#happy late Thanksgiving if you celebrate

[starrrlights]

A winter wonderland

Mile morales x reader

A/n : This is based during winter. Maybe around Christmas? Idk. Sorry I haven't been posting... I got really burnt out and had writers block. I don't live in/anywhere near Brooklyn, so if this doesn't seem like it is placed in Brooklynn, please just imagine a large city then. I didn't do any research for this so... yeah

I used "____" for your name, so I hope thats okay

And in the story, you don't know Miles is Spiderman, but there are a few parts in the beginning of the story that kinda implied that he was being Spiderman ig?

I hope you like it 🤭😋

You rubbed your hands together as you waited for miles to meet you at the bus stop. You two were supposed to hang out for a while and walk around, looking at everything there was to look at in Brooklyn.

It was currently snowing. Not hard enough to where you were too cold, but just enough to where you wish you had brought warmer mittens. The ones you had on definitely weren't made to keep you warm enough in this weather.

You stood by a street lamp that was by a bus stop sign. You looked around for the 10th time to try to find a familiar boyish face. But you couldn't find him yet.

You tugged your coat closer to you, salvaging any warmth you had standing to the snow. People walked past you but the only thing you could hear over the footsteps crunching the soft snow that fell to the ground was someone shouting your name.

"____!"

Miles.

You turned to the direction that he was shouting in, and you saw him jogging over. He seemed put of breath and a little out of place.

'Did he run all the way here or something?' You thought to yourself. Miles tugged his hoodie up a little as he got over to you.

"____! Hey." He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I'm sorry I'm late." He then gave you the boyish smile that you loved so much.

"It's fine miles. You're fine". You smiled widely as you reassured him. You and Miles had been dating for about a year now, and you could only feel your love for him grow stronger. Butterflies still invaded your stomach whenever he was around, and you could feel you face heat up every time he smiled.

Miles nodded as you reassured him and gently took your hand into his, giving it a small squeeze.

"Ready to go?"

You nodded, feeling your face flush from the small physical contact. You both started walking to the streets of Brooklyn, passing by parked cars and lit up street lights that highlighted falling snow as it fell from the sky. The sidewalks weren't as crowded as the weather grew colder and snow fell. You felt your hand that was in miles' hand become warm from the shared warmth.

You and Miles had talked about whatever that came to mind. Recent tests at school and what was happening at home. Miles had then brought up about why he had run late. Apparently, some destruction was happening by his apartment because of a villain, and Spiderman took a little while as he fought the villain.

You nodded in understandment, believing him. "Okay. I'm just glad you're safe, miles."

You gave miles a soft smile as you looked into his eyes, something you could never get tired of.

You both continued to talk about what had been happening in your lives until you had reached a small park. There was a small playground that contained swings, a slide, and a few other things. Snow covered everything that was available. Covering a once green park in the summer to a soft white park in the winter.

You and Miles wiped snow off of the swings and sat on the seats. It was a bit cold and slightly wet from melting snow, but that didn't bother you both much. Snow continued to fall onto you and miles. Covering your hair in small snow flakes and your coat. You and Miles continue to talk about anything and nothing. You then gave miles a good look at how he looked at that moment.

Soft snow covered his curls and clothing that he was wearing. His soft brown eyes that seemed to carry a loving gaze as he looked at you made your heart skip a couple beats. His boyish smile and charm made you forget anything bad that had happened recently to you and made you only think of one thing. Miles.

your heart swelled at every thought of him. You couldnt deny that you thought he was pretty. A soft smile creeped onto your lips as Miles continued to talk. The moment couldn't be any more relaxing than it already was.

The sounds of the wind and cars driving soon consumed your ears. You both stopped talking and sat in a comfortable silence as you watched the snow fall. The silence wasn't uncomfortable or awkward, but it was peaceful. It was something you needed after a long day.

You then turned your gaze from the grey sky over to your boyfriend. Which who was already looking over at you.

You felt your face heat up from the unexpected eye contact, and you quickly looked away. Saving yourself from feeling more embarrassed.

While you were looking away, Miles was having a similar response. Since he was caught staring at you, he couldn't help but also feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He darted his gaze to the ground, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

After a moment of awkward silence, you silently decided to look Miles again, who was now looking at the ground and fiddling with his coats' pocket. Even when he was awkward and shy, you still thought he was pretty.

You carefully move your foot over to Miles and nudge his foot. It didn't seem to startle him, but he did look back it you and smiled. He then nudged his foot against your foot, and you smiled.

The moment seemed to last for a long time. You didn't even notice that Miles had his hand out to you, wanting to hold your hand again.

"Do you want to start heading out? It's getting late."

You nodded your head as to answer his question. "Sure, let go."

He nodded as well as you took his hand and stood up from the swing set. The snow had slowed down, and the soft sounds of your guy's shoes stepping on the snow was the only thing that you heard as you walked hand and hand back to your apartment.

Everything now was beautifully covered in snow. Making it look like a true winter wonderland in your opinion. You both again passed parked cars and lit up street lamps, the highlighted falling snow. But it was all quieter now. Even with cars and people going past the two of you.

You walk down your street and find your apartment easily. You stop and you thank Miles for the time you both had.

"Thank you."

You smiled at Miles and leaned in to kiss his cheek, which was cold from being outside for so long. You felt your heart flutter from your own gesture and you wouldn't doubt Miles felt the same.

"Yeah.. no problem. I'll see you soon?"

He asked, you nodded and gave his hand one last squeeze.

"I'll see you soon."

You gave miles one last kiss before turing to your building's door and going in. Leaving Miles outside with a smile on his face, looking like he had just seen the most mesmerizing person ever.

"...god i love you."

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Oops meant to post this last night and fell asleep!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Heyy! You don't have to post this, but know that we mothlings love you vv much alr? 🥺 Your blog always brightens up my day when I get notifications holy moly. It's sort of a fluffy safe space, like how you'd imagine hugging/cuddling Foul Legacy himself feels.

That's it, that's the ask. A lil bit of appreciation to beloved person behind the blog. We love you. 🥰❤️

Is that creepy to say as anon asjfjfkdkskksksksks pls don't take it the wrong way omg

aaauugugghgh anon you are so sweet!!!!! i'm so glad my little blog feels safe, i try very hard to make it as welcoming and comfy as possible so i'm very happy that i've succeeded at least somewhat!! Foul Legacy is giving you all the hugs and snuggles right now!!!! :D

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: hi y’all! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve been on here, but after the absolute shit show that season 4 was, some sparks ignited in me to write up anything to take my mind off it 🙌

its not anything crazy, just fluff and banter since i haven’t written anything in years so it may be as poorly redacted as this season lmao

summary: five and y/n attend their niece birthday party together, yet separate

“Happy birthday, little Gracie!” You smiled widely, trying not to drop the wrapped present box as the six year old girl jumped into your arms, “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re just getting prettier by day, aren’t you?”

You had just got off work in a hurry to make your appearance at the little girl’s birthday party at a decent time, in spite of the amount of paperwork you managed to bury yourself in lately. You knew how much it would have meant for the celebrated one to show up and you couldn’t bear to let her down, especially on her birthday.

After spending most of your life working for the Commission, and then a decent amount of time exhausting yourself in trying to stop multiple Apocalypses, your last six years have been pretty quiet as a lawyer. You really wanted to get out of the whole assassin thing, but at the same time couldn’t exactly move on from the thrill of the work field. Your career as a lawyer took off really well these past years, but inevitably it came along with the cost of always being stuck at work, so whenever your niece got the chance to see you, she was truly enthusiastic.

“Auntie Y/N!” She wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, engulfing you into a tight hug, “You are here!”

Nonetheless, these six years have been truly and undeniably the most peaceful time of your life for as long as you could remember.

“You literally saw each other the other day,” Five raised a brow, watching you and the celebrated one act as if you hadn’t seen each other in years.

You and the little girl shared a look, before rolling your eyes and turning to glare at the man next to you. Ever since Grace learned how to talk, you and her would gang up on her uncle for your amusement, especially since he was so keen on entertaining the banter.

These past six year have gone by in the blink of an eye, yet at the same time at a slow and steady pace. You spent most of your time working anyway, but still kept in touch with the seven siblings you’d grown to love.

Some in different ways than others.

“Uncle Five, you’re always more excited than me to see Aunt Y/N,” Gracie waved him off, making you burst out laughing, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you anyway.”

“What is a good look on him anyway?” You smirked, making the little girl laugh, as Five swept her into his arms;

“Okay, munchkin, it’s your birthday today, but tomorrow I’m going back to bullying you,” He joked, causing you both to laugh, before the two shared a hug before you, “You’re lucky your gift has no return policy.”

The party had already started by the time you made it there. The playground was huddled by other kids around Grace’s age, along with their parents. The music was playing loudly over the laughter of children and you were pretty sure that most of the family had already arrived. It was not the most ideal gathering, but you tried your best to keep in touch with most of the family to your best capabilities.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” Luther smiled, appearing from the crowd of guests, immediately giving you a big hug as his niece was still wrapped around Five, “Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving!”

“Big shot lawyer doesn’t always have the time to stay in touch with family, huh?” Diego teased you, following suit, as you rolled your eyes, dropping off his daughter’s gift in his hands.

“Big shot delivery driver doesn’t know the phone works both ways, huh?” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips.

Diego laughed out loud as he gave you a hug, always in the mood for a back and forth short banter with you. After all, you truly were family, even if you didn’t always have the time to be present in the Hargreeves’ day to day lives. You may have met them in the original timeline in 2019, when you accidentally time traveled with your former partner at the Commission, Five, but after all you’ve been through, you didn’t need to have grown up together or be blood related to be considered that. And you truly were grateful for each and every single one of them, in spite of the many differences over the years.

After everything that’s happened six years ago at Hotel Oblivion, everyone went their separate ways. Allison was back with her daughter while trying to further her acting career and also help Klaus stay on the sober line, Viktor had moved to Canada where he opened a bar, Diego and Lila had three kids, Luther was “professionally dancing”, Ben had some run-ins with the law and Five, ironically enough, was working for the CIA.

