carrying you into the bedroom. he deposits you onto the bed silently and slips into his own space, back facing you. you tug at his arm, “you can’t be mad at me forever.”

a grunt is all you receive in response.

send in your requests for sts!

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Bridge

(Masterlist)

(Content: broken bones, dissociation, past abuse, fear)

===================

It took him three days to start speaking again. 

Simon had been the one to find him in the morning. Delta did not want it to be this way. He barely stirred as the lights came back on. Simon had thought he was dead. There was too much blood. He had to bust the lock open with his pocket knife.

Delta didn’t respond to Simon’s pleas, nor to Dr.Martino’s threats. He wouldn’t stop shivering.

For three days he was holed up in the doctor’s office. Dr.Martino reset his nose by hand. It made a harsh, popping sound. Delta whimpered at the feeling of hands on his face. They cast it in a small silver splint. 

“Let me see. Come on,” Simon pulled Delta’s hand out from his chest, where he had been clutching it. His wrist was discolored and bent and quite visibly broken. Simon slid the stockinette over his arm. He held Delta’s arm firmly in place as Dr.Martino wrapped it in cotton gauze.

“What color do you want?” Simon tried again. The silence was beginning to worry him. Nevertheless, it continued. 

“We only have green, anyway,” Dr.Martino sighed. He removed the fiberglass from its packaging. He taped it around Delta’s wrist. The layers formed a hard cast around the injury. Simon released his arm, placing it gently back in his lap. 

They removed the shards of the mirror from his body. They left shallow cuts - only a few had truly been embedded. Sitting in the cold bath water had not helped to slow the blood loss or stave off infection. Dr.Martino was keeping an eye on it. 

There was nothing they could do for the broken ribs. Dr.Martino was clearly reluctant to yield about the painkillers; Simon had to leave the room to calm down.

Simon forbid Paris from seeing him. He was surprised at how little resistance this was met with.

They couldn’t keep him in the office forever, though. Just as long as it took for him to come back. Simon was scared his brain might have been broken permanently. 

“Delta. Are you good to walk?” Simon cupped his face in his hands. It forced him to look up. 

“Yes, sir,” Delta murmured. His voice was quiet and trancelike.

“Okay. I’m taking you back to your room. I cleaned it up for you already.”

He closed his eyes. Simon took his uninjured hand and helped him up from the table. His steps were staggered from the pain in his ribs. It was dark in the hall. It was night aboard the ship. Delta had no idea how much time had passed. It had felt like an eternity.

The glass had all been cleaned up from the floor. So too had the blood been mopped up. Simon helped Delta onto his bed. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Simon asked. Delta didn’t respond, which Simon interpreted as a no.

Delta could not believe he was still alive.

=====================

He didn’t remember falling asleep. When he woke up, it was again night aboard the ship. All the lights were dimmed. Delta forced himself upwards, wincing at the way it tugged his ribs. He forced himself to stand and to move the chair back into its position at the door. 

It no longer felt safe in his room. The chair did not offer the same security it once did. He paced over the spot he had so recently laid bleeding, convinced he was about to be killed. There was no chance of forgetting. 

He lifted up the mattress. His laptop was still there, right where he’d left it. Paris hadn’t found it after all. He removed it from between the boards, placing it on top of his blanket. He sat down painfully. 

The knowledge of his treachery would have been the end of his line. He was sure of it. He’d personally cost the Empire several victories through the intelligence leaks. He’d personally cost Paris battles over it. Paris wouldn’t have let him walk away from that. He’d already be dead — or worse.

Then what had he actually done wrong? He felt at his broken nose. Even the gentle touch re-ignited the hollow pain in his skull. Was it for talking to Lorelai? Because Lorelai had talked to him? He hadn’t said a single word to her when Paris was there. He didn’t understand. He wondered if it was even worth attempting to. 

I hate you. 

It’d been ringing around in his head ever since. It terrified him. Delta did not often feel positively about the prince. He understood the feeling was mutual. But at the end of the day, Delta belonged to Paris. What did it mean if he hated him? Enough to do what? To break his bones? To nearly kill him? And then what? Delta was more fearful than he had been in a long time. 

He remembered the twisted forms of the psychics he had seen in the lab. Limbs cut off. Eyes gouged out. Bones broken out the sides. It terrified him. Their bodies weren’t their own anymore.

