#i am having an outrageously good time calling them in the middle of the night to talk about weddings

[unopenablebox]

i like my parents SO much...

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Cold as ice

a/n I honestly hope you all will cry the way I cried writing this because now I genuinely need four to five business days to recover. Because never have I actually needed to take a minute to sob in the middle of writing.

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

warning: pain and suffering first and foremost, tissues ain't included. Blood, wounds, shooting, killing, multiple death, loosing your kids.

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Ellie had slipped out of the shower. She hated being separated from you and Joel. So the fact that you walked away from her, leaving her with Maria, didn't sit well with her whatsoever. You had hugged her tightly before leaving, promising to be back as soon as possible and that you three would eat dinner together as you always did.

She had gotten extremely close to you. Yet there was something in Joel's eyes when he watched you hug Ellie that told her that there was more than you two let her know. She was aware that you two had been together long before the outbreak; she assumed you were married from the bent ring that was on your finger. But besides that, she knew nothing. Well, that you could handle Joel's shit the best of anyone Ellie had met.

She had seen and heard Joel mumbling in his sleep. Watched you rub his back with a sad expression on your face. And the same went for you, just when your nightmare hit - they hit you hard. Ellie had been woken up by your screams in the middle of the night. Joel's calm voice tries to make you calm down. She had only once turned to look at all of this unfolding; most of the time she just pretended that she was fast asleep. "Don't let them, Joel", you cried, "Don't", "I'm so sorry", Joel would sway you from side to side. His own eyes glossed over with tears. "Should have let me die instead. I should have died," you choked out, clenching the shirt Joel was wearing. His face looked stone cold as you clawed at him, sobbing.

Ellie never brought those nights up. If she teased Joel for speaking in his sleep, she had never said anything about your nightmares out loud. After nights like that, she would shimmy closer to you. Making sure she would be holding onto your hand more often or just hugging you every moment she could. Ellie couldn't help the feeling inside her that told her that you needed her.

Ellie hurried down the stairs, zipping the pink jacket she despised solely because of its outrageously girly color. Maria had left the note that she was just across the street, and as much as Ellie enjoyed being alone. She needed to kill time before you two came back. Plus, being away from you made her rather uneasy. She knocked on the door a couple of times. Yet no one answered. After more failed attempts, Ellie just let herself in. "Maria," she called out, stepping into the hallway. The house looked nice and was well lived in. Ellie had never seen anything like it. Even the smell seemed homely. She stepped into the living room, where the fire was crackling in the fireplace. Her eyes fell onto the three names written down with white chalk, surrounded by candles. Kevin, Sarah, and Malakai. Ellie couldn't help but frown.

"Ah, good, here you are. Try it on," Maria said, making Ellie jump as she turned away from the bored and took the coat from her hands. "Well, it's super fucking purple," "Eggplant, fits well?", Maria questioned, and Ellie nodded her head. "Who's been cutting your hair?", Ellie gave the woman a crooked look. "Am… world-class salons," she sassed back, making Maria let out somewhat of a chuckle. "I'll go get my sizers," Ellie argued immediately, but Maria stood firm, "Just the ends I promised."

The sound itself made Ellie cringe as she held onto the side of the chair for dear life. She hated this. Hated getting her hair cut. "I saw you looking at the memorial Tommy made", Ellie swallowed hard once Maria spoke up once again. She hoped this wouldn't be brought up, but then again, she was snooping. "I'm sorry about your kids," Ellie choked out, thankful that she didn't have to look her in the eye. Maria's movements stopped. "It's okay and kid. Just Kevin. Sarah and Malakai were Joel's and Y/N's kids", and a cold shiver ran down Ellie's back. Kids. You two had kids and lost both of them. "I'm sorry, shouldn't have said anything", "It's okay, it… It explains Joel's behavior and why Y/N…", but her voice died down. Maria didn't need to know about your nightmares.

"Look, I won't ask you what you are doing with them, especially Joel…" "Good," Ellie bit back. "You need to understand my concerns", Maria walked right in front of her, but Ellie only glared her way, "Be concerned about your husband, who did the same shit, if not worse". Maria let out a surprised sigh, "You have one hell of a mouth," and Ellie quickly stood up, shrugging off the towel that was over her shoulders, "And you are one hell of a sister-in-law if all you can do is throw shit at Joel." The adrenaline rushed through Ellie the moment the words slipped past her lips. She didn't regret them, but at the same time, she knew she shouldn't have. It was, however, too late. So she quickly stormed out of the house.