“Well, you two are as annoying as always,” Ben told you and his brother, making Diego roll his eyes as he walked towards the gift table to set down your present.

“Please try to stay out of prison at least for the remainder of the year,” You joked with the man, making him roll his eyes as he hugged you loosely, “There’s only so much favors I could owe the DA.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben groaned, “I don’t even know why they let you work at the law firm since you still look like a prepubescent with no boobs. Even Five got a growth spurt.”

“I sized up to B recently, thank you very much,” You nudged his shoulder, before placing your hands on your chest in an offended manner.

“Okay, Gracie, not a conversation you’d wanna hear,” Five spoke up, putting his niece down, “Your aunt needs to learn some etiquette on how to act around children.”

“Funny coming from you,” You couldn’t help but wave him off.

You didn’t come in with Five at the party, but as fate had it, you did run into him as you were parking your car. He had just gone out to his brother’s dusty van to bring inside some more cookies for the guests. You kept in touch with him as well, but not as often as you would have liked. It’s not all that serious, but given the fact that you were a lawyer still climbing your way to the top and him being a top notch CIA agent, you didn’t exactly have the time to hang out.

At least, not as much as you’d have liked.

Five was watching you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as always when watching you. He had the same smile when he saw you in combat for the first time during your first mission for the Commission together, the same look in his eyes when you appeared for the first time in 2019 alongside him in your teen bodies. The same posture he had when he met you again in 1963 after months of not seeing each other.

He wore the same love on his face while looking at you when you and the siblings split up after the events at Oblivion.

And never once did you notice that.

Not once in these past six years you let your feelings surface.

“You know Grace is my niece too, right?” He couldn’t drop the small smile even if he wanted to.

“Since when are you such a family man?” You raised a brow, trying to keep a confident composure.

“Oh, something changed in me between the first and third time I traded the world for my siblings,” He lightly shrugged his shoulders, making you roll your eyes at the sarcastic remark.

You two never changed.

“Please, I was there for the twins birth,” You waved him off.

You rarely see Five, and even when you do you always try to act normal, as you do around the rest of the Hargreeves. Everyone tried to get you two together at first, since the apocalypse was over and there was no reason for you to not get together, right?

You really wished it was that easy. In hindsight, maybe it was. But you couldn’t take any chances in losing Five forever if something were to go wrong. Maybe some would see it as something stupid, or as if you wasted so many years, but to you- mentally, you were almost seventy, while physically nineteen. You had so much time ahead of you now, all that mattered was to get a stable career first.

Five let a chuckle escape, shaking his head in disbelief, as he looked at the floor for a couple of seconds. When he looked back at you, you tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic that after all these years, your heart still skipped a beat whenever he’d look at you.

“You’re doing that thing again where you forget that some other people are still around, guys,” Luther raised his hand, grabbing your attention once again.

“I got bored of watching seventy year old virgins,” Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I’m gonna go get shitfaced.”

“Always a delight seeing you, Benjamin,” Five said, as Luther followed the ex-tentacle boy suit to make re he was not about to actually get drunk;

“This is a six year old’s birthday party!”

You giggled, watching the two brothers speed away while arguing amongst the kids in the crowd. When your eyes laid back on Five, who was intently watching you, you couldn’t help but feel a small blush creep its way in your cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Hargreeves.”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“Fuck you.”

“Why?”

You watched him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds because of the only answer he could come up with, before walking away, hoping he would follow you.

When he did try to keep up with you, you looked away to hide the proud smile. Even after all these years, things were still the same with him. He was still so eager to spend time with you, he was still smiling at you and entertaining your conversation.

“Aunt Y/N, Uncle Five, come play in the ball pit!” Gracie ushered you from afar, already tucked in the plastic colorful balls.

“You heard the birthday girl!” You smiled, grabbing his hand to drag Five after you.

Even after all these years he would instantly lock his fingers with yours.

[justdontaskme]

Home Sick (Leah Williamson x Reader)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm trying to get back into things but don't be surprised if I dip again, unfortunately. I want to go back and finish some of my WIPs but needed to get something out. Let me know what you think!

Normally, a day off from practice was a godsend, and you’d spend most of the day tangled in bed with your girlfriend. The day would be filled with laziness as you both enjoyed the simplicity and stillness the rare day of no obligations could hold. 

Yet, today, at this very moment, you felt as if you were at your wit’s end. And said girlfriend was the source of much of the current frustration. 

You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen since you woke up this morning, preparing to feed your whole team as they were scheduled to arrive later today. If you were being honest, there was a part of you that was beginning to regret even deciding to host, but it was too late now. 

Ordinary team hangouts were usually chill, with all the girls coming over for drinks and a movie or game night. Today though, you had planned an early Friendsgiving dinner. Well, it was actually Emily’s idea after she heard you were feeling extra homesick this year. 

Your fellow American picked up on your sour mood lately, and she hounded you until you admitted that you had seen a bunch of videos about people already planning out Thanksgiving menus. In fact, your family group chat had been going off with your parents asking for a head count for the special dinner and any dish requests. 

Since neither you nor Emily were going to make it home for the holiday, it only made sense for you two to celebrate this holiday with your new team. It didn’t matter that they didn’t quite understand the hype of this specific holiday here on the other side of the pond, they were more than happy to learn and eat. 

When word got to Leah, she was onboard instantly, wanting to do whatever she could to help alleviate any feeling of you missing home. While you loved and appreciated your girlfriend for wanting to help, right now you really just needed her to get out of your way. 

“Leah! Get out of the kitchen!” you said, shooing your girlfriend away before she could knock something else over. You grabbed another dish towel and started wiping up the sauce the blonde managed to get all over the counter. 

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, standing right behind you with a bunch of paper towels in hand, causing you to run straight into her when you turned around. 

After throwing the dirty towel into the sink to rinse later, you grabbed Leah’s shoulders so you could face her directly, “I know, babe, but right now you are literally stressing me out more than you are helping me.”

The blonde pouted, visibly deflating, her voice mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

Your face softened at her words. Leah really was just trying to help, but with a million different things going on in the kitchen at once she was more a hazard than anything else. A hand went up, cupping her cheek.

“I know you want to help, but cooking has never been your strong suit,” you said, your voice light to let her know you were teasing. “How about you help instead by sitting right here,” you patted the kitchen counter that was currently free of anything, “and keep me company?”

“I could do that,” she smiled, stepping away from you just enough that she could hop up and place herself in the open space you had previously cleared for her. 

Once she was settled, you took a step forward, standing between her legs, “You’ll be the best helper from right here.”

She dipped her head down, stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “Anything else you need from me?”

“I just need you to sit there and tell me I look pretty,” you told her, your arms slipping around her as you hid your face in her neck. 

“Oooo, complimenting my beautiful and gorgeous girlfriend. My speciality,” she grinned, her hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

As Leah sat there, with her cheek resting against the top of your head, she whispered all the sweet nothings you wanted to hear into your ear. It helped calm your racing mind as you started to refocus on the task at hand. 

Reluctantly, you stepped out of Leah’s embrace, one hand sitting on her thigh as you turned and took in the kitchen, mentally planning out what dish needed attention next. You left Leah to attend to your dishes, asking Leah to taste things here and there. In your mind, since she was the pickiest eater on the team, if it passed Leah’s taste tests, then it would be good enough for the others. 

If anyone asked, you would deny it, but you literally almost cried in relief when Alessia and Emily showed up almost two hours later. Your friends being the extra sets of hands you desperately needed in the kitchen. With their help, things started moving much more smoothly. 

As the day went on, your teammates slowly started to filter in with drinks, other homemade dishes, or desserts in hand. Now that you had helpers, Leah was free to play hostess, checking in on everyone and making sure you were supplied with drinks that Katie was kind enough to mix for everyone. A few of your teammates offered their help, but with the kitchen being as small as it was, you, Emily, and Alessia were better off handling the food. 

Steadily, the house filled with smells of all the different food as things were almost done. The space in your apartment was becoming almost nonexistent, but it was obvious your teammates were enjoying themselves if their laughs and screams were anything to go by. Despite what some would consider chaos, this is exactly what you needed. 

As the last few dishes were either finishing up or were being reheated, you three finally took a nice break to catch up on drinks and gossip. 

Alessia was telling a story about something Tooney had gotten herself into back in the day when you felt a pair of arms slide around your waist from behind.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You turned your head to find Leah flashing you a bright grin. Her smile was one of the reasons you were enjoying yourself so much despite all the crazy and hard work from prepping and cooking over the past few days. 

“Everything is perfect,” you told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing you a little tighter. She held you in her arms, joining in on your conversation with Emily and Alessia, only disappearing once to refill your drink for you. 

When the timer went off from the oven, you felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Your friends chuckled as they watched you slip out of your girlfriend’s arms and back to the oven.

With a huge sigh of relief, you slipped on the oven mitts and went to grab the star of the night. While having a turkey was a staple for the holiday, you decided to forgo it to keep your sanity for the day. 

Instead, you decided to try your hand at something new that you felt would garner much more appreciation. After triple checking that everything was cooked and ready, you gave Leah a nod to get everyone ready to eat. 

“Dinner is ready!” she called, watching as a few of the young ones and Katie started playfully shoving each other in their haste to get first in line for food. You watched as everyone lined up buffet style and served themselves before looking for a space to eat, either at the table, on the couch, or up against the wall.

After everyone else was served, you grabbed a plate and started making a plate for your girlfriend as she went to reprimand the young ones for making a mess on the coffee table.

“This is so good, Y/N! Can you cook for us all the time?” Beth said around a mouthful of food. 

You rolled your eyes, “I already do, Beth,” you reminded her, thinking of all the days Beth would show up unannounced, looking for food and company since Viv moved to Manchester. 

“True, but you don’t make all this,” she countered, stealing a piece of bread off of Steph’s plate when the Australian was dealing with Kyra trying to overload her plate with food. 

“Thanksgiving special, so enjoy this while you can because I will not be cooking like this for some time,” you said, handing Leah her plate of food, when she came back. 