Delta wasn’t truly of the mind that his body belonged to him in the first place. That notion had been challenged again and again. But ultimately, it was still his will that commanded it. The same could not be said of the ones that had been altered. They were alienated from their own power. It was controlled with remotes and wires. Their handlers’ devices connected physically to their brain and spine. Their bodies were nothing but the casing through which to access power. There was nobody inside anymore.

He wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. He had the ability to raze worlds. Paris hated him. Paris would never give that kind of power up. Paris hated him. 

He could not live with this kind of terror. 

=============

ndhakdvsnnd: hey so is that offer still on the table

sunspot: Are you alright?

ndhakdvsnnd: yeah im fine 

sunspot: Do you want us to come get you?

ndhakdvsnnd: yes

sunspot: Okay. Done.

ndhakdvsnnd: im sorry

sunspot: What’s up? Did something happen?

ndhakdvsnnd: yes i wish i could explain it better but i cant stay here anymore it is too dangerous

ndhakdvsnnd: i dont want to die here i dont want them to have my body 

ndhakdvsnnd: im sorry for not being honest with you about what i am i didnt want to complicate things for you but now i dont have a choice

sunspot: I don’t understand.

ndhakdvsnnd: i know im sorry i cant explain it better

ndhakdvsnnd: im not asking on my own behalf it is dangerous for everyone else for me to remain here

ndhakdvsnnd: i have been really selfish

sunspot: It’s alright. We can talk more in person okay?

ndhakdvsnnd: okay

sunspot: Are you going to be at the Centurion Ball thing coming up?

ndhakdvsnnd: probably yes

sunspot: Ok we’ll work it out there.

sunspot: Also can you swim?

[ququb444hm]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

part 27 / cramps ☆

masterlist

warning(s): possible typos bc its almost 2 am n i have not proofread this at all

mori glanced over to his left, noticing the sudden change in demeanor from yn who was just giggling over mr. alec’s reaction to his ‘friend’ surprising him outside of his class for a ‘friendly hangout’. “something happen?” 

the mild concern spreading across yn’s features quickly diminished when she turned off her phone, tucking it away in the back pocket of her jeans. “no. everything’s fine. everything will be fine.” she reassured– though it sounded like she was reassuring herself more than mori. “tets is on his way to pick me up, so I’m gonna have to raincheck going to your dorm tonight mori, sorryyy.” 

“don’t worry about it!” mori chirped, an arm slinging around the girl’s shoulders. “just means that you’re making dinner for us next time.”

“if you want overcooked dino nuggets for dinner again. then, yeah.” rin teased, laughing to himself at the memory of yn forgetting to take the metal tray out of the oven because somehow she managed to lock herself out of mori’s dorm room and couldn’t get back in until 7 minutes after the kitchen timer alerted the food was ready.

yn rolled her eyes, nudging the boy’s side with her elbow. “as if you weren’t the one refusing to open the door for me.”

“I was working on a project!” rin defended.

mori raised a brow, recalling the night of the topic. “oh? I didn’t know taking a nap with my dog was part of your project.”

taking rin’s silence as a sign of defeat, yn grinned in triumph. “never belittle my cooking skills!”

“yeah okay. opening a bag of pre-made dino nuggets and popping them into the oven isn’t necessarily cooking.”

yn cupped her ear, leaning closer to the grumbling cinematography major “’m sorry, what was that? can’t really understand what sounds like…like…” she shared a knowing look with mori who was already giggling to himself. “like BULLSHIT right now!”

the sudden stop in rin’s footsteps threw the two into a frenzy, clutching their stomachs as their laughter bounced about throughout the halls. 

“I think he’s mad!” mori managed to squeeze in between laughs.

taking a deep breath, rin gave his friends a menacing smile.“i’m going to be generous and give you giggling neanderthals a five-minute start before I catch you and commit unspeakable crimes.”

yn let out an excited squeal, feeling like a little kid as she grabbed mori’s arm and began to run to the building’s exit. “don’t let him catch you!” she exclaimed, steps quickening as the two made their way down the stairs, careful not to trip.

“I hear him, he’s coming!” mori cried, navigating through the various turns they had to make before finally bursting through the art building’s doors. 

just as he was about to make a successful escape, he was pulled back by the thundering drummer. “leaving so soon, pretty boy?” 

