#hopefully that resonates in the fic

[adamsrcnan]

this song is the backbone to my kevin x history teacher fanfic if anyone cares

[hungharrington]

i feel it coming, babe

technically the sequel to a little less conversation this is yet another piece for girlies (gn) with bad sex experiences <3 remember sometimes it takes more than once to get it right honeys :D 12k words, fem!reader, MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

Okay so, you’ll admit, you might be beginning to get it. 

A smidge. A pinch. 

It’s just— well, how are you not supposed to understand it? How can you not get the thrill and fervour over sex when it’s with Steve and he looks like that. All golden tan skin and hazel eyes that look at you like he might eat you whole and— and he treats you like… 

Like there was never anything wrong with you.

Even after that balmy afternoon spent in his sheets, with his mouth between your thighs, pulling noises out of you that you’d never even heard before, he’s been so perfectly so. Not pushy, yet still that lingering hunger you can see simmering beneath his skin, hidden in the flex of his fingers. 

Part of you almost worries, a little niggle burrowed in the back of your mind, that it was all a fluke.

That nothing had really changed all that much between you— that the next time things start getting heated, the chemistry won’t be there. Or it’ll be weird and off, or you will be, and really, you were probably lucky to have that first time with Steve so good but you can’t expect that again. 

But then… there is one difference at least, to combat all your swarming thoughts a fluke. The kisses. 

When you think of Steve Harrington and his playboy past, you can’t say, of the words tossed around in the high school corridor, that clingy is something that comes to mind. Not that he had been described as anything other than charming… but you don’t mind pleasant surprise of coming to learn this about Steve. 

It means kisses all the time. 

On your hands, scattered across your knuckles, when he’s dropping you home from a date. Kisses pressed to your hair and forehead, when he’s scooching past you, when he’s saying hello and his hands are busy, when you sit between his legs on the sofa. 

He kisses your shoulders, up along the curve of your neck just to see if it’ll still make you laugh a bit when he finds that ticklish spot beneath your ear. Adores sweeping back your hair to plant a kiss against your skin with the sweetest little ‘mwah!’ so quiet you don’t think you’re meant to hear it. 

And your lips… you don’t think they’ve ever been so kiss-bitten in your life.

One night with Steve can leave them blooming with colour, all the blood beneath them rushing with pleasure as he kisses your mouth soft — sometimes hard, sometimes sweet, always maddeningly. 

He greets you with a kiss always, one hand curled gently around your chin to tilt it up perfectly. And always after, a grin spreads across his face, brown eyes crinkling and pink lips barely restrained his joy. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He’ll always says, or some variation.

Which, yeah, that’s new too. Sweetheart. You haven’t quite figured out how to not melt to a gloopy gooey mess when he says it just yet. It’s a damn good thing that your boyfriend is a gentleman and he politely doesn’t comment when you fluster, only gets the smallest hint of a smirk. 

For all your past worries about not kissing him for fear of leading him on, you hadn’t realise quite how much you were depriving yourself of affection. Steve’s certainly turning you greedy— and he’s all too happy to sate your appetite for it. 

Today, it’s drizzly. The colour of the sky is a bright ashen grey, enough to warrant a headache and inspire a day inside. In the distance, you can see the thunder clouds rolling in and bringing a blanket of shadow with them. 

They reach overhead much quicker than you’re expecting and you’re barely a block out from Steve's house before the rain starts coming down. 

Try as you might, raincoat tucked tight around you, you’re still a bit drenched by the time you make it to Steve’s doorstep. One freezing finger presses the door bell. A chime sounds inside. 

You rub your hands together to try warm them as you wait, cringing at the whisk of wind that twirls your hair up and about. Your hands shoot up and you nervously flatten the wild strands back down— right as Steve opens the door.

He’s got a towel around his neck, one hand scrubbing it into his wet hair. Judging from his ruffled t-shirt — put on in a rush and exposing his tummy — he’s just got out the shower. He looks surprised but happy to see you.

“Sweetheart, hi-hoooooly shit,” He sticks his head out the door, eyes wide as he takes in the weather. His hair flicks as he turns back to you. “Did you walk the whole way from your house? In the rain?” 

Your shoulders form a meek shrug. Before you can speak, his hands are on your shoulders, tugging you inside, across the doorway. He kicks it shut behind you. 

“Christ, honey, what’d you do that for?” His hands fret a little bit, rubbing at your shoulders. He gently picks a piece of hair that’s stuck to your cheek, placing it behind your ear. 

“I mean,” You start, a little confused. Your hands tighten on your overnight bag, wringing the handle tightly. He knew you were coming over, right? “I thought we— on the phone, we made a plan?” 

Steve breathes a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got plans. But I would’ve come got you instead of making you walk through the rain. C’mon, what  kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” 

His use of the word boyfriend still makes you glow. You smile, nope, you grin all cheesy — and it doesn’t help at all when Steve’s hands trail down your jacket to hold your own. He wiggles the handles of your bag out from your frozen fingers and drops it behind him gently. His hands dart back to cover yours.

“Dear god, I think you’re about two minutes from losing a finger.” His eyebrows have scrunched together in worry. He brings your hands up to his face, cupped in his own, and blows hot air on them. It tickles but you can’t stop smiling. 

He pulls them back, rubbing his thumbs over your icy fingers and peers down at them. Your heart coos at his concern. 

“What’s the verdict doctor?” You jest, making your voice all breathy and dramatic. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Steve frowns harder at your hands, his face serious when he tilts it back up to face you. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to amputate.” 

You gasp dramatically. 

Steve grins. He runs over your hands once more, one of his fingers creeping up your wrist, trying to find a ticklish spot. You squeal a little, trying to pull back but he holds your hands firm in his own. He continues his serious voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but it’s your whole arm. We’re gonna have to chop it right off.” 

His fingers are half way up your sleeve, making it bunch up and you’re laughing so much it’s warming you up much faster than him blowing on your hands. You push his hand away playfully and Steve relents, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, you got me.” He grins. “I’m not a real doctor.”

You laugh again, reaching up to tuck back your hair that’s fallen forward in your squirming. “Uh huh, a real doofus is what you are.” 

Steve rolls his eyes endearingly, his hands reaching out to snag your waist this time. He tugs you closer. Your feet stumble and when you press against his chest, you’re delighted to find he’s very, very warm. You're definitely soaking his shirt a bit with your coat but if Steve cares, he doesn't say.

“Just realised I didn’t properly say hello,” He murmurs, a little quieter than before. 

And when one of his hands moves up and curls beneath your jaw, holding your chin gently, you know what’s coming. If you weren’t already holding your breath in anticipation, he probably would’ve stolen it with his kiss.

His plush lips are soft and with a loving little hum, he kisses you.

All the lights around you look a little dewey and heart-shaped when Steve pulls back — though it may be just your own lovey-dovey eyes. You sigh without meaning to, all honeyed and sweet, and Steve softens immeasurably at the sound. 

“Okay,” He shifts his hands back down to your hands, rubbing them lightly. “I’m not kidding, even your lips feel frozen. D’ya wanna take a quick shower just to warm up?” 

Something about you flushes at his suggestion— a runaway thought about getting in his shower, it getting steamier and steamier, especially with Steve slipping in to join you halfway. You clear your throat to push away the thought and focus. 

Your hair is wetter than you’d expected, sticking to your neck in cold tendrils. A shiver zips down your spine. All your scandalous thoughts aside, it sounds like a pretty good idea. 

“Yeah,” you nod gingerly. “Yeah, okay, it wouldn’t mind the warm up.” 

Steve steps back, bending down to scoop up your bag deftly. He holds it for you as you unbutton your coat as quick as you can with your frozen fingers, shivering in relief as you shed the drenched layer. Droplets of rain spray in the rustle. Your coat finds a home on a peg beside the door.

It’s comforting how easy it is to follow Steve up the stairs, drinking in his cosy attire from behind— gone are his usual tight fitting jeans. Instead, he’s donned what you guess is his pyjamas; a plain ringer tee and red, plaid, and long flannelette pants. His feet are warmed by fluffy socks that have reindeer prancing about the fabric. A flash of his tan ankle makes you stumble for a moment.

Steve trades your overnight bag, with a smile and a promise to keep it safe, for a pillowy white towel, soft as ever. He leads you into the bathroom off his bedroom, depositing your bag on his bed along the way. 

His fingers find the switch for the heated towel rail and while you fold the towel over it neatly, heart humming in content at being taken care of, Steve starts the shower. He sticks one hand in, holding it under the spray and grimacing at the cold— until the chill slips away beneath the steamy hot water. 

“Alright,” Steve says, pulling his hand back. He gives it a little shake, droplets splattering on the tiles. “All ready for my best girl.“ 

He gives a cheesy and charismatic smile as he wipes his hand dry and if you were brave enough, you might give him a little thank you kiss for it. You aren’t just yet — but when he moves to slip by you, you halt him with a soft hand on his torso. 

“Thank you.” you say, quieter than you intend. You push on the balls of your feet and plant a quick peck onto his cheek. 

Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch. Steve looks like he melts a bit, lashes fluttering as he sucks in a sharp inhale. Turns out neither of you are getting any closer to getting used to the affection. It’s sweet to know it goes both ways. 

“I’m gonna—“ Steve breathes, his hand drifting up, his index finger pointed out to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Or if you fall. Just like, uh, yell- or scream. Or— you know what, you’ve taken a shower before.” 

He stumbles out towards the exit, pulling two awkward thumbs-up over his shoulders. The door swings shut behind him, closing with a quiet click. 

Your clothes pool to the ground, a trail leading towards the shower as you move with haste. Though you’re sure the Harrington's won’t notice, you don’t want to waste the hot water. 

The heat soothes you— swathes of relief washing down your body, picking up every piece of ice in your skin and sending it swirling down the drain. It doesn’t take too long to get back to warm and toasty. 

Still, when your eye catches on it, you can’t resist. Steve has a body wash that smells heavenly. You pick it up, flick back the cap, and take a whiff — just to check it’s the one that’s been infiltrating your very dreams. Steve, even on a daily basis, manages to smell so good it drives you close to delirium. 

You’re more than happy to steal it for yourself today. You take another sniff of the bottle in your grasp, just to inhale it with a sigh. The sweater he let you borrow the other week has the exact same smell; a musky perfumed scent, with a hint of bergamot. 

You dollop some in your hand and lather it all over. Properly cleansed and throughly warmed up, you let the final suds whirlpool down the drain before shutting the tap off and stepping out. The fluffy porcelain coloured towel is toasty in your hands as you pluck it off the rail.  A sigh in appreciation comes out as you dry off, twisting it around yourself. 

It’s as you stand there, refreshed and smelling of Steve, in just a towel, do you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in clothes to change into. 

On his bed, Steve sits idle — because what else is Steve supposed to do when you’re in his shower? When you’re naked in his shower. Naked in his shower and probably using his soap and lathering it up down your body and on your boobs and— oh my god, soapy boobs and— 

Steve’s pulls himself from his thoughts with a rapid shake of his head, just in time for the bathroom door to rattle open and your shining face to peek through. 

You look a little flushed, maybe from the heat, or from the lack of clothing. Steve can see your bare shoulder, his eyes tracking a drop as it rolls down your collarbone. None of this helps his runaway thoughts. 

He stands up without thought. Then he realises how strange he might look, like a dog standing to attention. 

“Feeling boober?” Steve says, like an idiot. Heat floods his face as he realises his flub. “BETTER! Are you feeling better?” 

He’s thankful that you at least laugh, a pretty sound that you tuck behind your hand. You have the nerve to wiggle your eyebrows at him, a far cry from the confidence he’s come to expect from you in the past. Steve can’t deny— he adores it. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“God,” Steve groans. He shoves his face into his hands and turns around, his back to you. His words are muffled over his shoulder. “Don’t even ask me that right now.” 

Another laugh titters out of you. Steve can’t resist peering over his shoulder. The steam curls out through the gap of the door, leaving dew on your skin. You look ethereal, like a dewy angel from a dream.

“Alright,” you relent playfully. You’re fighting a smile and losing, badly. Steve yearns. “Can you please pass me my bag?” 

This next time the door opens again and you step out, there’s less tantalising skin to tease Steve and his wandering mind. There’s still a flash of wet skin, the curve between your shoulder and neck. Steve wants to lick it, kiss it, devour it til the skin beneath is riddled with the bruises of a lover. 

For a moment, you’re simply admired — Steve’s eyes on you, adoring and soft, as you creep out the bathroom like you don’t want to make too much noise. 

You notice in your absence Steve has cajoled a little tray table into his room, tucked up at the foot of his bed. Atop it sits a chunky television, antennae sticking up in perfectly straight lines. The ones at home on yours are slightly warped from all the readjusting. 

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s on the bed this time, and while he doesn’t get up this time, he sits up straighter as you emerge from the bathroom. You put your bag down, abandoning it by the door and try to quell your nerves. 

Steve, unless he’s somehow obtained x-ray vision and hadn’t told you, can’t see the nice matching set you’ve got beneath your comfy clothes. 

He won’t see it— unless this night goes where you think it might, where you hope it might, but even still, the thought manages to make you fluster. 

“Hi.” You say back, voice closer to a whisper. 

The bed sinks beneath your weight as you climb on to situate yourself beside Steve. He’s all soft corners and crinkled eyes, his arm raised up in an instant for you to tuck yourself under. Even warmer in his arms, your heart delights when he gives you a little squeeze.

“Alright, movie time!” The television at the foot of the bed pulls Steve away from you. He unwinds his arm enough to crawl down the bed. The grey ringer shirt he has one slips forward a bit and at your angle, you can catch more than a sliver of his tan tummy. 

Without thinking, your thighs press together tightly as heat flares between them. You can trace the alluring wiry trail of hair with your eyes until it disappears into his pyjama pants, continuing out of sight. A part of your wants. 

You want to see where it goes, want to curl your fingers into his waistband and work it downwards, you want find out if the moles go all the way down his thighs like you hope they do.

Hunger sinks its teeth into your skin; a hunger you’ve been getting more and more familiar with. 

“Okay, pervert,” Steve’s cheeky remark shakes you from your thoughts and you start to stammer. He’s clearly caught you staring. “Can’t say I blame you for ogling—“ 

“I was not—“  

“— because I have been told before that I have a very distracting and attractive behind.” 

You sputter and despite your best efforts, a little laugh splutters through as well because well, yeah, he’s not wrong — but your brain is stuck on repeat with something else entirely. 

Tummy, tummy, tummy, the hair on his tummy, the hair leading down into his pants.   

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, Harrington,” You slump back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, clearly teasing. “If you say so.” 

The television flickers to life right as Steve lunges back towards you with all the energy of a labrador puppy. He squishes down onto you so quickly that you actually squeal in surprise. 

“Oh, I’m back to just Harrington now?” He pouts, squeezing even closer to you. You’re laughing, flattened beneath him in a way that you can’t even wiggle your arms out. He’s draped across you dramatically. You trust him completely. 

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“I thought my name was,” He leans closer and kisses your neck. “Boyfriend. Or baby. Orrrrrr,” 

He kisses up your neck and onto your cheek. His hazel eyes are bright, crinkled in his grin so much that his lashes kiss in the corner. He kisses your nose. “Handsome.” 

“Mmmhm,” you revel in the never-ending affection, glowing from the inside with happiness. You wiggle your arms to make Steve push himself up, just enough to free them from being smothered against your chest. Free to roam, your hands find the sides of his face. 