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked after thanking you, taking a seat so you could then sit in her lap. It was a little harder for her to eat this way, but she really just wanted you close. She felt like she barely saw you today as soon as people started showing up. 

“Maybe later, I just need a sec,” you told her, urging her to eat while the food was still hot. Honestly, you had quite a fill from taste testing and right now you were content to sit back and watch everyone enjoy themselves as long as you had a drink in hand.

“I’m a bit surprised there weren’t Smileys on the menu, with Leah living here and all,” Alessia said, digging into her food. 

You chuckled, seeing Leah’s mouth fall upon at the open attack, “We’re working on expanding her horizons on her food.”

Your girlfriend turned to you, her face full of betrayal, “I eat more than just Smileys!”

“Oh, I know, babe. Why do you think I made a ham instead of a turkey? Now you’ll be set with a ham sandwich for like the next week,” you said, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bit of food that spilled from the side of her mouth.

“Lucky! Now you don’t have to cook. Not that you really did much of that before.”

“I can cook!” Leah nearly shouted, sitting back from her food, glaring at her teammates.

“No, Leah. You can heat things up. There’s a big difference,” Lia said, jumping on the train to tease her best friend.

“I would take more offense to that, but you lot are just jealous that I have a girlfriend who is not only insanely pretty but loves to cook for me,” Leah said, sitting up proudly and sending you a quick wink.

“I mean she’s not my girlfriend, but she does keep me fed pretty regularly,” Beth reminded her. 

“And for that comment, Beth, you are not allowed to take any leftovers home with you,” Leah asserted, a satisfactory smirk in place when her friend immediately tried to backtrack all statements.

“Are we going to go around the table and say what we’re grateful for like they do in movies?” Kyra asked, switching topics before Leah and Beth’s banter could continue. 

You waved your hand, dismissing the idea while you took a rather large swig of your drink. The alcohol started to kick in and relax you more now that all of your responsibilities for the day were now over, “No, not really. I don’t know about you, Foxy, but we never really did that at my house. It sounds sweet in practice, but it was pretty awkward the one year we tried it. You are more than welcome to share if you want, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I, for one, have something to say,” Leah stated, chasing her last bite with a bit of water before she cleared her throat. “It may sound corny and everything, but I want to say I’m thankful for having all of you in my life, especially this one right next to me. After doing my ACL, having you lot support me through it all and being able to share things like this is a dream.”

“Stop being so emotional, you’re going to make me cry,” Katie shouted, pretending to fan away imaginary tears in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, one more thing. Last one to clean up after themself is on dish duty!” Leah exclaimed, taking the last bite from her plate before rushing to put the dish in the sink.

From there it was a mad rush to the sink, as a few snuck around, packing some food to go home with them as the chaos reigned around them. 

You continued to watch everything unfold with rapt interest, refilling your glass and cheersing with Foxy who was following your lead. With these people you considered a second family, you truly felt a sense of home, healing that little patch of homesickness you had been feeling lately. 

[hiddenavenues]

Where Boundaries Blur and Desires Go Unspoken

Logan Howlett/GN!Reader MDNI 18+

a/n: I can't tell if this is good or not because I have proofread it so much... so I'm banking on you guys letting me know. Also, happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

CW: Mean!Logan, Logan's got some control issues, angst w/ comfort sex, yelling, jealousy, Explicit sexual content, degration if you squint, Cunnilingus, P in V, Aftercare

"How many times do I have to say no before it sinks into your thick skull?" Logan's voice was dangerously low, venom dripping off each word as he stood between you and the jet doors.

You have been arguing since you woke up this morning about a mission you want to take part in. Charles had invited you, said you were ready, and that it'd be an excellent first mission, but Logan thought otherwise. When you told him about it a few days ago, you assumed his immediate no was him being a protective mother hen, but now you see it's more than that. 

"You better not be talking to me like that, Logan." You bite out, voice thick with anger. Logan had been dodgy about what he wanted between you, some days gifting you flowers from missions, other times knocking on your bedroom door late at night with nothing pure in his intentions. 

Logan let out a bitter laugh, leaning down to be at eye level with you. "No one wants you on this mission. You're inexperienced, a risk to us all, and just as likely to kill one of us as the enemy." You sneered at him, a low growl ripping from your throat as a steady ache grew in your chest. Logan turned on his heel as if you were nothing to him, dismissing you with a look before striding toward the jet.

You walked after him, nails digging into the flesh of your palms in an effort to calm your rage. "How am I supposed to get experience if you throw a tantrum whenever I want to go? I am ready. I want to help." Logan stopped and turned to face you outside the jetbridge.

"Ready?" He scoffs. "You're not ready for this, and you never will be. You're a liability, and the only reason Charles invited you is because he's too soft to see what a mistake it is." His voice was louder now, and as much as you wished Jean and Storm wouldn't listen, you knew they were hearing every word. "You think this is about me being overprotective? No, I just don't want to have to drag your dead weight back in a body bag." Without giving you time for a rebuttal, Logan turned his back to you and walked up the jetbride, Jean and Storm giving you a sad smile from inside. 

You felt your face crumple as his words hit home; burying his claws in your chest would've hurt less. A ringing in your ears grew louder by the second, nearly drowning out the deafening hum of the jet turbines. "Go ahead, leave. I won't be waiting for you when you come back." Your voice broke with emotion as you shouted at him, but you held your head high and your spine straight as you walked away. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around. 

Your blood was on fire, molten lava coursing through your veins. You waited for the doors out of the jet bay to slide shut behind you before sending your first into the wall, a colourful flow of curses following. He never spoke to you like that, as if you were nothing more than dirt under his shoe. Your chest felt like it could cave in any second; the uniform you had so excitedly pulled on this morning for your first mission felt stupid now, like you were wearing a costume you'd never grow into. 

Your thoughts continued to spiral as you took the elevator up to the main levels of the house. Logan's words echoed through your mind. You're a liability. It felt as though only a husk of yourself was walking through the halls, the warm sunny day outside mocking you.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, Scott rounded the corner before you, brows raised upon seeing you. "Chickened out so soon? You wouldn't shut up about it earlier." Scott asked, concern etched into his forehead as he watched you. You have grown close since you arrived at the school nearly two years ago. You always helped each other through everything, pinging opinions off each other over any decision, big or small. Scott almost ripped your head off when he first heard about you and Logan, saying how selfish, annoying, and mean he always is. Maybe he was right. 

You sigh, a knot forming in your throat at the thought of explaining your encounter with Logan. Scott must have seen the misery on your face because before you knew it, he was taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, plopping you down on a chair at the table. While he made the two of you something to drink, you told him about the fight with Logan, trying your best not to break down where someone could easily walk in. 

Scott slid a mug of hot chocolate across the table, settling into his chair with a cool, calculating look. “So, how’re you gonna get him back?” His voice was steady, but the cold anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

You bristled at the question, revenge being the furthest thing from your mind. “I’m not,” you replied sharply, shaking your head.

"Oh, come on, someone has to put kitty cat in his place. From the sounds of it, you have the upper hand." His grin widened as confusion flickered across your face. "Don't tell me you can't see it? Logan’s so fucked up that he thinks hurting you to keep you off the mission is protecting you. He's shown his entire hand." Scott leaned forward on his elbows, eyes locked on yours. "So I'll ask again. How're you gonna get him back?" 

For a moment, you hesitated, Scott’s words sinking in. Logan had always been possessive, scaring off any guy who got too close for his liking. Even though you weren’t officially together, he’d growl at anyone who dared approach, flashing an innocent look your way whenever you caught him.

"Actually,” A grin creeps across your face. “I think I might have an idea." 

-

You wake to the sound of the jet returning from its mission, early morning light seeping through the windows as you pad down the hall to Scott's bedroom door. It opens on the first knock to reveal Scott, face puffy and eyes heavy with sleep. 

You brush past him into the room and stand before his mirror, fussing your hair and rubbing your eyes to pull this charade off as Scott flops back into bed. You tug at your clothes, trying your best to look freshly fucked before turning to face Scott, whose eyes were so lidded with sleep you wondered if he'd remember any of this. 

"So, how do I look?" You ask, giving him a spin. 

Scott huffs a laugh. "Honestly? Dishevelled. You're missing the afterglow, but otherwise, you'd fool even me into thinking you had the fuck of your life in here." 

"Only in your dreams." The sound of creaking stairs silenced your banter as you listened to Logan making his way to his room. 

"Ah-ah-ah, be careful, kitty's got special hearing. Don't wanna foil your plan so soon, do ya?" Scott whispered, giving you a wink before tucking back into bed, content to go back to sleep, utterly ignorant to your heart's racing. You sucked in a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the dark hallway.

You hear more than see Logan's steps stutter against the carpeted flooring as you shut Scott's door behind you, feigning surprise when you spot him in front of you. "Shit! You snuck up on me." You feign surprise, letting a nervous laugh follow your words, eyes flickering from his to the floor. 

Logan's face was unreadable. His eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with something like hurt in his eyes. His gaze darted from your face to the room you had just come out of, the puzzle pieces in his mind slowly clicking together. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before Logan grabbed your arm and dragged you across the hall into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What the fuck.” He growls, pinning you against the bedroom door. “I tell you ‘no’ one time, and you go spreading your legs to anyone?" 

"Oh, someone's jealous, hm?" You tease, heartbeat loud in your ears as your breath comes in hot pants. Logan’s eyes darken with desire, his nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of your arousal coating your thighs.

"Oh, you preening slut." He mocks, pressing his chest further into yours, firmly crushing you into the door. "Straight from Scott's bed to mine? You didn't even make it two steps, baby." His voice filled with condescension. You hold back a whimper at his words, making a point to look at anything but his eyes. Bringing a hand to your chin, Logan forces your gaze on his. "Funny thing is, the only sex I smell on you is your own, and we both know Scott’s too scared to touch what’s mine." Your breath catches in your throat as Logan's knee nudges between yours, pressing into your heat. 

"Admit it, you only threw a fit yesterday because you care about me. You don't want me out there 'cause the idea of me getting hurt scares you." You say, breathless and flushed, lust fogging your mind as Logan begins to grind you down on his thigh. You can't stop your hips from bucking against him, desperate for any friction.