“noooooo!!! we were so close!” yn shrieked, “please, take me instead!” but her pleas went deaf to rin’s ears who only smirked in victory.

“now, now, no need for any sacrifices.” he kept his hold on mori’s wrist, unknowingly silencing the sandy blond whose heart seemed to run numerous laps inside his chest. “a win is a win.”

yn scoffed, waving off the loss. “whatever.”

the three make their way to the parking lot, patiently waiting for tetsurou to arrive. when he does, mori and rin watch as yn gets into the car, saying their goodbyes before also taking their leave.

“hey, kuroo.” tetsu smiles, messing up his sister’s hair and earning a groan as she puts on her seatbelt. “how was class?”

yn makes herself comfortable, prepping her mind for whatever her brother was about to follow up with. “suppeerrr funsies, tets. did you just come from the gym?”

“yeah, had to drop off kou before picking you up.” yn hums. her mind starting to fill up with possibilities of what the conversation might develop into. as if tetsu could see right through her, he began to ask what had been plaguing his mind for the past few days. “so…anything you wanna tell me? ya know cause i’m your brother and I love you, and I would always want to know if something is wrong, and I am hoping you know you can trust me with anything and everything.”

“I know tets.” yn reassures, giving him an awkward smile which he turns to see for a brief second before turning his eyes back on the road in front of him.

“so spill, what’s up?”

“are you looking for a specific answer or…”

“no, just want you to be honest with me is all.”

the conversation yn had with her friends from the night they were all in her room, after the whole incident with kozume, revisited her thoughts. 

“oh but guys,” yn spoke up, earning several hums. “you cannot let my brother know about any of this.” the request caused the friends to break away from the hug, confused as to why the only other person besides yn who could knock some sense into kozume couldn’t be informed of the situation. “it’s just… with the game coming up, I don’t want the team to turn to shit because one of the co-captains suddenly can’t cooperate with the main setter.”

mori clicked his tongue, feeling conflicted with yn’s choice. “okay… I understand where you’re coming from but what’re you gonna do when your brother does find out? I mean, he’s not dumb.”

“mori’s right.” rin chimed. “he might start getting suspicious with your change of attitude towards kozume and start piecing things together.”

she mentally cursed the accuracy of her friends– though already expecting her brother to notice something was wrong without her directly telling him because, obviously, he’s her brother.

“okay…,” yn knew it would be best to come clean to tetsu about the recent events, but she just couldn’t bear the guilt she would feel if she saw him and kozume suddenly start to get rocky before their first game of the year, especially after all the hard work the whole team has been putting in. “well i’m passing all my classes-”

“even chem?”

“even chem, tets. and I have this big project for my painting class, the one I just came out of, so i’m spending more time in there than usual. and…” yn tried to think of other things to catch her brother up on to hopefully ease his concern, but he beat her to it.

“why’d you skip chem and ela that one day with tooru?” the car stopped at a red light, allowing tetsurou to have more of his attention on yn. 

‘quick, quick, quick-’ yn fidgeted with the straps of her bag, attempting to calm herself down. “oh you know, I was just really overwhelmed that morning.” ‘that wasn’t a total lie, please believe me.’ “with the project, my other classes, helping out with the band because of their gig, and cece with the shop, and the volleyball team, i’ve just been a bit busy and tooru wanted to help me relax.” once again, not a total lie. “don’t worry though, kozume- er koz uhm- i texted kozu while i was out and he said we had a sub and were just working on the previous day’s work which i already finished. so, it’s all good. all good.” now that was a lie.

the topic of kozume seemed to be what tetsurou was curious about because his face flashed with surprise, almost distracting him from the spotlight turning green. “oh. so… nothing is wrong with you and kozume?”

“why would there be anything wrong?”

“no its just,” his confusion was evidently clear, his other hand running through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. “last week tuesday with the apology and you telling me he kissed you, but when he got to practice he was barely talking to you which i just found really weird.”

“ohh, I mean I think we both know how shy he can get.” yn mumbled.

“yeah but,” tetsu clicked his tongue. yn was right, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that there was just more to uncover. “I guess I just expected him to be more bold after he literally kissed you. I mean you make it clear you like him, and there’s literally nothing stopping him from asking you out or something– and i’m sorry if i’m overstepping my boundaries since it isn’t technically my relationship, but it just rubs me the wrong way since I’m your brother and if something happens to you, it happens to me too. that’s just how it is.”

