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eddiesxangel · 5 months ago

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Angel or Devil? | E.M x Reader

Anonymous asked: Could i request a fic where reader comes home pissed off and angry fucks eddie and hes hooked on it so he keeps trying to annoy her or asks her how work was ect to get her riled up so she they can fuck each others brains out, her dirty talk gets filthy when shes mad and eddie realizes he likes it mean

wc: 2.7k

cw: f!reader/mean!reader, Sub/switch Eddie, dirty talk, sex toys, slight choking, female masturbation, pussy eating, p in v, cream pie. Slightly proofread… so if you see a spelling error no you didn’t… (ง •̀_•́)ง

Eddie’s head snapped up when the sound of the front door slamming shook him out of focus. You must have had a bad day because you never slam things.

Timidly, Eddie put his guitar down and walked out of the bedroom into your living room to see you slam your purse on the floor; you don’t bother to unzip your boots; you rip them off your feet and whip off your drenched coat. That’s also when he sees the crazed look in your eyes behind your soaked hair sticking to your face. Today was not your day.

“Sunshine-“

“Don’t,” you point a finger up at him; you don’t want to hear a word from your boyfriend right now.

“But-“

“No. Shut up.” You make your way to the bedroom to wash your rain-soaked clothes.

Eddie followed you apprehensively. His gut told him to give you space, but his heart needed to ensure his sunshine was okay.

“Eddie.” You huffed. He had followed you.

He wasn’t listening to you. That’s all you wanted was something to listen to you. Nobody had taken the time to hear you out at work, and to make matters worse, the barista messed up your order, causing you to be late for your team meeting. Then, to top it off, you missed your bus. Thinking that a walk might help clear your head, you set off, only to be interrupted by the ominous crack of thunder in the sky. Instead of tears, you felt a surge of rage building inside you. All you desired was some sense of control in a day that seemed spiralling out of your grasp.

“Baby,” Eddie cooed again, stocking the back of your soaked hair.

You huffed in annoyance again. He wasn’t listening, so you decided to push him down in the bed.

“Woah, baby, I’m sorry-“

You cut him off as you climbed on top of him and shut him up with a kiss. Maybe now you could be in control.

With eyes wide, Eddie didn’t know what to do, but as you gripped at his clothes, signalling to get naked, he soon realized.

Eddie didn’t understand where this came from, but who was he to question? His lady needs to take out her frustration on him and who was he to deny her? He was just but a humble servant.

“You’re taking too long,” you groan, sitting up and taking off your soaked clothes.

“It’s okay, baby, I got you. Don’t worry, Teddy will make it better.”

“God, do you always talk this much? Shut up and eat my pussy”

Eddie was stunned. His eyes were wide, yet your words went straight to his cock. You never spoke to him this way before, but he liked it. He liked you a little mean.

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, and you give him the biggest eye roll Eddie couldn’t miss; he moaned as he connected his lips with your pussy.

With a hand gripped tightly in his hair, he was determined to make you cum asap. He had to service his girl; you demanded it. It was the sexiest thing Eddie had ever been witness to… not that you weren’t sexy every other time, but something had been unlocked in Eddie’s brain, and he didn’t want to give it up.

A feral groan leaves your throat, and Eddie can’t help but moan once again into your pussy, knowing it drives you crazy.

Your hips are grinding into his face. Usually, he would have you pinned down, but having you use him solely for your pleasure was getting Eddie off just as much.

Within minutes, you were falling apart on Eddie’s tongue and fingers. Your body shook beneath him, and you finally felt some relief.

“There you go, baby. That's it, let it go.”

With a deep sigh, you get up and walk to the bathroom without a word.

Eddie was stunned. You used him …and he liked it.

When you got out of the shower, it was like you were a different person, like the rage demon was fucked right out of you, and you had forgotten how angry you were and also how you had just left Eddie to take care of himself.

You came out, giving Eddie a big hug and a kiss like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. You told him about your day while he cooked you dinner and spent the evening snuggling on the couch.

It’s been two weeks since you stormed home that evening, and Eddie was doing everything in his power to get you to retake control, but you were not biting.

He got excited when you would make a move first, but then you fell into old habits, and he would be the one to take charge. So Eddie was doing everything in his power to piss you off.

He didn’t want to, but he needed to trigger that inner dominatrix that was hidden deep inside.

Lately, you couldn't figure out what had come over Eddie, but his behavior was really starting to bother you. He seemed to be constantly leaving the cupboard doors wide open, choosing to immerse himself in video games instead of addressing household chores. Despite promising to tidy up, he never followed through. His socks and underwear were strewn across our shared bedroom floor, and on top of everything, he seemed to be avoiding any meaningful conversation during dinner.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” You glare at him, as he doesn’t even signal that he heard you.

You've had enough of this immature behavior. You don’t understand why you're being ignored, but you've reached your limit.

“Eddie!” You slam your fork down on the table, and finally, he looks at you.

You quickly stand up, and the chair screeches against the parquet flooring. Eddie’s big brown eyes grow wider and darker as you approach his side of the table.

This was it, he thought; he’d cracked the code.

“What is your problem?” Your hands were on your hips. He thought you looked so cute when you tried being all authoritative.

“Dont know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?”

“You have something to say, baby? Come on, tell me.” His tone was condescending and taunting.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“So. Am. I.” He stands, getting closer with each word. He towers over you, but you don’t care; you’re too pissed off to be intimidated.

“What is your problem!” You scream.

“I don’t have a problem, sweet thing.” He shrugs, his voice cool as a cucumber.

This only pissed you off further. He was so good at pushing your buttons, and you were falling for it unknowingly.

Your face was scrunched up and he thought it was the cutest thing he couldn’t help but hide a smirk and you caught it.

“You want to try that again?” you ask. Your faces were centimetres apart, and he could smell the fire brooding within you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

God, you were infuriated with him, but you never wanted him more badly than right now. You act on instinct and flung yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around him and kissing him harshly, so much so your lips would be bruised by the time you’re done with him.

“There she is”

“Shut up.” Your hands are all over one another, and Eddie is reeling from your actions. Finally, his little minx had come out to play.

You forced your way over to the living room, not ever breaking the kiss until you pushed Eddie off of you and down onto sofa.

“Tell what you want; I’m yours to use.” he smiles, and you can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Is that what this was all about?” you scan his body, his hard cock prominent in his sweatpants. “You like it when I’m mean?” You’re annoyed still but also turned on. Your Eddie likes it when you’re in control.

A wave of excitement washes through you at the realization that all of this was actually to get your attention.

“You like when I dom you, Teddy? Is that it?” Your voice sickly sweet as you run your hands up his thighs until you reach the crease of his hips but don’t go any further, only teasing him more.

“Yes,” he nodded his head rapidly.

A rush of arousal floods your panties.

“Good boy.”

Eddie throws his head back and reaches to palm his cock, but you swat his hand away.

“No,” you stay stern. “This is my cock”

Eddie’s head snapped back up, and you could see in his eyes that he liked your words.

“Who’s cock does this belong to?” You ask as your hand slinks down into his pants, gripping at the base.

“Me.” He smirks. He wants you to be meaner.

“Okay,” you say, standing up and walking away.

“Okay?” Eddie is dumbfounded as you leave him alone on the couch. It takes a few seconds before he gets up to follow you into the bedroom, where he sees you’re pulling out your dildo.

“What are you doing?” He asks, disappointed that you left him.

“Since you don’t think I own your cock, I’m going to use the one I bought to get me off instead.” You shrug before stripping down fully and spreading your legs open to play with yourself in front of Eddie.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, baby.” Eddie came crawling, but you stopped him with an outreached foot to his forehead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Oh-I uh-“

“oh, you uh,” mocked back, and Eddie didn’t think he could get any harder.

“You are going to sit back over there and watch only, like a good little boy. If you touch yourself, I stop.”

“Baby! What? No, that’s so mean,” He pouts.

“You wanted to mean, baby; you’re getting mean.”

Eddie bit his fist and sat back obediently; never in his wildest dreams did he think you would be so confident in this newfound role.

You spread open your legs and work your fingers through your slick folds, not breaking eye contact. You can’t help but smirk when you bring the dildo to your lips, putting on a show by sucking and drowning the head with your saliva, showing exactly what you would have done to Eddie if he had complied earlier.

You hear a throaty moan from Eddie as you watch his face scrunch and his fists tighten into balls as if he were in physical pain from watching you. The way you pop the toy off your lips and slowly drag it down to your weeping hole had Eddie’s cock twitched.

You finally break eye contact when you watch yourself insert the dilo into your wet pussy before you let your head fall back into the pillow.

“Oh yes!” your hips gyrate into your thursts as you put in a show for Eddie.

You exaggerate, for Eddie’s sake. Of course, it would never feel as good as him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You evil woman”

You snap your eyes back to Eddie and smirk.

“Fuck it feels so good!” “God it’s just so big” “yes yes yes!”

Moan after moan of pleasure leaves your lips as your free hand explores your breast, squeezing it and playing with your nipple before moving down to your clit.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to run through your body; having Eddie watch you, at your mercy, was enough to fuel the orgasm, let alone the thick, veiny pink dildo that was spreading you wide open, hitting you just right with each pump.

Your pussy clamps down onto the dildo that’s deep inside of you, cuming all over it as you shake with pleasure. You don’t even hear Eddie moan as he bites his fist, trying so hard to behave and listen to your orders.

Your cum floods out of you as you slowly pull it out with a pop.

“Come here and clean it up,” You demand, and Eddie dives head first to your pussy, but you quickly close your legs, and Eddie pouts those beautiful full pink lips at you.

“This first,” You smirk, handing him the dildo you just used that’s coated in your cum.

Eddie’s eyes go wide in shock, but he takes the toy and places it in his mouth. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he licks and deep-throats it.

The thrill of watching Eddie place the used dildo in his mouth as he sucks it off only makes your pussy flood once again. Your hands play with your nipples as you slowly open your legs for him.

The second Eddie sees your knees parting, he tosses the dildo to the floor, and before you can command anything, his lips attach to your pussy in an instant.

“That’s right, you’re just a little cum slut aren’t you?” you can’t believe the words are leaving your lips, and neither can Eddie, but he ruts his hips against the mattress as the filthy words fill the room.

“I see you, baby. Can’t even wait five minutes without needing to pay attention to your cock” You try not to stutter as Eddie works his tongue inside your tight hole, cleaning up the remnants of cum. You watch as Eddie pops his ass up and down as he tries to get himself off, but you can’t have that, not yet.

“Stop,” You command, and Eddie doesn’t know what action you’re referring to, so he stops everything completely.

He looks up at you with those big doe eyes, mouth agape and shiny with your cum, and you almost crack a smile, but you keep your composure.

You shuffle to your knees and instruct Eddie to lie down in place of where you just were and lean over him.

“Now, baby, I’m going to ask you again. Who’s cock is this?” You slowly drag a single digit, hardly touching the soft skin of his shaft, from the base to tip and back down again. His cock was more than ready, he was so thick and long. The tip was red, and was leaking out so much precum. If you didn’t know any better, you maybe would have thought he had come already.

“Yours” He doesn’t hesitate; he needs to cum; he needs to feel your pussy around him.

“Good boy,” you say, taking your finger away so you can hook a leg over his hip and straddle him.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” Eddie swallows.

“Oh, is that right?” your hand slowly makes its way up Eddie’s thick throat and lands at the base of his jaw. You squeeze it ever so gently at first but slowly tighten your grip as you sink down onto his cock.

Your small hand doesn’t do anything to hurt Eddie, but the feeling of it there had Eddie pushing his hips up into you roughly.

You let out a maon of pleaser as he hits your G-spot and doesn’t stop. Thrust after thrust, Eddie has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and he will not stop until he has his way with you.

“Think you’re in control now, baby? Got you so cock drunk you can’t even speak.”

No longer did you care about being in control. Eddie was making you see stars.

“Don’t think your little toy had you feeling this good, huh?” he gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you know there will be a bunch of tiny bruises in the morning.

“Ohhhhh, Teddy!,” You scream as your second orgasm rips through you without warming. Eddie’s hips jackhammer up into you as you ride out your orgasm, and Eddie chases his. He flips you over and pushes your legs up into your chest so he can watch himself disappear into your tight little cunt.

“Fucking made f’me.” his hips snap once, twice, three times more until he spills himself inside of you.

You feel Eddie’s weight collapse on you, his heavy body limp.

“Holy shit” You breathe in the revelation of what just happened. “Was that our best sex ever, or am I dreaming?” You whisper.

“I think you broke me, baby,” Eddie moans as he doesn’t want to leave your warm wet pussy.

“That confirms it, best sex ever.” You raise his hand so you can give him a high five before his limp arm falls back down on the bed.

You can’t help but giggle, and Eddie shoots out of you, complaining it’s too sensitive to squeeze his cock anymore.

“Teddy?”

“mhm?”

“Next time you want me to take charge, just ask. I’m not keeping a messy home because you wanna get freaky.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes before he rolls your body into his so you can fall asleep in his arms.

Tagging some moots who might be interested 🫣: @xxbimbobunnyxx @bimbotrashcan @usergeta @loserboysandlithium

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #sub!eddie Munson #sub!eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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inkedinshadows · 5 months ago

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Little Rainbow

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: When you can’t comfort your baby daughter, you bring her to her dad, who always manages to calm her down.

Warnings: just lots of fluff

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I thought I'd try my hand at writing second person pov instead of third. It just felt natural to write this one in 2nd pov. Maybe I'll stick with it in the future idk. This was born out of my baby fever btw, enjoy!

Azriel sensed you right before his shadows whispered of your arrival. He would recognize those steps and those soft wails anywhere.

A smile was already on his lips when the door opened with a small creak and you, his beautiful and loving mate, walked in holding your few-months-old daughter in your arms.

Leaning against the back of his chair, he watched as his shadows shot forward to greet the two of you, writhing around you and caressing your cheeks. You chuckled, but your daughter's soft cries stopped only for a moment before starting again, her little face even redder.

Azriel had spent centuries thinking he would never find love, that he wasn't good enough to deserve it. He was glad for his brothers’ happiness, and yet silently jealous of what they had. Brother, uncle, friend—he was grateful for it all, he truly was, but he longed for something more.

Then he met you.

Even before the mating bond snapped, he already knew you were the one. He had never been so smitten with someone in all his long years. He fell for you as quickly as a stone sinks in water, and finding out you were mates was just the cherry on top. He was convinced he could never love anything or anyone as much as he loved you.

But then you got pregnant. And when you gave birth, one look at the tiny bundle in Madja's arms was enough to prove him wrong. Seeing his mate holding his baby shortly after brought tears to his eyes, and he couldn't keep them from falling when you passed him Iris—named for the rainbow shining in the sky as she came into the world.

It was one of the happiest moments of his life, if not the happiest: looking down at the fragile, beautiful new life he had helped create.

But now, Iris was crying.

“One of those days?” he asked, his arms already outstretched toward his daughter.

“Yeah… sorry to interrupt you,” you answered with a sigh. You passed the baby to him and perched on the armrest of his chair. “But I tried feeding her, playing with her. I sang her all the lullabies I know. Nothing worked. She wants you.”

Azriel smiled down at Iris, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And to him, to you, she was. You were never interrupting when it was about her.

“You missed me, little rainbow?” he asked softly, a scarred finger trailing down her red, puffy cheeks. His shadows followed suit to swirl around her little face as if they could wipe away her tears.

He'd been scared at first—scared he would somehow taint something so perfect with his scarred hands, hands that had done things he had never been proud of. Though you had reassured him many times, his every concern melted away completely only when Iris had grabbed his pointer finger and innocently put it in her mouth.

It was exactly what she was doing now. Under Azriel's adoring gaze, his daughter wrapped her tiny hands around the finger he had just used to caress her and began contentedly sucking on it, her wails stopping for the moment.

“I don't understand how you do that,” you complained, though your tone was soft, your eyes full of pure love and adoration as you watched your mate and your baby. “She refused her binky when I gave it to her. Every. Single. Time.”

Azriel finally looked up from his child and met your gaze. Amusement sparked in his eyes at your grumble.

“Don't take it personally, love,” he said, curling one of his wings around you and gently nudging you with it. “She said ‘mama’ the other day.”

Catching on to his little wing bump, you slid from the armrest onto his lap, even as you rolled your eyes at him. “She didn't say 'mama’. She was just babbling. She's too young to say words, Az.”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully, but his gaze slid back to Iris. She was still clutching his finger, and even though it had been almost seven months since she was born, watching her was as mesmerizing as the first time.

She had his eyes—hazel with a speck of green—but her hair was the same shade as yours. The two of you had initially spent hours simply gazing at her, whether she was awake or asleep, endlessly debating who she resembled the most. You claimed she had inherited Azriel's nose, he said she had your mouth. The truth was, it was too soon to know for sure, but neither of you cared. She was your rainbow, and she would always be perfect in Azriel's eyes.

The one thing he wasn't sure how to feel about was the lack of wings. After Feyre's tragic experience while giving birth, he had been relieved when Madja announced that your baby wouldn't have them. He never wanted to see you in such pain or risk losing you during childbirth. And yet, he was still Illyrian. Nothing could change that. A part of him longed for the chance to teach his baby daughter to fly, to hear the song of the wind and feel that unparalleled sense of freedom that only came from soaring high in the sky.

“Maybe it's the shadows.”

Your voice dragged him back to reality, and he turned to you with a furrowed brow.

“Why she's always calmer around you,” you clarified, gesturing to the shadows swirling around Iris. You caressed her head, and her eyes tracked back to you as she giggled around Azriel's finger. “They soothe her.”