Her breathing picked up as she ran. Quickly slamming the doors behind herself. "Ellie?", your voice rang through the place, and she almost sank to the floor with relief. Like a lost animal, she darted towards the kitchen, meeting you midway as you stepped out into the hallway. Throwing her arms around your torso as she pressed herself closer to you. You couldn't help but frown as your hands ran through her hair. Confused as to what had happened, "Love, you are worrying me. What's going on?" You tried to loosen Ellie's grip on you, but she just clenched your shirt tighter.

Ellie almost felt like she suddenly couldn't face you. She shouldn't have found out like that. So she quickly stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The worry inside you grew even more as you watched her. "Sweet girl, should I go get Joel?", you asked, but Ellie quickly shook her head, only now realizing that this involved him as much as it involved you. "Okay, well, you know you can tell me anything. I can't help if I don't know what happened," you said, softly reaching for Ellie's hand. Just this didn't feel like anything. This felt like the biggest thing ever.

"I'm sorry," Ellie rasped out, "I wasn't… I didn't want to… but they had a memorial," Ellie cried out, and suddenly it all started to make sense. You moved to wrap her up in your arms once again, "No one is blaming you; you were bound to find out eventually." You ran your hands through Ellie's hair once again. With a sigh, you clenched the necklace that hung over your chest. "You want to know the story of me and Joel?", you asked, making Ellie look up at you with mixed emotions. You nodded your head, "Well, let's make tea and sit down somewhere more comfortable." You knew that this was going to be one painful set of memories to unlock. But she deserved it. She was part of the family now.

And what a journey it had been. You met Joel in a supermarket. Where he was frantically looking for baby formula. The baby he was supporting with one hand screamed bloody murder. "Hello," you said cautiously, not wanting to startle him any further. His helpless, tired eyes snapped your way. You could tell that he most definitely hadn't slept in more than a couple of days. If not his eyes telling you that, then his overgrown and unkempt beard did. This male was a mess. "Do you mind if I", you pointed to the bundled-up baby, "You're in distress, and they feel it. Babies are sensitive to emotions", Joel's shoulders sagged; it looked like your words had finally defeated him.

"Just stand here. If you even think about doing something to hurt her…," you looked at him with a knowing smile. Trusting your blood and soul with a stranger was no joke. Especially being a newly baked parent. Plus, fathers were already way more protective. Especially of their girls. You pressed your hand to the heart, "I'll stand right here, just want to help". Joel nodded his head. Dropping down the box of formula he was holding as he moved towards you, lowering the bundle into your hands.

Even with her face all red and screaming her little lungs out, she was so pretty. You gently rocked her in your arms, "It's okay, gorgeous girl. Why are you crying, love bug?", you cooed at her. Fingers carefully ran down her cheek as you wiped away her big tears. "Shhh, sweet girl, you've got your daddy all worried. We don't want that, do we?" The cries slowly died down, and her big, still-damp eyes stared right at you.

Joel felt like someone had sent this as a cruel joke. His wife, the mother of his child, should be doing this, not some stranger in the middle of the supermarket. "Grab the mixture on the second shelf, more to your right", your voice made Joel snap his head in your direction once again. "I assumed you were looking for a formula. So that one should do her good. Won't upset her stomach if she's also breastfed", Joel clenched his jaw at your words. No, Sarah was not. Her mother had vanished. She didn't even know what a mother was or what it would feel like to have one.

You sensed the tension. Slowly stepping closer to the male, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Don't take this as an insult because I'm sure you are an amazing father. But do you want me to pop by and help out while you rest a little?" You had an odd feeling that the mother wasn't in the picture. That he was all alone. And the baby wasn't older than a month or a bit more. If this man was juggling that alone. Well, that must have been hard.