“so you’re saying…kozume kissed you too?”

tetsu rolled his eyes at his sister’s little joke, “oh shut up, you know that’s not what I mean. but there’s something else i’ve been thinking about. I noticed after you went out to go talk to kozume when he went to get some water, you didn’t come back. what happened? atsumu said you got-”

“NO! no! ahahaha no.” yn awkwardly laughed off her sudden outburst, mentally reminding herself to sucker punch the fake blonde the next time she saw him. “I just…got cramps. yeah, my period cramps hurt real baaaad.” she dragged out the word, wanting to emphasize the lie. “like I started crying, kind of bad. I had to ask cece to pick me up. sorry I didn’t tell anyone before leaving all of a sudden.”

seeing tetsurou’s features soften at the misfortune his little sister had to endure, yn finally relaxed knowing he was going to drop any further interrogation related to the one person she did not want to even think about. “aww what,” genuine concern laced his voice, making yn feel slightly ashamed for the string of deception. “is your cycle over now though? you should’ve texted me, I would’ve come by after practice and got you something.”

“I know, I know. i'm sorry, tets.”

“and if you’re really stressed, just let me know. the whole manager role was so abrupt. I wasn’t really thinking of how busy you already are with everything. I’m sorry, yn.”

hearing tetsu’s worry was equivalent to being stabbed a hundred times and then being lit on fire and then having the people who lit you on fire extinguish you only to stab you a few more hundred times. yn quickly tried to cheer him up, “its okay, tets! I wanted to do it, remember? I thought it would be fun and it is. getting to spend more time with you and everyone else has been a great way for me to unwind. I’m really glad you gave me this opportunity.” 

tetsu sighed, thankful that he didn’t add to yn’s burdens. “If you need to work on other things tomorrow, just let me know. I'm sure kou and I can handle practice ourselves.” 

laughing at the stubbornness, yn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “no, I can make it. It’s okay, but thank you.”

“are you sure?”

yn smiled, her heart warming at knowing how much her brother looked after her. “yeah, i’m sure tetsu.”

part 26 mic drop <- | masterlist | -> part 28 TYPE SHIT

note(s): ILL PROBB REUPLOAD THIS/EDIT AFTER SCHOOL +none of the pictures used are mine!!

✩⡱ taglist !! + @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anny-bah @ast4rg1rl @sukunasrealgf @dani-shitting-around @whokillednyx @vernon-dursley @limaswife @sugawara-levi @sixxze @ryoiii @literally-a-ferret @444sunarin @llearlert @lloyd4x @usermins @2baddies-1porsche @vernon-dursley @lyzisbitchingagain lmk if u want to be added (msg or inbox)ヾ(･ω･`；)ﾉ

[autisticlancemcclain]

“That was bad,” Lance murmurs.

The last team member has just left the room, footsteps slowly fading down the hallway. Left is only the red and black paladins, sat at the head of the table, one with his elbows resting on the table, head in his hands, and the other tipped back in the chair, looking blankly up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, eyes crossed and unfocused. He sighs, tipping forward and straightening his neck. “It was.”

It’s not unusual for Voltron to fail. They’re fighting a force so huge and ancient and convoluted that they can’t possibly be truly, entirely victorious; the lions are powerful, and Voltron moreso, but they can only be in so many places at once. There is only so much information they can have. And they are all so young, besides, inexperienced and fumbling in their own confusion.

The fail frequently.

But rarely so ardently, and so congruently.

“I didn’t get all the details,” Lance says softly. He picks his head up; brown eyes still tired and downcast but pen prepped for notes. “The rest of them…this briefing didn’t get anywhere. I need the story from you.”

It’s true. The last half hour was almost completely silent. No one had looked up from their laps, faces streaked with tears or carefully neutral, defeat lining postures and pulling down frowns. Any questions Keith or Lance had asked to try and spark discussion, get notes for later improvements, went nowhere. No one could summon their voices to speak, to vocalize their disappointment and pain.

“Let’s not,” Keith begs. At Lance’s hesitant face, he bulldozes forward, pleading hand on Lance’s arm. “I can’t now, Lance. I honestly don’t think I could make myself go through it, not yet. I just want to — ignore it. Just for tonight.”