Your gasps and whines of pleasure fill the room as you grind yourself on his thigh. Your breath mingles with his as a coil winds itself in your core, tightening with each roll of your hips. A loud whimper falls from your lips as Logan stills your movement before picking you up, bringing you to his bed and tossing you on the blankets. 

With your back to the mattress, Logan kneels between your thighs, your clothed cunt inches from his face. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say about that, hun.” He whispers as his fingers brush the skin above your waistband. Even as your mind swims from the intensity of his gaze, you can easily spot a blush coating his cheeks.

“Fucking bullshit,” You breathe, hands darting out to slip your pants down. “I know you want me. I know you were jealous when you saw me coming out of Scott’s room. If this were ‘just sex,’ you wouldn’t give a shit who I fuck, Logan.” The hand he has on your abdomen starts toying with your waistband, eyes watching your face intensely. “You’re so scared you might be able to love me that you don’t let yourself do anything more than bed me and throw me out after and act like you don’t give a fuck.”

The room was silent, your words echoing against the walls. Your breathing was loud in your ears as you held each other's gaze. It felt like a millennia passed before Logan replied.

“Here’s the plan.” The timbre in his voice had you clenching your thighs together. “I’m gonna fuck you, gonna have you cryin’ for me, and only after I have you fucked stupid in my bed ‘n wearing my shirt.” Logan’s hand trails down to your knee, placing a large hand on your thigh. “Only then do I plan on being any kinda ‘boyfriend material.’”

You nod eagerly, head falling to your shoulder as Logan’s fingers lazily finish tugging down your pants, exposing your lack of underthings to him. Logan’s eyes blaze with lust, hands sliding up your thighs to hold your hips still. You nearly moan at the sight of him, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly agape, and your thighs resting on his powerful shoulders. His breath is hot on your naked heat as he hovers inches above you, teasing you with his mouth. A breathy moan escapes your lips as Logan presses wet kisses to your core.

Logan was immortal, and god did his oral prove it. Before long, he has you moaning and writhing against him with your hand tangled in his hair. Each tug of his hair earns you a deep growl as he devours your cunt, juices coating his face. Your breath is uneven as your back bows off the mattress.

“Fuck Logan, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” You shout, a familiar coil winding in your core as Logan continues lapping at your clit. You pull Logan further into your cunt, needing him closer, deeper. The coil snaps, waves of white hot pleasure wracking your body as your mouth falls to form a silent ‘O’. Logan’s eyes watch you intently as you come back down, waiting for you to start pushing him away before he dares to stop ravaging you. Panting, you slump into the mattress, mind reeling as Logan kisses up your body before bringing his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Did so good, so good for me. Need you to give me a few more mk?” Logan whispered into your neck as he positioned himself above you. You nod at him as you reach for his belt, hands making quick work of the buckle before eagerly unzipping and yanking his pants down. The tent in his boxers looked painfully tight; the sight alone nearly had your mouth watering. You let out an unsteady breath as your hand caresses his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, Logan’s responding moan nothing but predatory. 

“Don’t get bratty, or I’ll fuck you so loud the entire school will know who’s cock your creaming on.” Logan has his boxers pulled down before he finishes his sentence, cock slapping against his abdomen and a bead of pre-cum rolling down the head. Your eyes are glued to his cock as he begins slowly stroking himself. You grind into nothing, desperate for any friction, while Logan reaches into his bedside table to pull out a rubber, giving you a wink as if to say hey, safe sex is great sex.

Resting his forehead on your shoulder, Logan aligns himself with you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Tell me when you’re ready, baby,” he whispers, pressing tender kisses along your neck. You give him the go-ahead with a slight nod, and Logan slowly eases into you. His breath shudders against your skin, a low moan escaping you in response.

He pauses, giving your body time to adjust. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but something about this was different than your usual bedding habits: softer, less angry. When you finally beg him to move, Logan obliges, filling you with a steady, measured rhythm that leaves you gasping for more.

Each thrust has the bed shaking, the frame groaning with each piston of Logan’s hips. Your cunt sucks him in eagerly, the sound of your soaked sex embarrassingly loud in your ears as Logan increases his pace.

“No one else makes you feel this good, right bub?” Logan’s voice is breathy and muffled as he kisses your chest, sucking love bites into any exposed skin. You moan loudly, pussy clenching around him in response as your mind fails to find words to reply. You’re drunk off his cock, obsessed with the drag of him against your core, each thrust deeper than the last. You claw at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy, both of your moans turning feral and broken as a familiar burn grows low in your abdomen.

“G’nna cum, sweetheart,” Logan pants, moans bouncing off the walls of his room. “Taking me so well, g’nna fill you up, baby.”

“Fuck Lo, please, please.” Your words descend into indistinguishable mumbling as the fire in your abdomen spreads down your thighs, burning hotter with each slap of Logan's hips. Fire sears through your veins, and distantly you can hear yourself screaming, moaning, and babbling beneath Logan as he fucks you relentlessly into the mattress. His cock fills you, rocking deliciously into the spongey spot deep inside that has you seeing stars. 

“Oh, fuck-” A moan rips from Logan’s chest as his hips stutter, his release coating your thighs. Logan’s pace doesn’t slow, instead rubbing frantic circles into your clit. “C’mon baby cum for me.” The pressure in your abdomen builds before crashing down, your walls spasming around his already overstimulated cock. Your back arches off the bed as Logan kisses you desperately, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

You pull away, resting your forehead against his as both of you catch your breath. In the dim light of the bedroom, Logan looked almost ethereal, his hair tousled from your fingers, pupils blown wide as he gazes at you with a softness you’ve never seen. With a low groan, Logan carefully pulls out of you, allowing your trembling legs to relax against the bed before quietly muttering something about the washroom.

Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion and overstimulation threatening to pull you into sleep. Moments later, the sensation of something warm and soft against your skin made you stir, a quiet whine escaping you.

“Shhh, it’s alright, love. Just cleaning you up, that’s all.” Logan’s hand gently steadies your hips, stopping your squirming as he cleans you up. Once he’s done, he helps you into one of his shirts and tucks the blanket around you. A thought flickers through your mind- this is the first time Logan’s slept next to you after sex, typically insisting he sleep on the couch or carry you to your room. You mutter a thank you into his chest, fighting the pull of sleep.

Logan plants a kiss on your forehead as his arms envelop you. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,”

You hum quietly, “Really getting the whole boyfriend experience, aren’t I?” Even with his enhanced hearing, he has to strain to catch your words as drowsiness pulls you under. 

Logan listens to your breathing even out, sleep taking over your mind as he sighs into the comfort of your embrace. “Who said this couldn’t be permanent?” He whispers to the room, hoping to find the confidence to tell you in the morning.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed<3

[ssahotchnerr]

How about it’s the first year reader celebrates thanksgiving with hotch as a couple and wants to cook the thanksgiving meal all by herself to impress him but it goes horribly wrong… in a cute way lol

new traditions

cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, aaron being the softest man ever <3 wc; 1.1k

you thought you had prepared for every possible scenario.

turkey, out of the freezer with plenty of time to thaw. you strategically planned out what was to go in to the oven when (you in fact, had made a spreadsheet). you had quadruple checked your planned recipes, making sure you had each and every needed spice and ingredient they possessed. if all went according to plan, your first thanksgiving as hostess would run nothing but smoothly.

the one thing you hadn't anticipated, however, your apartment's power going out.

your heart plummeted into your stomach when your apartment dimmed and succumbed to complete silence - the hum of the oven halting loudly. while it was instant, the sound seemed determinately slow, as if it were somehow mocking you. that yes, the universe was throwing a wretch in your plans and you had to deal with the consequences.

once your mixer slowed to a stop, you dropped it into the bowl with no condolences for the potatoes, quietly murmuring a 'no no no' under your breath. maybe you had popped a fuse, maybe all your lightbulbs had miraculously popped simultaneously, maybe your eyesight had suddenly decided to give up on you after all these years. but of course, you couldn't be that fortunate.

dinner was ruined.

you gave it an hour or two, in which the time the turkey should've been cooking, and you should've been aiding to all the other dishes you planned on serving. but instead you spent the time lighting candles around your apartment as the sun set, trying to come up with a solution, such as serving dinner, or some of dinner, late. but word soon spread; a tree branch had fallen on multiple power lines and since it was a holiday, it wasn't promised to be restored until tomorrow morning. perhaps the middle of the night if lucky.

defeatedly and regretfully, you grabbed your phone, selecting aaron's contact.

"hey," his deep, relaxed voice entered your ear, full of enthusiasm at that. "we're just about to head over-"

"about that," you cut him off, "i wouldn't venture too far."

a brief moment's hesitancy, "is everything okay?"

there was no use lying, as aaron could cue into every tone change and ultimately determine your mood or current state of mind, even over the phone. "no, my power went out."

"oh sweetheart," his tone deflated, and you could imagine the expression of sympathy struck on his face. "i'm sorry."

"no, i'm sorry." you peered up at the ceiling, trying to keep your inevitable tears at bay. "it's been out for a while, and pretty much stalled everything. i was hoping it would switch back on but it doesn't look that way. so i don't - won't have dinner ready, i'm really sorry."

"sweetheart..."

"i know you said your colleagues were throwing a get-together? i would just attend that. that way, you'll still have somewhat of a thanksgiving."

-

as you sulked, tossing a hardened glare to your kitchen every so often, a knock came from your door. you opened it to reveal two smiling hotchner faces, one just taller than the other.

"jack, what do you say?" aaron's hand found the back of jack's head, ruffling his hair in encouragement.

"happy thanksgiving!" jack rushed forward and hugged your legs, before scampering into your apartment.

"happy thanksgiving." aaron echoed with that smile of his, giving you a kiss upon his entrance inside.

you closed the door behind him, dazed from his arrival and the kiss. "what are you doing here?"

"you didn't think we'd let you spend tonight alone, did you?" he arched an eyebrow, his expression communicating a silent 'yeah right'. like a lost puppy, you silently followed him into your kitchen.