You hummed to yourself as you fixed up a light dinner from whatever you managed to find in Joel's fridge. Considering the empty cardboard boxes all over the place, it's been a hot minute since he had a proper meal himself. Once he drove you back to his, you quickly ushered him upstairs. Telling him to take a bath and catch some sleep. You knew that he would have fought you on it. If only he wasn't running on the last bits of energy. And you weren't snooping, but while you were cleaning up the kitchen, you found an open letter. A letter you assumed was from Joel's wife. She had left them two without anything, not even a proper explanation. You knew it wasn't your place to judge; motherhood was tough. Not all women were built to be mothers. You had written down instructions for Joel. How do fix a bottle. What different formulas do get, and how to switch them up if Sarah got an upset stomach per se. You wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. Even if you two had known each other for less than a day.

Joel stepped down the stairs hours later. Beard trimmed, eyes less puffy. He found you on the sofa reading a book to Sarah. One of her tiny fists was wrapped around your finger as your soft voice filled the room, "Why are you smiling? Am I that funny?", you cooed at her, making Sarah let out a happy grumble, "Ah, we even lost the pacifier with all the smiling, huh," you pinched her cheek carefully.

Joel was lost for words, to say the least. This was how he saw his family. This was what he hoped he would come down to with his wife. A sob that had held up for weeks, now finally escaped his lips, making you turn his way in an instant. You carefully set Sarah down before approaching him. Opening up your arms in case he needed a hug but keeping a distance in case this was overstepping his boundaries. Yet Joel did fall into your arms. He mumbled out all of his worries and questions that had been bothering him. He had no clue what he was doing. How nothing made sense to him now.

That night, and the many that followed, completely transformed you two. You had practically moved into the Millers' house. You lived not that far away, but the apartment was small, and since the job, you had only managed to cover the rent costs; you were barely getting by as it was. Joel needed someone to look after Sarah while he worked, so having you in the house solved that issue for him. But with each passing week and more, you three fell into somewhat of a routine, and you couldn't help but notice how right this all felt. You always wanted to be a young mom anyway. Sure, the baby wasn't yours, but that meant nothing to you. You cherished Sarah as if she was your blood and flesh. Joel loved that Sarah would grow up having you in her life. A true mother figure and did not doubt that as soon as his daughter learned how to talk, she would without a doubt refer to you as a mother.

Now, almost 12 years later, you still found yourself smiling every time you thought back at the time you and Joel came together, clawing through the struggles as one. "Morning", Sarah ran down the stairs, quickly coming to kiss your cheek as she moved to grab plates for everyone. "Morning, darling, is your father awake?", "Banged on the door loudly, but he's getting old wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear", you let out a chuckle at her words. She often teased Joel about getting old. Especially now that his first gray hair had sprouted.

"Is Momo up?", Sarah asked, missing the sight of her brother in the kitchen. You turned to the living room, "Tommy is watching cartoons with him." Malakai was a surprise baby, to say the least. You and Joel weren't trying to get pregnant, but at the same time, you weren't always all that safe when it came to sex. When you feel pregnant, you generally couldn't help but have the fear of Joel walking out on you. Yes, you two had gotten engaged not that long ago, but the conversation of having kids together was never a thing.

Yet Joel didn't do anything but cry once you told him. He wrapped you up in his arms as you two swayed in the kitchen at two in the morning, where you had waited for him to return from his shift. "Tell me again; I still can't believe it," he muttered into your ear for what felt like a thousand times, "I am pregnant with your baby." Joel shook his head still, "Baby Miller..", he let out a breathy laugh. Hands coming to hold his head. With you? A baby with you? The most amazing woman on this earth. He surely didn't deserve it, but he was more than grateful for it.

"I know we might get tight on money. I do want to work till I get too big..", you blurred out, letting your biggest worries out. Joel quickly cupped your face, "Don't you worry your cute head about that. I will take more shifts, and we will be fine", yet you still frowned at him. You didn't want him to work any more than he already did. It felt wrong to let him carry the income burden on his own. "I can still work", "I will only agree to that if you are feeling one thousand percent sure that you can do that. I would much more prefer you stayed at home." You did figure it all out, as you always did. Sarah was over the moon to get a sibling, and now more than ever, this felt like a family.