Azriel smiled, his heart soaring at the sound of his daughter's soft laughter. His wing curled more tightly around you, drawing you closer so he could place a gentle kiss on your temple. “She's just like her mom, isn't she?”

You could only nod, returning his loving smile with one of your own. It was true—his shadows had always been a safe space to you. The first time he had seen you upset, they rushed to you, swirling around you and brushing your cheeks and your neck until you chuckled. From that moment, whether it was anger, sadness, or fatigue, they would leave Azriel's side to cheer you up before he could even take a step in your direction.

Your head came to rest on Azriel’s shoulder and you both watched your daughter's eyes grow heavy, her lids starting to drop as she stubbornly tried to keep them open, her hold on her dad's finger relenting.

“You fall asleep so easily in daddy's arms, don't you, little rainbow?” you whispered as you tenderly booped her cute little nose. “Just like mommy.”

Azriel chuckled, placing his now-free hand on the small of your back to gently nudge you to stand up. “Let's go to bed, love.”

You rose from his lap, and he immediately felt the absence of your warmth against him, but you only stood in front of him with that cute frown of yours—the one that created a small crease between your brows that he always wanted to smooth with his thumb.

Azriel knew exactly what you were thinking.

During the last month of your pregnancy, he had asked Rhys to keep missions away from Velaris to a bare minimum. And after Iris was born, he had stopped taking on any missions that required him to be away for more than two days, because he simply couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you and his baby girl. After centuries, he had finally learned the meaning of the word “delegate”. But sending his spies on jobs he'd usually do himself had led to a high pile of documents and reports on his desk—a pile he mostly tackled after you and Iris had gone to bed.

“I'm done working for tonight,” he reassured you, standing up and rocking Iris in his arms. “It can wait.”

It couldn't, not really. Some of those papers had been sitting on his desk for days, and the Azriel he was until seven months ago would have recoiled at the mere thought of unfinished work. But that was before an eternal rainbow added even more colors to his life than you already had.

You only smiled at him and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Let's go to bed, then,” you repeated before turning to walk out.

Azriel followed you, his baby’s eyes fluttering open at the movement and darting around as he walked down the pastel-blue hallway. She was always so curious, even when tired.

Not wanting to risk Iris deciding she’d rather stay awake and explore than sleep, Azriel began to hum her favorite lullaby. You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of his deep voice resonating off the walls, a soft smile on your lips as you watched the shadows gently sway to the melody.

He met your gaze when you stopped in front of Iris’s room, where you had painted the walls a light shade of pink while Azriel assembled the cream-colored furniture. He shook his head and gestured for you to keep walking, never interrupting his soft singing as Iris’s eyes fluttered closed once more. You raised an eyebrow but continued toward your bedroom at the end of the hallway.

You had recently started getting Iris used to sleeping in her own room instead of yours, with both doors left open for the rare times she still woke up at night. But tonight, Azriel wanted to hold both his girls in his arms.

Iris was fast asleep by the time Azriel gently placed her in the center of your large bed, careful not to wake her up. She rolled onto her tummy and let out a content sigh that had you both staring in awe.

You turned to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You didn't want her to sleep alone?” you murmured, your tone amused.

“I couldn't,” he answered with a smile, his fingers tangling in your silky hair. “She missed me, you said it yourself.”

You chuckled, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

Azriel didn't let you pull away.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he last had some alone time with you. If it wasn't Iris needing attention and care, it was his duties as spymaster keeping him so busy that you had resorted to dragging your favorite armchair in his study, where you would curl up with a book during your daughter's nap time. Sitting in comfortable silence as you each focused on your own tasks was better than being apart.

He felt you relax, melting against his body as he deepened the kiss, and only then did he pull back to rest his forehead against yours.

“And I missed you,” he whispered. Your cheeks were warm under his touch and he took a moment to just breathe in your familiar, soothing scent.

“Then you should have let Iris sleep in her crib, my love,” you said with a glance at your daughter. A mischievous gleam entered your eyes when they settled on him again. “Because I really miss you too.”

Azriel's soft laugh echoed in the room, and he kissed the top of your head. “Tomorrow,” he promised. He could make those reports wait a bit longer.

You smirked, stealing one last kiss before stepping back to peel off your clothes. He took a moment to admire you—your smooth skin, the dip of your hips, the soft curve of your stomach that remained from childbirth—but he quickly undressed as well, and soon you were both in bed, with Iris nestled between you.

Azriel placed a broad hand on her back to draw her a bit closer, and his wing draped over you as you scooted over, enveloping the three of you in a warm, dark cocoon, the silence interrupted only by your daughter’s soft snoring.

He felt you move in the dark and guessed you had just kissed Iris when you murmured, “Goodnight, my rainbow. Even though you didn't let me sing you lullabies.”

Azriel didn't need to see your face to know you had a loving look in your eyes and a playful smile on your lips.

“Of course she prefers my lullabies,” he teased, brushing his thumb over Iris's back. “She's her daddy's girl.”

For a moment, he was tempted to fold back his wing and let the moonlight caress your face, just to catch your cute pout as you said, “I used to be your girl.”

“You still are, love. You're both my girls,” he assured you, letting his wing lower over you like a second blanket. “You're my family. There's nothing I love more than you and Iris.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice now stripped of all playfulness. Only pure, undiluted sincerity remained, warming his heart. “Both of you.”

Silence fell again, and it wasn't long before your breathing evened out as you drifted into sleep. But Azriel stayed awake a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of his mate's soft sighs and his daughter's occasional snorts.

His own little family—everything he had ever wanted, more than he had ever dared to hope for.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel × reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar #sjm #fanfic #azriel spymaster #fluff #azriel fluff #shadowsinger

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monzamash · 2 months ago

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still tasting you lando norris x you (older piastri sister) rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) requested by @sublimebarbie for monzamusings ✨

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

Lando's voice was hushed and close, barely audible over the loud music but you heard him; you heard the suggestion in his tone - eyes dark when you peered into them, scorching through your soul.

The room was a blur – bodies everywhere, EDM vibrating through the floor and syphoning up the ceiling, making your head spin. The shots on the way in didn’t help your sense of direction, the tequila tasting bitter on the tip of your tongue as you followed your brother; a chain of McLaren employees all fighting their way through the dense crowd. It was loud, raised voices trying to figure out where we were being dragged. Truthfully, it was almost too much.

Until you saw him. His navy button down shirt stuck to his tanned skin, black thick-rimmed sunglasses shielding his bloodshot eyes, bright toothy smile reflecting the flashing lights. He was the embodiment of ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ with his arm raised in the air, singing along to a remix of No Diggity. Carefree, giving zero fucks until he saw you.

To the outside looking in, you two were friendly - he was your younger brother's teammate, after all. But in the shadows, there were unspeakable acts of pleasure occurring that had you both sworn to secrecy. Quick glances, ghosting touches, passionate make out sessions behind motorhomes and late night rendezvous in hotel rooms. It was the whole ‘sneaking around’ cliche and you loved it.

Especially when he looked at you like that.

Like you’d hung the stars in the sky, like there was nobody else in the room but you. He was ravenous and completely enamoured; rendered speechless every single time.

Granted, you looked hot. Intentionally. You craved his undivided attention and you had it in spades. He’d slipped away from the DJ booth as soon as he saw you lining up for a drink - chatting away with his PR manager and pretending like you couldn't feel his searing presence behind you.

“Hey guys,” Lando cooly greeted, smiling brighter than the sun.

“Hey hun, I'm ordering drinks - what do you want?” Sophie asked, waiting a beat for Lando’s answer and getting nothing in return, “Lando?”

“Huh?” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you to his media manager who was still waiting for his drink order, but now with a sly smirk on her face, “Couldn’t hear you over the music.” He tried to play it off and she simply hummed in agreement and turned back to the bartender.

“Smooth,” you whispered playfully, pulling him into a friendly side hug, “Congrats on the win… must feel amazing.”

Lando nodded and ran his hands through his hair - you'd noticed he always did that when he was nervous. His cheeks would flush, eyes would dart to anywhere but yours and his fingers would find the frayed ends of his gorgeous curls. All tell tale signs that he was into you.

“Yeah, it does…” he agreed, nodding and chewing the inside of his cheek, “Not as amazing as you look but still pretty good.”

He could turn it on when he wanted to. And it made you blush as your idle hands playfully swatted him away until you spotted your little brother strolling over to the two of you with a smile.

“Hey mate,” Oscar greeted happily, patting his teammate on the shoulder, “Celebrating?”

“Absolutely,” Lando enthused and held up his vodka soda with a grin, “Is Lily here?”

“Yeah she’s talking to someone. Thought i’d just come over and make sure my sister wasn’t annoying you again,” he winked, knowing that you were the least annoying person he knew.

So you rolled your eyes and started to walk away, “Rich coming from you, kid.”

Oscar simply laughed, none the wiser to your arrangement with his teammate, “Don’t have too much fun and remember which side of the garage you’re related to, yeah?” “Yeah, yeah.” you brushed him off and slyly grasped Lando’s wrist, dragging him off into the sea of sweaty bodies and debauchery.

It didn’t take long for his hands to find a place on your swaying hips, entranced by the way they moved to the music reverberating through your chest. It was hot, in more ways than just the temperature rising in the room as capacity hit. Lando’s breath swept across the back of your neck as he leaned in, so close to pressing his lips to the soft spot between your ear and shoulder that gifted him with the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

It took every ounce of will power to save it for the bedroom.

But he was fighting a losing battle.

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

You couldn't stop the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips as his confession washed over you. So you spun around in his arms and leaned in a little closer than "friendly".

But you didn't care – you needed him.

“Then take me somewhere and do something about it.”

That’s all it took. Five little words had you pressed up against the wall of the lavish bathroom. The lighting was dim, nothing but a single sconce illuminating the copper walls and the gorgeous vanity you were perched upon. It was clumsy, all teeth as you kissed the man holding you up, legs sprawled and mewls slipping from your ruby lips. Tongue tied and breathless, all the things to make a quickie, a quickie.

“So fucking tight,” Lando grumbled as he pumped two fingers into you, the dampened string of what resembled a pair of panties haphazardly pulled to the side.

“Need to fuck me good then, hey.” It was a taunt fuelled by carnal need and desire - Lando simple nodded and lazily nipped at the skin exposed on your neck.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

He was painfully hard, which made unzipping his ridiculously tight trousers even harder than usual. But he managed to do it without missing a beat, fingers still delving into the depths he craved to feel squeezing his aching dick. He’d thought about it all day, even had to have a cold shower because of how fucking obsessed he was with the way you felt around him, clenching like you were now around his thick digits.

“We’ve gotta be quick so leave everything on,” you whispered with a devilish glint in your hungry eyes, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Lando wasn’t going to protest, in fact he loved the idea of having you like this - fully clothed with only your cute, black lacy panties pulled to the side for him to slide into. He couldn’t wait any longer. His trousers and pants were hastily shoved down just enough to free him, the slick coat of excitement cooled by the air and sending a chill down his spine. Until he removed his fingers and ran himself through your folds, eliciting the sound of an angel, heaven sent.

“We good?” he asked sweetly and you nodded with pleading eyes, sealing a layer of consent before nudging his tip into you.

A chorus of moans harmonised between the two of you, pleasantly satisfied by the intimacy as he shuffled forward with a gentle huff. It felt too good to have him inside you, filling you up with a delicious fullness you constantly craved from him. It’s all you needed after a long day of yearning and discreetly glancing across the garages - all you could think about was this moment, where it was just you and him; so outrageously turned on that you couldn’t wait to get back to his hotel. Desperately devoted.

“Feels unbelievable, baby,” you praised in a breathy moan, head tilted back against the already steamed up mirror hanging behind you.

“Having you like this is a fucking dream,” Lando practically growled as he pulled down the top of your dress and kissed the tops of your breasts, “So beautiful.”

Everything felt heightened as you relaxed against the vanity, fully trusting his tight grip and letting go of all inhibitions. That’s how you felt with Lando - walls down and no longer scared to feel it all with someone. And god, it felt good to purge all the pent up lust and aching to have him like this, panting and whispering filth into your ear; every word and jut surmounting to the knot in your stomach snapping to ribbons all at once. Your rushed words pathetically coming out in a whine.

“Lan… Baby I’m gonna- fuck, I’m so close.”

“Shhh, I got you darling, come ‘f me…” he sweetly whispered, easing you over the edge as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between your thighs like precious cargo.

You chanted his name over and over and over again, fingernails clutching his clothed back for leverage as you convulsed in pleasure, shockwaves hitting every nerve in your body as he spilled into you with an exasperated groan. He was beautiful, all flushed and fucked out as he pressed his forehead to yours, weary eyes locked in once again.

“Some of our best yet, I reckon,” Lando whispered, his smirking lips ghosting yours.

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss as you slid down off the vanity, readjusting your panties to their usual position. There was a short beat before you glanced back up at him with a smile, fingertips instinctively tracing the angles of his sharp jaw.

“Oh, we’re just getting started, baby.”

a/n – something a bit different! i've always wanted to explore a lando x older piastri sister because well, this fic series exists and older reader stories just hit harder and are a lot easier for me to write. so let me know what you think!

click here for more writing...

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut #monzamashwriting #monzamusings ✨#f1 imagine #lando norris x you

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rememberwren · 3 months ago

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I love the idea of a 141!reader and Ghoap going on a mission and being forced into a safehouse with only one bed. Fast forward to walking in or waking up to something a little spicy and 👀

ghoap, ghoap/fem!reader, handjobs, cum eating.

It’s not even close to dawn when Ghost wakes you from your dead sleep, his gloved hand still cold from the outdoors where he lays it on your shoulder and shakes you awake.

“Your turn for watch,” he says, lowly so as to not wake Johnny.

You bite back a groan, but you force yourself to roll away from Johnny’s blissfully warm, sleeping figure and to take assessment of your body. Toes are numb. Your eyes sting, you are so tired. It feels like only minutes ago that you’d laid your head down on the small queen sized mattress in this shithole safehouse. When you had, you were curled up with Ghost at the time, cuddled against his massive figure for warmth. You’d been convinced you would never sleep—how could you with Ghost pressed flush against you?—but your eyes had fallen shut the moment your head touched the lumpy pillow. You hadn’t even awoken when he and Johnny switched places.

“What time is it?” you croak. You clear your throat.

“02:00.”

You run your chilly hands over your face and force yourself to stand, swaying dangerously on your feet. Ghost reaches out and braces you, a hand on your shoulder. He lets go as soon as you are steady, never one for touching any more than he has to. Even if it would be welcome.

“You’re no use like this,” he says, voice cool but not cold. “Get back in bed.”

“It’s my turn, sir,” you slur. There are two of him—then just one, your eyes crossing with exhaustion.

“I won’t tell you again, Sergeant.”

You collapse back onto the mattress, relieved and disappointed in equal measure. Alright maybe not in equal measure. The bed with the slightly musty sheets is a far cry from the tundra outside. A part of you is sure that Ghost will take a double watch—he’s just supernatural enough to do it—but you hear the sound of Velcro tearing free as he begins to strip himself of weapons.

“Sir?” you wonder, eyes already shut.

He ignores you. “Shove over, Sergeant. Johnny. Johnny.”

“‘m up,” Johnny mutters, wiping at his cheek where he has drooled in his sleep. You snort softly, shifting over and reaching out to grip the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you. He comes easily, looping an arm over your waist like you’re lovers and not siblings-in-arms. His breath fans across your forehead when he asks: “We cuddlin’?”

“With Ghost,” you add sleepily, tucking your face into his neck where it is warm. The tip of your nose burns, it is so cold. Johnny smells like sweat, but it’s not a scent you altogether mind. There’s a lot about cuddling with Johnny that you don’t mind.

For the three of you to fit with any semblance of comfort, you have to lay on your sides. You have faced Johnny, but when you crack your eyes open, you’re surprised to see your lieutenant has as well, his hand resting on Johnny’s hip while yours is curled around his back. When you flex your hand, your knuckles graze Ghost’s vest. You can feel his eyes on you, so you keep yours on where his hand rests on Johnny. It looks comfortable there. Familiar. It’s your last thought before your eyes slip shut and you fall asleep.

When you wake, Johnny has rolled in his sleep to face Ghost. The sky is a deep blue, hinting at dawn. Your eyes don’t sting as much when you open them, though you keep yourself still and quiet, listening for the sound of enemy footsteps outside the safehouse crunching in the snow, positive that that is what has awoken you.

But the quiet sounds you hear are coming from within the room.

“Keep quiet, Sergeant,” Ghost whispers.

For a moment you think he is talking to you. But then Johnny gives a sigh, wiggling his lower half a little. His arse nudges against your thigh thanks to your position sprawled on your back. Johnny’s voice rasps out: “S’ long as you keep touchin’ me.”

It does not compute.

Your brow furrows. Your ears strain. You’ve obviously misheard. Something has been lost in translation. Except the noise Johnny makes afterward—a quiet little whine in the back of his throat—can’t be misinterpreted. His heel nudges against your foot as he carefully searches for purchase to continue doing—something with Ghost. You shut your eyes tight, face burning, but behind your eyelids are just various images of what must be happening inches away from you. Maybe Johnny woke up hard, twisted in the sheets, cock pressed against Ghost’s thigh. Maybe he’d been rutting up against their lieutenant in his sleep.

Maybe now Ghost had worked his cock free from his pants and was stroking him off.

“Keep still,” Ghost says.

“Can’t,” Johnny groans softly, barely a whisper. “Feels good.”

“You’re going to wake her. You want that?”

“No!”