“What about…” You begin. Steve watches you closely, evidently gleeful from the touchiness of your hands. He pushes into your palm, turning to kiss it fast. “My snookums.” 

You exaggerate the word, your voice going all sugary to butter it up. You watch as emotions ripple across Steve’s face— the twitch in his nose as he tries not to outright frown at you. How polite he is. 

It’s only as he catches the grin spreading across your face, wicked and just loving watching him squirm at the terrible pet-name, does he catch on to your jest. A sigh of relief and a chuckle whooshes out of him at once. 

“Oh, thank God you’re joking.” He drops all his weight into your waiting hands, grinning when you let his face flops forward into your chest. His words are completely muffled as he speaks into your chest. “That could’ve been serious grounds for a breakup.”

You huff a laugh and nudge him up best you can. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. Your movie is starting.” 

Steve’s head pops up, his head twisting back towards the television like he had forgotten about its existence until you had mentioned it. 

“Oh true,” He says. He pushes up off you to sit himself up, shuffling back so instead you can lean on him. Re-situating his arms around you, Steve hums absentmindedly as he throws a leg over you, tangling it with yours. Thoroughly intertwined, you both sink back into the pillows. 

The credits roll up and off the screen, the first five minutes of the film whisked away while you and Steve were settling down. Now, the opening scene begins, the grainy picture on the screen buzzing as it plays the VHS. 

You get approximately two minutes of silence, your and Steve’s heads turned towards the television, until distraction kicks in.

You do your best to ignore it as his head turns towards you, your eyes still focused on the screen, but all your attention runs to Steve. He nudges a little closer to you, his nose pressing into your temple and right as you realise he’s smelling you, he says— 

“Did you use my body wash?” 

You freeze. 

“I— was I not supposed to?” Your voice comes out a bit weaker than intended. 

Steve lets out a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, only worrying you further. He starts to shift around a bit, retracting his leg back an inch, his nose no longer nudging close along your temple; all actions that contrast his assuring words. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine—“ Despite his words, he shifts again. His hips shuffle backward, one of his hands moving down subtlety as he can to fuss with his pyjama pants. 

It takes about two more seconds for you to get it — clued in by Steve’s suddenly scarlet cheeks and his embarrassed expression. 

Your mouth drops open a bit unwittingly. 

“Are you—“ 

“Yes.” Steve grates out. He abandons fixing the growing tent in his pants to cover his face with his hands, rolling slightly away from you. You can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him. His words are slightly muffled from behind his palms. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t even realise that was something that got me going until, like, right this second.”  

It’s adorable that he’s so flustered and that he’s apologising. You’ve never had that happen before. You’ve never had someone so conscious of how it might seem— never someone like Steve who doesn’t seem to come with any expectations. 

A thread of relief jolts through you. It reaffirms what you already know; anything you want to do will be done on your terms. 

And with his eyes covered up, if you glance down at his pants for good hard look…. well, that’s between you and the universe.

“Steve,” your fingers curl around one of his wrists, tugging it gently. You try to coax his face out of hiding, your smile somewhere between giggly and endeared. “It’s— it’s okay, really, you don’t have to apologise. I— I mean, I’m honestly flattered.” 

Steve deflates a bit, torn between relief and his still persistent concern. He had made a committed plan that he wouldn’t make any moves until you initiated it first and yet, here he was, like every other male in Hawkins. Popping a boner the moment you settle down to innocently cuddle. God, he’s the worst!

A pout forms on his lips. He wishes he could rewind the last 2 minutes and spend the whole movie holding his breath. 

“What is it about the body wash?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, given the way his other hand drops off from covering his face. He blinks up at you, cheeks still with a hint of cherry red. 

“I- I dunno.” He admits. “Like I said I didn’t even realise that…” 

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again. He clears his throat. “That would have that effect on me.” 

Something within you preens, a fire stoked by his honest admission; a zing shooting down your spine because you don’t think you will ever get used to hearing how Steve wants you.

“Well,” you begin, the word more timid than you hoped it would be. You clear your throat and cast a glance at the television, feigning casualness. “If I was the cause…” 

You let your hand come up, brushing across his warm tummy. Look up at him through your lashes, hoping, praying it looks sexier than you’re feeling— which is somewhere between flustered and foolish.

Still, Steve’s throat bobs. You watch his eyes dart down to your lingering hand, an inch or so above his waistband. 

“Maybe, I can be the remedy.” 

A tiny groan scrapes out of Steve’s throat, like he would love nothing more. Even so, he pins you with a sincere look, hazel eyes burning into yours. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He assures you. “I mean—“ He coughs awkwardly. “It will go away, uh, in time.” 

“I’m aware how it works, Steve.” 

“Oh, are you?” Steve jokes— laughing when you wallop him in the chest. He grabs your hand, stopping your assault mid-motion with a cheeky smile. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that.” 

He releases your hand and you let it fall onto his chest. Nerves prickle beneath your skin but with them is something new, something you’ve only gained since your time with Steve; anticipation. 

Steeling your anxiety, you let your hand trail down his chest slowly— enough time that he could halt you before you embarrassed yourself. But he doesn’t. Steve watches you closely, his chest rising and falling a bit harder as your hand nears his waistband. 

This time, you don’t stop. You let your fingers brush over the tented fabric hesitantly, torn between wanting to watch your hand or to see his face. As confidently as you can, you palm across his bulge— feeling the heat of his hard length thickening up under your hand. 

Steve groans lowly. 

You look up at him as you rub him softly, taking in his large pupils and pink lips. He’s watching you too, his eyes darting between your face and the hand on his cock. 

“Is this okay?” You check. The movie crackles on in the background, idle noise. Steve nods quickly, a curl of his hair falling down onto his forehead. 

“Yeah,” He says, voice breathier than it was a minute ago. You try out a harder rub, beginning to feel out the shape of his cock, and you curl your fingers around it. Steve groans again, a little bit louder, his eyelashes fluttering. 

Still, he composes himself enough to ask, “Is this okay for you?” 

“Hmmm,” you draw out the noise, the smile on your face giving away your faux-thinking. You squeeze him again, right as you murmur, “Maybe make that noise again and I’ll see.” 

But any noise he makes is captured in your mouth as he surges forward, one of his hands curling up under your jaw. His fingers slide into your hair and his lips are sweet and soft, hungry for more against your own. 

You can’t help but melt under his kisses, body relaxing into the sheets as you let yourself be kissed breathlessly. A warmth pools deep within your chest, drooling down into your stomach. Anticipations sinks in. Your thighs rub together. 

Losing the nerve and the focus, your hand slips up to cup at Steve’s hip— but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes it as a cue to press forward, leaning his weight onto on his elbows to hold his weight as he shifts up, his lips never leaving yours. 

It’s one smooth motion, the way he slips a leg between your own, his body held up and hovering above yours. He kisses, slow and languid. You ache. Your lips haven’t ever been so kissed before. 

It isn’t until his thigh shifts up and presses just right do you notice it properly — unable to swallow your shallow gasp, lips halting against Steve’s as a bolt of pleasure blooms deep in your gut. Your eyelashes flutter, a shadow of embarrassment threatening your cheeks. 

“S’okay?” Steve whispers, not relenting any of his closeness. His lips brush yours. 

You nod gently, a quiet hum sounding in your throat. You’re not entirely sure you can form words right now. Not when it feels like your heartbeat is everywhere — when you can feel the heat between your legs, the tightness of your nipples as they peak, the undeniable thrum of lust building within you. 

And certainly not when you can feel Steve, his hardness pressed up against your thigh, his pupils bigger than usual. They’re ringed in that hazel you love— a colour that might be your new favourite ever. 

Fuck, you’re in deep. What an incredibly sappy thought to have while you’re getting hot and bothered. Did Steve think that way about you too? Think about the colour of your eyes while he kissed your mouth?

“I…” You finally find your voice and Steve pulls back a couple inches so he can see you properly. His eyes dart over your face adoringly, his lips rosy red from all the kisses and quirked into a smile. He looks at you as if you’re everything. 

“I want to…” You say, unable to find the words to finish your sentence. Embarrassment winds up inside you, ready to spring free but Steve seems uncaring at your hesitance. 

“You wanna what?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth with a hum. Endlessly patient. Somehow your stomach churns a little faster at that. Nerves stand up on their end, a thousand uneasy prickles over your body. 

“I want to.” You say this time, firmer. “Do more.” 

It still sounds too mousy coming out and you see a flicker of something on Steve’s face. 

“If you do, I mean.” You add on quickly. “I want to if you do.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, like the idea of checking in with him was a bit absurd. His gaze roams over your face slowly, taking his fine time just looking at you. He looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

He lands on, “You don’t seem sure.” 

Your heart flip-flops at the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his concern evident. He fixes you with a serious, sincere look.

You nod, your hair scrunching up against the pillow as you do. “I am. I just…” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and worry it, thinking of how to put this. You’ve said it before, you’ve told him how it was in the past, how you hadn’t enjoyed it and yet…

Feeling too squirmish under Steve’s intense stare, you avert your eyes to look at the ceiling and swallow the knot in your throat. 

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I want to try but I’m not sure— I just I can’t promise that I’ll- that y’know, I—” 

Eyes crushing closed, you try to seize your bubbling anxiety before it seizes you. This is Steve. You trust him wholly. Just a moment ago you were thinking about how much you like him and—

“Hey,” Steve murmurs lowly, nudging his nose into yours. Your eyes open. He smiles softly when he says, “I have no interest in doing something you don’t enjoy.” 

The protest flounders up inside you before you can stop it. “But—“ 

“So,” He cuts you off pointedly. “If we give it a go and you don’t like it, that’s okay. We can just figure out what you do enjoy, okay?“

For a long moment, you just stare up at him.  

“Yeah? So we can just try and if it… If I…” You flounder for words, sounding like you think it must be too good to be true. You stare up at the ceiling as you try to verbalise the biggest hurdle, the final niggling worry.

You peer back up at Steve’s face. “You… you wouldn’t be disappointed if we started but then I wanted to stop?” 

Some emotion shutters across Steve’s face, a flash of devastation. You mistake it for annoyance. 

An unwelcome hitch suddenly twists in your stomach. “I'm sorry, I know that you— we already- last time, we talked about this and I should know—“ 

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts with a soft shake of his head. “Stop doing that, it’s fine to feel unsure or- or to not know what you like. It takes time and experience to figure what you do like.” 

His hand shifts up, brushing the hair back from your forehead. He leaves it there, the warmth of his hand a comfort. His fingers curl lightly into your hair. 

“That’s all I wanna do,” He breathes softly, his lips tugging up at the corners. He looks unbearably earnest, his brown eyes shining. “Just wanna do what you like. Wanna figure out what you like.” 

He leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then that soft sensitive spot under your ear. You squirm but this time for all the right reasons. 

“Y’want me to do that?” He murmurs. 

You’re breathing a little heavier and when Steve nips at your earlobe sparingly, just a love bite and a flash of teeth, your breath catches loudly. Desire surges through you, hot and straight between your legs. 

It takes another moment to remember he’s asked you a question. 

“Yeah…” you breathe. You wanna nod but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I wanna do that. Wanna— wanna learn what you like too.” 

Steve hums, a pleased sound, and he kisses languidly at your neck. His lips, soft and plush, scrape against your skin in a way that gathers heat low in your gut. Your hips tilt forward an inch, moving against his thigh almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah?” 

The way he says it, the way the word rolls out of his mouth, all husky and low, makes your nipples peak. 

“We get to learn together, hm?” He kisses your neck again. The soft press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth have you gripping the sheets, almost white knuckled. 

Suddenly, you can’t stand to not be touching him. Your hands fly from the sheets, fingers curling around his midriff, feeling at the warm skin. His t-shirt is warmed by him. You slip your hands beneath it as he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, soft enough to make you sigh. 

Your hand finds skin. Finally, finally, you get your hands on that damned happy trail that’s been all but haunting your daydreams for the past months. 

As Steve kisses down your neck, you trace the line of hair with your finger slowly. Your thumb strokes the coarse hair all the way down to his waistband, gentle and hungry all at once— trying to commit it all to memory. Unwittingly, Steve shivers at the motion. 

“Fuck,” his breath shudders against your neck. He tucks his face in closer, fighting the urge to press his body up against yours and grind. You feel the twitch in his hips anyway. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Me too,” you gasp when he pulls off your neck, blowing cool air across the heated skin he’s been dedicating himself to. You wonder if a bruise will come up, beautiful and kiss-bitten. You clench a little at the thought, the heat between your thighs only increasing. 

A mark from him— a mark of a lover. 

You want to give one to him too. Managing to remember you can do things with your hands, other than just pawing at his back, you shift them up to curl into his hair. Tugging gently, you coax his face up enough so you can nose alone the length of his neck. 

Steve’s panting and you can hear his breath catch when you start planting kiss after kiss on his skin— dragging your bottom lip across those glorious moles you adore so much. 

Without meaning to, you press him back and Steve lets himself roll back onto the mattress, his hands tugging you closer. You take the invitation and struggle for a moment to get up over his hips, one leg too tangled in the blanket on the bed. 

“My leg,” you laugh weakly, having to retract a hand from his hair to free it. When you do, you settle down, straddling his hips, and try not to lose your confidence. Still, you can’t help apologising. “Sorry.” 

Steve peers up at you lovingly, frowning a little when you apologise. “What? No, it’s fine.” 

He shifts one hand and grabs the loose blanket beside you and then hefts it up, throwing it as far as he can off the bed with a grunt. It lands somewhere behind you with a soft noise. 

“Blanket’s fault.” He says, brown eyes back on you. “Freaking cockblock. I got rid of him, babe, don’t worry.” 

You snort a little, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

“My hero.” You murmur sarcastically against them. 

“Ooh, say that again, baby,” Steve moans exaggeratedly, throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatic, his eyes screwed shit.  

You laugh, unknowingly relaxing a little further into him. You swat at his chest. 

“Steve.” 

“Oh!” He moans again, all girlish and fake, and twists his head in the other direction. “I love it when you say my name like I’m an idiot!” 

You gasp, but it’s still hidden in your laughter as you hit his chest again, for a different reason this time. 

“Don’t say that!” You say genuinely. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Steve drops the act, his eyes creasing open to shine up at you. He’s glowing beneath you, cheeks a bit flushed and grinning like he’s a little bit in love with you. You think he might be. 

“No, you don’t.” He agrees. He soothes his hands up and down your sides. “Only idiot is that idiot who let you think there was anything wrong with you.” 

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Please don’t bring him up ever again— least of all when we’re in bed.” 

Steve squeezes your sides gently and smiles up at you like he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. “Noted.” 

And then you kiss him. 

For a couple of minutes it’s this easy, lazy making out that you love. Though, it’s like there’s a furnace turning up beneath you both, the intensity getting more feverish with every kiss. When Steve finally pulls back from you, panting, he looks as flustered as you feel. 

“Can I take these off?” 

His fingers are curled into the waistband of your pyjama pants. You nod before you can overthink it, letting him shimmy them down your thighs and settling yourself down on the comforter. Steve sits up a bit beside you, to tug them down your legs and off your ankles. 

Steve’s focus is on his hands but your gaze is stuck on his face— and you watch as he tosses your pants behind him carelessly. His eyes fix on your cunt, hidden away behind your lacy panties. 