Joel hurried down the stairs just as Sarah came back with Malakai in her arms. Your husband quickly leaned in to kiss you as he grabbed a cup of coffee. "Birth-a", Malakai clapped. Sarah leaned in to whisper something into his ear once again. "Daddy Old," he said happily, making you let out a laugh, especially when that proud smirk painted Sarah's face. Joel shook his head, "I'll send Cooky Monster after you two. Come here and hug me, you crazy bunch." Watching your kids wrapped up in Joel's strong arms always made you feel some type of way. He was the best father a child could ask for.

"No pancakes?", Sarah grumbled as she looked at the scrambled eggs in front of her, "Frown at your father, he forgot to buy it". It was a tradition to have pancakes on birthday mornings. One that all four of you took very seriously. But with the job load only getting bigger, you couldn't blame Joel for forgetting to get it. "Will we at least get the cake?", "I'll buy one on my way home, I promise," Joel said, scuffing down the egg. Sleeping in meant more rushing, especially when he still needed to drop Sarah off at school.

"Good cause it would be a shit birthday if we didn't at least get that", she said in frustration, "Language young lady", you nudged her shoulder. "Your shirt is insane out, handsome", you pointed your fork Joel's way as he dropped the empty plate in the sink. "No, it is not," he argued, looking down, "Dad, you are seriously getting old," Joel grumbled while taking off his shirt. You moved to feed Malikai, trying to hide your smile.

"You and I, tonight after the kids are asleep. I have special plans with you", Joel cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you a couple of times. "Gross!", Sarah shouted from the hallway, making you two laugh. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Miller", you packed his lips one more time. God, was letting go of this man hard. "I know what I am still capable of," Joel teased back, making you raise your eyebrows, " I'll be the judge of that tonight, sir."

You three had already eaten dinner. Malakai had been sleeping on your chest for quite some time. Sarah dozed off slightly as you waited for Joel to come home. He was late. That, of course, upset Sarah. You wished it was different. That she would see more of him. You hoped that now that you had landed a pretty good job deal, you could balance it out. That Joel could be home more often, and the kids wouldn't have to miss him that much.

The sound of the keys jingling made you stir as you noticed Joel walking into the living room. He was tired, as always. Sarah stirred from beside you. "You're so late," she mumbled, leaning more into you as you ran a hand through her hair. "I know, baby girl; I'm so sorry." Joel kneeled in front of her, carefully tickling her side in hopes to make the grumpy go away. "Did you at least get the cake?", Joel cursed under his breath. All the way home, he knew he had forgotten something, but it only hit him now. "Are you for real, dad?", "I promise I'll get the biggest cake I can get for you all tomorrow."

Sarah looked up at him, letting out a sigh as she reached to wrap her hands around her father's neck. Joel pressed her close to his chest, holding her just a tad harder than most evenings. "I got you something but it's upstairs", she said rubbing her sleepy eyes. Once she had disappeared from the room, you turned to Joel. "I'm so sorry for messing it up," he muttered, sitting down next to you. "Jokes on you, you messed your birthday up." You leaned closer to him. Malakai grumbled in his sleep, his eyes opening for a moment. The sight of his father finally being home made him reach for Joel. He instantly scooped the boy up, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his curly hair as he rocked him a couple of times. Malakai eased into sleep immediately. And you weren't too surprised about it—the warmth Joel carried was enough to make anyone fall asleep within seconds.

"Open up," Sarah said as she handed Joel a box. He shook it a couple of times, trying to inspect it without seeing it. "I know it was laying in your drawer for some time now", "Where did you get the money for it?", Joel looked at the old watch that he had to give up on years ago. "Drugs," Sarah said casually, making you let out a laugh that Joel joined soon after. "I think you got mugged, though it's not ticking." Joel pushed the watch to his ear, and Sarah's face paled as she moved to grab it out of her father's hands. The sound of ticking filled her ears, making her roll her eyes and say, "Not funny, dad."

You moved to wrap your arms around her, dragging her onto the bed with you. She would be sandwiched between you and Joel. "How about a movie, and then I'll tuck my two gremlins into bed", Sarah playfully hit Joel's chest, "Mom, will fall asleep within minutes", she turned to watch you already almost dozing off. "I won't say I won't, but I'm giving you ten minutes, and you will be out as well", you hugged her closer, eyes falling onto Joel who looked down on you two fondly.