“Hm. Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. You look good like this Johnny,” Ghost says. His quiet, rumbling words send a pulse of heat through you, centering between your thighs. For the first time since you’d landed on this godforsaken stretch of country, you felt truly warm. “Keep still for me. Just lay there and take it, Sergeant.”

“Jesus, Ghost,” Johnny whispers. He sounds wrecked, body writhing beside you as he fights not to thrust into Ghost’s grip.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, amused. “I know.”

Their lieutenant has set the most lackadaisical pace, audible just over Johnny’s little sounds and frantic breaths. You wonder if Ghost’s grip is tight or if his fist is loose, barely giving Johnny what he needs. You know Ghost, you know his hands (have spent enough time watching them)—he is as capable of the lightest touches as he is the most brutal. Not for the first time, you think about what it would be like to be the object of his attention, the recipient of his sharpened focus.

Your thighs clench together, the movement near enough to stillness to avoid garnering either man's attention. It isn’t fair, you think to yourself. Not fair that Johnny is Ghost’s favorite, not when this is the kind of treatment favoritism grants you. Not fair that Ghost gets to be the one to take Johnny in his hand, to share breaths with him while Johnny whines and begs under his breath.

“Close,” Johnny whispers.

“Whenever you’re ready, Johnny. Be a good boy now.”

Johnny’s body stiffens for an endless moment, and then he melts, trembling, wrecked little noises tripping off his lips. The sounds turn slick with every stroke Ghost gives Johnny’s cock, and you know that your fellow Sergeant has made a mess between them. It makes you ache, between your legs and deep in your chest with a want so keen it’s like a knife slid between your ribs.

“Clean up your mess, Johnny,” Ghost says, and you hear the wet sounds of Johnny sucking his fingers clean.

When they have finished, Johnny creeps from the bed, taking some of the key warmth with him, which serves to remind you of how fucking cold you are. You shiver with your eyes squeezed shut, feeling Ghost’s gaze on you, assessing whether or not you’re truly asleep.

The mattress shifts—and Ghost’s massive arm wraps around you, pulling you towards the center of the bed where the warmth of Johnny’s body lingers. Your eyes open, limbs flailing a little, a sound of confusion in the back of your throat.

“Go back to sleep,” Ghost rumbles. “Just moving you to the middle. You’re shaking.”

The warmth of his body is a sedative, a hypnotic that lulls you back toward that sleepy place even if it means ignoring the throbbing between your legs. You bury your face in his neck like you had with Johnny, and it’s his turn to shiver, maybe. When Johnny returns to the bed, he spoons against your back, breath fanning against your neck. Here between them, it’s positively hot.

You drift off back to sleep, and the next time you awaken, the sun is a blazing arch on the horizon, and Ghost is waking you again for watch duty.

#ghoap x reader

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thef1diary · 15 days ago

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A White Christmas | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas: BONUS FIC

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral, husband!dad!daniel

— Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas from your favourite daniel sluts! (aka me n @emchante)🎄🎁 while this may not have been the perfect smutmas, we both thoroughly enjoyed writing each fic and we hope you enjoyed reading them just as much. Here’s the bonus fic, as promised. Be warned, there’s a lotta holiday filth ahead 👀

It was Christmas Morning, and the soft hush of snow blanketed the world outside the frosted windows. The flakes drifted lazily from the sky, a picturesque white Christmas that seemed almost too perfect to be real. Inside, the warmth of laughter and joy filled the air as you and Daniel watched your three kids eagerly tear into their presents. Their delighted squeals and wide-eyed wonder made the early wake-up call more than worth it. Wrapping paper flew across the living room, the scent of cinnamon rolls wafted from the kitchen, and the fire crackled softly in the background.

Breakfast followed shortly after—simple but perfect, with pancakes, eggs, and hot chocolate for everyone. The kids chattered excitedly about their new toys, their little faces—a close replica of Daniel’s—glowing with the magic of the day. Once the plates were cleared, you dressed them in their holiday sweaters, ready to head off to their grandma’s house where you and Daniel would join them later in the afternoon.

The house was quiet now, blissfully so, as you stood by the doorframe, waving goodbye to the kids as they piled into the car with their aunt. Once they drove away, Daniel closed the door, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed a lingering kiss to your neck.

“Finally,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “We’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple hours.”

You turned in his arms, raising a brow at the sly grin tugging at his lips. “And what exactly do you plan on doing with this time, Mr. Ricciardo?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up the last neatly wrapped present sitting underneath. His grin grew wider as he handed it to you. “Open it and find out.”

You quickly unwrapped the present, your curiosity piqued, only to find the sheerest, most delicate lace lingerie you’d ever seen nestled inside. The deep red fabric was soft under your fingertips, accented with intricate embroidery and ribbons that left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed, but Daniel’s smirk only deepened.

“And here I thought we were trying to be nice for Christmas,” you teased, holding the garments up for a better look.

“What can I say?” he replied, stepping closer until his hands were on your hips. “I wanted a very, very naughty gift this Christmas.” His lips brushed yours, his voice a whisper. “And I plan on unwrapping it right now.”

It didn’t take you long to change. When you stepped into the bedroom wearing the lingerie, Daniel’s eyes darkened instantly, his gaze raking over every inch of you.

“Turn around,” he commanded softly, his voice low and rough.

You did as he asked, feeling his gaze burn into your back as you gave him a full view. His sharp intake of breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could say anything, his hands were on your hips, pulling you back against his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands roamed over your body. “Look at you, love. All wrapped up for me.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “You like it, then?”

“Like it?” His hand slid between your thighs, finding the growing heat there through the thin fabric. “I’m obsessed.”

He didn’t wait for a response before nudging you gently towards the bed. You let yourself fall onto the soft mattress, his hands quickly finding your thighs to spread them apart. Daniel knelt between your legs, his hands gripping them firmly as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. His mouth trailed higher, and when he reached the thin lace of your panties, he paused to look up at you.

“Look at you, adding some sweetness to my gift,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

You didn’t have a chance to reply before his mouth covered you, his tongue pressing against your cunt through the lace. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he teased you, his tongue working you over with slow, deliberate strokes and kisses.

Daniel’s lips teased you through the lace, his tongue hot and wet as it moved against the thin fabric, dampening it further with each slow stroke. The friction of the lace against your sensitive skin was intoxicating, a mix of pleasure and torment that had you gasping, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Daniel,” you whimpered, your hips shifting, desperate for more, for him to pull the fabric aside and give you what you needed.

But he only chuckled against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “Patience, my love. I like seeing you like this—needy and desperate for me.”

He slid a hand up your thigh, his touch firm and possessive, before his fingers slipped beneath the lace. He didn’t move it away. Instead, he pressed against your slick folds, the fabric catching every motion as his fingers teased and circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You’re soaking through it.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling as he continued to torment you with slow, deliberate strokes of his fingers. His mouth joined again, his tongue pressing firmly against your lace-covered pussy, and the combined sensations had you spiraling out of control.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice low and rough against your skin. “Dirty this pretty lace for me.”

It didn’t take much more. His fingers pressed just right, his tongue relentless as it worked you through the fabric, and the pressure built until it exploded, your body clenching and shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your thighs trembling as your cum coated the lace, leaving it soaked and clinging to your sensitive cunt.

Daniel groaned in approval, pulling back to admire his handiwork. “Fuck, look at this,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the damp lace. “You’ve completely ruined it. Just how I wanted.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was moving, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto your knees, your ass high in the air as he positioned you exactly how he wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with reverence and hunger. He slid his hands down your back, over the curve of your ass, before grabbing the lace and pulling it to the side, finally uncovering your cunt.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands spreading you wider. “Absolutely perfect.”

You felt him against you a moment later, the thick head of his cock teasing your hole as he slid it through your wetness, gathering everything you’d already given him.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, your voice breathless and broken.

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice dark and teasing as he paused at your entrance.

“Please fuck me,” you cried, pushing your hips back against him.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. You both groaned at the feeling, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough with need.

Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust deep and deliberate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your cries and his guttural moans.

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, his hands digging into your hips. “Such a good girl for me. So tight, so wet.”

You couldn’t form a response, your mind foggy with pleasure as he set a punishing pace, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. Your arms gave out beneath you, your face pressed into the mattress as he continued to take you, his grip never faltering.

“Gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice strained as he leaned over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Feel you squeezing me already. Do it—cum all over my cock.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as another orgasm tore through you. He didn’t slow down, fucking you through it, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

With a low groan, he pulled out at the last second, his hand stroking himself as he finished over your ass. The heat of his cum splashed across your skin, thick and hot, marking you in the most intimate way.

Daniel’s breath was ragged behind you as he steadied himself, his release warm and sticky on your skin. His hands slid down your hips, almost soothing, before he traced a finger through the mess he’d made.

“You look even better like this,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Covered in my cum.”

You shivered at his tone, feeling his finger gather some of the wetness on your skin before he pressed it to your lips. “Open,” he commanded, his eyes locked on yours as you turned your head slightly to look at him.

Your lips parted, and he slid his finger into your mouth, watching intently as you closed your lips around him and sucked. His groan was deep and guttural, his other hand coming to stroke your hair. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulled his finger free, you turned fully, taking in the sight of him. His chest heaved with every breath, his body glistening with sweat, and yet his cock was still hard, standing proud and ready. The sight of him—so undone and yet still wanting—ignited something primal in you.

Without a word, you slid off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in surprise, but the smirk that followed told you he knew exactly what you intended.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his voice dripping with lust. “So fucking eager.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, your hands wrapped around his thighs, your touch firm as you brought your face closer. Your tongue darted out, licking along the underside of his cock, tasting him. He hissed, his hips jerking slightly as you teased him, your tongue swirling around the head before you took him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as his hands found your hair. “That mouth of yours… feels so damn good.”

You worked him with practiced ease, your lips sliding down his length as your tongue pressed against him. Your hand joined the motion, stroking the base while your mouth focused on the tip, hollowing your cheeks with each movement.

Daniel’s grip in your hair tightened as his breathing grew heavier. “You’re gonna make me lose it, love,” he said, his voice strained. “So fucking perfect, on your knees like this.”

You hummed in response, the vibration sending a shudder through him. His hips bucked slightly, and you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat. The sound he made was sinful, his control fraying with each passing second.

“Shit,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to take a breath. “I need to see you.”

He withdrew from your mouth, and you looked up at him, your lips swollen and glistening. His eyes darkened at the sight, and you continued stroking him with your hand.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, gaze connected with his as you whispered, “cum all over me, Danny.”

You tilted your head back slightly, your tongue flicking out to catch the first drop of his release as he came. His moan was deep and raw as he spilled over your face, the warmth splashing across your cheeks and down to your chest. He aimed deliberately, painting your lace-covered breasts with streaks of white, each one a claim on your body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breathing uneven as he admired his work. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

Your hands came up to your chest, your fingers trailing through the mess he’d made. You looked up at him, your gaze heated. “All yours,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

He knelt down, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you deeply, the taste of him still on your tongue. “Always mine,” he murmured against your lips.

Painted in Daniel’s cum, it was truly a white Christmas, one you’d never forget.

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

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rootedinrevisions · 4 months ago

Text

Cop Car

SUMMARY: You and Jake enter a restricted area to watch the planes take off. It's all fun and games until the two of you end up cuffed in the backseat of a car. Things only get worse when your dad, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell arrives on the scene. Loosely based on/inspired by Cop Car by Keith Urban because apparently my thing lately has been making fics out of songs.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

The faint roar of jet engines reverberated in the distance, a low hum that vibrated through the night air. You were wrapped up in Jake’s arms, your back pressed against his chest as you both lounged in the truck bed, staring at the vast sky above. There was a thrill, a kind of reckless energy, in sitting just beyond the "No Trespassing" signs, so close to the runways where the Navy's finest pilots took off.

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t from fear of getting caught. It was from being here, next to him. You felt the soft thud of his heartbeat as you lay back against his chest, your body cocooned in his warmth.

“You sure this was a good idea?” Jake’s voice was low, tinged with amusement as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You grinned up at him, the glow of the airstrip lights casting soft shadows across his features. “Since when have you ever cared about breaking the rules?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Fair point. But if your old man catches us—”

You cut him off with a playful laugh, turning in his arms so you could look up into his eyes. “We’ll be fine. I’ve got a plan.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a plan?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded confidently, leaning in closer until your noses almost touched. “If we get caught, I’ll just tell them how much I love planes. They’ll understand.”

Jake shook his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll get us out of any trouble.”

You leaned back against him, your eyes flicking up to watch as another jet took off, its engines roaring to life and tearing down the runway before disappearing into the night sky. There was something magical about it, watching those planes cut through the darkness. You’d loved planes ever since you were a kid—since the first time your dad had taken you up for a ride.

Sighing contently, you snuggled deeper into Jake’s embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The moment was perfect, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. All the worries of tomorrow didn’t matter. It was just you, Jake, and the thrill of being somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

“Hey, look,” Jake said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Another one.”

You followed his gaze, watching as a fighter jet lifted off into the air, its sleek frame disappearing into the starry sky. For a second, you imagined what it must be like for Jake—to be up there, soaring through the clouds, with nothing but the horizon ahead of him. You admired his ambition, his drive.

“What’s it like up there…you know when you’re flying?” you asked, watching another jet take off, its lights blinking against the darkness.

Jake’s laugh was low, vibrating through your body as his arms tightened around you. “It’s the best feeling in the world…besides being here with you.”

You smiled, tilting your head back to catch a glimpse of his face, the shadows from the runway lights dancing across his jawline. There was something about being here, just the two of you, that felt untouchable—like nothing could ruin this moment. It felt like the world belonged to just you and him.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it—the glow of headlights approaching from the other side of the fence. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Uh, Jake,” you murmured, sitting up a little. “We’ve got company.”

Jake followed your gaze, his jaw tightening as the headlights got closer. A black SUV with the words “Military Police” emblazoned on the side rolled to a stop just a few feet away from Jake’s truck.

“Shit,” he muttered, sliding out of the truck bed and extending a hand to help you down. His expression was still calm, but you could feel the tension rolling off him as the door to the SUV swung open.

Two officers stepped out, their faces stern and their postures rigid as they approached. The taller one, a gruff-looking man in his mid-40s with a salt-and-pepper beard, was the first to speak.

“You two realize this is a restricted area, right?” His voice was sharp, no-nonsense.

You exchanged a glance with Jake, your heart thudding in your chest. “Uh, yeah,” Jake said, holding up his hands in surrender. “We were just watching the planes. Didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted to you. “And you? You got identification on you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t on base legally, and you knew it. While Jake was a Navy pilot with all the right credentials, you were just the daughter of one of the Navy’s most legendary pilots. That wasn’t going to help much right now.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I don’t have any ID on me.”

The second officer, a younger man with a buzz cut, stepped forward. “Name?”

You hesitated, glancing at Jake before answering. His green eyes were serious, silently telling you to be honest. There was no talking your way out of this.

“Y/N Mitchell,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The officers exchanged a glance, clearly recognizing the name. “As in Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell?” the first officer asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded, your heart sinking. “Yeah… that’s my dad.”

The older officer exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as if already anticipating the headache this was going to cause. “Well, Miss Mitchell, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re aware of that, right?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake cut in. “Look, this is on me. I brought her here. She just wanted to see the planes. I’ll take full responsibility.”

The officer gave Jake a once-over, clearly unimpressed. “And you are?”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake said, pulling his Military ID card out of his wallet and handing it over. The officer examined it under the flashlight before handing it back, his expression still stony.

“You know better, Lieutenant,” the officer said, his voice low and stern. “You’re military personnel. You should know what ‘No Trespassing’ means.”

Jake clenched his jaw but nodded. “Yes sir, I know. I screwed up.”

The officer gave a nod to his partner, who immediately stepped forward and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “I’m afraid you’re both coming with us,” the younger officer said, reaching for Jake’s wrists first.

“Wait, is that really necessary?” you asked, panic rising in your chest as you watched them cuff Jake.

“Afraid so,” the officer replied, his tone almost bored. “Regulations.”

Your breath quickened as the officer turned to you next, holding out the cuffs. “Turn around, ma’am.”

You swallowed hard and did as you were told, the cold metal of the cuffs clicking around your wrists. The reality of the situation began to set in, and for the first time, a sliver of fear crept in.

Jake met your eyes, and despite the cuffs, he managed to give you a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady, “it’s gonna be fine.”

You nodded, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the weight of what could happen hung heavy in the air.

The officers escorted you and Jake to the back of their patrol car, opening the doors and motioning for you to get inside. You slid in first, Jake following closely behind, the door slamming shut behind him. The inside of the car smelled like leather and disinfectant, the overhead light casting a dim glow across your faces.

You slouched against the seat, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Jake caught your eye and raised an eyebrow.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft as the officers stood outside making phone calls.

You nodded, resting your head against the seat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

Jake exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the flashing blue lights reflecting in the window. “Your dad’s gonna kill me.”

You let out a soft laugh, the tension easing slightly. “He might. But hey, at least we’ve got a good story now.”

Jake chuckled, leaning his head back against the seat, his eyes closing briefly. “Yeah, some story. 'Remember that time we got cuffed for watching jets take off?'”

You grinned, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You know, we could try to make a run for it.”

His eyes snapped open, and he turned to you, disbelief written all over his face. “You’re crazy.”

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Maybe. But you love it.”

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I do.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the situation fading as the minutes ticked by. Outside, the officers were still making calls, seemingly in no rush to let you go. But you didn’t care. In this moment, sitting in the back of a patrol car, cuffed and facing who knew what kind of trouble, all that mattered was being here with Jake.