“Woah,” he murmurs softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He leans down on his elbows, one arm on either side of your hips and pings the elastic on the cutest lingerie you own. “These are very pretty.” 

He sounds like he means it, his voice tinged with lust. It gives you a moment of confidence. 

“Yeah?” You ask. You slide your hands up, pushing your shirt up gingerly as you to reveal the matching bra to him.

Even from your distance, you can see how Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing way out. “You like them?” 

Steve let’s out a pained noise as his head flops over, his nose pressed into your hipbone. One of his hands reaches down between his legs, adjusting himself in his pants. 

He looks back up at you, hair a bit mussed, and pouts.

“That’s not fair! That’s so not fair. Did you plan this? Blindside me by wearing my body wash and then surprise me with matching lingerie?” 

The way he says it, all faux accusatory, makes you grin. He sits up long enough to tug his own shirt off, discarding it behind him, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. You catch a glint of the single chain he wears around his neck before he's kissing you.

“You—” Kiss. “look—” Kiss. “so—” Kiss. “fuckin’—” Kiss. “hot.” 

He pulls back, taking a moment to just gaze at you before he leans back further, scuttling down the sheets til he’s paused between above your legs. 

Something within you flares hotly at the memory of the last time he was in the position. You feel a warm pulse in your cunt, a trickle of slick coating your panties. Your hips shift an inch— half nerves, half anticipation.

Steve kisses you over your panties, like last time, the first chaste and on your clit. The next is a little lower, a little slower, his lips parting further and his tongue pressing languidly against your core. You squirm, breathing a little heavier. 

His hands grips gently at your hips, moving up to smooth over your thighs. He lets his fingers slip forward, the tips of them pressing lightly into your inner thighs. He pulls them further apart and ruins you a bit when he kisses sweet along the skin of your thigh. 

“I’m pretty sure we could just do this every time and I’d be happy,” Steve says, but it’s paired a chuckle fringed with nerves.

He looks up at you and you realise it is a bit of nervousness— like he’s worried you might find it embarrassing just how much he likes it. 

Your blood hums in response, warmer, all of it rushing down your body. You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you say, “Yeah?” 

Steve smiles, that flash of nervousness already gone or cleverly hidden. He gives your thighs a gentle squeeze with his large hands and rubs his cheek up against one of them. 

“Are you kidding me? I think I’d do anything you wanted just to hear those noises you made again.” 

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He’s always so startlingly honest and forward with his feelings but, somehow, it still manages takes you by surprise— that he’s not at all shy about how much he likes you. 

Scrambling for an appropriately sexy response, you come up blank and instead decide to press your thighs together. Between them, Steve’s cheeks squish forward, his lips forming an absurdly funny pout. 

“Hey!” He exclaims.

It comes out a little muffled with his face squidged up and the mixture of both his face and voice makes you laugh. You release him, legs falling apart, feeling the breath of his laugh again your skin. 

“Kidding, you can warm my ears anytime you want, honey,” He’s still grinning up at you when he says it. Part of you know he’s being completely serious. 

Your gut burns low. You resist the urge to squirm, feeling the heat chase down to your cunt. It’s hard to relax when he manages to make you feel so keyed up. 

“Stop getting distracted.” You jest. 

“You stop getting distracted,” He jibes back, but his focus drifts back down, his eyes darkening with a fiery lust. 

He rubs the skin of your thighs again, soothingly, and lets one hand creep forward til his knuckles are brushing up against the edge of your panties. His thumb presses forward, into the wet spot you’ve soaked through. 

Even so, he still asks, “How we doin’? Still feeling good?” 

You nod quickly, then think verbal confirmation is probably far better. “Yeah, still good.” 

Realising you’re staring up at the ceiling, hard, you flick your eyes down between your legs. Even if it doesn’t feel particularly sexy, you still have to say it. “Thank you for checking.” 

“Of course,” Steve says. He pinches the elastic of your panties lightly, his eyebrows raising in question. “Gonna take these off, yeah? Then you let me know if you don’t like anything I’m doing.” 

Despite your history, a huge part of you wants to say yeah, fat chance of that because yeah, you’re beginning to wonder if your boyfriend has some genuinely magical fingers. And a magical mouth. And wait, does that mean his co—

The thought gets ripped away as you feel your panties get tugged downwards and you quickly lift your hips to help. Though he’s seen you bare before, it’s impossible to stop the flush that rolls through your body, hot and tinged with embarrassment. You want to close your legs but Steve between them prevents that from happening. 

“Here,” Steve hums, reaching a hand up to scoop up your own from the bedsheets.

He gives it a quick kiss on the palm and then moves it up to land in his hair. “You let me know how m’doing, okay?” 

Your fingers curl into his brunette locks automatically and grip tightly when he leans in, his hot tongue dipping between your folds. Pleasure drips into your body as he begins to lick softly, his skilled tongue finding your bundle of nerves quickly and twisting around it. 

Heat builds. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it, soft pants escaping your lips as Steve kisses and suckles where you’re most sensitive, til there’s a moan lacing every breath. 

Fuck, he’s so good at this. How is he so good at this? 

One of his hands on your thighs starts to knead gently as the other one slides forward, til his thumb is rested at your slicked entrance. He hasn’t stopped sucking on your clit but your sudden sharp inhale catches his attention. 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively. 

“It’s fine,” Steve soothes, his thumb circling around your soaked hole, which clenches in response.

He kisses your thigh. Desire burns you up from within, your fingers twisting a little tighter in his hair, giving away your nerves. 

“We’re just figuring out what you like, yeah?” He muses, his words half comfort, half lust. 

You nod but don’t speak, trying to trust him enough to let his words calm you. Steve gives you a moment to breathe before he resumes the work with his mouth, his hot mouth suckling at your clit once again. 

He waits until you’re back to those quiet, shy lusty little noises before he tries again, prodding softly at your entrance in warning before he gently sinks his finger in. You gasp again, hands tightening in his hair — as something molten hot shoots right up your spine. 

“Steve,” you cry out his name. It feels... good, which feels like a fucking miracle in itself. He begins to fuck the finger in and out slowly, still lapping at your clit. A heat that you’ve only felt once before starts to nip at your skin, bleeding into each nerve. 

Your panting grows heavier and without meaning to, you clench down around him, desperate for a little more. 

“See, you like that one, huh?” Steve mumbles against you, his dark eyes flashing up to take in your face contorted in pleasure. His cock thickens unbearably in his pants, too confined. You nod, hair scrunching up against the pillow. 

“Yea—yes,” You say, feeling your hips rock down an inch. You want more of that. 

Steve obliges, more than willingly, adding another finger. It slides in with little resistance. It’s hotter than anything else to get to see you like this, pliant and horny, rocking your hips against his mouth. 

To get to make you like this— sucking on your cute little clit and fucking his fingers in, hearing the adorable squelch of your wetness. You’re so turned on it makes his brain melt a bit, the way you’re leaking all over his fingers. Steve’s cock throbs desperately— but he wants to make sure you’re stretched out enough to take him. If you want that, that is.

He eases one more finger in, keeping a careful watch on your face to see how you take it. You keen beautifully, back arching slightly as he curls his fingers and begins to stretch you out. 

You pant deliriously, these tiny whimpers beginning to slip out your throat. Steve wishes he could see your face, the cute scrunch of your brows as you moan— but happily settles for latching his lips back onto your cunt. 

Three fingers feel even better than two, you find, as you grip the sheets tightly— you’re throbbing but in this torturous way, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. There’s a hint of pain lingering at the back, but not enough to distract you from the pleasure. 

It takes you by surprise then, when the pleasure suddenly tapers off, your eyes creasing up open and head popping up. You realise Steve is slowly stopping, his slick fingers slipping out of you as he sits back up a bit. 

“Why’d you stop?” You say without thinking.

Flushing, you quickly follow it up. “Every— everything okay?” 

God, you sound wiped. Your chest is still heaving and your clit twitches, missing the stimulation of your boyfriend’s mouth. The air smells honeyed and perfumed with sex. 

“You tell me,” Steve murmurs sweetly, his lips grazing the inside of your knee in an almost kiss. “You said you wanted to do more. Is this enough more?” 

Your heart nearly bursts in the pure consideration. God, he’s so fucking nice to you. So unbothered to take things your pace, so attuned to making you feel good. You know that you could happily do this more for the rest of the night. 

But it’s not what you had in mind — and the longer you wait, the more you’re beginning to crave getting Steve to a similar state you’re in. Moaning, flushed in the face, his hands buried in your hair. 

“We can do more,” You say, your voice dropping back into that shy whisper. 

Steve watches you closely, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh dotingly. 

You clear your throat and speak a little louder. “I wanna do more.” 

“Yeah?” Steve says, his grin growing. He huffs and shakes his head a little, dropping your gaze. 

“I mean, believe me, even if we just—“ He gestures vaguely between your thighs. “— did this all night? Night well spent.” 

You know he means it, especially with his hungry gaze that dips back down, his tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

You press up onto one elbow and reach out one hand, hooking your finger over the one single chain he wears. There’s a ring looped on it, the one you gave him as a promise, and just the sight of it makes you glow inside. 

You tug the chain forward lightly and him with it, Steve shifting up the bed til you’re nearly face to face, his frame hovering above you. The beds dips beneath his hands as they crawl up to either side of your waist, his intense eyes locking onto your face. He might be holding his breath. 

Swallowing, you move up and press your lips to his in a slow, soft kiss. It turns deeper, hotter, heavier. You swipe your tongue into his mouth and Steve lets out a pitiful noise in response, pressing his mouth against yours desperately. 

Drawing back with a little gasp, you open your eyes and repeat your earlier sentiment, “I want to do more.” 

Steve watches you, his exhale shaking slightly. You dot a kiss on his cheek quick, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“I want to do more with you.” 

A kiss on his other cheek, just as fast. Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch.

“I want to do more, right now.” 

Steve smiles splits into a grin, his eyes shining as he chuckles, the sound doused in fondness. “Okay, okay, I got the message,” He murmurs. 

Pushing back to sit on his heels, he turns and rummages around in his bedside table for a moment. You lay back on the pillows and try catch your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s stolen once more. 

When Steve pulls back, there’s a row of condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. He tears off one of the condoms and throws the rest of them behind him without thought.

You can’t help but tilt your head up, neck straining a bit, not wanting to look away for a moment as Steve raises onto his knees and pushes his boxers down. His cock kicks up, released from its confines with a soft slap against his happy trail. 

Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

And look, you’ve seen a dick before, okay? It’s pretty hard to sleep with someone and not see one, unless you have your eyes closed the entire time. 

But Steve’s cock is… pretty. 

Pink and aching, the head of it slick with a bit of pre-cum— that you realise he’s gotten from being worked up whilst eating you out. You gush a little at the dizzying thought. 

You want to touch it — or put it in your mouth so you can drool over it, can suck on it, can feel the heady weight of it on your tongue. Or, as you realise what the ache of your cunt means, you really, really want him to fuck you with it. 

Instinct drives your thighs apart, beckoning him between them. Steve’s eyes darken as he notes the motion, moving a bit more hastily to tear the condom packet open. He rolls it down his length, quick and precise. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, reaching out for the lube and drizzling a generous amount into his palm. He keeps the bottle within reach as he slicks it over his heavy cock, a beautiful groan pushing out his throat as he does. 

“Okay,” He says again, a little breathier than before. Shuffling forward, Steve lines himself up with your core gently before halting. His eyes dart up to your face.

“You let me know if there’s anything you don’t like or you wanna stop.” 

You nod, his ardent care only serving to fuel your lust. You’ll coo over it in the afterglow— right now you want to be around him, want to feel him pulsing inside you, want to feel full where you’re suddenly feeling so, so empty. 

Steve shifts forward, beginning to sink into you with a low groan of pleasure. 

The first few seconds are bliss — Steve’s done his job well at warming you up and something hungry awakens with a burst of pleasure as you take the first few inches.

Then, something a little more uncomfortable joins the mix. 

You try not to squirm, disappointment inflating as your pleasure is robbed by the twinges of pain. It’s not unbearable but you’re enjoying yourself less. Steve moves in another inch and then discomfort abruptly becomes pain.

You inhale sharply, teeth gritted together, and Steve stops moving in an instant. 

“Woah, y’okay?” 

You nod, even as your eyes slip shut. Half of this is a mental game, you know that—you’ll never loosen up if you don’t try to relax. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, voice a bit tight. “Just— just gimme a minute.” 

Steve murmurs a quiet sure but after a moment he says, “Wait, lemme—“ and moves forward so he’s hovering above you instead of sitting back, your faces much closer now. The jostling doesn’t help but having Steve closer does. 

He keeps his hips as still as he can and kisses your cheek. You don’t open your eyes just yet, willing yourself desperately to relax, to enjoy it. You take a deep breath.

“We can stop,” Steve whispers. 

You shake your head. Creasing your eyes open, you move your hands up so you can twine them around Steve’s neck in almost a hug. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek again, then steals a kiss from your lips. 

“I wanna—“ You gasp, frustration mounting at how the pain doesn’t seem to be subsiding. You sound miserable as you cling to him closer. “I want this to work.” 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” Steve responds, his arm shifting up so he can trace his thumb over your cheekbone. 

The movement moves his hips forward another inch, pain spiking so severely that you wince aloud, your face pinched in discomfort. That’s all it takes for Steve to shift back, easing out of you gently. You’re devastated at the relief that follows. 

“Okay, I’m not doing that if it hurts you—“ 

“It wasn’t,” You lie fruitlessly. You know Steve heard your wince—but maybe if you lie, you can trick your body. 

Hands coming up to cover your face, you scrunch your eyes up, annoyed at how they sting with tears so quickly. Your voice is all wobbly when you say, “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, I really want this to work, Steve.” 

Steve aches at your words, moving in to tug at your hands. His voice is soft, sweet.

“Hey, hey, I know that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t let him in, hands still shielding your face. He kisses your knuckles instead, his thumbs swiping up and down your wrists comfortingly. 

He waits a moment before he continues, voice buttery soft, “I know you want this. It’s not your fault if your body only likes it some ways and not others. You can’t control that and I know that.”  

You take one deep breath and it shudders as you inhale, sounding far too teary for Steve’s liking. He tugs at your wrists again, relieved when you let him pull them away tentatively. You aren’t crying but you look damn near close. 

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Steve coos, nuzzling in close, his nose brushing against yours.

He releases your wrists to cup your face, tender and soft, his brows knit together in his concern. “You know I don’t mind- I told you that I don’t care what we do, just that you’re enjoying it.” 

You take another shaky inhale, a little more stable than the last. Steve can feel how you move to press back against him, nuzzling him back. You take another moment before you reply. 

“I just-“ You start, voice still tight. “It’s so stupid. I wanted it— I wanted to enjoy it. And that doesn’t even seem to matter to my body. It doesn’t even change how it feels and that sucks. Like I can’t control this part of me.” 

Steve listens dutifully, waiting til you finish and your eyes find him.

“Well,” He starts, averting his eyes somewhat sheepishly. “Take everything I say with a grain of salt, okay? But… your body doesn’t hurt just to mess with you, right?” 

He waits a moment for your tentative nod. “Right. So, it’s not for nothing. It’s trying to tell you something and- and ignoring that isn’t having control. You have to listen and work with your body — it’s your partner in all this.” 

“I thought you were my partner,” you whisper, the small smile on your lips giving away your joke. Steve faux rolls his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I’m your other partner.” He smiles. Then sighs, casting his gaze above your head for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Am I making any sense?” 