"If I knew what was going to happen that night… I would", your voice died down, "I don't even know what I would have changed, but I wish I could go back, you know? To try to do something differently", Ellie looked at you. If you had let yourself smile a little at the thought of the happy memories she knew that now was the time when the real shit was going to go down. Ellie inched closer to you. Leaving her cup on the table as she took a hold of your hand once again.

"I have four civilians by the river," the male said sharply into the radio. "Joel," you whispered, pressing Momo closer to your chest as your breathing picked up. Joel wished he could reach for you and hold you close as well, but he knew that now that was impossible. "We'll be okay, love. All of us will be okay," Joel whispered, his eyes not leaving the soldier in front of him. "Uncle Tommy," Sarah whispered, looking between you and Joel. "We'll get you two and mommy somewhere safe, and I'll go back to look for him," Joel said as calmly as he could, pressing Sarah even closer to him.

The soldier lifted the gun, making you shake your head. "We're not sick", Joel managed to say before the shots rang out. Everything that happened after that was a blur and a slow-motion movie at the same time. The fall off the curb. The cries from Malakai rang out even louder than the bullets. You fell right beside Joel, your hands clinging to the boy and pressing him closer to you. The light from the gun made you close your eyes once again. "I'm sorry", you heard the soldier rasp out, "No, please", Joel exhaled, moving as quickly as he could to shield your body with his own as yet another shot fired. Joel's hand pressed down onto you tightly, not even letting go when the sound around him died down.

"Oh god", Tommy's voice made Joel lift his head, turning his attention to where his younger brother was looking. And there was Sarah. Her breaths were shallow as she pressed down on her side, which was bleeding heavily. Joel felt as if his world stopped for a moment as he crowed towards her. "No… no," Joel breathed out, "You're okay, baby girl, you're okay." His eyes fell on the wound that was pouring out bright red blood. "Sarah", you called out, inching towards her, gasp leaving your mouth as you saw just how bad it was. Joel tried to move her up, but Sarah only screamed out in pain, "I know, baby, I know. I need to help you up."

Joel's eyes were on you as you sobbed by Sarah's side. Hands were now just as soaked as his with sticky blood. Joel looked at Tommy, who was holding Malakai, then back to Sarah, who was gulping down air. He couldn't let his baby die. Not here. Not now. Not his little girl. Not his butterfly. Joel pressed his palms to the shot wound harder, making Sarah roar in agony, "I know it hurts, but you will be okay". You brushed your hand over the side of her face, not trusting your words anymore.

"Tommy, help me!", Joel shouted, but once he turned his attention back to his brother, his breathing stopped. Your eyes followed Joel's gaze. Eyes grew wide at the sight of Tommy standing there with a gun pointed at his head. Malakai being dragged away by another soldier. You quickly rose to your feet. "Give me my boy!", you shouted. No longer sounding like yourself. More like a wild animal out for blood.

"That's a child. Are you going to kill a child?", you stepped closer, but only got met with the back of the gun hitting your back, making you fall back to the ground. "Please, please, I'll do anything," you croaked out, pulling yourself up as you watched the soldier stop in its tracks. The boy in his arms reached out to you as he cried. The soldier let go of Malakai, and for a split second, a rush of hope flowed through you. He was going to come back to you. Your baby boy was going to be okay.

You reached your hands towards him as he took wobbly steps towards you. "Come here, baby, come here, Momo," you called out, barely being able to see through the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Mama," he cried out, making you nod your head. And then the shot rang out. The sound that you knew was going to hunt you for the rest of your life. You saw the bullet pierce Malakai's head as his body sagged to the floor.

The scream that fell from you was far from human. The pain that pierced you was as outrageous. You quickly moved forward, ready to kill the man who had just killed both of your kids cold-heartedly. You didn't make it far as two hands quickly pulled you over to the side. Turning you away from the lifeless body of the toddler.

Joel knew he had to get to you before you joined the kids on the ground. He held onto you for dear life as you trashed in his hands, "I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? I will rip you to pieces, you fuck," you screamed, trying to get loose and out of Joel's embrace. "Let go of me, let me kill him," you spat, nails digging into Joel's arms as you tried to push them away. "I've got you; you need to breathe." His words made you stop. You looked him in the eyes for the first time that night. Another sob escaped your lips as you sank to the floor, hands ripping at the skin of your chest, "Kill me, let me die, I don't want to live", your words were broken in between harsh intakes of breath. Joel shook his head once again, wrapping his arms around you, "I need you, please, I need you".