"we whipped up the quickest thing we had at home." aaron explained, unpacking the bag he had brought contents onto the counter. "to jack's delight, that happens to be mac and cheese. it's still warm, so we'll have to eat now. we also brought extra candles - i still can't believe it's this dark out this early."

you leaned into him as he spoke, your cheek pressing against the coarse fabric of his jacket.

"it's wonderful but," you sighed, speaking partially into his upper sleeve, "it's not the traditional thanksgiving dinner i promised."

"then we'll make our own traditions." aaron reassured, opening the tupperware of mac and cheese, steam escaping. "it's our first year, first time for everything."

"but the turkey-"

"-would've been amazing, i'm sure. but this was entirely out of your hands, darling, and we'll make do." he pressed a kiss to your temple, his voiced laced with such understanding. such sweetness.

"well." you warmed up a bit, straightening your posture with a little more hopefulness in your tone. "there's rolls, i suppose."

"see." aaron gave your hip a squeeze, the ends of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. "perfect."

and so, your thanksgiving feast was complete with macaroni and cheese (albeit it was spongebob shaped), dinner rolls, cranberry sauce - the few dishes that hadn't needed help from the stove. rather than your kitchen table, you brought your set-aside-for-fancy-occasions dinnerware to your coffee table, and you each found a seat on the floor, cushioned by a pillow. it was filled with laughter, thoughtful conversations, aaron reminding jack to not talk with his mouth full, and you and aaron exchanging long, loving gazes back and forth.

truth be told, illuminated by candlelight and in the company of the two you had grown to love so immensely the past few months, you had forgotten the current circumstances.

once pumpkin pie was devoured (again, a non-essential of the oven) aaron pulled up a charlie brown thanksgiving on his phone, and the three of you curled up underneath a blanket on the couch. aaron in the middle, you and jack adjacently buried into his side, as close as close could be. but ten minutes in, jack crossed his dad's lap and crawled his way onto yours.

you also had a newfound appreciation of charlie brown's given meal to his friends: toast, popcorn, pretzels, jelly beans. even aaron shot you an amused yet cautious glance at the plot line - too soon? but once he saw you had found it humorous, did he lightly chuckle aloud.

sure, it wasn't the perfect, ideal evening you had originally envisioned, but it was one definitely worth remembering. one you could look back on and laugh at, and the reason why now character pasta was a must-have on the table for future holidays to come.

in hindsight, it was better than you could have ever imagined.

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Happy Hoelloween! 🎃❤️ Please accept this lil hoe treat just for you:

Oh noooo. He’s all sweaty. And cranky. You should help him shower. Maybe even get on your knees and get him a little dirtier first before shower time? 🫠🤭😘

oh my god, sweaty and cranky steve is SUCH a good inspiration!

Late Halloween - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You remind Steve that it doesn't matter what day you celebrate the holidays on

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

Halloween was your favourite time of the year, the perfect time to dress up in whatever the hell you wanted and nobody batted an eyelid. You were super excited for it this year because it was your first Halloween with Steve and you couldn’t want to show off your couples costume. 

Steve wasn’t into Halloween as much as you but he said he was looking forward to it solely because you were and if it made you happy it made him happy. But as it turned out this year just wasn’t the year. The morning of Halloween, Steve got called away on a mission and he wouldn’t be back until the next evening.

You told him that it was okay, you understood that sometimes the world needed him more than you did. You could tell he was still pissed though.

“You’ve been looking forward to this for months” Steve pointed out as he shoved stuff into his bag.

“I know but it’s okay, you aren’t a big fan of it anyway” you reminded him.

“But you are, and this is ruining the night I wanted for you to have” he argued as he turned to face you.

“It’s okay, we’ll have plenty of Halloweens to celebrate together” you reassured him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulder and press a kiss to his lips.

Steve sighed and nodded his head “Okay, but still go to your friend’s party, I want you to have fun still” 

“I will now go save the world for me” you smiled.

Like you promised, you went to the Halloween party. It was fun but you had to admit you did wish Steve was there with you. But you got it, he had responsibilities that were bigger than you and him.

The evening of November 1st you were sat on the couch when you heard the door open. You looked over and frowned when you saw the stormy expression on Steve’s face. He’d clearly come straight here, his blond hair messy and sweaty. There were streaks of dirt across his face, ones that made his frown more prominent.

“Steve? What’s wrong?” You asked as you stood up.

Steve just huffed as he dropped his bag down by the front door with a loud thud “The mission was pointless” he grumbled.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you walked over to him. 

“The intel was wrong” he explained “We just camped out in the rainforest for a supposed Hydra base which wasn’t a Hydra base at all, it wasn’t even a base, it was all perfectly legal” 

“Oh, that’s annoying” you muttered. 

Steve’s fists clenched “Annoying doesn’t cover it, I could have been here with you and false intel took me away” 

You sighed softly “Steve it’s okay, I’m not upset that you missed Halloween”

“But I am! I should have been here! This meant so much to you!” He argued, his anger at the situation boiling over.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, you didn’t know it was bad intel, we’ll have more Halloweens in our future” you reminded him.

Steve scoffed “But what if I get called away then too, or for Thanksgiving, Christmas or Valentine’s Day!” He ranted.

“Okay, okay,” you said putting your hands on his chest to stop him, he was too pissed to see clearly right now. You understood where he was coming from, but he couldn’t see that you didn’t care about those holidays. Any holiday could be celebrated early or late if it meant he could do his job. You just needed to let him see that “Why don’t I go run you a bath? You rest up and I’ll grab you when it’s ready”

Steve sighed but nodded his head letting you lead him to the couch. Once he sat down you cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead before heading away to ‘run the bath’. 

Instead of doing that though you walked into your closet and grabbed the costume you had saved for after the party. It was gonna be a cheeky and spooky surprise for Steve that evening but tonight was also a perfect time. 

It didn’t take you long to slip into the costume, there wasn’t much to it at all. You walked back out to Steve who was pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat on the couch, his shoulders still tense. 

“Ready soldier?” You asked grabbing his attention, you smirked when he looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened when he saw your costume.

“Sweetheart” he muttered as you walked over, his eyes roaming over the sexy army officer costume you wore. 

“I got told our captain was in a bad mood and needed cheering up,” you said as you came to stop in between his legs “that he needed reminding that holidays are just days and can be celebrated whenever the hell we want”

To your relief Steve let out a small huff of a laugh, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk “I just don’t want to let anyone I love down” he pointed out.

You leant in “You could never let me down Captain” you whispered before kissing him deeply. 

Steve moaned as his hand moved to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. You felt him move to stand up but you put your hands on his thighs to stop him.

“You’ve had a long couple of days captain, you just relax,” you told him as you got down onto your knees.

You ran your hands up his thighs to the belt buckle of his suit. He watched with hooded eyes as you undid the belt and tugged his trousers down enough. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him harden with your touch. 

You licked your lips before bending down to press an open-mouth kiss to a tip, smirking when you heard him groan. You took your time giving every inch of him attention before taking him into your mouth as deep as you could take him. 

His hand returned to the back of your head, fingers gripping your hair tightly. You moaned at his rough touch, you were the only person in the universe that saw this side of him. You loved the rough commanding side of him, you were completely at his mercy and you loved it. Heat pooled at your core, if you were wearing underwear they’d be ruined. You were desperate for friction but you resisted the urge to touch yourself. This was about Steve.

You could feel that he was close so you went to do the trick that always pushed him over the edge but before you had the chance Steve pulled you off him and kissed you forcefully.

“Want to finish in you” He murmured against your lips. 

You smirked into the kiss as you moved to straddle his hips. You heard him swear when he realised you weren’t wearing underwear, you moaning as you rolled your hips coating him in your arousal. Steve gripped your hip before lining you up, you kissed him deeply as you sunk down onto him.

You didn’t hesitate and started rolling your hips, taking him as deep as possible. The both of you were so close that neither of you lasted long. You held Steve close as you found your peak, Steve following soon behind. 

You ran your hands threw his hair smiling softly down at him as you both came down from your highs. All the tension in his body was gone and he was glowing, sweat covering his body for an entirely different reason. 

“Do you still want a bath, or a shower instead?” you asked him.

“Shower, it’ll get you naked quicker” he smirked.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[atinywhore]

stuffed

pairing: jongho x (fem) reader

word count: 2250

genre: spicy spice :)

warnings: soft dom jongho, biting, lots of praise, fingering, size kink, sorry not sorry, but yo can't convince me that jongho doesn't have a thick cock so, low-key breeding but he just likes to fuck her raw idk what kinda kink you call that (psa: use a fucking condom bitches), uber romantic to lol I feel like he's such a softy, gets off when you come, I think that's all.

an: this is the first fanfic I wrote since returning from my hiatus so it took me a little to get back into the writing and rediscover my own writing style! So I hope you enjoy and please interact and give this lots of love! Happy Turkey day whores ;)

taglist: @mingigoo @ravenjoongie @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet

The boys love to celebrate American holidays with you. Every year you have fireworks and hot dogs on July 4th, and you always host a thanksgiving day meal. This year is no different. It’s a three day prep event for you and you can’t forget the cooking still needed the day of! Just to say it, it's a stressful but very rewarding day to be able to have a nice meal with the people you love most in the world. They always try to schedule events and showcases around the actual day of thanksgiving so they can celebrate with you. Last year they couldn’t and it really made you upset. It was the first time in three years that you weren’t able to celebrate your favorite holiday with anyone. They saw how upset it made you and they were determined to make it up to you this year, especially your boyfriend Jongho. He took the days leading up to the holiday off of practice for their next comeback to help you prepare the food. 

It was the day of thanksgiving now and despite the help from Jongho, you still were behind. You appreciated his help so much and you knew why he was doing it, but you had to go back and fix the stuff that you assigned him. Most of the time he just sat on the other side of the island and just watched as you moved around the kitchen. 

“Baby can you help me with the turkey.” You asked without looking up from the stuffing you were preparing. 