Wiggling one hand up, you place it on his cheek tenderly and begin to whisper. “You’re making a lot of sense actually.” 

Steve sighs, leaning his face into the palm of your hand with a huff. “Well, that’s a relief.” 

For a minute, there’s only quiet. Your emotions come down from their swell and you take the time to admire the beautiful boy above you, who seems to be doing just the same to you. 

After a moment of time, you clear your throat and say, “Can we try again?” 

Steve seems to think on it for a moment before he nods, turning to kiss your palm. 

“This is gonna make me sound like a total guy,” He says, words muffled against your hand. His brown eyes flash up to yours, darting between them. “But maybe we should try from the back. Like, different angle and all.” 

You snort, unable to hold it in because it does sound like such a guy thing to say. Even so, you give a little nod, eager to try something else. You don’t even want to acknowledge the mounting dread around disappointing Steve — even with all his assurances, you can’t help but feel as though this has been one gigantic let down. 

As Steve shifts back, you become suddenly aware of the lubed up slick spot on your thigh where Steve's cock was resting and scrunch your nose with a laugh. Peering down, you drag a finger through the wetness left on it.��

“Ew,” you laugh. 

“Ew?” Steve echoes incredulously. “Alright, that’s it.” His sits up and back, his hands darting down lightning fast, manoeuvring you all of sudden. He hooks his hands under your hips and lifts, twisting so you’re suddenly splayed on your front. 

You’re giggling all the while, drunk on the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands as they trail up your sides. The hair of his tanned scrapes against your back as he leans in, mouthing along your shoulder towards your neck. 

You find your knees and prop yourself up on them, lifting your hips off the sheets of Steve’s bed. At the angle he’s draped himself over you, it’s a perfect line up of his cock with your cunt, the head of it teasing your entrance when you push back. 

You're relieved that your emotional moment hadn't killed the mood altogether. That same hot, pulsating want from before tears through you and Steve takes a stuttering breath, the slightest moan in his throat. You feel his forehead press against your shoulder blade, as though he’s trying to compose himself. 

“You-“ He says, the word catching in his throat. As if unable to help himself, his hips grind forward, pushing his aching cock between your slick folds. You make pitiful, keening noises in response, a thread of pleasure run through the two of you. 

“You ready?” Steve asks shakily. He relents some of his closeness to grab the lube, giving another generous drizzle into his palm to slather over himself. 

“Please,” you whisper, pushing yourself back an inch. 

This time when Steve pushes himself in, the bliss stretches out, lasting more than just the first couple seconds. You make a high, breathy sigh of a noise and your head drops forward. 

Steve pauses, his breathing on the ragged side, and checks in. “Still feeling okay?” 

You nod feverishly, a whine building up in your throat that threatens to escape if Steve doesn’t move. Or maybe if he does move. You can’t tell — can’t tell anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, hot and throbbing. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “Yeah, keeping going, please,” 

Steve grunts, complying in an instant, sinking his cock further in. Something inside you tightens up again— but it’s not nearly as noticeable as last time. Still, Steve recognises it and he slows for a moment. 

“I’m okay,” you assure breathily, face nearly pressed into the bed. You need him to keep moving. 

And he does; his cock sinks in another inch right as his hand creeps around your hip, searching for something blindly. You barely get one moment of confusion before his calloused fingers drag through the slick on your cunt and move up, pushing against your clit purposefully. 

You moan, loud and high. The friction of your clit is enough to make your thighs spread a little wider and your hips move back before you even realise what you’re doing, almost the rest of Steve’s cock sinking inside you. It feels good but something else pinches up inside you.

Steve moans, muffling the sound into your skin as he hides his face in your neck. 

You pant, suddenly dreading how you can feel the prick of pain on the fringes of your pleasure if Steve stretches you too far. "Don't- n-not too much," You warn gently, the words all breathy, still swathed in your pleasure. "I—uh— fuck, I don't think I can take it all."

You feel Steve's nod against the back of your neck, accompanied by a low hum in his throat.

“Y-yeah, okay,” He stammers. His hips roll forward and he follows your word, not quite pushing all the way in. "F-Fuck."

His breath is hot on your neck and the sudden urge for his kiss is nearly overwhelming. Even not facing him, the way Steve drapes himself around you, gentle even with how he grinds his hips into yours, feels intimate. Your cunt gives a soft squelch. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, stilling completely — the feeling of you wrapped around him is enough to nearly push him to the edge. He screws his eyes closed and whimpers, trying to keep himself together. 

“Y’okay?” You whisper breathily after a couple of moments, forehead pressed into the sheets. Your hips move just a little bit, shifting in a little circle so his cock slides out an inch, his fingertips grazing across your clit again. 

“I—ngh-“ Another whine slips out from his throat at your movement and Steve’s hand slips back, gripping your hip tightly. “Jesus Christ. Y-Yeah I’m good, just trying not to— fuck- end this too quickly.” 

He moves a bit, readjusting him arms to hold weight up a little easier.

“But you’re really wet and, like, really warm,” He grunts, almost accusingly. “And I really like you, so,” 

You can’t help it — a little laugh titters out of you, one of pure delight because Steve is sincere about his feelings. The laugh only serves to make Steve groan louder. 

“Shit,” He gasps, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “You can’t laugh right now, it’s so not helping.” 

“Sorry,” you laugh again, a little more apologetic this time. 

Then, after a moment of gathered bravery, you say, “I don’t think I like this position. I can’t see your face.” 

Steve makes a pained noise from behind you, a breathy and sharp inhale, and suddenly his grip on your hip is twice as tight. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Please.” He grits out, voice sounding tight and barely restraining the moan in it. “I’m trying really hard here but you’re making this impossible.” 

Steve shifts on his elbow again, bicep bulging as he lowers himself to one side. His hips press into your backside, sinking himself further into your wet heat, as he settles his weight down onto the mattress. The springs make a noise in protest. 

You’re still closely intertwined, Steve pressed up against you, still throbbing within you, but now it’s more like… you’re spooning.

You settle down too, forcing out an exhale to let yourself melt back into Steve’s chest. 

He lets out a soft groan again but the new position means he can bury his face in your neck properly— and when you turn your head right, he seizes the chance for a kiss. 

He kisses sweet and slow to begin with, plush lips nipping at yours as if you’re not already in the throes of sex. Like he kisses you hello. His nose nudges against yours and he shimmies an arm beneath you on the bed. It curls itself around your stomach and Steve uses it to bring you even closer. 

“Is this better?” He whispers. He nudges his hips for a bit, giving a gentle thrust. Something warm flares at the pit of your belly, hungry for more. “Still okay?” 

You nod, a whimper escaping your throat as you steal another kiss from his lips. “Yes,” You whisper, lips scraping against his, hardly believing it. “Feels— feels good, baby,”

Steve finally gives in to his moan, a beautiful noise that sends heat rushing between your thighs. He begins to move more, building a gentle rhythm as he fucks into you, sensual and adoring all in one. 

Time drips away. You feel much warmer now, pressed up against Steve’s chest, with his kisses all around. One of his hands stays dutifully between your legs, pushing around your bundle of nerves and pulling weak, soft noises from you. The other, you cling to, your fingers twisted as best they can with his.

Pleasure wraps the pair of you up til a soft glow of sex and love settles over the both of you. Steve murmurs doting words, an endless stream of encouragement pouring from his mouth as he nibbles at the shell of your ear. 

Still feelin’ good? Yeah, you are. Just listen to you- sounding so pretty wrapped around my cock. 

Fuck, your pussy makes the cutest noises. So wet f’me, isn’t she? God, you drive me crazy. 

You’re taking me so well, yeah? Being so fuckin’ good f’me- letting me know how you feel. M’so lucky - fuckin’ love— love this with you.

You don’t even realise when every gasp out your mouth has turned into a moan, each breath building and mounting. Your chest heaves and Steve’s motions go from lazy to focused. His hips slow a little but his fingers over your clit speed up, dancing across the nerves perfectly. 

You clutch desperately at the arm he has wrapped around your waist, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your hole clenches wildly as you hurtle towards your orgasm— and go right over the edge without warning. 

You make this cute little gasping noise, high pitched and wrapped in a pretty sigh, and Steve doesn't think he's ever heard something so sensual, so pretty. His blood seems to thrum in response, pleasure turning the coil in his gut tighter and tighter.

Euphoria melts into your body and you sag into it with a drawn out soft moan, turning your face to search for Steve’s in an instant. One of your hands darts up, sloppily reaching for the back of his neck, suddenly starved of a kiss. 

You find his lips right as Steve finds his peak— his handsome face screwing up as he all but whines into your mouth. You capture it, some heavy, open mouthed kiss of desperation shared between you. 

Pleasure flows over you, hot and heavy, fuelled by the frantic grinds of Steve’s hips into yours as he whimpers into your mouth. Even though some part of you feels vulgar, another, louder, part of you feels like you've taken part in something sacred. Steve's fierce kiss certain feels akin to something holy.  

After a minute, the euphoria fades. You settle back into your body, feeling the scratch of the cotton sheets beneath you, the sweat of Steve’s chest on your back, the slightly discomfort in between your thighs. 

Steve can feel it, the moment you tense back up, some unwelcome twinge of pain in your gut. He’s shuffling back and pulling out before you even have to ask.

Without his chest to lean on, you roll backward naturally and flop onto your back, still panting lightly. Steve shifts up to hover above you. 

“You good?” He asks, that same breathlessness in his voice. He smiles handsomely, his hair a little limper than usual, flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. “You did great.” 

That almost makes you laugh, the sincere praise so like one might give a child, but Steve seals it with a kiss to your forehead. Your laugh turns into a sheepish but giddy grin. “I’m gonna take the condom off, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears from your line of sight for a minute or two and you can hear him rustling around in his room.

Without any distractions, you suddenly remember the film you’d put on in the beginning, still running at the end of the bed— the final credits are just starting to roll. The streetlights glow a little brighter in the evening dark through the curtains. 

You huff out a breath and your smile comes without even trying. In fact, if Steve hadn’t come back when he did, you’re sure you would’ve started giggle to yourself madly, cocooned in your own contentedness. That same awed, gleeful smile just like the first time round.

“You look like a dope, smiling like that, you know that?”

Steve’s wearing a pair of boxers, green plaid, and he’s got a fresh, warm wash-cloth in his hands. 

"I didn't know that," You muse playfully.

“Hey,” He changes tone to less playful, kneeling on the bed. You notice the change of clothes in his other hand when he throws them onto the duvet beside him. “M’just gonna clean you up a bit, that okay?” 

You’re sure there’s a pinch of embarrassment in you somewhere but, still blissed from your orgasm, you can’t manage to find it. Steve is quick and precise, the warm cloth wiping up any excess sticky fluids. He kisses the inside of your knee when he’s done. 

“All done,” He murmurs, climbing back off the bed in the direction of the bathroom, switching off the television as he does. He gestures to the clothes at the foot of the bed as he walks. “Y’can wear these if you want.” 

Finally feeling less flattened, you shift up to lean on your elbows. He’s grabbed you a pair of his boxers, the matching blue pair to his green, and one of his old Hawkins swim-team shirts. You slip into both quickly, your heart going a bit fuzzy with how soft the shirt is. 

Then you crawl beneath the covers, blood still rushing far faster than usual and a satisfied tiredness beginning to sink into your body. You can't help but thinking it all over — Steve's mouth between your legs, the feel of him sinking into you, the ecstasy of falling apart in his arms.

Part of you hadn't wanted to acknowledge that, well, it fucking worked this time and you enjoyed it. A niggly fear about jinxing it. Like if you pointed it out, it would incite the likelihood of your body turning on you once more. Robbing you of pleasure and experience in equal measure.

But when Steve comes bounding back to the bed, dragging back the covers to join you beneath them, you speak first.

"So, that didn't suck." You say excitedly, biting back your grin as Steve settles down beside you.

Together, you share one pillow as he scooches in closer. His hands reach out, searching for you amongst the sheets. When he finds your hips, he uses them to drag you closer to him, a halfhearted cuddle.

He lets out a puff of air against the pillow, a light snort. "I mean, hopefully it didn't just not suck."

If you had more energy, you might give him a playful shove because you know he knows what you mean. He'd seen the whole display of nervous emotions attached to sex all the way leading up to it.

Instead, heart feeling awfully gooey in your chest, you seize the opportunity to press in closer to him. Your head tucks beneath his chin, your lips barely grazing his throat.

"It was really good." You whisper, lashes fluttering as your eyes fight to stay open. Steve's warm on a good day. He's hot as a furnace with all the blood that's pumping around still. Perfect for snuggling up with.

"Yeah?" He sounds delightfully pleased, but not the smug kind. He sounds happy that you enjoyed it.

Then he whispers, "Told you it wasn't you."

His big palm sweeps up your back soothingly.

He's right. You've never been so glad to be on the receiving end of an I told you so before. Not that Steve would say that (at least, not right now).

Cuddling in closer, you wriggle one hand out from beneath the covers, not bothering to pull back or open your eyes when you murmur, "Just had sex high-five?"

You can feel Steve's laugh as it rumbles through his throat. It's an inside joke now, it seems.

"Hell yeah." He wiggles one hand free and slaps it against yours, probably a little harder than necessary. You laugh too, the sound a mixture of joy and sleep.

And yeah, okay, you might get it now. The whole big fuss around sex that everyone seems to make—but maybe you don't entirely agree with them.

There was something more in the... trust. In knowing that Steve wouldn't have cared which way it happened, as long as you were both enjoying it. In the intimacy shared, even before you had ever slept together. In the waiting. In the wanting—for both yourself and for Steve.

There's some grandeur discovery you've uncovered, you're sure of it, about the mystery and craze around sex. You just keep losing the string of thoughts to your slumber which drifts ever closer.

Oh well. You can always put it all together in the morning when you're not so tempted by sleep and bundled up in the arms of a boy who you love. For now, you drift off, fulfilled and content.

tags below! (seven months later...)

@roanniom @madaboutjoe @huang-the-geek @pootcullen @superskittles

@hales-who-loves-to-reid @spear-bearing-bi-witch @daisiesandinvasives @season4steve @thelauraborealis

@mmmunson @everythinghasafacee @katethetank @sorry--for-the-mess @matterdontminduntildone

@blowing-mikey @astoryreader @mulletmcghee @sugarcoatedstarkey @pullhisteeth

(these are just the ppl in the tags that mentioned wanting to be tagged! if i know u follow me and are a regular, i didn't bother tagging u cos i know you'll see it hehehe <3)

[euphoriaslux]

hello!

hi everyone, so sorry i have been mia this month your girl had a wee bit of a depressive episode but you know what we're BACK! I'm going to get back to writing daily so i can feed you guys and stop focusing so much on perfection because ultimately i am writing smut about fictional characters who do not know who i am, why do i care so much!!

anywho, here's a little snippet of my part two for "two's a party" that will hopefully come out very soon :) this is mainly angst but there are three separate smut scenes in the whole fic because I'm sick in the mind. my vincent fic will also hopefully come out soon, i have had such trouble writing him for some reason so i think i need to rewatch aoaf and get an idea of his characterization again... ANYWAY enjoy this snippet and let me know if u guys have any requests :p

The sun has set, and you find yourself standing outside of the tennis courts. You passed by gaggles of students on their way to parties and bars, wearing tight clothes and big smiles with the scent of cheap liquor stuck them like a cloud. Hearing the sound of tennis balls clanging against the metal gate, you open the door to the courts ever so slightly, peering in to see Art grabbing neon green balls from a bucket before slamming them with his racket, making you cringe at the harsh smack it makes when it comes in contact with the wall. 