He glanced over at you again, his expression softening as he took in the way the blue lights danced in your eyes. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked, even in a situation like this. And for a second, all his worries about tomorrow and whatever consequences awaited him melted away.

“Your dad’s never gonna let me see you again, is he?” Jake asked, half-joking, though there was a hint of concern in his voice.

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”

Just then, the familiar sound of car tires on the gravel made you both look up. The unmistakable silhouette of your father, Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, appeared in the distance, his boots crunching rhythmically against the gravel as he approached the patrol car. The blue and red lights cast long shadows over his form, and even from inside the car, you could see the tightness in his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He was pissed, no doubt about it.

Jake shifted beside you, his relaxed demeanor faltering for the first time since the police had shown up. His face fell, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. “This is gonna be bad,” he muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at you.

You could only nod, your stomach twisting with a mix of dread and embarrassment. If there was one thing that had always been constant in your life, it was your dad’s protective nature. And now, seeing him storming toward the car—where you sat in the back, hands cuffed, with Jake beside you—it felt like you were about to face the full force of it.

Just as Maverick reached the car, the officer nearest the door gave you and Jake a nod, his face stern as he reached for the door handle.

“Alright, out you two,” he said, his voice gruff but controlled.

He opened the door, and the cool night air rushed in, cutting through the warmth of the enclosed space. Jake was the first to move. He slid out of the seat with a quiet grunt, his wrists still bound by the cuffs as he straightened to his full height. The officer standing nearby gave him a once-over, clearly unimpressed, before placing a hand on Jake’s arm to guide him to the side of the car.

Then it was your turn. You followed Jake’s lead, scooting across the seat and stepping out into the gravel. The moment your feet hit the ground, you felt the weight of everything hit you all at once—the flashing lights, the tension in the air, and your dad’s unwavering gaze locked on the two of you. The officers didn’t waste time; you were both led a few paces away from the car, standing side by side as Maverick looked between you and Jake with that intense, assessing stare.

Jake, to his credit, stood still and silent, his jaw clenched tightly. You could sense the regret rolling off him in waves. His shoulders were stiff, and for once, he seemed unsure of what to say. Not that there was much he could say to fix the situation.

Maverick’s eyes moved between the two of you, taking in the sight of his daughter cuffed and standing beside Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin. His frustration was palpable, but the way he lingered on you for a second longer made your stomach twist. This wasn’t just anger—this was disappointment.

The older officer cleared his throat, drawing Maverick’s attention for a moment. “Captain Mitchell, sir,” he said, more formally now, clearly aware of the gravity of the situation.

Maverick’s gaze didn’t leave you and Jake, his arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on here?”

The officer quickly explained, outlining how they’d found you both in a restricted area and how neither of you had proper authorization. The moment he finished, there was a beat of silence. Maverick’s eyes narrowed as they settled on Jake.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” he said slowly, his voice deceptively calm, “care to explain why I’m getting a call in the middle of the night saying my daughter’s in the back of a patrol car with you?”

Jake straightened up, squaring his shoulders. “Sir, it’s on me. I brought her out here. I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” Maverick cut him off, his voice sharp. “You didn’t think at all, clearly.”

You winced at the harshness of his tone, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well. The officer standing beside Jake glanced between the two men, but remained silent. Maverick’s gaze shifted to you, and the weight of his stare made your heart sink.

“Y/N, you know better than this,” Maverick said, his voice firm but with an edge of concern. “You know what happens when you break the rules, especially on a military base. What were you thinking?”

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Maverick sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to the officers. “Can you take the cuffs off?”

The younger officer hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Sure, Captain.” He stepped forward and unlocked Jake’s cuffs first. Jake gave a slight nod of thanks but didn’t move otherwise, still standing rigid beside you.

Then it was your turn. The officer released the cuffs from your wrists, and you immediately rubbed at the sore spots where the metal had bitten into your skin. The weight of the cuffs was gone, but the tension hanging between the three of you was suffocating.

Maverick gave the officers a short nod, signaling for them to step back. Then he crossed his arms again, his eyes flickering between you and Jake. “You two are lucky it was just the military police who found you,” he said, his voice low but filled with authority. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if this got reported up the chain? You’re both smart enough to know better.”

Jake shifted beside you, finally finding his voice again. “Sir, I take full responsibility. Y/N shouldn’t get in trouble for this. She was just with me. If there’s any punishment, it should be mine.”

Maverick’s gaze hardened as he stared down Jake, a long silence stretching between them. Finally, Maverick spoke, his voice cold. “This isn’t about punishment, Seresin. This is about trust. You’ve got my daughter out here, breaking rules, putting herself in a dangerous position, and you didn’t think for one second about what that means?”

Jake flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to put her in danger.”

Maverick exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “You okay?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle even heavier on your shoulders. “Yeah… I’m okay. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Maverick said, his voice gentler now, though the tension still lingered. “But you’re coming home with me.”

He turned back to Jake, his face hardening again. “And you, Lieutenant… this doesn’t go on your record, but if you’re serious about my daughter, you’d better start using your head.”

The night air hung heavy as Maverick walked back toward his car, his command still lingering in the space between you and Jake. Though the cuffs were off and the immediate crisis seemed to be over, you couldn’t shake the knot tightening in your chest. Maverick wasn’t letting this slide easily, and both you and Jake knew it.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” Maverick called out, his voice stern and carrying authority, making it clear this wasn’t a request.

Jake, who had been silently rubbing his wrists, snapped to attention. He straightened up, his posture rigid, falling back into his role as a Navy officer. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s gaze hardened as he took a step closer, his voice unwavering. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to say goodnight to my daughter, and then you’re going straight back to your quarters. No stops, no detours. Understood?”

Jake nodded, his usual confidence visibly absent. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s eyes narrowed slightly, the warning in his expression unmistakable. “And Lieutenant… Don’t think this is over because you apologized. You put her in danger tonight, and that doesn’t sit well with me. I expect better from you.”

Jake flinched at the words, his jaw tightening as the guilt in his eyes deepened. “I understand, sir,” he said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Maverick held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded toward you. “Go on. Say goodnight.”

Jake exhaled and turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of regret and something softer, more vulnerable. As he stepped closer, he hesitated for a second, glancing briefly toward Maverick, then back to you.

Without saying a word, he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you with a tenderness that melted the tension in your body. You let out a shaky breath, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of the embrace momentarily blocked out everything else—your dad’s watchful eyes, the police cars, the chaos of the night.

Jake leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead instead of your lips, a gesture that felt protective, as if he were trying to shield you from the weight of everything that had happened. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, his voice rough with emotion. “This won’t change anything. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, your throat tight with unspoken words. “I love you too,” you whispered back.

Jake squeezed you gently one last time before letting go. You could see the strain in his expression, the regret hanging heavy in his posture as he pulled away. He gave you a small, reassuring smile as if trying to make everything feel less complicated, even though you both knew it wasn’t.

You reached out, pulling him in for one final hug, a silent goodbye filled with the promise that things weren’t over between you. Jake closed his eyes briefly as he held you, then slowly stepped back, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer before he let you go completely.

Turning away from you, he walked toward Maverick, who stood by the car with his arms crossed, his expression still stern but no longer as harsh. Jake gave him a sharp nod, acknowledging the silent tension that still lingered between them.

“Get going, Lieutenant,” Maverick said, his voice firm. “And don’t let me hear about you being anywhere other than your quarters tonight.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady but low. “Yes, sir.”

Without another word, Jake turned and headed toward his truck. You watched as he got in, glancing in your direction once more before he started the engine. The sound of his truck pulling away filled the quiet night, and soon enough, the taillights disappeared into the darkness.

Maverick let out a slow breath once Jake was gone, his rigid stance loosening ever so slightly. He turned toward you, his expression softening as he stepped closer, his eyes searching your face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, filled with the concern of a father who had been shaken but was trying to hide it.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Maverick sighed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he murmured, patting your back gently. “Let’s get you home now.”

You leaned into him, finding comfort in the familiar embrace, but even as you walked with him toward his car, your thoughts remained on Jake, his whispered promise still echoing in your mind.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader

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solxamber · 2 months ago

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Romance Clichés With: Kalim Al-Asim

Cliché: Been here all along

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

You and Kalim had a routine. Every so often, you’d sit him down and give him the ultimate spa treatment—fancy hand scrubs, oils, and finally, a glossy layer of nail polish. He’d become your cheerful test subject, and he loved it. Any chance to sit close to you and listen to your latest stories was pure gold for him.

Today, as you meticulously painted his nails in the prettiest shade of gold (because, really, what else for the heir of the Asim family?), you were in the middle of a rant. Kalim was sitting cross-legged across from you, his hands splayed out on a small towel between you, his smile broad and his attention entirely on you.

"And then," you continued, voice full of indignation, “Ace has the nerve to say, 'Maybe you just aren't good at picking teams.’ Like excuse me, who carried us in that last game?"

You didn’t catch the soft laugh he let out or the way his eyes never left your face. You were lost in your tirade, as he’d seen you get so many times. To Kalim, though, your frustration was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed. He didn’t care if you were ranting about terrible teamwork or about Ace’s complete lack of respect for your skills; he just loved being here, with you, listening to every word you said.

“I mean, do I not deserve a little credit here?” you huffed, lifting his hand to blow lightly on his nails, setting the polish. “A little respect?”

“I respect you!” Kalim chimed in with all the enthusiasm in the world, his grin stretching even wider as you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, you’re the only one apparently,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes. You’re a saint.”

Kalim giggled. “Aw, it’s easy. You’re, like, my favorite person in the world!” he replied, so naturally, as if he hadn’t just dropped a little confession right there in the open.

That made you pause. Something about his tone was so genuine, so incredibly warm, that you finally noticed the look on his face. Kalim was gazing at you with those big, sparkling eyes of his, his expression as open as the sky—completely adoring, soft and fond, like he was seeing every word you spoke as something precious. There was something in his smile, in the gentle way he watched you, that made your heart do a funny little flip.

“...Wait a minute,” you said, unable to tear your gaze away from him. “Are you actually serious?”

Kalim tilted his head, smile never wavering. “Of course I am!” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because…” You faltered, suddenly feeling a bit flustered. “I mean, you always seem so… I didn’t think you actually…”

Kalim’s face lit up, and he gave a little laugh, like he couldn’t believe you didn’t get it yet. “I think you’re incredible, you know that? You’re always there for everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. You’ve been here for me since day one,” he said, sounding almost in awe. “How could I not love you?”

For a second, you were speechless. Your mind raced, piecing together every look he’d ever given you, every laugh, every little moment you two had shared, and it all suddenly made sense. The way he was always so enthusiastic to spend time with you, the way he lit up when you entered the room, the way he seemed so content just sitting beside you while you went on about the most mundane things…

It was like a light bulb flickered on in your head. He’s… he’s loved me all along.

“Kalim,” you said softly, a bit of awe creeping into your voice, “I think I just realized that… I love you, too.”

Kalim’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling in pure joy. “Really?” he asked, like he’d won the lottery. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that since forever!”

His joy was contagious, and before you knew it, you were grinning like an idiot, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Since forever, huh?” you teased, gently setting his hands down so you could lean in closer. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged, giggling. “I was gonna! But I was waiting for the perfect moment.” He glanced at his freshly painted nails and then up at you with that boyish grin of his. “And hey, I think this turned out to be pretty perfect.”

You let out a laugh, both of you breaking into delighted smiles as you moved to take his hand in yours, his fingers still a little tacky from the polish. “You’re an absolute dork, you know that?”

“Maybe!” he agreed, shamelessly. “But I’m your dork now, right?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your heart was thumping wildly, and you knew there was no one else you’d rather be sitting here with, exchanging goofy smiles. “Yeah,” you admitted, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re my dork.”

Kalim let out a soft, dreamy sigh, tilting his head to look at you like you’d just promised him the world. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, and he practically melted beside you. “I can’t believe this is real…” he murmured, voice full of wonder.

“Oh, it’s real alright.” You gave his hand a squeeze, already thinking of all the things you wanted to do now that the truth was out. Date nights, laughing over silly things, maybe even bringing him along to rant to about every single Ace-induced annoyance. “We’re really doing this.”

And with one last look of pure adoration, Kalim leaned forward, grinning. “I’m so happy,” he whispered before pulling you into the warmest, most joyous hug you’d ever felt. You were both laughing, a perfect mess of feelings as you hugged him back, finally realizing you’d both been here all along, waiting for this exact moment.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twst kalim #kalim

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bangaveragewhitewine · 3 months ago

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laundry day

Dad!Eddie Munson X Mom!Reader

Laundry day in the Munson residence.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: After weeks and weeks of struggling to write, I finished something and I’m genuinely happy with how it turned out. It’s short, it’s sweet. I hope you like it!

proofread by @specialagentmonkey (best!!), dividers by @saradika-graphics

Nimble fingers pluck freshly washed socks from the basket, pinching wooden pegs to hang them carefully from the washing line in the garden.

You watch him with a smile on your face, thinking of his reaction if you had told him all those years ago that this was how it would be. Ink-stained and guitar-string scarred fingers that rolled joints with muscle memory alone, hanging out baby clothes on the washing line in the garden. Your garden. A green patch of land sewn up tight against the house; your home together, a few miles from the city.

You think he would laugh, deep dimples and that smoky cackle and perhaps a hopeful sparkle in his eyes, if you told him all those years ago that this is how it ends up. The two of you standing side by side, barefoot in the grass, hanging out baby clothes, watching them flutter in the breeze against the big blue sky.

Do we make it out of here? I didn’t fuck things up, did I? Am I good… A good Dad?

He places the pegs delicately to drape one of his t-shirts (black) next to one of her sleepsuits (pastel yellow), hanging by the toes. A pair of your undies, two pairs of his boxers, another pair of tiny socks.

Eddie cried the first time he held one of her socks. The gravity and weight of this tiny thing, its overwhelming magnitude. His world was forever changed after he held that scrap of white cotton. An intimidatingly small sock that fit in the palm of his hand, its pair laid out on the bed with the spoils of your shopping trip - vests and baby grows and mittens.

“Why am I crying? What the hell, it’s so small?!” He had laughed through tears and you laughed with him until you held each other crying a salty blend of happy and terrified tears. And then Melody came and she cried and smiled and laughed, and she wore those tiny socks.

She looks just like him, follows him like his shadow. Dark curls, big brown eyes, impish mischief. He taught her how to headbang as soon as her neck was strong enough. Toddling now, she squats on her baby-fat legs and dips clumsily into the laundry basket to hand him one of her socks, then one of yours, one of his own, and on and on until the basket is empty.

“Thank you. Thank you, Mel. Thank you very much.” Letting her know her help is invaluable after every item is passed and pegged.

She beams at Eddie with that sunshine-bright smile, appreciating his appreciation of her helpfulness. Sometimes she will look over at you, sitting on the picnic blanket full of forgotten toys and books, and wave or babble-tell you how helpful she’s being with one hand on her Dad’s leg to keep her steady.

“You’re such a good helper, Melody. Good job!” wiggling your fingers her way before she goes back to helping, handing Eddie one of her t-shirts.

“Dada.”

“Thank you kindly, Miss.”

When he reaches down for the next item, mentally calculating how many pegs are left and how much washing there is still to hang, Melody reaches up without anything to hand him.

“Up!”

“Up? Am I hanging you with the laundry?” Eddie asks, hands on his hips. You bite your lip, smiling at their standoff.

“Up, Dada!”

He is easily weakened by her doe eyes and that pouty lower lip. A critical hit through the Melody-shaped chinks in his armour.

He sounds more like Wayne when he lifts her, knees creaking and his back twinging, and settles her on his hip. A kiss and then another shared as she holds on tight, their heads together and you can’t tell where her curls stop and where Eddie’s begin.

“Is that better? See, these are the socks you handed me.” He pokes one with his finger, smiles when she shadows him. “Mama’s socks and Melody’s pyjamas. Daddy’s vest.”

He pinches a peg, hands it to her to inspect as you cross the garden to join them.

“Hi, Mama.” Eddie smiles, warm like the sun, and draws you close with his arm around your waist.

“Hi, Daddy.” His unshaven cheek bristles against your lip, prickly but no less lovely than Melody’s baby-soft face as you dole out kisses. “Hi, darling girl.”

“Mama!”

Okay, maybe her cheek is a little more addictively kissable and you find your nose nuzzling the warm pocket of her neck until she’s shriek-giggling right in her Dad’s ear. His battle-worn eardrums from decades of heavy metal are no match for her, making his eye twitch.

“Jesus. The pipes on this kid,” he tuts, blowing a raspberry on her other cheek for good measure until her laughter rings through the garden, mingling with your own in-love-with-life laugh.

Eddie’s laughter is low in his throat lest he unleash that near-dastardly cackle into the sky. The low rumble settles into your bones and you feel fit to burst with how happy you are. How lucky you are.

Eddie’s fingers slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt, squeezing your waist as you curl against him. Three bodies swaying gently in the breeze like the clean clothes that flutter on the washing line.

Barefoot in the green grass, you balance the laundry basket on your hip, passing the last few socks and vests to Eddie. Passing them slowly, you watch as he guides Melody’s little fingers to drape and peg them carefully. He murmurs praise against the crown of her head, presses proud kisses against the curls they share.

The basket is empty and you step back, admiring their hard work. A washing line full of clean clothes - band shirts and sleepsuits and socks in three sizes. There are bedsheets and towels and Eddie’s work overalls still to be washed, clothes to be ironed and folded and put away inside your little house. They can wait.