“Mmm” he replied standing up. You looked up to give him a smile to show your appreciation, but when you looked up you paused all your movements. This happens often. Ever since you two started dating. Jongho’s presence is so big. His shoulders are twice the size as your own and his biceps are almost as big as your head. From the moment you saw him you were attracted instantly. He loves to remind you how big he is and how small you are, especially in the bedroom. Sex with Jongho is very romantic and tender, with a hint of kink. He loves being on top, entrapping you beneath his thick, muscular body. He’ll lean down and speak hot things into my ear to make my orgasm that more intense. You can feel your face warm and your pussy grows slick with excitement. You try to look away before Jongho can see, but I know he knows what I'm thinking about. We haven’t had sex in over a week because his schedule has been keeping him in the studio all day and late into the night, and there was  a huge project that you needed to get done before you could start the thanksgiving prep. 

“What do you need me to do baby?” Jongho says as he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and places a quick kiss on my neck. You can't help but giggle and instinctively push your ass into his groin. He lets out a little moan into your neck. Before you can get swept up into what's about to happen you kinda push him off of and turn to face him.

“Can you please turkey from the other counter. It’s too heavy for me to lift baby.” He nods and you give him a quick kiss on the lips as a thanks. Turning back to the counter you remember the potatoes that have been on the mixer and rush over to turn the machine off. Lifting the top of the mixer up and removing the mixing attachment you lick some of the potatoes off to make sure the seasonings are right. The butter and salt coats your tongue and you can’t help but moan a little at the taste. You feel a familiar presence behind you once more. 

“Taste good?” Jongho whispers in your ear. His voice sends a shiver down your spine and jolts of electricity straight to your pussy. Your knees go wobbly but his grip on your waist keeps you grounded. 

“Jongho..” You attempt to protest, but it’s weak. 

“Yes, baby?” He says peppering kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder. His hands smooth up your torso and one stops at your breast to tease your nipple beneath the dress and apron you are wearing. His other hand moves up to your neck moving your head to rest on his shoulder so he can have better access to your weak spot. 

“I need to f-finish.” You manage to get out as he sucks on the sensitive part of your neck

“Oh yeah baby? Finish what?” 

“The m-meal. The turkey n-needs to be st-tuffed.” 

“I think you need to be stuffed, not the turkey baby.”

You can’t help but give in to him. Your body continues to sink into his embrace and before you know it you feel your ass rubbing against his thick cock straining beneath his jeans. He continues to suck and leave marks all along your neck and when you reach back and caress his cock, he growls and bites your neck at the contact. You can’t help but let out a gasp. 

“Fuck baby. I need you now.” He says, as he turns you around and throws you over his shoulder. He easily walks the two of you toward the bedroom. In this position the skirt of your dress is bunched up slightly toward your hips exposing your pussy to the cold air of the room, you shiver at the sensation. You start to squirm in anticipation. While keeping your locked on his shoulder Jongho flips your dress the rest of the way up and uses his thumb to tease your entrance. 

“Someone is wet for me.” He says continuing to play around with your pussy. Jongho shifts his head to the closest part of your thigh and bites it hard. You squeal and moan at the pain. He kisses your new mark before tossing you onto your bed. “The things i’m going to do to you (y/n).” He stands at the end of the bed looking down on you and the only thought that is going through your mind is, big. His wide form casts a shadow over you and you can’t help but shiver at the form before you. He lets out a frustrated sigh before he grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it off in one smooth move. He pauses with the sleeves of the hoodie still on his forearms, the material gathered at his middle covering his bare stomach. His broad and muscular chest is now exposed revealing the deep heaving breaths, you realize your own breathing matches his. He is pointing daggers at you with his stare, it's so intense and pointed that you swear your heart skips a beat. His eyes shut slightly as his head tilts left and right, the movement accompanied with the popping of his neck joints. He lets out a moan and his usually big eyes, now half lidded, are pointed at me once more. He removes his arms from his hoodie sleeves and his full torso is now bare. He doesn’t have a full set of abs, but the area is muscular nonetheless. His hands now reach for the button of his jeans but he makes no move to unbutton himself.

“Why is my girl still dressed?” He asks with a shit eating grin lighting up his heated features. He extends his strong hands to help you to your knees. Your shaky hands make a move to undo the bow tying the apron to your figure, but you can’t seem to get the thin straps to budge. You look back up at him to see his arms crossed, making his shoulders look that much broader and stronger than he already does. 

“Need some help baby?” You nod still not able to find your voice, lost in the fog of arousal. He pulls you to your feet, keeping one arm around your waist and the other makes quick work of ripping the fabric off your body, leaving you in your favorite black dress. He turns you around and slowly unzips you from the dress. As the fabric slides from your body you are hit with another rush of arousal. The dress hits the floor and Jongho makes quick work of your undergarments. His hands explore your body, your moans echoing you in the room. His thumbs tease your nipples the way you like as he leaves kisses and hickies on the untouched side of your neck. Once he has you melting in his hands he moves one down over your stomach stopping at your pussy. 

“I bet you are going to be so wet for me baby.” He slides two fingers between your folds, groaning at the state of your pussy. He sinks his teeth into your neck again as he rubs circles around your clit. Your breath hitches and your moans get louder.

“That’s it baby. Sing for me.” He coos as he continues his motions. Kissing and moaning into your neck as he rubs your clit. The build up is coming at you fast, your breathing becomes more erratic and you find yourself swearing Jongho’s name. 

“Fuck- Jongho! I’m-m gonna cu-m.” His thumb takes over for his two fingers so they can slide into your pussy. You gasp and the new sensation sends you over the edge. Your eyes shut and your entire body goes fuzzy with your orgasm. 

You don’t really feel it, but somewhere in your comedown Jongho moves on to the bed. He positions himself between your legs and resumes pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. His back is bent showing off the strong muscles to your hazed eyes as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Pleasure erupts from you again. He moves to your other breast and he hooks his fingers inside, skimming his fingertips over your g-spot. He releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and removes his fingers from your pussy. You start to whine but stop when you see Jongho take his fingers and suck them clean of your juices. 

“You taste so good, baby.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you. Your lips move against each other like a dance. He takes off his pants and underwear and repositions himself at your entrance. 

“You ready for me baby?” You nod and he doesn’t move.

“I need to hear you baby.” He gives you a longing look, and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes baby. Please.” He smiles and pushes himself into you. You hiss at his size as he stretches you. He moans as he slides his full eight inches inside you. He slowly pulls himself back out, repeating the movement. The pain slowly turns to pleasure and you begin to feel the slow build of another orgasm rise inside you.

“Fuck (y/n), your pussy is so good.” He pants. He flexes his hips harder and harder slamming his cock deep inside you.

 “Oh baby, I can never get enough of you.” The mix of your moans and curses fill the room and create a beautiful symphony. He continues to moan sickly sweet confessions into your ear, making your building orgasm hurdle faster toward release. 

“Baby, I’m so close.” You whimper into his general direction, unable to focus your eyes due to the overload of pleasure fogging your vision. You run your hands up his arms dragging your nails along his smooth tanned skin until you reach his shoulders where you sink your nails. He growls and pounds harder into you hitting that special spot causing your moans to grow louder and more intense. 

“Fuck, come for me baby. Come for me (y/n).” He leans down to kiss you, claiming your mouth as he fucks you. The pressure continues to build until you come again. He follows after you shortly, filling your pussy with his load. After a few moments he slowly pulls his dick out of you and watches as his cum spills from your entrance. 

“So much better than that turkey.” You can't help but burst out laughing. He looks at me confused, but after a minute he understands the joke. 

“It sounded like you fucked the turkey then me.” You say sitting up on your elbows, your smiling face looking at his now rosy one. He grabs both of your cheeks and plants a big kiss on your lips. 

“Seriously, I have to finish the turkey. The boys will be here in 6 hours!” You jump up from the bed, forgetting your boyfriend's cum spilling out of your pussy and running down your legs. He laughs as you run from the room and into the bathroom to go get yourself re-ready for the party tonight. 

—------

Hours Later:

Everyone is gathered at your dining room table and starting to dig into the meal you have spent days preparing. Yunho and Hongjoon are talking about the latest comeback and how the dance routine is going to go with the new title song, Wooyoung is basically flirting with San and the former is pretending not to love it. 

“This turkey is delicious (y/n)!” Yeosang praised.

“Thanks Yeo!” I raise my drink toward him.

“The secret is in the stuffing.” Jongho added. You kicked him under the table and gave him a dirty look, He just smiled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Jolly Holidays

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Reader likes to celebrate every holiday, no matter how small

“Where’d you get that?” Sam asked, trying desperately to put on a stern face, but unable to hide his smile when you placed the birthday cake on the table.

“The store,” you said innocently.

“And how did you pay for it?” Sam asked, but just then he noticed the lettering on the cake. “Happy Birthday…Samantha?”

You winced. “Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly meant for me, but it was just so close to your name that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“And Samantha?” Sam asked.

You shrugged, “Should’ve picked up her cake on time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He leaned over and hugged you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You grinned.

“Happy Birthday, Sammy.”

…

“We need this.”

Dean just stared at you, not moving to put the item in his basket.

“Why?”

“Because it’s Thanksgiving,” you scoffed, reaching around Dean’s arm and dropping the small plastic container in his basket. “So we need turkey.”

“That’s Deli meat, it barely qualifies.”

“It’s not like we’re ever gonna get one of those,” you gestured to a display of large frozen turkeys. “So this’ll have to do.”

“What are we arguing about over here?” Sam stuck his head in between two aisles to join the conversation.

“Thanksgiving dinner,” you told him. He stared at the items in Dean’s basket.

“Deli meat, licorice, and a six pack of beer?”

“Hey, if we’re doing Thanksgiving, then I’m getting pie,” Dean declared, wandering off to another aisle.

“You’re never gonna get Thanksgiving to be a big thing, no matter how many years you try,” Sam told you after Dean was gone.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” you assured him. “This is enough.”

…

“Y/N, please go to bed.”

You ignored Sam’s request, opting to remain sitting at the motel window, staring out into the night.

“I don’t even know if he’s gonna be home tonight, it might be tomorrow.”

“Just let her be,” Dean insisted from his bed. “If she wants to wait a little longer it’s fine.”