There’s no one else in the courts, likely because it’s nearly sunset on a Friday.  You try and close the door quietly behind you but it makes a loud sound as it goes back to its original position, and you shake your head slightly as Art turns around, meeting your eyes. He’s wearing a Stanford Tennis sweatshirt, with his blond locks peeking out from the black cap that’s backwards on his head. He stands, staring at you for a few moments before he puts his racket on the floor, walking towards you. Your heart starts thumping in your chest, so fast that you’re scared he’ll be able to hear it through your ribcage. 

“Hi,” you smile, hoping your nerves don’t show. You hug your arms as a particularly strong wind chill passes through, feeling the goosebumps start to form. 

“Hi,” he parrots you, slightly breathless. 

“You haven’t been to class lately, just wondering if you’re alive.”

“That’s a good excuse to stalk me,” he grins, and you feel your shoulders drop at the sight. 

“Good to see your confidence hasn’t taken a hit,” you say as he takes some tennis balls from the pocket of his sweatshirt and tosses them into the bucket before taking a few steps closer to you. 

“Nope,” he says, his mouth popping at the p. 

“I think that may be impossible.”

“What gave you such an impenetrable ego, Art?” you cock your head and he shrugs, smiling as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Don’t know, maybe being great at hitting a ball with a racket your whole life does something to your brain chemistry. The jury’s still out on if it’s a good thing,” 

You hum, stifling a laugh. The two of you stand quietly for a few moments before you talk.

“Last weekend, if I did something wrong-”

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Art cuts you off, sighing at the topic. “Patrick and I-”

“We got into a stupid fight. It doesn’t matter.”

You play with the skin around your nails. 

“That makes me feel like it was my fault.” You take a deep breath before talking again.

“What you and Patrick have, how you know each other. How you’ve grown together, and play together. I would feel awful if I played any part in messing that up.”

Art scoffs. “No need to be melodramatic, we’re not fucking dating or anything.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. 

“I saw he has a match this weekend…” you prompt, and Art nods.

“Are you gonna go?,” you ask gently. Art says nothing, and you decide not to press him. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go,” you adjust the strap of your backpack. 

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

Art looks you up and down before he takes off his hat and then brings his sweatshirt over his neck, tossing the sweatshirt into your chest as he puts his hat back on. 

“Don’t want you getting cold.”

“It’s fine, Art-”

“You’ll give it back to me next time.”

Feeling the fabric between your fingers, a grin crosses your face at his words.

"Alright, next time.''

Art watches as you walked out of the tennis courts, leaving him alone in the quiet noise of the sunset. He’s forced to remember that morning with Patrick.

 

It was a couple of minutes before seven, the sunlight just starting to creep through the blinds of the hotel window. You’d just shuffled out of the room a couple hours ago, your shoes in your hands and your shirt on backwards. Art was laid across the two twin beds that they pushed together, his hand on his stomach as he watched Patrick grab his shirt, pulling it on and buttoning the bottom three buttons. 

“Can’t find my pants,” Patrick muttered as he stopped his movement, his eyes scanning the room. Art snickered from his position on the bed. 

“They’re on the chair,” Patrick turned at Art’s voice, grinning as he walked across the room to find his jeans perched on the wooden chair. He could feel Art’s eyes on him as he tugged his pants above his thighs, zipping his jeans and leaving a sliver of his boxers visible. 

This continues for a while - Patrick haphazardly packing and stressing about his tennis game tomorrow as Art falls in and out of sleep, slightly jolting when Patrick closes a drawer particularly hard or trips over a piece of clothing on the floor. Art was almost asleep again when he heard Patrick’s voice, muffled by the bathroom door. 

“Can I use your razor?”

 Before he could think, Art yelled back “I have a new one in my backpack, just use that.”

Patrick’s movement stills for a moment before he pops his head out of the bathroom door, his hand raised with the razor and a slight furrow in his brows. 

“I can’t use yours?” he asks, and Art doesn’t like the guilt that the question causes him, and doesn’t know why the ask makes his mouth dry. 

“Just use the new one. You won’t get my hair on you.”

“No sweat,” Patrick moves to go back to the bathroom but is cut off by Art.

“Use the new one, Patrick.”

“Jesus Christ Art, I just need to use your damn razor,” Patrick’s smiling, but his voice is a little sharper, a twinge of hurt playing on his tongue. 

“Fine, use it. I don’t care,” Art sighs as he rises from the pillow to sit up, pinching the place between his eyes.”

“My dick was in your mouth last night, in case you forgot.”

Patrick rests against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, Art stares at Patrick for a few moments, feeling the skin on his face get warm. Of course he remembers last night, but hearing it out loud makes him feel a weird mix of rage and embarrassment. Art stands up and moves towards the dresser, grabs his clothes, and starts to put them on. 

“Dude, is it so insulting to think you wanted to fuck me?” Patrick says through a laugh, watching Art intently. 

Art pulls his arms through the sleeves of his sweater, staring at his brunette counterpart as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket. 

“Patrick. Don’t think I did anything last night that wasn’t just to fuck her, alright?” Art gives a tight-lipped smile as he grabs his keys. He tries to move towards the door but Patrick is faster, cutting him off as he blocks the door. 

“C’mon Art,” he playfully taps his chest. 

“It’s just me. You can be honest.”

The soft tone Patrick uses, the implications, the stuffiness of the room and the sight of Patrick’s slightly tousled hair infuriates Art. 

“What the fuck did you think was gonna happen today, Patrick? I mean, what, we were gonna walk out of here holding hands, drinking a milkshake with one straw or something?” Art chuckles dryly, seeing the change in Patrick’s face as he realizes what he’s saying. He knows he’s being mean, but he doesn’t know why. He’s too far gone, now. 

“I don’t want to be with someone like you, and I thought you knew that.”

Art’s words stick in the air as Patrick chews on his lower lip, slightly nodding. 

'“Good luck tomorrow,” Art pats Patrick’s shoulder as he pushes past him to open the door, but Patrick grabs his wrist right after the key clicks open. 

“You know, you have so much going on in your head,” Patrick points his finger into Art’s face, any humor in his voice long gone. 

“That you let it rule your whole life. Well, I’m done letting you infect me with it. I won’t let you turn me into a pathetic coward too.”

Art slams the hotel room door so hard that a couple from across the hallway creaks their door open, asking if Patrick is okay. He doesn’t answer.

[stergeon]

Sorry if this seems sudden, but what are your thoughts on a Young Edelgard befriending a Young Byleth who canonically doesn't have friends due to how people are afraid and creeped out by her behavior?

Yea, the tragedy is how Byleth has nobody their age to connect with as well as most not getting them to the point of dehumanization until Garreg Mach, but it's neat to think of.

ohhhh tbh i love this… in my mind, young edelgard is very precocious, but also extremely coddled (comes with being royalty) and kind of oblivious/condescending without meaning to be. “aren’t all tutors dreadful? hm? you don’t have lessons? what do you do all day? what?? you work??? is that allowed????”

like, well-meaning with a strong sense of justice, and genuinely curious about other people’s lives, but without a frame of reference for anything yet.

and young byleth, as you say, would have been intimidating to be around lol. an eerie and serious kid who probably learned how to kill a man not long after she learned to walk. i see her as being affable in the sense that she just kind of goes along with whatever situation she’s in, without any investment in it one way or another beyond doing what she’s told, but she would definitely be confused by other kids and struggle hard with social cues, etc. until she gets sufficiently good at reading people as to passably mask. it’s a very lonely and difficult way to live.

i could absolutely see edelgard running into this weird little girl and adopting her on the spot. “why don’t people play with you. what do you mean, you don’t know how to play. we’re going to play a game right now; so there.” edelgard is nothing if not driven and dedicated to the causes she believes in (and her massive savior/martyr complex doesn’t help lol—she’s already adopted one local weirdo by becoming besties with hubert). so i think if she set her mind to being byleth’s friend, she would make it happen. this kid is now her personal project. they WILL be friends.

and i reckon that friendship would do wonders for byleth. she had so little interaction with anyone her age in her youth, and having one real friend might make all the difference for her. edelgard could help ground her, and help her better understand the world they live in, and keep her in touch with her humanity—or, really, help her discover it in the first place. meanwhile, edelgard could learn a LOT from byleth, who’s spent her life unhoused* and pretty much living paycheck-to-paycheck with jeralt’s band of violent (and likely alcoholic, per jeralt and alois) mercs. byleth could lend her some perspective and further shape edelgard’s love for the people of fódlan, as well as her understanding of what kinds of societal changes are needed to make things better for everyone.

who knows, that connection might even lead sothis to emerge earlier…

the concern, of course, is jeralt, who (for debatably valid reasons) never wants to stay anywhere for too long, and probably would get super freaked out by the idea of his kid hanging around one of the heirs of the adrestian empire. whether they’d actually have enough time to become friends… idk.

but kids are funny when they set their minds to something. i’d like to think edelgard would decide, day one, that they’re friends, and friends help each other, so that’s what she’s going to do. i’d like to think that when edelgard found out byleth’s group would be leaving again soon, she’d use that big brain of hers and coax her father into hiring the mercenaries on for a long-term mission or as a standing battalion. adrestia’s been on the outs with the church for a good while already, so jeralt might feel comfortable enough to consider putting down roots, even if just for a little longer than usual.

that could REALLY change both byleth and edelgard’s lives. in my little daydream, byleth starts training to be a knight and a personal guard for edelgard, and basically spends as much time around her as hubert does. and maybe, when the insurrection happens edelgard is taken to fhirdiad, hubert stands a better chance of finding her with someone by his side who has spent her entire young life in the woods and on the roads, tracking enemies and avoiding pursuers. maybe they find her. maybe they help prevent some truly terrible things from happening.

what happens from there, idk; so many of edelgard’s views are informed by her experiences and it gets too complicated for my tiny brain to realistically figure out what would occur and who she’d be if it went down like that instead.

but byleth would be changed just by knowing edelgard. having someone in her young life who is invested in her, who sees beyond the fog of the day-to-day, who’s interested in what she wants, who embraces and celebrates her quirks and doesn’t shun her for them, who grants her stability and some agency in her own life… someone who sees her as a person, not just as a sword or set of hands… how could anyone not be changed by something like that?

* with the exception of Whatever The Fuck she was doing while jeralt was parading around in leonie’s village for however long. this is my least favorite plot hole in the game, namely because leonie acknowledges it. “huh. i don’t remember you being there, and you don’t, either. maybe you were with a relative”??? what relative, IS?? how many living relatives does byleth have that aren’t trying to turn her into a mommy-god??? why fake your kid’s death and disappear “for her safety,” just to ditch said kid somewhere with someone for months?????

WHERE WAS YOUR CHILD, JERALT??????

ok i’m done yelling lol. thank you for this ask, this was really fun to think about <3

[lesbianfakir]

Hiii sorry to come at you with this out of nowhere but, even though I don't share the same headcanon for them *specifically* it makes me happy to see that queerplatonic fakiru post pop up on my dash now and then. As an aroace person, even among other aces it feels like people are either against the term, or if they're nice about it, it's in a patronizing i-dont-understand-but-good-for-you-kiddo way so it's just really nice to come across people who Get It ❤️❤️❤️

omg hi I LOVE your art and I was so so excited to see you in my ask box. You've made literally one of my fav tutu art pieces ever and I think about it constantly

back on topic, aaaa ty!! I love fakiru a whole bunch and it's really fun to explore them in ways that aren't necessarily romantic. I like to call them my schrodingers couple where they're in love romantically and platonically simultaneously in my head and which one I'm running with largely depends on my mood on any given day. That said, I'm arospec myself so I tend to write them as what my self-indulgent relationship would look like and that's largely queerplatonic.

And god you're so right about how people treat queerplatonic relationships!! It's so rare to see queerplatonic headcanons, especially with a fandom darling like fakiru. I was actually really scared people would be weird about my aro duck posts but I'm super stoked to see the positive reception. There's a real need for good representation of queerplatonic relationships but as it is I feel they just get bowled over in favor of romance which is seen as a more "real" form of love/companionship

Anyways sorry for writing so much, I love talking about my queerplatonic fakiru headcanon and I got excited!!

[mygnolia]

LOVE ON A FRESH SLATE ༄ TEASER

༄ SYNOPSIS -› Sim Jaeyun might not have many critically acclaimed films in his IMBD, but if there’s something to change that, it’s his upcoming film, ‘diving in love,’ a fresh summer romance that’s caught the attention of everyone on the internet. The only problem is, no one believes the chemistry will be up to rom-com standards. Maybe he’ll save his career by fake dating his cold-hearted co-star, aka you, to sell it?

༄ PAIR -› actor!sim jaeyun x fem actress!reader

༄ GENRE -› fluff, banter, angst, comfort ༄ TROPES -› enemies to lovers, fake dating (i LOVE fake dating) ༄ WC -› estimated 15-20k idk lolz

༄ INCLUDES -› will be added!

༄ RELEASE DATE -› hopefully november or december!

༄ REN SAYS... me when summer also haha get it slate cuz they're actors but also it's e2l so misunderstandings heheheh am i funny (im not) | LIBRARY

join the taglist for this fic!

“You’re going to tell me you signed me up for the cult of Scientology, I assume,” You introduce yourself, shaking hands with the man next to Sunoo. 

Once again, there is just one empty seat before Jake Sim walks in, out of breath. “Jungwon, please don’t tell me–” He notices you after he barges in, taking in your poised manner as you wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. The words die on his tongue when he sees you and the same manager from last week's meeting. 

“Please don’t tell me what?” Jungwon asks, raising an eyebrow as Jake sinks into the only chair left. The latter shakes his head, not wanting to elaborate any further. 

Sunoo sits up, putting his hands together after he finishes the last sip of his drink. “Open up the files, ____.” He motions to the manila folder on the table, and with much confusion, you peel back the cover to find a neat stack of black and white articles. 

Jungwon, who you can only assume is Jake’s manager, gets Jake to lean in and read what’s on the pages. “This,” he starts, spreading out the rest of the articles, “is every article in the past week with a negative outlook on whether or not the film will be up to par with the standards of the 2000’s.”

You scoff, eyes trailing over an article with your face as the cover. “Really? People hate me that much?” Your dry humor really only resonates with Sunoo, who sends you a look before trying to organize the flurry of papers.

“I doubt they’ll keep going,” Jake tries, fidgeting with his ring. Maybe his second rich person problem was figuring out how to get the media to like him again if the movie turns into a failure and he has to scour for another source of income. 

“Unless I solve world hunger, I doubt the media will turn away from the wine scandal any time soon.” Jake considers dropping out and cutting his losses early with the way you comment on your impending future. 

Jake’s manager shakes his head, closing the manila folder and essentially blocking it out before coming up with the worst possible plan in existence. 

“You two can fake date. Then, no one will question your chemistry, because they’ll think you’re in love.” 

There were only so many things you refused to do in your lifetime, but fake dating your co-star made it to the top of your list in record time. 

You shook your head. “Absolutely not.” At least Jake could agree with one thing you said. 