For now, you stand and watch the laundry in the gentle breeze against the big blue sky. You think about the boy you fell in love with; the blush on his cheeks when you first held his hand and the way he smiled at you after the first kiss. You think of the late nights lying on his bed, dreaming out loud about the future and wishing on shooting stars and fallen eyelashes that one day those dreams would come true.

Eddie is already looking at you when you turn your head. Thinking about the girl he fell in love with, thinking about how he would have smiled if you told him all those years ago that this would be how his life turned out; still side by side, hanging baby clothes on the washing line in your garden.

thank you for reading! reblogs, comments & likes are cherished and adored

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #bangaveragefics #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff

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webbluvrsugar · 5 months ago

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babydaddy!JJ taking your son to the beach

JJ was laidback, laidback enough to forget that he was taking your little boy to the beach, laidback enough to arrive at 6:00PM at your place when your son has already been crying all day because his ‘daddy’ didn’t come, and when seeing the tearful look on the kid’s face, he could help but beg you to let him take him, almost getting down one one knee and saying “Please, I — I know I fucked up but he’s my son, aight? I can’t see him sad like that.” to convince you, doing everything to get you to let him take the boy, and when you finally do and grab your son’s little chubby hand, saying that in fact, his dad came, he was just a little too late, the boy light up immediately, letting out cheerful sounds when placed on top of his shoulders.

“Make sure he has fun.” You tell him, no, demand, because if he makes his day suck after forgetting he was even meant to come, you’ll probably kill him, and he knows it.

“I — I will.” He nods intensely, making sure you can see he’s regretful.

“And don’t let him eat rocks, nor sticks, or sand, or fuckin — bugs, don’t let him eat bugs.” You point a finger at him, your son pushes it away and makes a ‘pshhhh’ sound, definitely influence from his father while you frown and correct him.

“Hey, I’m not that bad of a father!” He raises his hands, the kid slightly tilting on his shoulders before he tugs JJ’s blonde locks.

“Whatever, get him here before nine.” You sigh.

JJ nodded again, gulping as he turns away from you. “Ready to go punch some sharks?” He asks your kid, he smiles brightly, lightly slapping on his father’s shoulders.

“Yeaa!!” He giggles, his tiny arms shooting at the sky, JJ hypes him up, completely ignoring your wish as you shout ‘No punching!!’ to them, closing the door when they walk away.

JJ makes sure the kid has a great day as you said, he rolls him on the sand until they’re all dirty, plays catch with him as if he’s a pup because he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, dunks the kid head first in the water, makes him fall by placing a foot in front of him, everything that he knows you would probably disapprove of before finally quieting down, gathering around some small wooden shop.

“Woaaaah look at that fucking board, buddy.” JJ whispers while dragging his kid closer to the store while they leave the beach. “Shit’s amazing!” He smiles in excitement, the little mini version of him smiles too.

“Shit’s amazing!” The toddler shouts, JJ immediately gets a frowny look from the cashier, as if reminding him directly of you, he gulps, stays silent before pulling the kid away.

“Yeah whatever, maybe let’s just… get you home to yo’mama.” He sighs, he can already feel that whenever they get to your place, he’s in trouble.

“Fucking board!” The kid repeats, flapping in excitement as he takes little steps towards the sand, his crocs long forgotten somewhere around the beach.

“Hey! Don’t say that again, and… start walking faster.” JJ picks up the kid on his arms, starting to run with the boy again.

When they get there, he’s got this huge, proud smile on his face, the boy’s hair is filled with sand, maybe a few tiny rocks, his clothes a bit wet too.

“Where are his crocs?” It’s the first thing you ask, tilting your head and raising a brow.

“Donated.” JJ smirks.

“To where?” You take a step forward.

“The ocean.” He chuckles, the kid leaves his grasp to stand at your side as you roll your eyes. “But hey, got him here before nine.” He points out.

You scoff, kneel down before your kid before asking him: “Did you have fun?” You smile and he nods, one hand coming to rub a mix of sand and dirt off his cheek. “Yeah? How was it?” You ask again, just to make sure, a little smile peers at his lips.

“Shit’s amazing!” He repeats, clapping and giggling before looking at his father.

You give JJ one short glance, he can feel his mood — and pride — fade right before your eyes.

“Yeah…. real rude woman at the beach, kept cursing, you wouldn’t believe it if you saw it,” he pauses, grabbing your face and pressing a peck to your lips as he slowly walks back.

“Which is why I have to go and you just… correct our little champ.”

taglist: @nemesyaaa

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izvmimi · 5 months ago

Text

cw: breakup mention. alcohol use. hurt/comfort.

When Katsuki shows up to the exact location you provided him, just minutes after you’d called him out of the blue at 3 am, not even the excuse of being under the influence available to you given the three pathetic sips you’ve had of the can of beer in your right hand, you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this far.

You hadn’t expected him to pick up, and you hadn’t intended on leaving a message. Not from a number he couldn’t possibly know given you’d changed it about two years ago, and definitely not from you, not after the way you’d severed ties with him abruptly and mercilessly.

In his opinion.

… Okay, perhaps yours, too.

You had expected the half-groggy, half-livid way he’d answered, the hothead in him not immune to a call that would annoy literally anyone with a modicum of sense, but you hadn’t expected his voice to so immediately soften at the sound of yours, to recognize you so readily even.

And now watching him touch down from the sky to where you sit on a park bench, just several feet away from a 24 hour convenience store, you realize you’re not sure what to say.

Still, you’re happy to see him. Enough so, that for a moment, you blink back tears in your eyes, precluding you from seeing how uncharacteristically gentle his red ones are.

He tries to play it cool, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark gray sweatpants, a slight hunch in his back accentuated by the snug fit of a black hoodie. A skull insignia covers the front, and you wonder if he’ll ever grow up.

That was one of your points of contention when you were once an item. Growing up.

“Hey.”

Katsuki is careful; reticent in his speech as he moves towards you, and you can see him ponder before he takes a seat by your side. You clutch the can of beer in your hand a little tighter, resting your arm upon the knees you’ve folded and raised onto the seat of the park bench. His posture is still closed, hands in his pockets, and he stares straight ahead. He lets out a sigh.

“Why’d you call? Get dumped or something?”

You scoff as you say, “yes.”

Katsuki did not actually expect you to say that and turns to look at you, which has you amused, if only for a second. You’re not drunk, but you sure are acting it, you think, but perhaps madness from your bout of depression is really settling in.

“Months ago, though,” you add. You take another sip of your beer, and he watches you wince. He knows you’re not actually a fan of it at all, and plus there’s nothing intelligent or safe about drinking in the middle of the night without a companion, without a definite way home.

He remembers he actually doesn't know where your home is these days.

“Why did you need to see me?” he asks firmly now, his eyes still focused on the can because he’s afraid of looking at your face and letting old love resurface.

You smile and look at him, resting your head on your knees.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” you admit.

“You called.”

In another world, he’d then roll his eyes at you, but tonight he looks at you steadily and seriously. Perhaps he's the one who has matured, and you haven’t. He remains your longtime crush and your longtime crutch, even now, as you feel yourself lose your grip on sanity, embracing madness, regardless of how transient it might be.

It’s quiet for a few more moments, save for the rustling of leaves as the winds of the witching hour pick up between you, and you let out a soft sigh, realizing he won’t say anything else to fill the silence. Letting your feet fall flat to the ground, you shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep and I thought of you,” you admit.

Katsuki’s eyes slide away from you quickly, his fingers curling around the edge of the seat at his sides, as if bracing himself.

“It’s been years,” he reminds you. You nod, without looking at him.

“My heart remembers.”

It’s cheesy and he doesn’t mock you for it. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I see.”

You’re suddenly embarrassed, face warmed from toes to nose. He sees. What does he see? That you’re pathetic? That you’re needy? That perhaps you were wrong all these years and even if he’s flown back to see you, you’re the one crawling back to him?

You remain in disquiet now, your arms wrapping around yourself for support. You can hear it now - If you wanted someone to pat your ass, should have called damn Deku or Kirishima. I’m not a goddamn booty call. You lost your chance with me ages ago. Don’t fucking call me again.

Instead, he takes the can of beer you’ve set beside you and takes a sip first, then downs it as you watch. Just as soon as he’s done, he crushes the can and throws it into the nearest recycling bin.

He doesn't miss.

“You’re not an alcoholic. No use pretending to drown your sorrows,” he says. “Either talk about them or don’t. I’m already up anyway.”

It’s not meant to be a joke or a jab, just a statement.

You’re surprised for a moment but an unwitting smile comes to your lips.

“Are you sure you want to hear me complain in the middle of the night? I have a lot to say.”

Katsuki gives you a look, a raised eyebrow reminding you not to ask any more silly questions, and it almost makes you laugh.

As if you intend to be considerate now of all times.

“Well, it all began with the day I was born…”

He lets out the softest of groans and lets his head hang back in a dramatic fashion, arms still crossed over his chest, and legs spread. This time your laugh is loud.

It’s unfair and unreasonable that he still makes you laugh without trying.

And yet he does anyway, and he listens to you speak until the sun comes up.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: bnha

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h5eavenly · 2 months ago

Text

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

Twenty-two - Make it easy. warnings: smut, dirty talk etc (not between reader and jake if that bothers you for whatever reason skip it), mentions of grooming and sexual abuse and lastly angst.

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Heeseung has been a constant in your life for as long as you remember. It wasn’t a specific moment that had stopped you in thought while looking at him but rather akin to a gentle breeze that passes by, almost seemingly unnoticed but the warmth it delivers stays. On the skin of your arm and in the curl of your smile.

You still remember the first time you met as if it was only yesterday, remnants of that night circles throughout your mind every now and then.

You were only a junior, dragged to a party that you surely did not belong to but when you’re that young wasn’t chasing a sense of fitting in is all what was yearned for? However, none of it really mattered. Not when you wobbled your way to the backyard of the house with anger burning fresh in your blood. Almost as sizzling as the alcohol

“Fuck!” you scream once you’re alone, your voice shakes with indignation too deep for you to make sense of “What a fucking cunt.” You mumble to yourself as you reach into the pockets of your ripped up jeans in search of a cigarette only for the pack to come up empty.

With a deep groan you throw it on the ground and step on it multiple times, in futile attempts to release some of the heat off your body, you weren’t sure if it is the hot weather or vexation that had you sweating hence why when your eyes fill with blistering tears you aren’t sure what to blame either.

“Damn girl. Are you okay?” you almost jump in terror, had not expected anyone to be here so when you turn around and come face to face with Heeseung, your cheeks color pink not at anything but the fact that he had witnessed you acting like a crazy person.

“No.” you answer as singular tear rolls down your cheek, a pathetic hiccup follows “My best friend just kissed my now ex.” You aren’t sure why you tell him that even though he didn’t ask perhaps you just needed to get things off your chest, perhaps the few last weeks have been rough at home and now your only joy has been stolen from the tips of your fingers by none other than your best friend.

“What a bitch.” Heeseung replies voice muffled by a cigarette lodged between his lips and your eyes flit down to it instantly.

“Can I have a cig?” you sniffle as your hand fiddles with your bracelet, s cheap gift that was given to you by your ex earlier that night, the metal could turn to rust with how awfully wrong it feels around your wrist.

“Sure,” Heeseung lips curled into a smirk, a puff of smoke tumbling out his lips as he extends his hand out to you “come get it.”

Ultimately you and Heeseung ended up having sex, it didn’t really mean anything. Not to you who has in need of a distraction from the magnitude of your hardships or to Heeseung who was into everything but relationships. So now years later when you’re sharing a cigarette on the balcony of your apartment as you spill the contents of burdens taking place upon your heart. It feels like recollections from that night.

“Sure, I might have worded things wrong, but did I really deserve that?” you ponder after you have just told him everything that went down last time you saw Jake at his place.

“No. he was being a dick.” Heeseung answers. Taking your cigarette from between your lips and you huff in something closer to annoyance.

You don’t find anything to say back so you fall silent, your eyes briefly shifting to the night sky, decorated with dozens of stars. You can’t help but wonder why they don’t sparkle as brightly as you remember, why it feels like a resemblance of the dull vacant corner of your heart.

“yn can I ask you something?” Heeseung asks, titling his head to look at you in time to see you nod “Do you like Jake?” your eyes widen at his question. Had not expected it and your first instinct is to deny.

No of course I don’t. are words that feel suitable to follow and yet they’re lodged in the middle of your throat and in counted seconds you decide that you don’t like that question. Because your eyes are darting everywhere as if stumbling upon an answer could lay in-between your hands or the metal rails.

You think it would have been much easier to deny if the question didn’t come from Heeseung. Perhaps it was his odd ability to look through every nook and cranny of your mind without you voicing it. To unveil your concerns one by one and then – much to your dismay- give echo to your hankering, your doubts. You were absolutely petrified to say it out loud, because saying things out loud gives them power, breathes life into every word and before you know it; it’s an inescapable reality.

“I- I don’t know.” You finally answer, an undeniable honesty fettering every word. Your insecurity nestles its way into you with a familiar route and then it’s all flashing before your shaking heart.

All the times you have asked yourself, “How many girls were here before me?’’ every time Jake’s hands sneaked around your waist with fervor, every time he laughed and then his eyes found yours as if he was checking if you felt the same, as if he wanted to make sure you were dripping with same joy coursing through his being.

And as you were fidgeting with your rattled heart, a part of you knew that you knew. A part of you knew you were running away in fear of rejection.

“Okay.” He says after a few silent beats.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“well-“ he lets out a sigh and your body grows slightly tense, as if he senses it Heeseung inches closer towards you, your shoulders brushing as he keeps his gaze ahead, the cigarette finished and you stare at the ashes “I think you did overstep. That of course doesn’t make anything he said is right or okay.” You listen curled with quiet “But we did talk about this before and this crosses the line of whatever ‘causality’ you guys agreed on. Just because you opened up to him doesn’t mean he should do the same yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out a sigh pulled from the depths of the feelings you refuse to voice “I- okay. Is it wrong for me to want to be closer to him? hoping to know more about him?” your being shakes with the vulnerability of your inclinations, Heeseung’s lips curl up in smile stitched with warmth the weather lacks, tinted with comfort you lean into.

“there’s nothing wrong with that but we don’t do things in hopes for them to be reciprocated do we baby? Especially not in these circumstances where everything is so gray.” His words filtrate through the uneasiness in you so effortlessly, despite the abiding ache you manage to find solace in them.

Silently you close the very small remaining spaces between your bodies and lean your head on his shoulder, his body makes room for you, your proximity welcomed as his arm circles your waist comfortably.

“You’re right.” You whisper and you almost feel the pride flowing through his body, at knowing that your lips twitch upwards. it's knowing when you feel like an outcast in the world Heeseung will always be your home.

“Did you guys talk after what happened?”

“No. he tried but I avoided him.” Heeseung only hums in response, resting his head atop yours.

“I do think you should talk to him. Maybe tell him about how his actions confuse you. because mr nation’s sweetheart have been crossing the line too and what he did was very wrong and assholey of him,”

Your body vibrates with chuckles as you attempt to look up at him as much as you can “Very assholey? Really?”

“I’m trying to be a good friend here.” He retorts with a roll of his eye.

“You have always been a good friend, Hee.” You say with a much lower tone, an unyielding tenderness coats your words, a warmth he silently allows himself to soak in for a couple of minutes.

“What is it that have been bothering you?” you ask after a while and Heeseung feels himself stiffen inwardly.

He contemplates for a bit if he should chase this conversation away, maybe he will convince you to a dawn a couple of drinks instead. A covered-up attempt to avoid looking into the mirror, he’d much prefer to stay curled up through the night than be awake to see the sunrise. But the ineluctable truth is that Heeseung is tired.

“A few weeks ago I slept with this girl and- you-“ his voice comes out croaked as if the silence of his concerns have manifested in the middle of his throat, he clears it “you know how I told you before about hating not feeling in power?”

“Yeah, I remember.” You reply tentatively, words woven with amiability as your gaze flickers over his face.

“that girl was very..persistent. and it reminded me of very awful things to say the least.” His hand moves aimlessly through the air and your brows furrow, a crease of a frown deepens.

“What- what do you mean by persistent Hee?”

“Don’t worry it’s not like she forced me or anything. The whole ordeal just made me uncomfortable and brought back awful things to my mind. so, I guess I haven’t been feeling like myself for a while.” He explains, an awkwardness tints his words as he puffs out a breath, a lackluster chuckle.

“I’m sorry about that stitch. you shouldn’t ever have to feel that way.”

“Yeah.” he replies looking down and stays quiet for a few minutes as your hand moves up and down his clothed arm in tries to provide comfort “no one should feel that way” he repeats.

“Is there anything I could do to help?” you ask, hand dripping to the end of his arm before slipping your fingers through the cracks of his and he grins “how about some ramen and drinks?” the same grin clambers over your face.

After a long and a very unnecessary debate over who should make it, you finally manage to force Heeseung to cook with the excuse “you’re the one who works in a restaurant!” despite the grunt he lets out, he obliges.

You sip on your glass of wine and watch him, teasing remarks thrown his way that have giggles erupting from between your lips with ease and an even funnier sight of a glare remains plastered upon Heeseung’s face. The night unravels with the same geniality spreading across your chest and needed quietude settling onto your mind.

It’s only when there’s a concerning amount of alcohol in your system that you both make the questionable decision of dying Heeseung ‘s hair, after his many complaints of being sick of the purple.

“i’m sure I have a hair dye here somewhere - aha I found it!” you’re standing on the tips of your toes in the middle of your bathroom while Heeseung leans back on your bathtub with a hazy mind, fogged by the number of drinks he dawned. With his arms crossed he watches you in your pajama shorts struggling to reach for the wanted box dye sitting on the top shelf but then you’re huffing with defeat.