Lance scrutinizes him carefully, holding his gaze, trying to read right through him. It’s not like Keith to beg for a break, to insist on taking a breather. He’s usually the one to convince them to get up again and keep going.

But they’ve all been going for so long. They’re tired. The team’s tired. Keith’s tired. Lance is tired.

They can’t keep running on empty.

“Alright,” Lance whispers. He slides his arm back a tad, flipping his hand to grab Keith’s and squeeze. “Let’s take a breather.”

He pushes his chair back and stands, pulling Keith up with him. Keith doesn’t fight it, simply follows behind him. Lance leads him out of the briefing room and down the hall, ducking into the kitchen and flipping on the lights.

“Hang on,” he says. He squeezes Keith’s hand once, shooting him a small grin, and then makes his way to a largely unused set of shelves and cabinets on the back. He climbs up onto the counter, then opens the cabinets by his feet, using the doors as footholds.

Keith snorts to himself. Spider boy.

He finally manages to find what he’s looking for and scrambles back down to the floor, holding out a bottle of something.

“Shiro’s stash?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Coran’s,” Lance says with a grin. “The nastiest nunvil in the galaxy.”

Keith makes to grab a couple glasses, but then stills, getting an idea.

“Keith?”

“Come with me.”

Keith dashes out the hallway, not waiting for Lance — he’s got long legs, he’ll follow.

He speeds past their rooms, past the royal wing where Allura sleeps, past the rest of the paladin rooms. He slides his boots past the training room, Lance’s whooping laughter behind him. He dashes all the way to the very edge of the castle, the forgotten corner, with the giant windows showcasing beautiful and dark empty space — and the pool.

Lance grins at him. Some of the tiredness faces from his dark eyes, replaced with something alive, excited. “You know, sometimes your brain actually pumps out a decent thought or two, Kogane.”

“Oh, piss off.”

They duck into the room, walking up the side walls like Coran showed them all those years ago, feeling the swoop in their bellies as the gravity changes. Keith barely even pauses to strip down to his boxers before diving into the pool. The cool water is like a balm to his heated, sweaty skin and tired brain. He inhales deeply when he finally comes up for air, and the relief settles like heavy snow in his bones.

“God, that feels good.”

He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, waiting for the telltale signs of Lance cannonballing in, but all he hears is the sound of rustling fabric, then a soft grunt and gentle waves. He turns around to see Lance, down to his boxers like Keith, but sat in the edge of the pool, legs swishing in the water. He still holds the bottle of nunvil in one well-manicured hand.

“You’re not coming in?” Keith questions, swimming over to the side of the pool and hooking his arms over the ledge. Lance scoots back slightly, lifting one leg out from the pool and tucking it under the other so he can face Keith better. He pops the cork — narrowly missing Keith’s eye, which makes him laugh and Keith curse at him — and takes a deep swig, hacking up a lung when he comes up for air. He passes the bottle off the Keith as he wipes his mouth.

“God, that shit is disgusting.”

Keith coughs as the bitter taste coats his mouth. “Yep.”

He hands the bottle back to Lance, who takes only a sip before setting it resolutely down behind him. “Nasty.”

Keith hums. He pushes back slightly from the ledge, tipping his head back as he treads water. He says nothing for a while, sensing that Lance is sitting on something, turning it over in his mind.

“Was it really a total ambush?” Lance asks eventually. His voice is quiet; small almost.

Keith sighs, heavy and pained. “Yeah. Just —” he sighs again, tilting his head back in the water until it covers his ears and mutes all the ambient sound, softens the sound of Lance’s feet kicking slowly through the water. “Just a total ambush. No chance of our victory. Me and Hunk and Pidge, watching everything go to shit.”

He imagines he can hear Lance’s heartbeat, his even breaths. He matches them to the swish of the water, to his own steady heart pounding.

“I’m sorry,” Lance offers. Keith lifts his head so his voice doesn’t sound so far away, meets his soft brown eyes head-on.

“It happens,” Keith dismisses. They’ll have to talk about it later, the entire team, but the slight buzz of the nunvil makes everything soft and fuzzy and easier to handle, so for now he doesn’t worry about it. “How’d it fail with the diplomatic mission, though? You and Allura are usually do good at those.”

To his surprise, a light flush dusts Lance’s cheeks. Keith places his feet in the floor, leaning forward in intrigue.