The silence almost turns awkward before Sunoo speaks up in agreement, ignoring you. “I like it, it’ll give them a chance to pretend to bond more. Plus, they’re both young and attractive, and Jake is a change of pace from all of her shitty ex-boyfriends.” If Jake still wanted to jump off a building after hearing their proposition, you’d unknowingly want to join him. 

You cough in your arm, hiding the embarrassment of his last comment before nodding to look at the actor. “You think just because I’m dating someone, it’ll make the movie more watchable?” 

Sunoo rolls his eyes. “I’d much rather watch a rom-com if it was confirmed that the actors found love on set. It’s a good story.” 

Jungwon interjects. “Good publicity.” 

The actor beside you finally speaks up. “And you want to start this arrangement…when?” 

“As soon as possible,” your manager answers, and his response might be some of the worst news you’ve heard in a while. “Hear me out, ‘____ ____ and Jake Sim falling in love the moment they’re casted. It’s fate. They’ve been in love since the beginning. I have to see it, their chemistry will be so good.’ ”

Before you nor Jake are able to come up with a rebuttal, Jungwon adds, “I know both of you can act, and even despite this fake relationship, the movie will be good. But if you can get away from the negative thoughts surrounding the film’s pre-release, it’ll generate so much more hype around it.” 

“Better for your conscience, ____. You don’t need angry Sunghoon fans sending you anymore death threats.” If Sunoo kept airing out your problems like that, you’d drag him out by the ear without any fake boyfriend in tow.

You really think about it, questioning if one PR stunt could get you out of the nepo baby ditch you’ve been trying to fight for years; it wasn’t even that you were bad at your job, your mother just never had anything nice to say to anyone. If anything, she was Hollywood’s actual mean girl.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. 

Jake on the other hand has no idea what he’s getting out of this. How does fake-dating a girl he’s never liked help his reputation at all?

Maybe it’s because he couldn’t find an answer to it, or maybe Jake was comfortable enough asking something so brash in public. “What the hell do I get out of it?” 

You lean back in surprise, not used to hearing him so flustered by something. It was all your fault, Jake thinks as he once again pulls at his hair. 

The room is silent as everyone’s gears turn. Jake puts his hands on both sides of the armchair, about to get up and pretend this failure of a ruse ever existed. “If there’s nothing, I’m-”

“Wait,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed on something as you think. It’s good for you, and mainly you. Jake has a good reputation, people love natural chemistry and love a cute couple even more, and your name would be in summer-y titles for the next two months if your scheme worked out. But him? 

What could Jake Sim possibly want? 

“You want money? Connections? An interview with Justin Beiber?” You try, spewing what every boy would want when they were 13. 

Somehow, his head perks up when he hears his favorite celebrity’s name from your lips. 

“You could do that?” He asks, bewildered. 

“I thought you hated me for having a famous mom.” He stays silent. 

“Look, you’re up and coming. If this movie does well, I’ll send a letter to the top producers in the industry and tell them about how stunning of a performance you gave.” 

It’s a deal that’s extremely hard to pass on–hell, he’s literally getting paid to act in the movie anyways, so it’s not like he loses much if he says yes. But you’re snarky, and although you’re not outright rude, you never seem to be excited for anything, and Jake has no idea why the mood is so sour when he’s with you.

Whatever, it’s not like it’s real, anyways.  

Jake shrugs and pinches his nose bridge momentarily before sighing. “Where do I sign?” 

You thought that Jake had been oblivious to the whole thing as much as you were, but it seems like he knew about a hidden contract. Jungwon fishes out a crisp white sheet of paper from his bag. “You know me so well, and I didn’t even tell you anything,” and his response has you thinking that maybe the actor just knows his manager well. 

Suddenly, the next year of your love life is signed and tucked away into two identical copies for Jungwon and Sunoo, before the two shake hands and smile. “I’m excited for how things will go,” your manager comments before you two leave. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, you let out a long exhale, suddenly finding interest in your manicure. 

“You’re annoying, Sunoo. But I don’t doubt you.” 

The boy smiles and links arms with you, walking to the entrance of the studio building before you both catch wind of the paparazzi. 

A swarm of reporters and cameras catch your casual outfit and sunglasses when you emerge with your manager behind you. Questions bombard you, and you hear amongst the commotion a few reporters who are desperate for their next article to feature you. ‘Is it true that you’ve hated Sunghoon for years?’ ‘What do you have to say about your new film?’ ‘Do you have anything to say about Jake Sim?’ 

You pause momentarily on the way to your car, reconsidering if you should answer any question. “Me and Sunghoon have never had a disagreement, and I know he appreciated the Prada we sent him a few weeks ago.” Smiling at the memory, you choose to answer a few more questions before you have to go. “As for the new film? I’m fairly excited. Me and my boyfriend are more than ready to be filmed together." 

The gasps from the crowd leave you content as you slip into your car with Sunoo. “But don’t tell anyone I’m dating!” You yell out for good measure, knowing that by morning, everything will have changed.

also join my permanent taglist for more fics/teasers!

[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️

kaveh simp guy again. I see your requests are open! if it's not too much trouble, can I request a monster reader with nature explorer kaveh thing? he's been on my mind and I'm just HRRRNGHGHH I NEED HIM.

Author's Note: Hello again! I made the reader a plant-like monster, hopefully that's something a little different from my other monster fics haha 😅 — I do hope you enjoy this, Kaveh simp! 💚

Pairings: Kaveh x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, explorer!Kaveh, sub/bottom!Kaveh, soft noncon, praise, double penetration (reader has 2 dicks), vine tentacles, cumflation, aphrodisiacs, throatfucking

Sent out to the hottest, dampest, foggiest rainforest alone, our beloved explorer grumbles to himself as he cuts down another entanglement of thick vines that block his path.

He's sweaty, he's irked at his workplace for dumping this assignment onto his shoulders, and he can't see his own nose in front of him in this place! Kaveh only wishes for this trip to end soon. If only these stupid flowers didn't require such specific conditions to grow in. Why must it be so difficult to find them?!

Just as another complaint crosses his mind, Kaveh finds himself staring at a small patch of the exact flowers he'd been searching for! Bright yellow petals with flecks of purple and red, surrounded by thorny vines, and somewhat in the shade. Yep, these were it, alright!

Kaveh carefully reaches forward to pick one, but just as his fingertips brush against the stem, something wraps around his ankles, snaking up his body in an instant.

Thick, firm vines hold his limbs in place, and one even wraps itself around his throat loosely. Kaveh can no longer move. In a panic, he yells, “Hey! What is this?! Someone get me out!” though he knows he is all alone here.

Kaveh flinches as something makes contact with his hips, grabbing them, while something else pushes against his butt. A pair of lips kiss behind his ear, and begin to trail down a bit, sucking on the skin of his shoulder until it becomes reddish.

“Oh, my darling, you're exceptionally beautiful, aren't you?” A hypnotic voice chimes. The voice resonates in the back of the explorer's mind, sending a sensation through his body that makes him feel even warmer than before.

His breaths don't feel complete. He is breathing, but it doesn't feel quite right. There's not enough air filling his lungs, and his vision blurs as his panicking increases.

“Hmm… you smell nice too. Almost makes me want to eat you up~”

—

You waste no time finding a way inside of the explorer's body. Human clothing is annoying, but tears easily. One of your vines pushes right through the cloth covering the explorer's ass, plunging in without warning or prep, though the natural slime they secrete does help with the pain, at least a little.

The human's moans sound so pitiful — though they turn sluttier by the second, as every thrust deeper inside of his warm walls clearly brings him satisfaction.

Good human. You think to yourself, pressing closer to his body, your own arousal clearly poking his ass cheek.

Kaveh's sounds become muffled when another thick, green vine pushes past his lips. The girth of the vine pushes his head back and forth as it enters and exits his mouth, bringing many lovely noises as he tries not to choke on the thing.

Once again, without warning, the vine violating his hole slips out, and gets immediately replaced by something much, much thicker and wetter — one of your fat cocks impales Kaveh's ass selfishly, which causes him to squeeze his eyes shut until tears form.

More of his clothes are ripped in the process of you exploring the explorer's soft body. His skin is so beautiful glistening with sweat, and sensitive too. It seems like every time your fingers or small vines brush against his chest, he shivers and clenches around your cock.

Your cock throbs and stretches his poor ass so much, there's no way you won't leave him gaping once you're finished. In which case; why not continue filling him up?

If the human can handle one of your dicks, surely both of them won't hurt too much?

Pushing in a second, fat, bumpy cock proves to be just what the explorer needed to spill those tears. It's a sight so pitiful, it makes you want to swallow him whole and keep him forever. His tears — his pleasure — they should all belong to you.

“You're taking so much, beautiful. I'm impressed. Your body appears delicate, but you take my cocks with little resistance, no?” He's unable to answer, but the slight twitch of his own cock proves to be an answer all on its own.

For this, you decide to reward him; pushing the vine further down Kaveh's throat and picking up the speed of your thrusts. You hit so deep inside of him, Kaveh's unsure how to handle this much pleasure at once — and you're not even touching his dick, though it aches for some form of stimulation. Instead, you leave it to drool precum onto the ground, bobbing along with your pounding.

A warm, gelatinous fluid soon fills the explorer's little holes, filling him from both ends until his belly swells. The sweet taste lingers on his tongue as your vine exits his mouth.

A few more spurts cover Kaveh's body, dripping down his adorable butt and face. Your scent surrounds him now, and that only serves to further pull him into your grasp. Kaveh blinks a couple times, dazedly turning his head to face you.

You pull him against your chest, using a few stronger vines to lift him so that he no longer has to focus on standing upright. You allow him to rest, and he does. He drifts off in your arms — like a prince after a long journey.

[archaeren]

Hello!! I hope you're having a good day ^^ I came across your post about writing non-linearly on Notion and I'm excited to try it out because the advice resonated with me! Though, I'm really new to using the app and, if possible, need help with how to do this part: 'where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry.' ;v;

Hello! Thank you so much for messaging!!! Since that post about writing non-linearly (linked for context) blew up roughly ten thousand times as much as anything I've ever posted, I've been kind of meaning to make a followup post explaining more about how I use Notion for writing non-linearly, but, you know, ADHD, so I haven't done it yet. XD In the meantime, I'll post a couple screenshots of my current long fic with some explanations! I'd make this post shorter, but I'm unable to not be Chatty. XD (just ask my poor readers how long my author notes are...) (There is a phone app as well which syncs with the desktop/browser versions, but I work predominantly in the desktop app so that's what I'm gonna be showing)

(the table keeps going off the right side of the image but it's a bunch of unimportant stuff tbh) So this is more complicated than what you'll probably start with because I'm Normal and add a bunch of details that you might not need depending on what you're doing. For example, my fic switches POVs so I have a column for tracking that, and my fic follows a canon timeline so I have a column for dates so I can keep track of them, and I also made columns for things like if a scene had spoilers or certain content readers may want to avoid, which they can access in my spoiler and content guide for the fic. (As I said, I'm Normal.) I also do some complicated stuff using Status and estimated wordcount stuff to get an idea of how long I predict the content to be, but again, not necessary. Anyway, you don't need any of that. For the purposes of this explanation, we're just gonna look at the columns I have called Name, Order, and Status. (And one called Part, but we'll get into that later) Columns in Notion have different types, such as Text, Numbers, Select, Date, etc, so make sure to use the type that works best for the purpose of each column! For example, here I'm using Select for Character POVs, Number for Order and WC (wordcount), and Text for the In-Game Date. Okay let's get into it! Name is a column that comes in a Notion table by default, and you can't get rid of it (which drives me up the wall for some purposes but works totally fine for what we're doing here). As you can see on the scene I've labeled 'roll call', if you hover over a Name entry, a little button called 'Open' appears, which you click on to open the document that's inside the table. That's all default, you don't have to set anything up for it. Here's a screenshot of what it looks like when I click the one titled 'I will be anything for you' (I've scrolled down in the screenshot so you can see the text, but all the data fields also appear at the top of the page)

(This view is called 'side peek' meaning the document opens on one side and you can still see the table under it on the left, which is what mine defaults to. But you can set it to 'center peek' or 'full page' as well.) All my scenes have their own entry like this! Note that I've said scenes, not chapters. I decide the chapters later by combining the scenes in whatever combination feels right, which means I can often decide in advance where my chapter endings will be. This helps me consciously give most of my endings more impact than I was usually able to do when I tried to write linearly. So hopefully that gives you an idea of what I mean by writing inside the table and treating the table as a living outline. The 'Status' column is also pretty straightforward, and might require a little setup for whatever your needs are. This is another default column type Notion has which is similar to a Select but has a few more specialized features. This is how mine is set up:

(I don't actually use 'Done', idk why I left it there. Probably I should replace it with 'Posted' and use that instead of the checkmark on the far left? whatever, don't let anyone tell you I'm organized. XDD)

Pretty straightforward, it just lets me see easily what's complete and what still needs work. (You'll notice there's no status for editing, because like I mentioned in my other post, I don't ever sit down to consciously edit, I just let it happen as I reread) Obviously tailor this to your own needs! The Order column is sneakily important, because this is what makes it easy for me to keep the scenes organized. I set the Sort on the table to use the Order to keep the scene ordered chronologically. When I make the initial list of scenes I know the fic will have, I give all of them a whole number to put them in order of events. Then as I write and come up with new scene ideas, the new scenes get a number with a decimal point to put them in the spot they fit in the timeline. (you can't see it here, but some of them have a decimal three or four digits deep, lol). Technically you can drag them to the correct spot manually, but if you ever create another View in your table (you can see I have eight Views in this one, they're right under the title) it won't keep your sorting in the new View and you'll hate yourself when it jumbles all your scenes. XD (And if you get more comfortable with Notion, you probably will at some point desire to make more Views) The Part column isn't necessary, but I found that as the fic grew longer, I was naturally separating the scenes into different points along the timeline by changes in status quo, etc. (ex. "this is before they go overseas" "this is after they speak for the first time", stuff like that) in my mind. To make it easier to decide where to place new scenes in the timeline, I formalized this into Parts, which initially I named with short summaries of the current status quo, and later changed to actual titles because I decided it would be cool to actually use them in the fic itself. Since it's not in the screenshots above, here's what the dropdown for it looks like:

(I've blocked some of the titles out for spoiler reasons)

Basically I only mention the Parts thing because I found it was a useful organizational tool for me and I was naturally doing it in my head anyway. Anyway, I could keep talking about this for a really long time because I love Notion (don't get me started on how I use toggle blocks for hiding content I've edited out without deleting it) but that should be enough to get started and I should really, you know, not make this another insanely long post. XDD And if anybody is curious about how the final results look, the fic can be found here.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Shiny rocks

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Him & I - G-Eazy, Halsey

So I’ve recently found out that some male penguins like to find the smoothest rock they can find, because in their mind that’s the best rock there is, and give it to their female penguin so that they can build their nest and lay their eggs on it. I found that really cute and wanted to write something short about it so here you go. A longer fic is in progress!!

Rain x fem!ghoulette!reader

Synopsis: Rain spends days to find the perfect rock to impress one of the ghoulettes. But what he doesn't know is, that the certain ghoulette has a little something prepared in return.