He shouldn’t let his eyes wander, but they do anyways.

“I’ll get it for you.” he tells you.

“Thanks-“ he doesn’t give you enough room for his words to settle, for you to move before you feel him against his back. His chest presses you further against the sink and you almost wither away with a hushed gasp.

You aren’t sure if it’s the heat radiating off his body but when he arches his eyebrow at you, his familiar annoying smirk etched onto his face and the dye now between his hands while looking down at you, it ignites a familiar feeling all the way to your core.

“Red? You wanna dye my hair red?”

“And what’s wrong with red?” you counteract, praying the blush seeping into your face somehow isn’t noticeable when you walk past him.

“Now come on. Let’s get to work.” You grin and Heeseung follows with the shake of his head.

The process of dying Heeseung’s hair turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected. It helps take your mind from things you hope not to worry about right now. And despite Heeseung’s malicious attempts at getting dye your nose red (it’s almost deemed successful if not you dodging it in time for the color to splash onto your white couch) you manage to make it to the end of it with the both of you sane enough but not sober enough. It’s two minutes past twelve when you’re finally washing the dye out of his hair. With him sitting shirtless on the floor of your bathroom and leaning on the tub as you angle the shower head correctly.

You’re so focused on getting the color completely out that you’re not paying attention to how far you have leaned over him, with him ending up between your legs and absentmindedly his hands have taken claim on your waist. It only manages to steal your attention when you feel the tips of his fingers sneaking under the thin material of your shirt.

“Hee stop.” You complain with a breathy giggle, attempting to move a bit away from him without getting water everywhere. Your fingers brushing through his strands

“Stop what?” his hands tighten around you, and you squirm with another giggle when his fingers inches upwards, it feels cold against the warmth of your skin and goosebumps take over your body alongside a shiver.

“I’m serious! It tickles.” You berate through broken laughs and his rises alongside yours.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been on top of me like this.” He teases. His lips yearn to curve upwards at the sight of pink seeping into your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

It is more than enough for you to point the shower head at his face, drenching him in water.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry stop!” he tries to cover his face with his palms in hopes to block your makeshift gun.

“I can’t hear you.” you grin and only provide him mercy when it feels like he’s about to choke on said water.

The towel that’s on his head works as a barrier. Albeit a feeble one it is still a barrier. You tell yourself as you’re attempting to dry his hair. Yet there’s a slight tremble in your fingers, rattled breaths escaping you and suddenly you’re too focused on the way your chest falls up and down, you’re too aware of Heeseung’s eyes – stare lingering on your body. So, when he looks up, catches your gaze with a shift in them, a glint that isn’t a stranger to you and one that you are sure manifests in yours just as strong.

You couldn’t pretend to be surprised when he slowly inches upwards and towards you, his eyes darting between yours as if he’s garnering your reaction. He’s giving you time to back out but you’re only pausing in your movement, your breathing grows shaky as if you feel like you wait and wait and wait until his lips finally touch yours. It isn’t gentle- nor slow but rather two bodies clearly hungry for more.

For a split second. A mere blink of an eye, an image of Jake flashes in your head and you wonder if you should stop. It’s a ridiculous thought and you know it because no matter how many roads you’ve crossed, how scarred the tips of your fingers are, how they bleed of trying to knit together your strings of fate – it all comes down to nothing. You and Jake are simply nothing.

And you just wanted to feel something. You wanted for the first time in a while – the first time since Yeonjun and now Jake to feel good. Without stumbling upon hideous feelings like worry or jealousy or unambiguously fighting for the approval of what seems to be unattainable. You have grown weary of tolerating your own heart, bargaining back and forth in hopes of holding on for a little longer. It's the only reason you answer the way you do when Heeseung leans back just enough for him to whisper;

“Are we sure we wanna do this?” your breaths are mingling and you miss the heat of his mouth on yours already.

your body kneels into cravings; more, more, more.

“We both wanna feel good so why the fuck not?”

“Fuck yeah.” His smirk doesn’t last enough before you’re crashing your lips onto his.

It is the sole reason your gasp comes out as audible as his groan. His hands dig into your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap.

The towel falls to the ground silently as his hands roam your body, from your hips up to palming your breasts, there’s roughness dousing his movements, hurriedly traveling everywhere with purpose akin to forgetting and it is the same one that has your arms sneaking around his neck.

“You taste like soy sauce,” Heeseung murmurs, pulling back slightly with a lick to your lower lip.

“You’re the one who put so much fucking soy sauce in my ramen.” you snort, your fingers tugging lightly at the ends of his still damp hair.

“mhm. I’m not complaining. I fucking love soy sauce.”

You don’t get to register what he’s saying before he’s flipping you onto the bed and climbing atop you ardently and then he’s leaning down with intent to capture your lips yet again, his other hand sneaking down to undo the buttons of his jeans. He thinks his head is spinning, he thinks the room is bleeding crimson and he isn’t sure if it’s merely his desire.

“Wait!” you frantically stop him with a hand to his bare chest.

“What?” his brows furrow, eyes fliting down to your lips then back up.

“I don’t want you to stain my sheets.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair. It’s red. It’s gonna stain everything and I just washed my sheets.”

There’s a moment of silence that settles in, his expression falls as he studies you in what seems to be ventures to know if you’re serious – because there’s no way you are – not when he’s rock hard and he’s sure you can feel him, not when you’re sprawled under him with a flushed face and a heaving chest. But your gaze is determined, lips pursed.

“yn,” you blink at him “I don’t give a fuck if I stain your sheets. They’re gonna be ruined either way.”

You open your mouth to argue, you’re annoyed. Probably by his grin that’s doused in pomposity, and he can see it all, but he doesn’t give you a chance to let the words out before he’s crashing his lips onto yours eagerly, messily. You try to fight it, your hand curled onto a fist, and you think you’re pushing at his shoulder with all your power, but it’s all deemed worthless, especially when you’re melting against him. Your lips separating with a moan as his tongue caresses yours.

“You got so much better at kissing.” He comments with a quick wink as his hands pull your shorts and panties down. He licks his lips at the view of your glistening pussy, the room somehow grows hotter, the walls are caving in.

“Well, you’re still bad.” You roll your eyes, your hands pulling your top over your head.

“Do you have any condoms?” he asks pretending he didn’t hear your insult.

“Bottom drawer.”

“Are they Jake’s or Yeonjun’s?”

“Why does it matter?” you raise your brows at him.

“I’m just curious.” He grins, holding up his hands in surrender as he moves from atop of you “I just wanna make sure they fit because you know how massive I am.” You throw a pillow at him and with seemingly godly powers he manages to dodge it with a laugh so loud and deep from his chest that almost has him lying down on the floor.

When he’s on top of you once again it’s clear that both of you are no longer in the mood for stalling or teasing remarks. When your lips meet, desire coats your mouth as much as his. Your brain is turning into mush, not a single coherent thought exists as you feel his hand on your thigh spreading them wider, the other on the base of his cock as he guides it to your entrance.

“Ready?” he taps the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Uh-huh.” You breathe out fervently. Your palms cradling the sides of his face, and you think if you weren’t so horny you’d be making fun of the way he asked.

In spite of desperation clinging to your bodies, Heeseung sinks into you slowly. You’re not sure if he means to make you feel every inch of him or if he just simply likes moving like he has all the time in the world. Whatever it is, it has your head falling back with absolute bliss. A drawn-out moan – that is embarrassingly loud if you focus on it too much – escapes your mouth.

The stretch hurts so good.

Your body relaxes, almost melts onto the sheets as Heeseung starts moving inside of you, every thrust pulls a breathless melody out of you, and it’s met with a groan of his. A wet messy kiss atop your lips. With your eyes lolling back you almost forget who’s the person you’re with. That is until he speaks

“Oh- fucking shit. It feels like I’m diving into an ocean.”

“You’re so gross!” you complain with a whine, pushing at his shoulder.

“What?” he chuckles, resting his palm next to your head as he angles his hips better “You don’t like dirty talk?”

“I- shit” a moan interrupts you, forcing your words to fall apart “I’d prefer you shut your mouth.”

“You don’t like your boys whiny?” a smirk disperses across his lips as he quickens his movement. His forehead glistens with sweat.

“I like them dead and quiet,”

Fortunately for you, Heeseung doesn’t really say anything back to that. Only laughs as his thrusts grow deeper and faster seeming to be focusing on his need to cum and you follow.

“’m gonna cum.” He pants as he keeps pounding into you, grunts tumbles out his lips with every thrust.

Your moans are growing louder and whiner as little encouraging ‘yeah’s’ is all what he lets out till both of you are tipped over the edge of ecstasy. Your orgasm hits you so mind-blowingly hard that even when Heeseung rolls off you with a sigh, your body is still shaking.

“I gotta say,” he starts after a few short whiles of silence, and you hum “that was a pretty good therapy session.” His lips pull into a toothy grin as he gives you a thumbs up.

You roll onto your side with a heartwarming laugh, one that has him genuinely smiling as he watches you with softened eyes. with your messy hair and flushed face and yet you still gleam like the first time he saw you.

“Cured all my problems. 10 out of 10 would definitely recommend.” he adds, and your laugh grows louder in volume but softer in the way you it leaves you, like it flees your being without fight.

“Me too.” You smile at him.

It’s only twenty minutes later when both of you are cleaned up that silence fills the little spaces between you. It isn’t confining in any way, in fact it’s a much rather peace that you welcome as Heeseung rests his back against the headboard. Eyes glued to the screen of the tv as toy story 3 plays and you’re next him chewing on a birthday cake cookie.

“Hey stitch?” you call after finishing your cookie, dusting the crumbs off your fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Earlier when you said that girl reminded you of awful stuff,” you hesitate for a moment, yet it’s gone as fast as it comes “you meant when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

Heeseung does not avert his eyes away from the movie. His expression does not shift, and his few seconds of silence has you slightly faltering. It’s like he knew this question was gonna come up someday, maybe he’s a little more than glad it’s just you and no one else.

“Do you remember that time me and Ryujin were trying to kill a spider but then I got really angry at her?”

“Yeah, she said 'our baby boy is scared' and you snapped at her to never call you that again.” You reply as the memory comes back to you without needed proficiency. It’s solely because Heeseung was never the type to get angry. so moments where he isn’t as controlled are glued to the back of your mind.

On the screen Andy is packing his toys into a trash bag, despite your lack of love for those movies you have watched them so many times thanks to Heeseung that you think if you were to be quizzed, you’d able to recall every single scene easily.

“My teacher used to call me that.” His voice has dropped into a whisper, one that comes from shameful confessions and if you were to lean closer to him you think you’d be able to pick on the broken vulnerability that colors them.

It all clicks in your mind, like loose threads finally connecting into an actual string, pieces of a puzzle that had finally fallen into place. You recall all the times you have played truth and dare and Heeseung has spoken about losing his virginity while he was only twelve years old. The majority of you thought he was just a teenage boy playing games, exaggerating his experiences to appear cooler because when you’re that young what else do you have?

But the longer you’ve known him, the more signs you have noticed. The more you have become aware of the type person he is. The person who would never exaggerate in the favor of a lie. All the times he had warned Niki about teachers. They were all warning signs that he had to endure first.

“I’m sorry, Hee. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” You say, inching closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder just like earlier tonight. Yet your heart weighs heavy in your chest, sinking with the anguish you know remains in him.

“I had a feeling you already knew anyways,” he replies with a shrug yet his eyes sparkle like the kid you used to know or maybe it was just the light of the tv reflecting into his irises.

Was it slivers of agony or relief at letting loose?

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re you,” this time his eyes shift, turning to you and a slight smile tilts his lips upwards “you always notice the small things people do or say and then worry about them in this little head of yours.” He ends it with a harmless poke with his index fingers to your forehead and you push it away with a small giggle.

“Well should I be worrying about you or are you okay?” you softly ask, your words nearly drowned out by the arguing voice of Woody and Buzz.

“I will be.” He asserts.

“You know you can talk to me about anything right? I’m always here for you.” you stare at him incredulously. Despite your thoughts that you don’t voice, mostly directed at how strong you think he is. Heeseung has never seen a gaze as clear, as strengthened as yours.

“Yeah, unfortunately I’m stuck with you.” he teases with a smile and the loud gasp of offence you let out has him cackling.

"I love you, stitch."

"I don't think you should say that after we just fucked."

Your expression drops and you wish to dig your nails into his arms until bleed seeps out but you know even then that won't be enough so instead you march towards the tv and unplug it.

Heeseung's loud scream of pure pain sounds like music to your ears and you can't but laugh like a villain that has finally taken their revenge.

Heeseung has been a constant in your life for as long as you remember and you know he’s always gonna be.

There’s a weakness that coats your flesh, it remains even throughout hallow promises of collecting power during the weekend. You thought the idea of not seeing Jake for a few days would make it easier, yet it remains, remains, remains.

It wraps around your quivering heart that has been screaming for nothing but the tenderness that colors affection. It’s one that runs through the tips of your fingers as you brush your hair. It’s in the longing seeping into your gaze whenever you look into the mirror. in the sparkle stolen from the light as it reflects on the necklace around your neck.

You don’t understand how it is all possible for this to unfold. How does longing manage to break through your anger, dwindle it into nothing as if it never existed, it shakes your bones from beneath and then you’re staring at your palms with a knot forming in the middle of your throat and the realization comes vigorously fast, akin to a beaten kid coming home from a battle she was too young to face, too naïve to discern the type of conditions she was surrounded with. Too far gone into dreamland and yanked back into reality with no time in your hands to deem yourself ready. Forced to dismantle through your delusions one by one only to finally make peace with the fact that they were nothing more than that.

Delusions.

You are no liar and yet how come you are so good at spilling endless fabrications to your reflection? Because the truth is, no you hadn’t found enough willpower in you to make peace with anything, surely not with the longing leaking across your pillow despite Heesung’s lingering scent.

The sunlight infiltrates through the spaces of your curtains announcing the beginning of a new day and sleep slowly escapes you. Your ceiling stares back at you as you ponder on the thoughts of missing Jake and wondering all the same if he feels like he lost someone important as well?

Your thoughts only seem to upsurge in volume as you go through your morning routine after you stumbled out of your empty bed, no traces of warmth are anywhere to be seen, only an ignominious ache.

It was an odd feeling. To mourn someone that wasn’t yours to begin with. You have had one-sided crushes throughout your life, gone through relationships that left you with scars that felt imprinted upon the surface of your heart enduringly yet despite all your experiences, despite all the tears you shed thinking that nothing is gonna hurt as much as this. It was nowhere near close to what you have felt these past couple of days. Switching from missing to hurt then anger and then nothing.

Distracting your mind from overthinking this is a trying task, forcing yourself not to be a coward because deep down you know every word of counsel that has tumbled out of Heeseung’s mouth is nothing but the truth. You knew you couldn’t keep running in the name of wounded pride covered up by your refusal to accept your feelings.

On your way to work you dwell on which part of you is more embarrassing, which layer of skin you wish you could peel off of you, was it your ceaseless ability to fall for the wrong people or was it the fact that you feel like you’ll forget your own name before your heart stops calling Jake’s name?

For perhaps the worst kind of luck or maybe the luckiest you could ever get (you aren’t very sure yet). You don’t get the chance to talk to Jake in the early hours of the morning. Nothing but the words “Good morning” with a nervous smile was thrown from your way to everyone else before he was pulled into his own cycle of seemingly endless work. Although it had you growing unnerved at first, somewhere along the way you fall into distractions from the fastening beats of your heart and intermingled anxious thoughts as well.

It's only during lunchtime that you stumble into him, for what feels like the first time in a while. You had wandered into one of the dressing rooms, looking for a missing piece of document you had to print out for Jay. And surprise had climbed up your face with speed you are not able to conceal at the sight of Jake slumped down onto one of the couches, his lunch half eaten on the table in front of him.

“Oh-“ you pause with a rattled breath when he looks up, his darkened gaze catches yours enriched with odd power you pretend not to know where it comes from “I was just looking for something Jay asked for-“ you hurriedly explain, as if you had managed to stagger into a space where you weren’t welcome.

But then as if every word lingering at the tip of your tongue withers away, it’s replaced with a tenacious softening in your stare, it darts between the weariness clinging onto his face, the lethargy dragging his eyes down, the weight of the earth drains the color of life from his skin and it is enough reason for tenderness to emanate from the depths of your heart.

“Holy shit.” your words escapes forcefully when your eyes land on his hands. They're badly scarred, with evidence that he had fallen into the habit of over washing them again "are you okay?" you can’t help but exclaim as sincere as you will ever know to be. Your concern only seems to deepen, pulling like tightened knots at the corners of your heart when Jake’s eyebrows drop in closer defeat than anything else.

you bite down on your lip wishing you hadn't lost control over your words.

You are oblivious to how torturous your kindness is. How the way you look at him makes his skin crawl in the worst way possible not because it’s doused in pity but rather genuine worry for his wellbeing. He is so frustrated. At you, for being so loving, so giving and so kind, so you. and then he is more than anything is infuriated with himself, with how he rolls out of bed feeling displaced in his own body, his own skin. He is extremally irritated with the cruelty of his words that echo in his mind like a broken record and then he finds irritation directed at you yet again, he wishes you would treat him just as cruel as everyone else. He wishes you weren’t as forgiving as he had hoped the world would be. He wishes you didn’t look at him as the human he always yearned to be.

He wishes

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat, his hand runs through the locks of black on his head when your distress only intensifies with unconvinced eyes cutting through him “yn.” he calls and you melt, a stranger overbearing urge to wail clambers over your being and him overtaken with an ache to crumble under your presence just the same, you for finding sentimentality in the cadences of his tone and him, for the way your name tastes foreign with seriousness on his tongue.