“No particular reason,” Lance says, obviously lying. “Just a rough one. Happens.”

“Try again,” Keith says, smiling teasingly. “I know that look. Something embarrassing happened to you.”

Keith isn’t honestly expecting him to fess up. Keith probably wouldn’t, in his shoes. But for whatever reason, despite his obvious embarrassment, Lance averts his eyes slightly and mutters something.

“Huh?”

“She wanted to kiss me,” he repeats, way too loud. He clears his throat, flush deepening on his cheekbones. “The, uh, the president’s daughter? Said it was some sort of custom, and that I needed to kiss her to seal the contract. I wouldn’t do it and Allura wouldn’t let them force me, so they walked away.”

Keith frowns slightly at the tinge of self-doubt clouding the Cuban’s voice.

“Good for Allura,” he says emphatically. He holds Lance’s gaze until he’s sure his right hand understands, until he knows that he knows that they made the right choice, even if it was a hard one. “I’m a little surprised, though, Loverboy. Gone are the days where you would have jumped for a chance of that, huh?”

He’s only joking, playing at the way Lance used to brag about all the princes and princesses he’d score with his paladin status, but to his surprise Lance looks slightly uncomfortable, like he’s caught in a lie. Keith narrows his eyes.

“I’ve never actually kissed anyone,” Lance admits, so quietly Keith has to strain to hear, and it takes him a second to process. His eyes widen comically when he does, jaw dropping in shock. “No way. You? Loverboy Lance? You’ve never been kissed.”

Face flaming, Lance ignores him, reaching back for the bottle of nunvil and chugging until he literally can’t stand the taste anymore and gags.

“Hey, hey, slow down! Pass that over.”

Dutifully Lance does, still averting his gaze. Keith takes a quick swig — blegh — before swimming over to place the bottle on the other end of the pool, out of Lance’s reach.

“Cant believe you’ve never been kissed,” Keith mutters, half to himself. It really is a shock. He’s always known that Lance plays up his playboy status, that he plays a bit of a part, but he’s assumed that Lance had no shortage of suitors to sort through. There’s no way a boy walks around with legs that long and a face that pretty and isn’t at least a little aware that he’s gorgeous.

Lance shrugs slightly, eyes trained on a very specific area of the pool, pointedly away from Keith. “Just want it to be special, is all.”

For the briefest, barest second, Lance glances at Keith, before hastily looking back away. His fingers start tapping rapidly on his knee.

Something clicks in Keith’s head.

Oh.

He smirks, widely, tilting his head back and looking at his right hand with cocky, half-lidded eyes.

“Aw, you’ve never been kissed,” he teases, voice a touch condescending, making it clear that Keith had definitely been kissed, and it’s cute that Lance hasn’t.

Lance scowls, refusing to rise to the bait. Keith smiles wider, letting some of his blatant fondness bleed through the playfully. He lifts his arm from the water, splashing getting Lance attention, and crooks his finger, beckoning. His heart pounds, but he refuses to bow to any nerves.

“C’mere.”

His voice is so quiet that he’s almost convinced that Lance can’t hear him, but slowly he pushes off the ledge, sliding into the water and making his way to where Keith stands, water up to his chest. He comes all the way close, stopping only inches away. Keith reaches over, water dripping rapidly from his arm, and cups his hand around Lance’s cheek. It burns, but Lance doesn’t move, rigid in Keith’s hold, breaths stuttered and short.

Slowly, giving Lance time to move if he likes, he leans in. He keeps his eyes open as long as he can, so he can watch Lance’s flutter closed, watch him sigh, watch him lean close, watch his fingers curl around Keith’s arm, watch the freckles over his nose and the water droplets of the pool dotting his brown skin. He keeps his eyes open until his lips finally touch Lance’s, gently, softly, reverently.

This kiss is not long. Barely lasts two seconds. But Keith’s belly is flip flopping, and his heart is pounding, and when he pulls away he stays, for a moment, an inch from Lance’s face, just to watch his eyes flutter back open, hazy, dark.

“Hope that was special enough,” he murmurs, trailing his hand down Lance’s bare ribs, down his waist, resting on his hip for just a moment. Lance shudders.

��Yeah,” he whispers, glancing at Keith’s lips like he’s longing to press them to his again. “Yeah, it was.”