Word count: 1.078

Ghost masterlist

The shy water ghoul has been pining after this earth ghoulette for weeks now. He has fallen head over heels for you. Like a puppy in love, he follows you around, doing whatever you ask of him, even if it's minor. He doesn't dare at all, he does it out of love for you. It's just the calming aura you surround yourself and others with and your love for nature, that made him fall for you. His fellow bandmates have noticed, and encourages him to tell you how he feels about you. He would have done so already, but he's determined to ask you properly. A proper water ghoul type of way.

For every elemental type, there's a different tradition to ask your mate out. For the earth type it's pretty straightforward, they will find the prettiest flowers they can find that remind them of their mate and make a bouquet for them out of those flowers.

Air ghouls will do various things, that can both involve the two or the one asking. Usually they will write a song and sing for the other, serenade the other in a way. Or if they have known each other for a longer time then sometimes they would choreograph a little dance and invite them to dance with them.

For the fire types, it might be a bit surprising. They would get a slice of a tree stump (don't ask them how, it's a fire ghoul thing) and engrave something in it that reminds them of themselves. The various rings on the slice of stump represent the number of years they want to spend time together. And maybe later on the line they will plant a tree together, the older the tree, the longer the couple lasts.

The quintessence and multi ghouls pick one of the four, usually with thing they resonate most with.

And last but not least, water ghouls. They are a bit more subtle than their fire counterpart. They like to find the smoothest rock from a riverbed or the ocean shore. If a water ghoul invests the time into finding the perfect rock for their mate, it means that they are truly in love and think that they want to spend eternity with the other, if they'll accept.

So then you have Rain, determined to find the smoothest, shiniest rock for his (hopefully) mate to be. And for the next couple of days he leaves and looks around rivers and oceans for the perfect rock. Luckily it's very fast and easy for water ghouls to move through water, they're practically flying through it. And it's a good thing that rivers and oceans are connected. For the first few days he’ll come back empty handed and dejected, close to giving up. Eventually, he does come back with a few rocks that he thinks might work as a gift, but in the end he would throw them out, determined that he can find better ones for you. After all, you only deserve the best of the best.

So he continues searching, and while he's taking a break he sees a glimmer rock beneath several other rough rocks. It's the perfect size, the perfect amount of shininess, it's the smoothest rock he has ever seen, and to make it even better, it has the slightest shade of blue in it. The color of the water ghouls. He eagerly takes it out of the water and gives it one more look over to check if it's actually perfect for you. Once he's satisfied and is sure that it's the rock for you, he heads home ready to ask you to be his mate.

***

You've been asking around, wondering where a certain water ghoul has vanished off to. All of them shrugged and told you that he’ll be back soon. They clearly know something that you don't. You patiently wait for him, wanting to spend some time with him. You've fallen quite a bit for Rain. So naturally as an earth ghoulette, you've prepared a little bouquet for him. You've taken the bouquet out of the vase in your room and hold it in your hands as you wait anxiously for Rain to come back in the commons room, hoping that he likes you back, even if it's in the slightest. You watch the door as other ghouls and ghoulettes walk by and give you smiles. Already knowing what Rain has in store for you.

Eventually, the door creaks open and in walks Rain, dripping a little water inside. He's cradling the rock in his hands, protecting it with the best of his abilities, not wanting anything to happen to the precious rock. As he meets your eyes, his smile drops, and his tail sags. “Are you waiting for someone?” He timidly asks you, not so sure of his rock anymore. You give him a slight smile, “yes, he's been disappearing a lot recently, and I've missed him, it made me realize my feelings for him.” His eyes water a bit as he casts his gaze towards the floor. His tail hanging limply now, absolutely dejected. Realizing what he's probably holding in his hands, you smile. Considering his reaction you figure he likes you in the same way you do. You stand up, and walk towards him, “that certain someone is a tall water ghoul. He's pretty shy, but he's really smart. He can be really protective of his loved ones, and loves to play music, specifically his bass.”

As if light bulbs are surrounding his head. He whips his head up, his tail rising and waving around in excitement. You laugh, “that certain water ghoul is you, Rain. This bouquet here is for you. I hope you like it, I tried my best.” You hand it out to him and he gingerly takes it from you. He lets out a little laugh, “I can't believe you beat me to it. Well, I might as well give this to you now.” He says as he opens up his palm to reveal this beautiful rock. “This rock is for you, I hope you treasure it as much as I treasure you.” You smile brightly up at him and nod. “I will for eternity, Rain. I love it.” He beams at you and pulls you in for a kiss. As you both pull away, he smiles again, “I'm really glad you're actually mine now, (Y/n). I love you, my droplet. You make me whole.”

[lycheesodas]

linnor-na-ennyn ('singer at the gates', or, peredhel's nightingale)

It seems so easy, watching her, like it should be as simple as wishing to make it so. Dior closes his eyes and envisions the shape he wishes to take- a nightingale like his mother, the first he ever became- and pushes at where he knows one shape should give way to another, pushes until he opens his eyes again and finds… nothing. He remains unchanged, static and stuck in place. On reunion, and finding you understand your father a little too well.

For @tolkienrsb!! Thank you to @thalion71 for choosing my art to write for! And thank you for being patient as I struggle with finishing this piece > <

This year I drew Elwing and Dior catching up in Valinor! They're actually my favorite father-daughter duo in the Silmarillion ; w ; I think the idea of them shouldering their predecessors' legacies and always feeling like they're falling short really resonates with me. Also spitting in the face of death and destruction. That's also really badass.

The full fic will be revealed on September 6th!! I hope you guys are as excited for it as I am, and hopefully it will also inspire more Elwing and Dior appreciation :D

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textless version under the cut:

[weeesi]

WEEESI READS

aka fic rec series where I scream "you need to read this!" into the void

Indefinite Lines by arwamachine

I know I'm late on this one and I can only apologise to myself for that really. Compelling casefic, cinematic writing, interesting narrative structure, the cutest Rosie incarnation this side of s4, and plenty - PLENTY - of angst and comfort. Incredible character voices, including one of the best Sherlocks I've ever read. Head the tags re: whump though, because hoo boy. @arwamachine is responsible for creating a term that I now think about once a day which I will refer to here as m*** s****** for fear of spoilers. Don't miss Bonus Lines, which is a collection of incredible deleted/bonus scenes that accompanies the fic.

2. Thankless (a 5 + 1) by Silvergirl

Do you love Lestrade? Do you love @totallysilvergirl? Lucky for you, I already knew your answer to both of those questions was OF COURSE YES, WHY DO YOU ASK. As it says on the tin, a 5 + 1 wherein we revisit key moments throughout the series where Lestrade helps Sherlock until, finally, it finally sinks in (hopefully before it's too late). Gorgeous, lush, emotionally resonant writing across the board. I adore Silver's Lestrade (and pretty much everything Silver writes, honestly, including the epic, fantastically written Drawn to Stars and the heartachy, beautifully written A Case of You) and I'm 100% positive you will too.

3. Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords

I love a super unique fic idea and @discordantwords always seems to have an endless supply. How they do it, I would love to know. This fic. THIS FIC. I don't want to give any spoilers but the inherent premise is just sooooo clever. Precise and devastating writing, excellent plotting, with spot-on character details and dialogue (as usual). You should also read their heartbreaking (and heart-healing) s4 fix-it (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea after you give this one a go!

If you're interested in more fic recs, let me know!

[reddesires]

Mated Meadow. [Blue Eyes x Human!Reader] SMUT

Blue eyes x Human!Reader

Reference: This Imagine

Rating: NSFW (18+ MDNI!!)

Fandom: Planet Of The Apes

A/N: My Baby Blue Eyes! This is my first smut fic for Blue Eyes, so hopefully, you enjoy it as much as I did ❤️

You hand is linked with Blue Eyes as you trail behind him, anxiously watching the back of his head as he sneakily peeks past the hut your both hiding behind, he's looking for any other ape that could be on guard duty for the night, you looked around the borders of the colony praying that you wouldn't be caught up now when you were so close to getting away.

You and Blue Eyes have been sneaking off for quite a while now, the build-up of your attraction finally hitting its limit when you two found yourselves alone, the mutual feelings finally swimming to the surface.

Blue Eyes looks back at you with an almost boyish smile, the flickering of the scattered torches illuminating his azure eyes, the shadows of the flame dancing over his fur in a alluring call to you, the urge to lean forward to capture his lips in yours strong enough to compell you to do so, he chitters grabbing the back of your head kissing back with a gratified exhale.

You could just get lost in the feeling of him against you but he pulls back looking back into the communal area of the colony, confirming the two are indeed alone before he leads you in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the small scale cliffside that overlooked the expanse of the area.

You breathlessly laugh as he eagerly leads you away, the idea of the privacy that you can finally indulge in, no having to throw longing glances towards each other or lightly grazing against the other in a hungry attempt of having the close feeling tingling through your skin.

The atmosphere held a cold chill, the wind being blown in by the nearby waters, the trees gently swaying by the gusts. Despite it being dark out, the stars cast out enough light for you to make out your surroundings.

When Blue Eyes finally turns to you, the two of you are standing in a beautiful clearing, the plushness of the long grass beneath your feet and wild flowers encapturing almost every inch of the meadow, you could see the flickering of the lighting bugs fluttering around the area, their light capturing your wondrous attention to their significant beauty.

The movement of Blue Eyes' hands grab at your notice.

"I found this place..I wanted to bring you" you lightly giggle feeling the warmth arising from your cheeks, this very notion was very romantic and it only deepened your attraction to him, you lean into him crashing your lips into his, he only slightly tilts back in surprise before he eagerly responds to your kiss, his calloused hands grasping your waist taking on the burden of your body weight on his, entirely unphased by it, his focus on your lips on his.

When he pulls your waist into him, you instinctively wrap your legs around his narrow waist as he slowly lowers you into the soft grass below you, his right hand traveling the length of your stomach and between your breasts before grabbing your chin to look him in the eyes.

"I.. I want you to be.. my mate." His voice deeply resonates in your ears as he firmly grips your thighs in his hands."I belong to you.." he kisses along span on your neck, his teeth grazing down to your collarbones, his words cloud your mind, he's mesmerized your very being and your under the spell he's spoken into existence, your voice struggles to break through your breathless lungs.

"I love you, Blue Eyes." He only proves to completely rip you of the oxygen in your lungs as he perilously kisses you in response, his fingers dexterously removing you of your shorts, once it's removed his tongue traverses from your nape down to your navel, the scent of your arousal encasing him completely, his breathing ragged as he lightly feathers over your clit seeing the gleam of your pleasure coating your pussy.

He looks up at you, cerulean eyes overshadowed by the blackness of his pupil, an innate feeling overtaking him completely.

You jolt in surprise at the warmth of his tongue on your clit, your mouth falling open at the sensation, the moan ripping from your chest as your legs widen and your back arches in morbid pleasure. He emits a cavernous growl as you pull at the fur on top of his head, his middle and index fingers entering you abruptly in self-enticed pettiness, you yelp at the unexpected intrusion before biting down on your lip almost drawing blood from the force.

"Please Blue..I need you." Your whimper pulls him away from your pussy, your juices dripping down his chin as he heavily breathes in, his canines jutting out as he coyly grins at you at the implication behind your word.

He nips at your inner thigh before towering over you, the stars emitting their glow above him in such a perfectly picturesque manner that you are completely hypnotized by how beautiful he looks in this moment, he's utterly prefect.

"Beg."

And you do, you'll beg him high and low, until your voice is relinquished from you, until the moment he steals the very breath from your lungs you'll beg.

[medics-secret-shipfic-folder]

Take Back The Fortress Infographics - Pt. 1

Hey guys! I recently started a pretty big art project! As Take Back The Fortress nears 10,000 hits, I decided to create infographics detailing important concepts, objects, people, and organizations within the story! Hopefully, this will help readers navigate the unique inclusions within my fic!

Starting with the basic fundamentals, here are the infographics for the Resonance Arks, Limit Form, Sol In Umbra, and Shimmer! Alt text will be provided for clearer descriptions. Expect more to come!

🌟|My DA|My AO3|🌟

[pedrosarmsling]

Thirsty

Pairing: Married!Dave York x afab!reader

Summary: Being a part time, live in nanny sounded like an easy but still busy summer job. You just weren't expecting to ever interact so closely with the dad/husband of the family.

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read my first ever fic. Please be nice!!! I did intentionally leave this somewhat opened at the end on the off chance anyone might want more. I see this as a drabble but it could always turn into more! I am so excited to finally have the courage to put my thoughts to "paper" and share them with such an amazing fandom. I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: Infidelity (Dave & Carol are married), mentions of an unhappy marriage, power dynamics (employer x employee), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, fingering, Daddy kink, light choking, Dave deserves his own warning, reader mentions they shouldn't be doing what they are doing but Dave doesn't acknowledge it (dubcon?) Please let me know if I missed anything!

*Also - I reread this multiple times, so hopefully there are minimal to no spelling/grammar errors*

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This wasn’t what you had expected to happen when you took the babysitting gig.

You had been babysitting for the Yorks for about…a month? Whenever summer started for the girls. You had only ever interacted with Carol and the girls to start to start off. You knew there was a dad/husband in the dynamic but according to Carol, his job had him away a lot. So your chances of ever running into him would be slim.

The very first interaction you had with him was brief.

Very awkward. But thankfully, brief.

You were staying for a couple of days while Carol was out of town and Mr. York was supposed to be out on a job. So when you woke up in the middle of the night and headed down to the kitchen in just a t-shirt and your underwear to get some water, the last thing you expected was to see Mr. York in his office just off to the side of the kitchen. 

That made for an awkward interaction during morning coffee before the girls woke up.

The past month or so had been full of small exchanges everytime he was home and you were there working. You didn’t mind though. In fact, you enjoyed the interactions no matter how short they were, mainly because you had developed a small crush on Mr. York. Obviously nothing would come of it. He was older…and married. Unhappily married from the way Carole spoke and how he and Carol interacted but still. He probably saw you as a kid considering you were fresh out of your 3rd year of college.

Yet here you are. At 12:14 AM on a Friday night, pinned between him and the kitchen counter with his hand in your sleep shorts as he rubs that sensitive bundle of nerves through your panties. 

You just wanted to get some fresh water in your water bottle. 

“Mr. York..” Your voice faltered slightly as you tried to be sensible and stop the situation before it went any further. 

“Daddy.” The baritone of his voice resonated in your ears as his lips explored your neck. 

His response left you confused, although part of that could have been how flustered he had you before that. 

“What do you mean?” You struggled to fight any noise back that tried to leave your body that wasn’t speaking.

“I mean..” He pulled away from your neck to allow his dark eyes to lock with yours. “..when we’re in a normal setting. Surrounded by my wife or my daughters, you call me Mr. York.” You felt his free hand gently grip your neck as the middle and index fingers on his busy hand slid past the elastic waistband of your panties and started to tease your wet slit, pressing against the entrance of your eager cunt before they slowly slipped in. Just as you started to let out a moan, his large hand gripped tight on your neck, cutting off whatever noise you were about to produce. 

“But when we have these moments like this where it’s just you and me. Where I have you soaked, panting, and trembling like a pathetic bitch in heat, you call me Daddy. Do you understand?” He used the grip he had on your neck to make you look at him before you nodded in response.

“Yes, Daddy.” You sounded ridiculous. Your voice was raspy as you tried your best to speak with the lack of airflow. And that seemed to please him as a maniacal smirk spread across his lips. Those lips that you so desperately wanted to taste.