You stayed silent throughout your brother’s conversation, too intent on your own thoughts. You didn’t often wait up for John, mostly because you knew he was usually late. But today, today was different. Today you really wanted him to be on time.

“Sweetheart, please-“

“He’s here!” Your outburst when you saw John’s car pull into the motel startled both brothers.

The moment that John stepped into the motel room, he was forced back when you threw yourself into his arms.

“Whoa, hey,” he greeted, confused and more than a little exhausted. “Why are you still awake?”

“She insisted on waiting for you,” Sam explained while you stepped away from your dad and ran over to the fridge.

“Why? Kid, you should be in b-“ John cut himself off when you emerged from the small fridge with a sloppily decorated chocolate cake in your hands and a huge grin on your face.

“What’s this?” He asked softly.

“Happy birthday,” you sing-songed, placing the cake in the middle of the tiny motel table.

“You made this?” John’s voice was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” your grin faltered a little. “Well, mostly, I mean it’s from a box mix, but I figured since this motel has an actual oven that…” you stopped, suddenly self conscious. “Is this ok? I mean I know you don’t really do birthdays but I tho-“

You were cut off when John wrapped you in his arms, and you relaxed in his tight embrace.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

“Happy birthday, dad.”

…

“Ouch! What was that for?” Sam grumbled when you leaned over and pinched his arm.

“Wasn’t me,” you said innocently. “It was a leprechaun. They do that when you don’t wear green on this sacred day.”

“Sacred day? It’s just Saint Patrick’s Day, no one celebrates that,” Dean insisted. “And if you even think about pinching me, I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

You huffed, leaning back in your seat.

“You guys are no fun.”

Dean laughed, leaning back in his seat and reaching back to ruffle your hair.

“Better luck next year, leprechaun.”

…

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong.”

“I don’t know, Dean. She seems fine.”

“She didn’t even get one of those little plastic candle things for Hanukkah.”

“Maybe because we’re not Jewish,” Sam scoffed.

“That’s never stopped her before.”

“So she’s growing out of the holiday thing, what do you want me to do about it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, you’re usually the one who wants to talk about feelings,” Dean grumbled. “I figured you’d have an idea.”

“Well, I’m not even convinced that something’s wrong,” Sam argued, but at the look on Dean’s face he began to relent. “Do you really think something’s wrong?”

“Yeah. I think it’s this search for dad, man. It’s wearing on her. I wanna do something about it, she’s been acting weird for a couple of weeks now.”

“I mean, she’s been quiet, but-“

“Look, Sam, I don’t think you get it. You were gone for a while-“ Dean held up his hands innocently when Sam opened his mouth to protest. “And I’m not about to argue about that again. I’m just saying, maybe you don’t see it because you haven’t spent as much time with her. I just need you to trust me on this, we gotta do something.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “Ok, I have an idea.”

…

“They didn’t have coke so I grabbed…” your voice trailed off as you entered the hotel room. “What’s this?”

“Christmas,” Dean grinned at you from under a Santa hat.

“You guys…decorated for Christmas?” You looked around in awe. “Like…the two of you? No threats, no gun to your head?”

“Well, you didn’t seem in the mood so we did it for you,” Sam explained. “What do you think?”

You were silent for several moments while you took it all in; a little plastic tree on the table, a couple of red and green balloons, Sam and Dean wearing matching Santa hats, and even a couple of newspaper-wrapped presents under the tiny tree.

“I think I wanna Santa hat,” your voice came out quietly, almost reverently, like if you spoke too loud you would wake up.

“They only had two,” Dean said, reaching into his bag, “but we did get you this!” He pulled out a headband with pointy plastic ears, and a cardboard green elf hat sticking out of the top. You giggled and snatched it from his hand, placing it on your head.

“Even better.”

The three of you spent that night opening gifts and drinking hot chocolate, before ending the night with you falling asleep to Elf.

Dean carried you to bed when the movie was over, setting you on one side while he climbed in on the other, pulling the blankets over the both of you. Sam came over to the bed you and Dean were sharing to give you a good night kiss on the forehead, before he went over to his own bed and quickly fell asleep.

“Dean?” You whispered sleepily.

“Yeah baby?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Dean grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to your head, and when he laid back down you scooted closer to him, and he wrapped you in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, little sister.”

[malk1ns]

october 16 2024 vs sabres, 6-5 OT win **milestone night- geno 500 goals, sid 1600 points

did someone say something about somno?

Zhenya can barely remember actually scoring his 500th goal.

He’d been fired up all night—Sid teased him at intermission for the way he was standing on the bench, shouting and throwing his hands in the air and exhorting the guys to keep going, to play harder and push through it even when they were behind. He remembers the sequence for Sid’s 1600th point with crystal clarity, the way he’d thought his shot was going in, only for it to bounce aside and Rusty to tuck it behind the netminder.

It was fine. A goal is a goal, after all, and with the way things are looking in their net, they need as many of those as they can get.

Zhenya’s goal, though, is a blur. He remembers ringing the puck around the boards, then cutting hard to the net. He doesn’t know how he fell, doesn’t know how he twisted his body around to jab at the puck. The moment it crossed the line and the horn went off, he thinks he might have blacked out a little, because suddenly Rusty was pulling him to his feet and screaming in his face, and then there was Sid, and Petey, and then the whole rest of the team slamming him into the boards, shrieking loud enough to drown out the crowd.

Zhenya remembers Sid tucking himself under his arm, though, leaning up to whisper in his ear, I told you I’d get you back, I told you I told you I told you.

The rest of the game is a rollercoaster, the type that Zhenya hopes they’ll see less of as the season wears on, but they pull out the win, and he’s so wired in the room after that he can’t stay still, bouncing from guy to guy to accept congratulations, letting out barks of laughter because holy shit, 500 goals.

Eventually he settles enough to let PR arrange him for some pictures. Sid gets tetchy when Kris tries to worm his way between the two of them, but when it’s just the two of them, holding their milestone pucks just like they did a decade ago, Sid worms closer to him, big hand spread low on Zhenya’s back.

“You’ll sleep well tonight,” he murmurs after comms is happy with the pictures they got, stepping away and saying something about splitting a shared milestone puck at a normal volume.

Zhenya says—something. He’s not sure what, but everyone laughs politely as they film. He hopes he doesn’t look as red-hot as he feels all of a sudden.

—

They have a scheduled off-day the next day, almost like it was predestined by fate (something Zhenya finds himself wondering more and more about with each passing year; he’s never been one to believe in such things, but his babushka was, and there are only so many coincidences one can reasonably accept), and a few of the guys make noises about going out to celebrate, but Sid, Zhenya, and Kris shut that down; they have too many games in too few days to start the season, the western Canada swing in less than a week and no meaningful break until American Thanksgiving. There’s a little grumbling, but everyone scatters pretty quickly, home to try and futilely bank sleep for the upcoming grind.

Sid drives them home, humming to himself and tapping on the steering wheel at red lights. Zhenya’s happy to slouch back in his seat and stare out the window, exhaustion creeping in as the adrenaline from it all drains out of his nervous system. There’s still a little zip, though, a little tingle in his stomach when he thinks about Sid’s words from earlier.

“Home,” Sid says softly as they pull into the driveway. He parks crooked in Zhenya’s garage like always, but Zhenya’s too tired to rib him for it, instead trailing in the house after him, nudging Sid’s shoes into place in the entry and hanging Sid’s jacket on the coat rack.

Sid’s picking through the pantry when Zhenya finds him in the kitchen. They both had protein shakes at the rink, and neither of them can do late dinners any more without getting heartburn, but Sid gets snack-y late in the evening, so Zhenya’s started stocking both their houses with protein bars that are really more like dessert and low-sodium popcorn so they don’t dehydrate even further.

“Hungry?” he says, wincing at the scratch in his throat—he’d yelled his head off after his goal, and he’ll be paying for it tomorrow. 

“Nah,” Sid says, shutting the pantry door firmly and turning around. “Hey, come here.” He opens his arms.

Zhenya comes, folding himself against Sid’s body and resting his head on Sid’s shoulder with a deep sigh. 

“Proud of you, зайка,” Sid mumbles into Zhenya’s hair, rubbing his hands along Zhenya’s spine. “You’re doing so well this year.”

“Mmm,” Zhenya manages, and Sid laughs.

“Okay, let’s go to bed. If I know you, you’ll be up early anyway.”

—

At first, Zhenya doesn’t know what woke him. He swims to awareness slowly, drifting from a dream that’s left him hard between his thighs and restless, and it’s not until Sid’s fingers, sticky with lube, brush over his hip that he realizes what’s happening.

“You’re awake,” Sid says into his ear, voice strained, and Zhenya moans, clenching around Sid’s dick, already half-buried inside him, stretching him wide.

They haven’t fucked in about a week, too tired and busy with the start of the season, but Zhenya loves this, loves with Sid works him open with just his cock, no fingers or prep, loves the burn and the stretch and the effort it takes. Sid likes it too, how tight Zhenya is, and he won’t admit it but Zhenya knows there’s a part of Sid that likes putting Zhenya down and making him do something, making him take it.

“Oh god,” Zhenya gasps, arching his back as Sid presses in further. He’s dizzy with sleep still, and the bedroom is quiet and dark, and nothing feels quite real, not the way Sid is moving inside him, not his hot breath along the back of Zhenya’s neck, not his hands groping over Zhenya’s torso. “Sid, please, I need.”

“I got you,” Sid pants, gripping Zhenya’s hips and snapping forward, forcing himself the rest of the way in. Zhenya shivers in Sid’s grasp, tries to push back, but Sid rolls them until he’s half on top of Zhenya’s body, pinning him belly-first to the mattress. “Hold on, I have you, just—fuck, you’re so tight.”

All Zhenya can do is take it. He whines and thrashes his head and moans into his pillow as Sid fucks him, hard and brutal and steady as a metronome, his dick a thick slide in and out of Zhenya’s hole. The bedframe is creaking with the force of his thrusts, and it’s almost more than Zhenya can bear, which is exactly how they both like it best.