The sound of the door closing made you jump. You had no clue when you finished telling the story. You don't remember zoning out. Ellie was still holding your hands, her own eyes puffy from crying. Joel stopped in his tracks. The sight of him was not something he imagined coming home to. Your face was pale. Streaks of tears are still visible on your cheeks. Ellie didn't look any better. "What happened?", Joel quickly closed the distance between you. "Did someone hurt you? Are you hurt?", he took a hold of your trembling hand before turning to Ellie. "I…", she started, but the world failed her. The panic inside Joel only grew.

"Ellie found out about Sarah and Momo," you whispered, closing your eyes in hopes to stop the tears from falling once again. To the sound of the names, Joel's jaw clenched as he sat down on the table that was behind him. "I'm so sorry. I just saw the memorial." Joel only shook his head. "I swear I didn't", "Ellie," Joel said firmly, making her stop.

He knew this day would come. He might be half deaf, but he wasn't blind. Joel knew that Ellie was up most nights when you would scream. And was quite surprised that she hadn't yet brought this up in any way. But then again, she wasn't a stupid girl; she knew her boundaries. You rose to your feet, and Joel was quick to steady you, yet you brushed his touch away. "I need some fresh air", "I'll come with you", Joel insisted, but you shook your head, "I want to be alone for a moment". He was going to fight that choice, but by now he had grown to understand that in moments like this, letting yourself feel it out alone, at least at the beginning, was the best option.

Ellie couldn't bring herself to look at Joel as she fidgeted with her fingers, "I didn't mean to…", "I thought I was going to lose her after it all", Joel's words took Ellie by surprise. She quickly turned her gaze toward him. Joel was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "She did everything she could to die. I didn't sleep; I couldn't. Was too afraid that I would miss something, won't be able to stop her", he exhaled sharply, hands coming over his face for a second.

"You had the biggest impact on Y/N. I saw her smiling for the first time in twenty years when you came by", Joel shook his head. Ellie couldn't utter a single word as he continued to stare at him. "I never meant to hurt you," "You never did. I feel the safest with you. I love you both as my parents. You have been the closest thing to a family that I've ever had," Ellie blurted out quickly. Joel turned to her, his eyes glistening with tears. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Joel whispered, clenching his jaw. Ellie fell into his arms, wrapping herself around his torso. "I know because you've never let anyone down, and you're not about to start doing that now."

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Late Night Calls

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 23: Can't get to sleep

Summary: Miguel misses you.

A/N: I'm just gonna go stare out of the window.

Warnings: phone sex, lube, jacking off, reader has a job which takes them away from their home on conferences occasionally, Miguel sleeping nakied, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 941

Miguel shifts in bed, rolling over for the seventh time in two minutes. He just couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any position that was remotely comfortable. 

He grabs your pillow and buries his face into it, inhaling your scent that still lingers on the cotton. He hates when you’re away, hates it more than anything. 

He knows it’s selfish and impractical, you had an important job that you loved and it was only a few times a year that you went to a conference that he couldn’t attend with you. He’d never stop you, never voice his upset. But he misses you. Painfully. 

There’s a buzz buzz buzz of his comminator and he groans, huffing and rolling over until he realises it’s you calling. 

He answers quickly. “What’s wrong?” 

You chuckle, “Hello to you too.” 

“Baby, it’s the middle of the night-”

“Then why aren’t you asleep?” 

He pauses, “I…”

“Don’t lie.” He can hear the smile in your voice. 

“I’m having difficulty.” He mumbles, laying back down, his heart already calming at hearing you.

“I know.” “How?” 

“Lyla called me.” 

He swears and groans. 

“She said you weren’t sleeping.” 

“So she woke you up?” He says gruffly. 

“No, I have trouble sleeping without you too.” You say soothingly.

“That’s a fucking lie, you fall asleep the second you get into bed.” He scoffs.

“No,” you draw out the word teasingly, “that’s only when you’re in the bed with me.”