“Good girl.” He praised before releasing his grip and channeling his energy into the force behind the rhythm he was fingering you with. “Keep the obedience up and make sure you don’t make a fucking sound.” He used his freehand to reach down and push your shorts down until they fell and pooled around your ankles before he boosted you up onto the counter. A low groan released from his lips as he spread your legs and saw your glistening cunt in the low night light. “Fuck that’s beautiful.���

“Mr. Y-...” You had to stop yourself and correct what you were saying. “Daddy..someone could walk in.” You were breathless, trying to keep quiet as his fingers brought you closer and closer to the edge of release. All you were able to mentally register was how his thick fingers were spreading your tight hole more than you had ever felt before and the playful, satisfied smirk he was sporting from hearing your concern. 

“No one is going to walk in.” He said it so confidently that arguing with him didn’t even cross your mind. “I need you to cum for me, Princess.” His words made your cunt flutter around his digits, drawing a low growl from him before he started pumping them in and out of you at a quick pace. 

“Fuck…I’m so fucking close…” Your eyes moved from watching where his fingers disappeared into you up to his, your brow furrowed as you gave into your orgasm. You quickly brought your hand up, covering your own mouth to stifle your cries as you come on his fingers. 

Dave couldn’t help but watch you. 

Watch how you would physically respond to every push into your tight cunt. How you rolled your hips to work against his thick digits. How you were completely lost in your own ecstasy to care anymore if one of his daughters were to interrupt. Or Carol were to come home early…fuck if she saw. He had to catch her with her boss a few years back. Her catching him with you would be a bigger win in his opinion. 

You wanted, no, needed this just as much as he did. 

Your eyes slowly open, meeting with his as he still held your hip, keeping you lazily pinned to the counter, cheeks flushed a bright red, your chest rising and collapsing as you try your best to come down from the high. 

Jesus you were such a sight. 

The sound of one of the girls’ doors opening up stairs and hearing their sleepy voice calling out your name had you sobering up fast.

“I’ll be right there, sweetie!” You call out as you hop down from the counter. 

You shake your head as you look back up at Dave, clearing your throat as if that would aid you in composing yourself faster. 

“This uh…this wasn’t smart, Mr. York..” You weakly 'stood your ground' before dismissing yourself out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Dave’s eyes never left your body. 

He knows you’re right. This is stupid…but he also knows that he was just getting started with you.

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[rose-pearls]

part 2 to your last finnick request where the reader gets captured by the capital and then gets rescued with the other victims and they live happily ever after and finnick doesn’t die🙂

Hi! Thanks for the request for a part 2 of this fic. Hopefully you like it!

Day 50 in the Capitol.

The white walls of your cell were still the same, and the screaming surrounding you from Peeta and Johanna were still there. The three of you had been brought in after the arena collapsed and the rebels escaped, you hadn’t spoken with either of them since then.

The only memories you had of that day were of Finnick being lifted up into safety and questionings. When it wasn’t Johanna screaming it was Peeta, and when it wasn’t him, it was you. They had gone softer on you then the other two, at least you thought so based on their screams. 

“Get up.”, a peacekeeper tells you while coming in and you try to lift yourself up but the absence of water and food the last few days hit you all at once, making everything dizzy. 

“Move it.”, he tells you harshly and takes your arm to set you upright and taking you out of the room, ignoring your stumbling.

You go through hallways, until you arrive in a room with a vanity, a dresser and your old prep team who are looking frightened. 

“You have ten minutes.”, the peacekeeper orders them before leaving and closing the door.

They move in silence, for once the usual chattering doesn’t start as they work. It stays deadly silent for the next few minutes. A white dress gets taken out of the dresser and you turn to look at it. It’s perfect, made with the best materials they could find, and you try not to feel like throwing up at the sight of it.

“Let’s get you into it.”, someone tells you and after a bit of help you manage to put it on, trying to avoid looking at the mirrors in the rooms. 

The peacekeeper comes back, and you are brought into a large library, President Snow waiting for you.

“Please sit down.”, he tells you after a moment and you sit down on the couch in front of him.

“Mister Mellark is giving an interview right now, to show his support to the nation.”, Snow says slowly, and you nod at his words, feeling confused.

“Now you may be wondering why I called you here.”, this time again you nod, knowing your voice wouldn’t be able to work properly at the moment.

“I wanted to have a chat, just the two of us.”, the words are spoke carefully and you can’t help but feel a chill go through your body.

“Do you think I am an idiot?”, Snow asks, and you shake your head in disagreement at the words, knowing that this man is far smarter than everyone thinks.

“Good, then why did you think you could treat me like one?”, the question stays unanswered for a moment, the two of you looking at each other before you clear your throat.

“I’m not sure I understand what you are referring to sir.”, Snow has a cynical grin as he looks at you and you can’t help but feel uncomfortable. 

“The arena, the escape plan. Do I need to go on?”, he asks, his voice harsh as he speaks the words clearly.

“We did it to protect the people we love.”, you whisper after a moment and Snow looks at you before chuckling.

“The people you love, like Finnick Odair?” the wind gets knocked out of your lungs at the words and you look at him for a long moment. 

“Yes, I couldn’t let him die.”, you tell him, your voice more certain than it has been in a long time.

“Some would say that it is brave, to put your life on the line for a man like him.”, you can’t help but feel like the president isn’t done with his talk and after a moment he looks at you with a cynic smile.

“I’m of the opinion that it’s incredibly stupid. You put his life over yours and you were ready to die for him.”, he says, his voice resonating in the room and you feel breathless again.

“That’s love, sir.”, you tell him after a moment and Snow chuckles.

“I told this to Miss Everdeen earlier, but I think you need to hear this. It’s the thing we love the most that destroy us.”, he says, his tone menacing as he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“Things? Do you not mean people?”, you can’t help but ask, trying to find a weakness into his harsh words.

“I do not, people are just like things. You use them while they can still be of use and once, they aren’t you just throw them away.”, the words make you feel sick, but you try to hold it back.

“That is a harsh point of view.”, you can’t help but say and Snow chuckles once again.

“It’s the reality my dear, people use you for what benefits them and once it is done, they leave you in the dust. Take for example your mentor Beetee, he used you to protect Wiress and once that was done, he left you in an abandoned arena.”, the words hit home, just like Snow wanted them to and you look at him with wide eyes.

“He couldn’t do anything; they couldn’t have taken anyone. All of us knew the risks.”, you tell him and Snow nods at your words.

“And yet, here you are being taken captive and not yet one of your so-called friends or lover came to rescue you.”, his eyes are full of satisfaction at having found the pressure point to make you feel that pain. 

“They will save us, when time comes.”, you tell him, your voice slightly wavering but Snow smiles at you like he knows something you don’t.

“You have always been an optimist my dear, and in this case, it fails you.”, he tells you and as you try to find a retort to it, Snow clears his throat making a peacekeeper come in.

“It was good to have a chat, I do think it’s time for you to go back.”, he tells you, his eyes as cold as ice. The peacekeeper comes and takes you with him back to the cell, you don’t hear any screaming and wonder what they did to Johanna while you were gone for her to be silent. 

Snow’s words come back to you, and you try to restrain the tears, but they end up rolling down your cheeks as you look at the white walls surrounding you.

--

A gas enters your room, you think for a moment that this is it, Snow is killing you. As your eyes close you try to think of Finnick again and the last time you had seen him.

The sound of a beeping machine wakes you up, as your eyes flutter open you see a grey wall staring back at you, instead of the usual white one. The machine starts beeping louder, while you start to feel scared of where you ended up.

Doctors enter the room and try to calm you down and after a moment you get your heartrate under control, watching people running left and right in what you think to be the med bay.

“Look who woke up.”, a voice says next to you, and you turn around to see Johanna, her head looks shaven, and her usual smirk is subdued. 

“Jo.”, you are able to whisper, not knowing what to tell her.

“They came back.”, she tells you and you can’t help but sigh at her words, relief filling your veins.

“Peeta?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering where the boy was that had spent the better part of the torture next to you.

“Brought him into a separate room, apparently he got some sort of treatment.”, she seems confused as well and you tell yourself you would ask again later.

Before you can ask her how she is the door to the med bay gets thrown open and you see Katniss and Haymitch coming in, Finnick following behind them. He is looking in every direction he can before his eyes fall on you.

You don’t know what to do, as you look at him, taking him in after such a long time apart. His hair was still as golden as it had always been, just shorter and his blue green eyes were still as mesmerizing. He seemed to have frozen at the sight of you before Katniss’s exclamation of Johanna’s name made him wake up from his staring.

“Finnick?”, you can’t help but ask and Finnick’s wide, fearful eyes turned hopeful, filled with love. In a couple of strides, he his near you and you jump out of the bed, ignoring your body telling you to sit back on the bed.

His arms wrap themselves around you as soon as he can, and you can’t help but melt under his touch. The perfume he usually wears in the Capitol has disappeared and leaves place for only Finnick. The smell of the ocean still lingering on his skin even after being far away from it, it all just smelled like Finnick, like home.

“You’re really here.”, you feel him mumble on your skin and you can’t help but nod, feeling tears in your eyes. Finnick lets go of you for just a moment to look at you, cupping your cheeks as to make sure it’s really you.

“It’s not a dream, is it? Where I’m going to wake up and you won’t be there.”, his voice is hoarse, and his eyes are filled with tears, but they are full of love.

“It’s me, I’m right here.”, you tell him as you put your hands over his on your cheeks, holding them and rubbing your thumb over his hand. A sob leaves his lips, and he brings your forehead against his, holding you as close as he possibly can.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner.”, he whispers, his voice breaking over every word and you try to reassure him.

“It’s alright, I knew you would come eventually.”, you tell him and Finnick nods slowly, holding you tightly.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”, he says while smiling shakily at you.

“I’m completely fine with that, don’t think I can spend another minute without you.”, a teary laugh escapes his lips while he rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“I love you so much.”, he tells you and you kiss him longingly on the lips.

“I love you too, you have no idea.”, you tell him and Finnick smiles at you widely.

“I think I do.”, he whispers before bringing you into a passionate kiss, making sure that you know just how much he loves you. 

--

Going back to the Capitol is a choice Coin offers everyone, except for Peeta and Johanna but you can’t even think of going there, the memories of the torture coming back every time. Finnick tells you that it’s alright and that you can stay here but the thought of sending him away is also something you can’t imagine.

Peeta is looking at you with dull eyes, he seems tired from being here in this room that reminds you far too much from the one you had been in the Capitol.

“So, are you going?”, he asks you after a moment of quiet and you turn to look at him surprised.

“Jo told me that you were the only one of the three of us that could go.”, he says after seeing your confusion and you can’t help but smile at the fact that Johanna had been here to talk with Peeta.

“Not sure yet. The Capitol brings back dark memories and I don’t know if I would be able to confront them.”, you tell him after a moment of silence and Peeta seems to think your answer through.

“If there is one person that could do it, it is you. Sure, it will be hard but it’s also a way to close the chapter and make the story yours. Show them that they have messed with the wrong people.”, Peeta tells you, and for the first time you see him back to that younger boy that he had been, sure he had more maturity, but he seemed to go back to the Peeta you all knew.

“Show them what we’ve got.”, he whispers, and you feel for the first time a sense of pride coming back, wanting to prove to Snow that he shouldn’t have done all of this to the three of you. That he shouldn’t have done all of these horrible things to every single person.

“You’re right let’s show this son of a bitch who we are.”, Peeta smiles at your words and nods quickly.

“I’ll be watching you destroy him.”, he tells you, pride in his voice and you can’t help but feel slightly emotional at his words.

“We’ll be back. Don’t miss us too much.”, you tell him and Peeta snorts at your words.

“See you in the new world.”, you nod at his words before squeezing his hand and leaving the room to find Finnick outside of it, ready to support you.

“Let’s do this.” You tell him, determination setting in. Finnick smiles, pride in his eyes before bringing you into a loving kiss and taking your hand.

--

The mutts are horrible.

They look atrocious and are somehow able to survive several gunshots. Peeta has already managed to save you a couple of times and you have managed to put Finnick back into safety. 

“Let’s get out of here.”, you hear someone yell and you have never felt more grateful to leave a place behind.

The mutts are still trying to get to you and just as you kill one, Finnick manages to drown another one.

“Common, let’s go.”, he tells you and the two of you get onto the railing, Finnick lets you go first and as you get at the top of the railing you turn to see Finnick looking at you. But as you look a bit further you see mutts coming towards him.

“Finnick, run!”, you yell, and he looks quickly behind him before starting to go up the railing, you take a gun out of someone’s hand and as Finnick manages to get up the railing a mutt raises his paw to get him, but you shoot him dead. 

Katniss throws the pad into it to blow them to bits and you turn to a heaving Finnick, who is as white as a sheet. Peeta is whispering words to him while Finnick nods slowly.

“We need to go!”, someone says and the rest of you follow, running around but not before meeting some new obstacles where you lose a couple of people. 

You feel sick as you arrive in Tigris’s basement, everyone is covered in blood and Finnick still looks shaken.

“Hey, you are alright.”, you whisper to him, and he looks at you with wide, panicked eyes.

“I know, thank you.”, he whispers back, and you smile at him softly.

“No need to thank me. I’m glad you are alright.”, you whisper and Finnick smiles wider at your words before bringing you closer.

“We are getting closer to the end, aren’t we?”, he whispers, and you nod slowly, feeling drowsy and safe in his arms.

--

“Sam, slow down!”, you yell at your son, but the four-year-old seems to not have heard you or has decided that seeing his aunt was more important.

“Don’t worry, nothing can happen.”, Finnick says while laughing at you expression. His hand rubs your bump softly and you can’t help but sigh in relief at his touch.

“How is she?”, he asks after a moment, and you turn to look at him with a loving smile.

“Has a lot of energy, just like her father.”, Finnick smiles proudly before turning towards your son as he starts jumping up and down.

“I see the train!”, he yells and Finnick quickly runs behind him to take him into his arms, Sam giggles as his father starts tickling him and you can’t stop smiling at the sight of them.

The train arrives and you come next to the two of them just in time for the doors to open and Johanna to appear.

“Auntie Jo!”, Sam yells excitedly before running towards her, the woman that once told you that she despised children suddenly turns into mush at the sight of him.

“Well would you look at that, if it isn’t my favorite Odair!”, she tells him as she picks him up in her arms.

“Excuse you, I am right here.”, Finnick says while pouting but Johanna only rolls her eyes at his words, a smile on her face.

“It’s good to see you, Jo.”, you can’t help but say and Johanna smiles softly at you before bringing you into a side hug.

“You too.”, she tells you before hugging Finnick while having Sam in her arms.

“I suppose bread boy is here already.”, you can’t help but laugh at her words and nod, taking her bags while Sam tells her about everything he did with his uncle Peeta.

Peeta is still sitting on the beach, watching the ocean as you arrive, Sam being taken by Finnick inside while the two of you join him.

“If it isn’t my favorite bread boy.”, Johanna says teasingly as the two of you arrive and Peeta smiles widens at the sight of you two.

“It’s good to see you, Jo!”, he tells her before sitting back down, the two of you joining him. 

The war had done some damage, and the three of you had formed a bond that not one of your husbands and wives could understand. So, as you sit there the three of you, like you do every six months you can’t help but enjoy the quietness of the beach.

“Guys. I think my water just broke.”, after a few seconds of silence the two of them start to get into action helping you inside and screaming Finnick’s name while you can’t help but laugh. For once feeling safe and sound, as the most important people in your life surround you.

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

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“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

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