Sid changes his angle, pressing his hands into Zhenya’s shoulders for leverage, and now the head of his dick is passing over Zhenya’s prostate each time he pushes back in. It’s too much, and Zhenya can’t move to get any stimulation of his own, but Sid doesn’t move, doesn’t stop, and Zhenya’s legs shake as Sid fucks him into a rolling, devastating orgasm without putting a hand on his dick.

If Zhenya were coherent he’d be begging Sid to stop, but his brain has whited out, so all he can do is drool into the pillowcase as Sid fucks him even harder, chasing his own pleasure with no care for Zhenya’s comfort. It feels incredible.

When Sid finally comes, it’s with a pained-sounding grunt, and he falls forward onto Zhenya, pushing him into the mattress as he rabbits his hips forward over and over, stretching his orgasm out as he bites down on the nape of Zhenya’s neck.

Finally, when he’s gone soft, he rolls off, and Zhenya can take a full breath again.

“Congratulations,” Sid says. His voice is still froggy with sleep. “To both of us, I guess.” He pets tiredly at Zhenya’s shoulder. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Zhenya listens as Sid’s breaths even out into gentle, whuffling snores, then reaches for his phone. He’s wide awake now, and he needs a shower badly, but he can barely feel his lower body. May as well scroll instagram until he thinks he can stand without immediately falling over.

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.” 

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps. 

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch. 

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes. 

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.” 

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects. 

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one. 

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European. 

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund. 

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–” 

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?” 

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.” 

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?” 

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?” 

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.” 

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him. 

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth. 

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light. 

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive. 

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–” 

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–” 

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

– 

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once. 

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines. 

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself. 

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall. 

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent. 

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through. 

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone. 

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye. 

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you post more for conrad fisher?

Request: Snow on the beach for Conrad pls?

Who has watched the first three episodes? I was waiting and refreshing my tv until it was time XD Also, don't forget to get on my taglists to get notified when I post something new! I have a lot of Conrad and Jeremiah in my draft

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Per Susannah’s wish, you all came down to Cousins to celebrate her last thanksgiving. The emotions were heavy, but Susannah wouldn’t allow anyone to be sad — not even for one second. She knew the tears and sorrowful faces would take over very soon, so she wanted to have one last happy celebration with everyone at the beach house. 

Being at the Fishers’ beach house outside of summer felt strange. The pool was a nasty green shade and the sun wasn’t shining all over the back porch. A thicker coat was shielding you from the late November chill, along with a scarf you had crocheted yourself. Steven loved to tease you and call you a grandma for crocheting, but he was always appreciative when you would make something for him. 

After dinner, Conrad and you went down to the beach. Unlike the last time, a pair of boots and a coat replaced your summer attires. 

You’ve always loved the beach — especially this beach.

The beach you grew up running to the water with Jeremiah, Steven, Conrad and Belly every summer, with your mother reminding you to put sunscreen on every few hours so you wouldn’t end up looking like a lobster. The beach Conrad taught you how to surf even if you were terrible at it. The beach you and Jeremiah buried Belly in the sand one summer. The beach you went to at night when you couldn’t sleep or had too much on your mind. The beach you and Conrad shared your first kiss. 

‘’It’s snowing,’’ Conrad pointed out, drawing your attention and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at the evening sky, seeing a spectacle of white flecks of snow coming down with no sound and all around. It was beautiful, yet felt impossible. Just like Conrad wanting you. A smile curled on your lips, marveling at the sight. ‘’It's weird but so beautiful at the same time.’’ 

Conrad came behind you, his arms circling you in his hold. A soft hum of agreement escaped his lips, perfectly attuned to the moment. You leaned back against him, both of you standing in awe of the snowfall. 

To immortalize the moment, you pulled out your phone and Conrad kissed your cheek as you snapped a picture. The snow was only slightly visible on the screen, but you knew it was there. Maybe you’ll add it to your Thanksgiving carousel on Instagram…or maybe you’ll keep it to yourself. 

Despite bundling up in additional layers, the crispness of the air still penetrated through your clothes, reminding you of the chill that accompanied the enchanting scene. You shivered, the night air slowly icing your fingers. Gloves felt too much, but now you were regretting not taking some with you to Cousins.

‘’You cold?’’ Conrad asked, taking your hands in his to warm them. Though his hands were slightly chilled as well, they felt warm over yours. ‘’Here. I’ll warm you up.’’ 

Appreciating his thoughtful gesture, you smiled up at him, the heat transferring from his palms to yours. 

You long felt guilty for taking something — someone — your sister had always wanted, but Belly was not blind. She saw the way Conrad looked at you, the smiles he kept just for you, and all the attention he always gave you. How he made you his priority — always. She wanted someone to love her like that. Someone who was cold-hearted with everybody else, but never with her. Someone who showed his feelings through small gestures and soft spoken confessions instead of going all Patrick Verona during his promposal to Kat.

‘’I love you, Conrad Fisher,’’ you whispered to him, enveloped by the quiet intimacy of the beach. ‘’You're the best thing that's ever been mine.’’ 

As the words left your lips, Conrad's curled into a soft smile. They were rare these days, but there was always one for you, even if it was small.

—

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[sweetteaanddragons]

Happy Thanksgiving! In celebration, have an awkward family dinner scene from my current WIP.

“You know,” Earwen said, taking a careful sip of her wine, “you could petition the Valar.”

This was not a new concept. It had not been tried recently, but Nerdanel still had to pause in her meal for a moment to poke at just why Earwen was presenting it so cautiously.

“On what grounds?” She had certainly tried everything she could think of.

“Precedence, mainly. It is not so different from the case of Finwe and Miriel.”

Arafinwe sat with his fork half frozen between his plate and his mouth. Nerdanel felt half frozen herself, trying to understand. How could the statute of Finwe and Miriel possibly be similar to her own case?

“I know you might not have anyone in mind now,” Earwen continued, “but it might help to already have your right established.”

Her right. Her right to -

To do what everyone had been so insistent she do.

Get up. 

Smile.

Move on.

She could get up. She could smile. She could - move.

But to move on? To take someone else in his place?

She was furious with him. Incandescently so. She wanted to claw out those clever, unsatisfied eyes. She wanted to bite out his beautiful, poisonous tongue. She wanted to pour molten rock over him and let it settle around him until he could never move from its confines again.

But to move on? To take someone else?

She imagined someone coming to Feanaro after his vaults had been torn open and telling him it was alright, really, that the Silmarils were gone; look, they had all these pieces of lovely shattered glass, and he was welcome to take his pick between them.

“I could remarry, you mean,” she said, and Feanaro would have known that just because her voice was still, it did not mean she said it calmly. “Have children again, even.”

“If you liked,” Earwen said, though her own voice was careful now.

Nerdanel sipped her wine. “I do not know why you do not take your own advice. You would not even have to appeal to the Valar for it; no one would have the slightest right to object to you and Arafinwe having another child. Then it wouldn’t matter that Aegnor is never going to come out of the Halls.”

Earwen’s face went white.

“Excuse me,” Nerdanel said and left.

. . .

She was already packed by the time Arafinwe came to her room. She had steadied by then, though not calmed.

“She meant well, and I did not,” she conceded without looking up from securing the last of her things. “I won’t trouble you till I’ve thought up a proper apology.”

Everyone remembered that she had fought with Feanaro. No one ever seemed to remember that if it had just been Feanaro raging, it would not have been a fight.

“Please don’t leave,” Arafinwe said wearily, leaning against the door. “We’ve had quite enough of that.”

“It’s what I do,” she said shortly. Hear something horrible. Say something horrible. Leave.

Not come back until it was too late, and he had already sworn that stupid Oath.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “As your apology to me,” he clarified, “please at least wait until morning.”

She paused.

He looked so very tired.

“Alright,” she conceded. She sank down on top of her bags. “Do you think I should move on?”

It was poking at a bruise for no good reason. Her answer wouldn’t change for him. 

But she wanted to know just how long she should take to come up with an apology.

“I have no right to tell you how to handle your personal affairs,” he said, and for a moment, he sounded like her king, gracefully holding himself to the limits of his power.

She scowled at him.

“No right,” he repeated. “And if you want to - to never make another statue of him and run off to join the choir in Alqualonde, I will be the last to tell you otherwise.”

“But?”

“But if you came back and told me you wished to remarry, I think I would offer you the crown of the Noldor not to,” he admitted. “As much as he would laugh to hear one of my mother’s children speak against it. Right now it is only the verdict of the Valar that he may never return, and the Valar have changed their minds before. If we should lock that door forever . . . “

It was probably immaterial anyway. The Valar had needed Miriel’s permission to allow Finwe’s remarriage; Feanaro, surely, would not give it.

Surely. Surely she still meant more to him than that.

She did not wish to bare that corner of her soul tonight, not even to Arafinwe. Instead, she confessed to an easier thing.

“When I was pregnant with the twins,” she said, staring at the ceiling, “it was - difficult. More difficult than any of the other births had been. I had half lost myself by the end.”

“I remember,” he said softly.

That surprised her; she did not remember him from then at all, but she supposed that only supported her point. “I was convinced I was going to die, and I was in no state to think clearly about it. I swore to him over and over that I would come back, that the very moment Namo allowed it I would come back, that he would not need to be patient long.”

Some irrational part of her had been terrified that they would lie to him; that they would say she had refused the call of life while she was desperately pounding on Mandos’s walls.

When she had been saner, she had known the fearful fancies for what they were. But in the midst of them . . . 

“He kept promising that I wasn’t going to die, of course.” And he had been right about that, though it was the only one of their arguments that she would concede now. “But when that didn’t settle me, he told me that he believed me, and that if it took me a hundred thousand years to return, he would believe me still and wait.”

She had never doubted that promise. Even when they had burned everything else between them, she had believed that promise. In their worst moments, it had been because she was sure he would never concede any ground whatsoever to Indis’s marriage, but she had still believed it.

She hadn’t returned the promise. She hadn’t thought she would need to.

But now here she was, still standing, and the Valar promising that he would never, ever return.

It was not yet a hundred thousand years.

And when it had been, she would keep his promise in his stead and still wait.