“Can we talk? Please.” He finishes, the last word pushed with a clouded whisper.

You hesitate, he thinks he senses it in the way your fingers tighten around the doorknob ever so slightly, yet only you are aware of the hastening beats of your heart, trashing around the walls of your chest and then you let out a breath, seemingly to travel from the depths of your being before you nod.

“Sure. I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well.” Your answer comes with a subtle smile titling your lips upwards.

You close the door behind you with an almost suffocating nerves tinting the air, steps twined with strained nervousness at the thought of being alone with him. Truthfully it hasn’t been that long and yet you somehow feel like it’s been decades since the last time you had his arms around you, since his lips touched yours.

“Should I start or you?” he asks when you’re sitting in front of him, your eyes dance around each other as if you had finally found time to drink each other in, as if this was the last time you’ll ever have the chance to.

“You, first.” you reply after a stretching silence.

And then it stretches a tad bit longer when Jake looks down at his intertwined fingers, seeming to collect his thoughts into words with enough meaning away from your clear gaze. He deems himself underserving of being looked at with anything other than disdain.

“I- I’m not sure how to begin but-“ he stammers, his words staggered as if lost in direction and your mind flees with the same lack of direction simply because you had never seen him this unsure – this unknowing “I know last time we talked I’ve said some really fucked up shit- that you definitely did not deserve to hear.” He looks up, his gaze unwavering compared to his trembling words “I just- I don’t know I guess I was deflecting or running away. But the point is I’m sorry.”

His sincerity renders you mute for a few counted seconds, it’s as fleeting as your hurt, your anger. As fleeting as the cracks that had formed on the surface where affection beats.

“You really hurt my feelings, Jake. It was especially hurtful because I had opened up to you and it felt like you used that against me.” you speak after a while, a bite to your lower lips as your gaze travels across his face and you watch, with devoted attention to the way his eyebrows furrow and an almost sunken expression takes over his face.

“Fuck. bunny I know.” He hisses as if the fact that pain found place in you because of him hurts him just the same “I’m really fucking sorry. I wish I could take it all back.” He continues and you chew on the insides of your cheek, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“If it means anything I want you to know none of the words I said were anything close to the truth. Niki is really lucky to have you. and I – holy fuck I think you’re such a good sister – you’re a good person and anyone to be lucky enough to have a drop of your generosity should be endlessly thankful.”

“Do you mean that?” you ask, cheeks coloring pink and your lips twitching skywards.

“I do.” He answers with a sigh.

“Okay.” your smile stretches against your will, your eyes tentatively catching his and there’s a shift in the air as his shoulders drop in something akin to relief, you’re not sure if it’s at the sight of your smile or the forgiveness that disperses across your being with no intentions to hide.

“You forgive me?” he asks, softly and weirdly vulnerable. It feels ill-fitted, yet it pulls at your heartstrings effortlessly, has your mind wandering into a hole of memories, trying and failing to pinpoint when did exactly Jake have this strong of an effect on you as your eyes loll anywhere else.

“I would be lying If I said I won’t feel a pang of hurt every time your words come back to me.” you start, your thumb and forefinger toy with your bunny necklace in what seems to be a growing habit of yours “but I know you’re being sincere right now and I appreciate that. It’s just gonna take me a while to forget.” you smile faintly, hoping to ease the bitterness that follows your words.

A deeper part of your essence knows that you have already made enough room for Jake to take pieces upon pieces of your soul, it knows that the only reason hurt would ever unfurl into your heart, it is solely out of self-doubted pity at yourself, saturated with questions upon questions that you cannot find an answer to. Simply because there’s no right for you to question him.

Did you also feel like you lost someone important?

“That’s fair.” He replies and unlike you his eyes stay glued to yours, reminders of how paradoxical you are to him, how your gaze abides with a gleam that lights up his insides, a darkened corner that shall never be illuminated by anything other than you, your existence almost helps him forget he came from poison.

It's too much for him to bear, perhaps it’s why his tendency to flee comes to life mostly around you, perhaps it’s why he would never show, perhaps because the bigger remnant of him would never allow it.

“You said you wanted to talk to me as well?” he questions when you finally catch his gaze, falling into a familiarly dangerous game that always starts with you praying not to lose.

“Oh yeah,” he had almost forgotten how easily your emotions betray you with displays you cannot hide, and now he can’t look away from the tint of pink settling upon your cheeks “I’m also sorry about pressuring you. I just thought we were growing...” your fingers sheepishly trail to your necklace once again, the dullness in his soul slowly dissipates the longer he watches you cradling what feels like a fragment of him.

For a scarce moment, a transient second where his self-control falters, he wonders if you feel the same way.

“Closer.” You finish with a smile tinged with nervousness, cutting through his moment vastly enough to compose himself.

“We were.” He exhales, a deep breath that feels stolen from the depths of your chest “I’m just an idiot so do not ever apologize to me.”

There’s a brief silence that settles upon the two of you, it’s woven with a mountain of unspoken words, it’s in the way your gaze softens so marginally and the way conflicting emotions seeps into his. Albeit not much time has passed at all, with the knowledge of your own feelings you feel more wavering than ever, easily swayed by every syllable.

Now that you’ve given a name to plaster onto the truth, you grow scared, a part of you cowers in fear. Were you foolishly drowning in your feelings that you’ll end up suffocating on this growing tension? Or were you just easily far gone, seized with an impotent lack of power? of being unable to feel solid again?

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” you breath out, as if your body is sinking with the heavy tension staining the air.

Jake nods with conformation for you to continue.

“I know we promised we would be honest with each other.” You clear your throat, the seriousness dousing your voice has him regaining focus “So...” you’re toying with your fingers, pads brushing upon your own knuckles and somehow, you’re unsure why you’re growing to be this nervous to spill the past events that has taken place.

“What is it? You can tell me.” he encourages, the softness inundating his voice feels unjust it almost has you curling onto yourself, hoping to shrink in size just so you won’t be witnessed by him.

Were his eyes always this sharp like he had the potency to peer into your inside?

“I had sex with Heeseung.” you bunglingly confess, and with curiosity filling your being, you gauge his reaction as your eyes dart everywhere upon his face.

You don’t know what exactly you were expecting to see but what ends up being reality isn’t very far from the image you dreamt of in your head on the way to work. Jake is stoic, compared to you, his eyes reveal nothing, the few parcels of softness emanating from him mere minutes ago are washed by what seems to be a silence tinged with confusion.

“Heeseung your friend that you always talk about?” you nod and something closer to surprise travels up his face vastly, in the raise of his brows you find yourself tilting your head slightly “The toy story guy?” he asks again with evident disbelief coating every word.

“Yeah, him.” You trail off slowly, your own brows furrowing when Jake opens and closes his mouth a couple of times as if he isn’t sure of what to say.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” you ask, a deeper frown of dubiety settling onto your forehead.

“I thought you guys were just friends.”

“We are.”

“I’m just a bit confused about your dynamic.”

“I thought you didn’t care who I fuck.” You don’t know why you’re growing frustrated; it trickles its way into you unexpectedly, maybe because this type of reaction was the only option you hadn’t thought about, or maybe it’s because your limbs feel heavier with what feels like judgment and it’s the sole reason why your words came out like a snap. Sharpened enough for Jake’s eyes to widen slightly.

“Of course you are free to do whatever you want.” His words come out easily, draped with certainty that pushes you further and further into frustration.

You tell yourself it’s not because it’s the opposite of how you feel.

“Then why do I need a reason?” you need to stop.

“Maybe I was just tired of feeling like shit after sex,” stop, stop, stop

“And Heeseung doesn’t make me feel that way. In fact I felt really good after.” It’s too late for you to stop anything, not when your words – like splashed blood- percolates through his gaze.

“Right.” He mumbles – barely audible and yet you catch it with your tightened chest.

You sink your top teeth into your bottom lip with something akin to regret for spilling the truth in a time when it wasn’t meant to be revealed. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, and the ugliness of your hurt shouldn’t be this visible, not when you had finally been able to exchange a few words with him.

“Anyway.” You say with an attempt to get out of whatever this was “I know being clean is important to you. so, I did get tested, and I told Heeseung to do the same,” you speak when nothing more escapes his lips, you try not to let your disappointment manifest but the shake in your fingers as you rummage through your bag for the piece of evidence could ever be telling “He didn’t send me his results yet but- “

“It’s fine. You don’t have to do any of that” Jake’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?” you pause, looking up at him.

“I’ve been thinking about everything,” his eyes flit to the table momentarily before stumbling upon your stare once again and your ribcage tightens even more around your heart “I think it’s best if we stop this whole thing.”

“Oh.” This time it is you who sinks into silence, your eyes falling upon your lap with the same loss of hopefulness, another futile try to not be witnessed.

It is all a façade you put on, draped with concealed disenchantment at yourself for wanting him so badly and then at him for not wanting you the same way. However, your mind is plagued with thoughts threatening to increase in volume. Louder and louder maybe that wasn’t the full story, it never is. Did you perhaps ruin another thing yet again? Have you spoken too much? Have you crossed the line? Have you-

“This whole thing between us- feels like it has strayed away from what it was originally meant to be.”

You don’t realize you have been staring at your open palms as if you’re looking for what type of blame to throw upon yourself until he speaks, his tone is as soft as you remember it to be. Similar to the way he speaks on gray skied mornings or starry nights. You look up, unaware of what kind of expression you’re wearing yet the lack of emotions etched onto his brings you some kind of relief. At least you aren’t displaying the nails digging into your fragile heart.

“You’re right.” You say, more like a hushed revolution between the ache in your chest and the hollowness taking place in your stomach.

It shouldn’t come to you as a new discovery, yet it does, like a bucket of unanticipated cold water after soaking under the warmth of the sun for too long. There’s no way for you to be the reason behind anything because Jake never cared about you that way. It’s not like this relationship that isn’t even anything closer to an actual relationship were meant to last a long time either way. It was you who stumbled; it was you who was colored with ugly yearning, yearning, yearning… and it was you who got hurt over and over again. And it was you who was willing to go back despite it all.

What a fool.

The words you wanna say are scattered and endless, doused with vines of inexplicable unsightly emotions. your vocal cords itching to pour out your anger, bear your bruised heart out at him with screams to look at what pining for you have made of me!

“it’s not anything personal. I just feel like I keep hurt-“

“It’s fine,” you cut him off with a strained chuckle “you don’t need to give me excuses.”

“They’re not excuses, bunny. I truly-“

“Seriously Jake it’s okay.” You look up at him and his mouth falls shut with inexplicable emotions of his own, you could only hope your irises don’t shake under the weight of your unspoken truth “It’s not like this was meant to last anyways. We both had our fun and now it’s over. It’s not that deep.” Your smile comes up twirled with coldness he had never seen in you, it waters his self-hatred, embraces it with whispers of I told you so.

“Yeah.” he utters, weighted down and the room darkens with you two existing in the same space.

So much time has passed, so many tears have descended your cheeks with scalding realizations. Perhaps you are a liar, perhaps you have driven yourself into insanity and have surrounded yourself with imaginations that are nowhere near reality. Because there’s no way whatever has traverses between you is anything close to the truth, not when your chest keeps tightening and an awful ache to weep clambers over your being.

Perhaps it was all in your mind.

“Well! I better get back to work.” You speak with faux cheerfulness; with a slight clap of your palms, you stand up with attempts to pull pieces of yourself together, covets to remain strong enough to look at him in the eye, despite the awkwardness that rises in the room, despite the misplaced softness seeping into his gaze.

It’s all unfair and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like he had more to say, you wish he wouldn’t look at you the same way he had tattooed his counterfeit claim on your back before everything fell apart.

How violent it is for him not to look at you like you are as fleeting as you wish to be.

“Jay is probably looking for me.” you add, your eyes slowly travel down to Jake’s intertwined fingers. The aftermath of his own pain marks his pale skin with scars. It remains a tragic sight to behold.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I have- you know” he clears his throat “kept you long.”

“Yeah.”

Your limbs quiver with demands for you to just leave and yet your heart fights back with pathetically human emotions. It’s the same bit of you that have always pushed you into too far in, constantly. The same bit that had you slipping into Jake in the first place.

How could this ever last when both of you were stringed together with loneliness and blood?

Silently you rummage through your bag for a healing ointment you had bought for him a while back. Your mind keeps screaming at you to just leave, leave, leave! and your heart cries – begs to risk this small gesture of care that will surely break you down, release this small wave of affection that will surely overwhelm you.

“Bunny I’m okay.” Jake speaks when you place the small tube of medicine onto the table, his eyes flickering between it and you.

“You have so many important shoots coming. Photoshop can only go so far.” You reply and he looks away, as if looking at you is unbearable and you wonder why his soul seems to shake the same away yours does.

Come on.

“You should take care of your hands till then.”

Make it easy,

You don’t wait for an answer from him and instead you’re turning away in mere seconds, the space between the door and the couch were sitting on feels incredibly long and you curse yourself at the way your eyes fill with tears before you make an escape. Before you’re far enough from him. But truthfully, no distance on this earth feels enough.

Jake has already stained you, tainted your insides. And now as you lean on the nearest wall as soon as you’re in the hallway, your hands clamped on your mouth to quieten your sobs, your tears fall one followed by another with refusal to cease, you realize you shouldn’t have let yourself waver, you shouldn’t have lied to yourself with lies like slipping is nowhere near as painful as falling, that you had it all together. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to wander through this overgrown field of affection with whispered lies.

Inside the dressing room, Jake has his face buried in the same palms that had cradled your face countless times but you’re nowhere close enough, not for him to feel you anyway.

Jake abides with a semblance of unamended broken bones, wounds too deep to heal, the marks are everlasting evidence that stays. And you remain a semblance of overflowing forgiveness akin to running water that quenches the thirst of by passers. Yet he is unworthy, so unworthy in ways you would never understand.

Jake is tarnished, scabbed, evil and unforgiven.

You will remain unaware of the harshly stabbed knives into his heart each time he’s faced with the fact that he hurts you, you’re unaware of the abhor that runs alongside his blood for himself, for existing and for persistently bringing misfortune to everyone that breaths the same air as him.

And he remains unaware of the way your body, heart and every atom of your being aches for him.

The world, as big as it is, in this mere moment feels too small for the torment setting on you and him, it’s in the way he flinches when he catches his reflection in the scars on his hands they’re not deep enough, not ugly enough and they don’t hurt enough to punish him, it’s in the way you flinch when your body shakes with fallen tears as your yearning heart weeps, his, rattling with immense agony that feels impossible to fathom. It screams and screams;

Come on

Make it easy,

Say I never mattered.

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cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 19

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Mention of domestic violence and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

The day was perfect. It dawned bright and clear...the perfect wintery day.

"You are nervous," Cassian teased him. Azriel just glared at him.

"Of course, I am," Azriel gave back with a growl.

"And here I thought you had nerves of steel," Cassian's voice dripped with a smirk as he helped Azriel adjust his shirt for the millionth time.

"I do," Azriel shot back. "Or did you forget this morning? When I knocked you on your ass?"

"You caught me off guard," Cassian protested.

Azriel let out a snort, smoothing down his shirt.

"Yeah right," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, brother."

"I like seeing the all-mighty Shadowsinger be reduced to a terrified groom," Cassian snickered.

"I am not terrified," Azriel protested. "I have seen battle. I've fought gods and lived to tell the tale. I can handle some flowers, and some guests, and some vows."

"Yeah, but you can't handle your pretty little mate in a wedding dress, can't you?" Cassian asked with a grin.

Azriel couldn't stop the heat that rose to his cheeks as the mental image of Eira in a wedding dress popped into his mind.

Of course, he couldn't hide the flush of his skin from Cassian, who started laughing at the sight.

"You're blushing," Cassian accused, a wide grin on his face.

Azriel shot him a glare, smoothing down his shirt again.

"Keep telling yourself that in order to feel better about your ass being handed to you this morning," he grumbled.

Cassian was still chuckling as they heard the sound of the door opening, revealing Rhys, who was clad in his own wedding finery.

The High Lord had a smug look on his face that Azriel didn't like the look of at all. "Finally got the groom into his clothes, I see," Rhys said, shooting Azriel a grin.

And then, his eyes were immediately pulled to his mother, standing in the doorway. Rhys had gone to fetch her just now.

She was dressed in her own finery, and she looked more radiant than Azriel had seen her in years. Her hair was braided back and pinned up, and even her green eyes were bright and shining as she looked over the trio of males.

She immediately came over and smoothed a hand over Azriel's hair, adjusting his shirt as he had done.

"You look perfect," she told him. "Handsome as ever."

Azriel's heart clenched at his mother's words, and he had to fight off a sudden wave of nervousness, even as Cassian clasped him on his back as he backed off.

"Are you...sure you're alright?" he asked his mother quietly. She didn't often leave the safety of Rosehall. Esmeray just gave him a look.

"I'm perfectly fine," she told him reassuringly, patting his cheek affectionately. "And you'll do great today."

Azriel felt a flush rising to his cheeks at her words and the affection in her voice, and he ducked his head to hide it.

"Thank you, Ma," he whispered quietly. "And you look stunning," he said quietly, his eyes sweeping over her blue dress and the hair pinned up with sparkling pins.

His mother's eyes softened, a fond smile on her face as she gently pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid instead of the fearsome shadowsinger.

"You'll make me cry," she said, her voice still soft. "And you don't want me to show up to the wedding with a red nose and puffy eyes, do you?"

Azriel managed to laugh, gently covering her hand on his cheek with one of his own.