———

based on this post

[giftedyoungster3000]

PRE GAME

Hockey C2

Word count: 971

Summary: hockey!Bucky x reader. Bucky likes to be with you before his games. Your his lucky charm. Kinda smuty not really and little but of feels at the end. It’s pretty fluffy. No use of y/n and little to no description

Warnings: Bucky, hockey players, smutish, make outs, feelings, fluff, lemme know if any warnings need to be added

Event: @buckybarnesevents june-iverse

A/n here is another unedited not pre read fic I wrote. It will probably suck but I signed up for the June iverse so I feel compelled to finish it.

A big part of sports was the rituals people held. It may be a pair of socks they never clean maybe a certain food or song. whatever it was most people were very protective of that ritual. And James was just like everyone else he had his ritual. But he knew he was the only one to have this specific ritual cause that was you.

It started a few months after he finally asked you out. You were both sitting in the locker room before a game, he pulled you onto his lap and held you in a heavy make-out session. Tongues and teeth smashing against each other. Hips grinding on the others acting desperate the years worth of tension that built while you were both ‘just friends’ still hadn’t been released.

The coach had come in calling Bucky out for the game before you could get anywhere. He played with such eagerness to get back to you that he brought his team to victory just so he could get back to you.

And ever since that one game he always has you on his lap before the game so he has the motivation and fight to win the game, and not let it go into overtime just so he could get back to you and finish what he started.

You were his whole world and everything he did revolved around you. He didn’t know if it was too early to tell you he loved you but he sure as hell was in love with you.

Throughout the whole game, he would take peeks up at you sitting in the stands cheering him on to victory. The way you looked wearing one of his jerseys got him going in a way he couldn’t explain. He just couldn’t wait to get back to you.

When the third period came to an end he hurried off the ice, ignoring the teasing from his team. All of them knew just how smitten he is for you and they love to tease him about it. But when it comes to you he would endure all the mocking the world has to offer.

The moment he comes out of the locker room you attach yourself to him. Guiding his lips down to yours and pulling him down an empty hallway. Not able to wait until you got home. You had been waiting over an hour and a half for his game to end. Sure you enjoyed watching him on the ice, it did something to you. But you only had so much patience before you need to feel him.

You both stumbled a bit further down the hall and around a slight corner. Bucky placed his hands on either side of your face and leaned you against the wall. His were warm against your skin as he guided them downwards. Even his metal one was warmer than usual.

They followed the path down your body slowly pulling his jersey up your stomach and gaining him access to more of you. His left hand trailed around back and tapped the back of your thigh wanting you to jump up for him. You followed immediately.

You could feel him pushing against the inside of your thigh. And you knew that this was only the start of a very long night. And you couldn’t wait.

-

By the time you finally got home, you were both exhausted. You stumbled into buckys small flat and flipped the lights on adorning the house in a soft yellow glow. You took his bag from his hands and went to go clean his stuff when he kept hold of his bag not allowing you to pull away from him. His blue eyes searched you as you both stood there in the dim light. The silence was heavy as he continued to look deeply at you. He opened his mouth seemingly about to say something before he was interrupted by a loud ‘meeeeorw’ the volume of the screech not at all matching his cat's small size.

“I think Alpine is hungry” you giggle. Taking the opportunity to pull his bag from his grip. Walking it to his laundry room.

You could hear Bucky in the other room filling up the cat bowl as you threw some of his sweaty clothes in the washer. A silence made you turn around and you faced Bucky leaning against the door frame. He sighed and held his hand out to pull you up.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you,” he muttered. Letting the words hang in the air. A brutal wave of sickness washed over you. A panicked spiral hit you. Bucky seemed to notice cause he placed his hands on either side of your cheeks and held eye contact. “hey look at me doll, it’s nothing bad, damn it I’m bad at this.” He rambled a bit before he returned his sharp blue eyes to yours. “I love you, sweets. I think I always have but I’ve been so damn scared you would feel the same. And I get if you do but I just wanted to ask you first if you’d be my girlfriend.”

His words swirled in your head till they made sense and you eagerly nodded your head.

“Oh James, I love you too.” Was all you were able to get out in a breathless pant before both your lips attached once again. This time with less of that pent-up tension and more sensual but needy feelings behind it. The night was almost over and the day was starting to break but you knew you wouldn’t be finishing your long day off with sleep. It was going to be full of James. Or well you were going to be at least