"Absolutely not," he teased gently. "It would ruin the whole occasion."

His mother laughed at that, patting his cheek again before she reached up to fix the buttons of his jacket, and he tried not to twitch at the fussing.

He was the spymaster, for Cauldron's sake. But here he was, blushing at his mother's affection and letting her fix his clothes like he was still a child.

"You look wonderful," his mother said to him, her eyes searching his face. "I have seen you as a warrior, and as a spymaster. Today...today I will see you as a husband."

His heart stuttered a bit at the words, and he had to fight to keep himself steady, forcing down the sudden wave of nervousness that threatened to consume him.

"And..." he began, his voice coming out a little rough. "Do I...measure up to husband standards?"

His mother chuckled at that, gently patting his chest.

"You've always been more than enough for me," she said warmly. "And you've always strived to be enough for yourself. But that beautiful girl you asked to marry you? She thinks you hung the moon and the stars. For her? You are everything."

He swallowed.

His mother cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong, darling?" She asked him quietly.

"I don't...I don't want to be like him," he whispered.

Realization flashed through his mother's eyes at his words, and she paused for a moment.

"You are nothing like him," she said firmly. "Not one thing like him. Not in your words, not in your actions, not in your heart.

"I look just like him," Azriel disagreed. Just like his father.

His mother's eyes softened again, and she reached out to cup his face in her hands.

"You have his nose, my darling, and your hair is the same tone of black..." She paused for a moment, staring into his green eyes. "...but that is where the similarities end. Your father was cruel to me. Brutal even. He took joy in hurting me, and you. But you, my dearest boy, are the opposite. "

"I did things," he admitted, a hoarse breath escaping him. "Things that..."

His mother gently shushed him, running a hand through his inky black hair.

"None of us are perfect, my darling," she whispered. "And none of us have perfect pasts. I won't tell you that what you did was right, but you're not him. You are a good man. A better man than your father ever was."

Azriel felt his shoulders relax slightly at his mother's words, and he took in a deep, steadying breath.

"I just want to be good to her," he whispered, his voice almost cracking with emotion. "I need to be. I want to be good to Eira."

His mother looked like she wanted to hug him then and there, but she settled for gently stroking his hair again, her expression warm and kind.

"I know, my sweet boy," she told him gently. "You already are. And if you are good to her, and care for her, and treat her like the precious gift that she is, then you are nothing like your father. Nothing at all like him."

Azriel let out a shuddering breath, taking a step forward and hugging his mother for a brief moment, burying his face in her dark hair.

"Thank you," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, his voice still hoarse. "Thank you so much."

His mother smiled again, gently patting his cheek one final time.

"Now go get married, my darling," she said. "And be happy with your wonderful mate."

Azriel had to fight the sudden burning in his eyes, and he looked down, afraid that his eyes might give him away.

But then a second pair of hands were on his shoulders, and he lifted his head up, seeing Rhys next to him.

"A little bird told me that you'd need this right about now," Rhys said, producing a glass of amber-coloured liquor.

Azriel couldn't help but let out a little bark of laughter at the sight, grabbing the glass and taking a long, slow swig of the liquor.

It burned going down, and he coughed as the alcohol hit his tongue. But it was good, and helped ease the nerves and the ache in his chest.

***

For all the thoughts that Eira had had about wanting a husband and children...she had never really thought about how it would feel to get married.

She never had had thoughts about a poufy white dress and flowers...

But here she was. Letting Azriel's shadows weave snowdrops into her hair, as she was perched at her vanity table.

It was almost like a dream...like something out of a storybook. A beautiful wedding dress fit for a fairytale, flowers woven into her hair, and a mate waiting to speak his vows.

This...this was something beautiful.

The last snowdrop was added to the others in her caramel brown hair, their shimmering white petals almost glowing against her hair.

Eira stared into the mirror as the shadows moved back, her breath catching in her chest as she saw the flowers...and how beautiful all of it, all her was.

She was almost afraid to look up, afraid to look away from the mirror, her hands clenching against each other.

"You look beautiful," Feyre said softly from where she was sitting on the bed, Nyx on her lap.

"What about jewellery?" Nesta asked her. She hadn't even finished the sentence, before the shadows had already brought her that velvet box from Solstice.

At the sight of the black velvet box, she felt her heart clench in her chest, a bittersweet pang of affection moving through her.

The shadows placed the box in her hand, and she undid the latch, lifting the lid and gazing at the shining pearls, the glittering diamonds.

They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, shining against the backdrop of the black velvet. Gorgeous.

Eira picked up the necklace first, carefully clasping it around her throat.

The bracelet was next, her hands shaking a little as she struggled to fasten the delicate clasp.

And then…then they opened the drawer of her vanity table and pulled out another velvet box. That velvet box. Those pearl earrings. The earrings.

“I can’t wear them,” Eira protested quietly. “I don’t have…”

But then the shadows already opened the box. We had them fixed. They are clip-on earrings now. No need for your earlobes to be pierced.

Eira stared, shocked, at the earrings.

Her throat was suddenly tight, and she had to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat as she looked down at the earrings.

They were absolutely gorgeous. She had thought that from the first time she had seen them. Pearl and Diamond. Simple and elegant.

They were perfect.

And the shadows had altered them for her. Changed them into clip-on earrings, so that she wouldn't have to get her ears pierced.

They had gone to the extra effort for her, had wanted to make sure that she could wear them, even without her getting her ears pierced, and...it was more than a little overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she whispered, biting back the tears. “Thank you.”

It was ridiculous, how such a small thing could nearly make her tear up...but it was just so thoughtful, such a sweet, meaningful gesture, for a stupid little pair of earrings, and -

The shadows twined around her, giving her a reassuring little nudge, wrapping themselves around her with a gentle squeeze almost like a hug.

She could finally wear Azriel's gift.

She exhaled, the motion shuddering and a little unsteady as she just stared at the earrings in her hands.

They were just...beautiful, and so very thoughtful, even more so now that the shadows had gone to such great lengths to make them accessible to her. So that she would be able to wear them, without having to go through the trouble of getting her ears pierced.

It was so...thoughtful...so considerate...It...It was almost painful, how much this small thing meant to her.

They tightened them on her earlobes and then brushed against her cheeks.

She almost didn't notice that Feyre had gotten up until the High Lady of the Night Court stood behind her and put an arm around her waist.

"You look gorgeous," Feyre told her for the second time, a gentle smile on her face. "So beautiful."

Eira's breath caught in her chest as she stared into the mirror, seeing her reflection. The pearls and diamonds. The snowdrops. .

Feyre was right...she looked beautiful.

And she wasn't even wearing the best part yet.

The Dress.

The dress that she had made...that she had designed was perfect. It was beautiful.

It was white and silken, smooth to the touch and hugging her body perfectly...the lace and silk dripping off her like liquid. She had spent hours carefully beading the lace and the tulle with dozens and dozens of crystals and pearls...until it was perfect.

Beautiful, and flowing, and perfect. Like something out of a dream, or a fairy tale.

She reached out and gently touched the skirts, her heart thundering in her chest as the realization hit her all over again.

She was wearing a wedding dress.

It was something that she had almost resigned herself to never having. A beautiful wedding dress, with flowers in her hair and her mate waiting at the end of the aisle.

But now...now there was no turning back. No turning back as Nesta and Feyre closed the dozens of tiny pearl buttons that kept the dress closed on the back. As Nesta smoothed down the train that fell from her shoulders to the floor, the layers upon layers of silk and lace.

She looked up as Nesta stood, her hands smoothing along the beautiful silk and lace. "Perfect," she said quietly, a warm smile on her face.

Feyre was smiling too, her eyes sparkling a bit as she looked at the dress. Even little Nyx was quiet with fascination, staring at Eira from Feyre's arms.

And then...there was a single knock on the door, and all three of the Archeron girls went very still, realizing the significance of it.

Eira's heart was pounding in her ribcage so hard that she felt as if it might burst, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side.

"Ready?" Feyre asked her quietly. Eira tried to say something, but her voice wouldn't work and she simply nodded.

"Good," Feyre smiled. "Then let's get you married."

Eira forced herself to take a deep, shaky breath, her chest tight with nerves and excitement and love.

And then, before she could think too hard about it, Feyre was opening the door, revealing Rhys in all his wedding finery waiting behind it.

Every bit the High Lord, his hair slicked back from his face, and his suit dark and crisp, a warm smile on his face.

"You look beautiful," he told her quietly, a hint of a gleam in his violet eyes. "Stunning, little sister."

"Thank you," Eira whispered back, her voice a little hoarse.

Rhys offered his arm to her and she took it almost shyly, her heart racing.

"Time to get you married," he said, grinning at her.

Eira managed a shaky laugh, her chest tight as she took a few trembling steps.

She couldn't see anything but Rhys and her vision had started to blur, and the thundering of her blood was so loud that it almost sounded like drums.

“Please don’t let me fall down the stairs,” she blurted out and Rhys laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Rhys promised her, as they reached the staircase landing. “We’ll get you safely to that temple.”

And then…then Eira only needed to get down the aisle without tripping.

“Just hold on to me,” Rhys said as she managed the first few steps of that staircase, Nesta behind her managing her train.

She could do that. Probably.

But Rhys was solid and unmoving and his easy strength meant she could depend on it and…

“You alright?" Rhys asked quietly, noticing her nerves and her shaking.

Eira swallowed hard, trying to steady her heart. Her palms were damp and her knees felt like jelly but she managed a nod at her brother's question, trying desperately to focus on anything but the nerves. Rhys squeezed her arm again, reassuring and comforting. "You'll be alright," he said quietly. "Just breathe."

She forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her lungs with air, and slowly letting it out, focusing on the feel of her feet moving on the floor.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, her breath choking in her throat.

There wasn’t a father that could walk her down the aisle. That had been taken from her along with her humanity, during that war. But if she could just depend on Rhys’ easy strength, that immovable presence of his…maybe she was going to be just fine with that...

Rhys squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine,” he promised, violet eyes shining. “I won’t let you fall, little one.”

And he didn’t.

Rhys gently squeezed her arm, his smile kind as he carefully guided her outside into the garden and then towards that temple at the far end of it.

One step, and then another, and then another, moving closer and closer to these double doors and the room beyond.

It was like a whirlwind, and she was only aware of two things. Rhys's arm under hers to keep her steady...and the fact that Azriel was waiting at the end of the aisle, his wings flared behind him.

And suddenly…suddenly it was so easy.

She didn't notice anything besides him, his wings flared out behind him and his suit crisp and black against his dark skin and onyx hair. He was staring at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of amazement and love.

And she felt her heart clench in her chest, a surge of adoration moving through her at the sight of the male who was to become her husband.

She was barely aware that she was moving again, slowly walking down the aisle, every step bringing her closer to him. Eira hardly noticed the people watching or saw the soft smiles on their faces.

All she could see was her mate, her eyes completely locked on to him, and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest.

She heard the sound of Feyre behind her, laughing softly, and feel Rhys gently letting go of her arm.

The only thing that mattered…the only thing that mattered was him.

She drank him in, her eyes glued to his, as she held out her hands for him to take and warm, scarred fingers closed around hers.

The Priestess said something to her, the words were a little hard to process, her heart still racing in her chest, her breaths coming faster than they should have. But she still managed to respond immediately, her voice hoarse as she smiled up at her mate, grey eyes meeting hazel-green.

"Yes."

She heard a quiet, almost shaky sort of breath from Azriel, his wings shifting behind him, as he stared at her in wonder, as she heard with half a mind the priestess repeat the question, this time to Azriel…

She heard Azriel's chest heave with a deep, steadying breath before he responded, his voice like gravel, like velvet, the most beautiful sound of them all.

"Yes."

The priestess began speaking again, the words passing over Eira like some kind of dream. She was too focused on him, her mate, the wonderful male in front of her that was hers.

This felt like something out of a dream, like the fantasy storybooks she had been reading as a child...

But the male standing in front of her, looking at her, looking at her as if she was the only good thing in all the world...that was very real.

A real as the priestess in her robes continued to speak. She caught snippets of what he said. Words like promises, and commitment, and love. Forever.

And always.

No one had every looked at her the way he did. Or loved her the way he did.

And then...then, finally...his hand lifted to her face

She felt as if the entire world stopped around her at the touch.

His hand was warm on her cheek, callouses rough against her skin as he touched her, and she leant into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

His eyes were wide, his face soft with adoration.

“You may kiss your bride."

Time seemed to slow to a stop as she looked at Azriel, her heart thundering against her skin, her blood rushing in her ears.

There was nothing in the world that she wanted more at that moment than to kiss her husband.

He gently cupped the back of her head in his other hand as he pulled her closer, his wings spreading out behind him as he leaned down to meet her.

The second his lips met hers was like lightning striking through Eira, setting her blood on fire and sending a shiver down her spine. Her head was spinning and her heart was racing and her lungs had completely forgotten how to work as time seemed to slow down around them, only him and her and the moment that they shared.

His lips against hers, his hand in her hair…

And then, somehow, they had to stop, separating just barely, their breath mingling together as they slowly pulled apart.

Eira could feel her heart hammering in her chest, feel the way her whole body seemed to hum at his touch, the way her blood was still on fire, burning hotter than it had before.

She was faintly aware of the cheering of their family, the applause and whistles of the people around them, but she hardly cared.

She was far too focused on the feeling of him, her mate, her husband still holding her…She had married him....her wonderful, beautiful Azriel.

And she smiled.

Eira grinned, beaming up at him.

Azriel stared down at her, his expression still wide-eyed and a little stunned. But then, after a moment, he smiled back, his hand curling gently against her cheek.

I love you.

The words weren't spoken, but she could see them on his face, in the adoration in his gaze, in the way his eyes shone as he looked at her.

She could feel everything through the bond, every bit of his intense, unwavering love for her. Every bit of his adoration and affection and tenderness.

He was staring at her as if she was the most beautiful female in all of Prythian, and she had never felt more loved in her whole life.

"We're married," she murmured, her voice shaking just a little as she spoke the words.

"We are," Azriel murmured back, his voice rough with emotion.

And then he was pulling her closer into his arms, her body melting against his as he held her close, holding onto her like he was holding a precious treasure in his hands.

Like she was something to cherish.

He held her tight, his face buried in her hair while he took a deep, shuddery breath.

"My wife," he murmured quietly, his voice a soft rumble.

And gods, did she like hearing that. Loved hearing that.

"My husband," she whispered back, tilting her head back a little to look up at him, her eyes glowing with pure adoration as she smiled at him.

Her husband. Her mate. Her most wonderful, caring, incredible male.

She wanted to spend hours in his arms, the feeling of his touch against her body. She wanted to be claimed, to be marked by him as his wife.

His mate.

His everything.

She wanted all of his attention, all of his love, all of his adoration. All of it, forever.

Gods, but she wanted him. Wanted to have him, and be had by him.

And judging by the way his eyes darkened as hers glowed brighter, the way his arms tightened around her, the way his breath hitched in his chest....he wanted her just as much.

But first...first...first, there was their family descending on them, congratulations and cheers.

Through the wave of well-wishers and kind words, Azriel never let go of her.

He didn’t let go, he just kept her tucked against his side, his hand never leaving her body, gently touching some part of her. Her hand, her hair, her shoulder.

Even as Feyre stepped up, looking almost blissed as she grinned and drew them both into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy for you both," Feyre told them, looking beyond happy as she smiled at them, a genuine, joyful smile.

Nesta stepped up then, a soft, warm smile on her face, a single tear in the corner of her eye as she gave them both a quick hug before stepping back.

"Congratulations," she said warmly, before stepping back to stand with Esmeray, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Rhys was there moments later, pulling them both into a tight hug and clapping Azriel on the back, his smile nearly splitting his face in half.

"I always knew you had it in you, brother," he said with a low chuckle, which he quickly quieted when Feyre pinched him on the side.

After him came Cassian, grabbing them both in a bear hug and lifting them off the ground for a moment before he set them down, grinning at them both like some kind of excited child.

"You're both married!" he exclaimed, looking utterly ecstatic. "I'd never thought I'd see the day!"

Mor stepped up after him, her face glowing as she wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

"Congratulations," she murmured quietly, her voice tight with emotion. "Both of you...I'm so happy."

Amren was last, her face set in its usual cold, stoic expression. But then, she stepped up in front of them, giving both Azriel and Eira a brief, quick hug before saying, "Congratulations. I'm very...pleased, that both of you have found happiness in each other."

Esmeray was grinning with excitement as she stepped up, the older female looking utterly joyful as she gave both Azriel and Eira a tight hug, squeezing them tight.

"I'm so happy for the both of you," she said quietly, her voice quavering a little. "Thank you, Ma," Azriel said quietly.

"Thank you," Eira echoed, her voice soft as she looked at her new mother-in-law.

Esmeray just smiled fondly at them both, reaching up to gently pat each of them on the cheek.

"You're both wonderful together," she said quietly, her voice soft and warm. "I hope you're both very happy together."

She looked away briefly, her eyes glowing, before looking back at them with a bright smile.

"And no doubt you'll be having some wonderful children too," Esmeray said, her voice almost singsong. Azriel almost choked...while a faint blush crept up over Eira's cheeks.

"Mother," Azriel said, his voice almost strangled.

But Esmeray just laughed, grinning at both of them with a mischievous sort of twinkle in her eye. "I'm just saying," she said with a laugh. "I would love to be a grandmother."

Azriel groaned, facepalming as Esmeray continued to laugh.

And in the midst of all the laughter, all the joy and love and well-wishes...Eira felt an almost overwhelming sense of contentment settle in her chest.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

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