He mumbles something noncomitable. 

“What was that?” You laugh.

“Nothing, just grumpy noises.” 

You laugh harder and he smiles, his chest growing lighter at the sound. He shifts a little, stretching and rolls onto his back.

“I’m glad you called, miss you.” He mumbles.

“I miss you too.” 

“I miss you more.” 

You snort and he grins again. 

“I know why you can’t sleep,” he says after a moment.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why?” “I didn’t fuck your brains out beforehand.” 

You laugh harder.

“Hey,” he tries his best to interject some outrage into his voice, but it doesn't work. 

“I think that’s why you can't sleep.” You retort.

“Maybe.” You pause, you hadn’t expected him to just admit it. “Why don’t you?”

Miguel swallows thickly, “Why don’t I what?” 

“Come?” 

He wriggles a little, a shiver running down his spine. “Not the same if you’re not here.” 

“I am here.” 

He swallows thickly. 

“I think it’ll help you sleep.” You say softly. 

“Okay.” He breathes out the word, fragile and quiet on his tongue. “What… what should I do?” His voice small.

“Get the lube from the bedside table.” 

He nods, then adds a quick, “yeah,” as he rumages around in the top drawer and pulls it out. 

“Lay back down.” 

He follows your suggestions without a second thought, getting comfortable and pulling down the blankets.

“You naked?”

“Hmmm.” 

“Good boy.” 

He lets out a little groan at the sound of your voice. 

“Put your fingers on your chest.” You say softly, his mind going a little numb as he closes his eyes and places his fingers against his skin. 

“And just traiiiiill down,” you whisper. 

He groans as he strokes down his chest, picturing you above him in his mind’s eye. He shivers, his muscles jumping under the feather-light touch. 

“Tha’s it,” you say sweetly, “Now get your hand nice and wet.” 

He moans a little as he flicks open the bottle of lube and pours a hefty amount onto his palm. The sound of the cap opening is enough to make his cock twitch and harden quickly. That was definitely something to think about later. He rubs the lube in his hand, warming it slightly. “It’s wet.” He mutters.

“Want you to make a tight hole with your thumb and fingers, can you do that?” 

He nods, and then swallows, realising that you can’t see him. “Yeah, I can do that.” He moans.

“Good boy, now I want you to fuck your hand, nice and slow.” 

Miguel bites his lip, whining softly. “Okay.” He holds the base of his heavy cock, positioning it so that he can press the tight little hole he made against the tip. He shivers, his legs squirming. 

“How does it feel?”

“Good, but…” “But?” You smile.

“Made it too small.” He bites his lip with his sharp teeth. 

“You can widen it a little, but keep it as tight as possible, okay?” 

“Yes,” he mumbles breathlessly, “I will.” 

“Good boy Miguel, you drag it down your cock.” 

He groans loudly, thrusting up slowly in time with his hand. 

“Take your time, get all the way to the bottom.” 

He huffs, trying to stop his hips from bucking wildly. 

“And all the way up.”

Miguel groans loudly, the deep sound of his slick hand echoing. 

“You keep doing that, nice and slow.” You mutter. 

He whimpers ever so slightly, his breathing catching in his throat. 

After five more long, agonising pumps you whisper, “a little faster.” 

“Thank you,” he shivers, picking up the pace ever so slightly. 

Three more pumps, “Faster.”

“Fuck.” He misses you so fucking much, needs you there with him now to wrap your arms around him and play with his hair as you tease him. 

“Faster.” 

He whines again, high pitched, his balls tightening. “I’m gonna come.” 

“So soon?” You tease. 

“Yeah,” he whimpers, “miss you, want you, need you- oh!” He comes hard, shooting robs of warm cum all over his stomach as he cries out your name. 

He breathes hard as aftershocks roll through him. 

You giggle playfully. “Did you make a mess?” 

“Yes.” He pouts. “A big one.” 

You bite your lip. “Can I see?” 

“I’ll send you a picture.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy]

The Sunset Moment

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

House: Unspecified

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3285

Summary: Draco and his Fem!Reader girlfriend reflect on their relationship. Teeth-Rotting Fluff.

author's note: Mobiles are used as well as an owl, so that may be a bit odd. A brief mention of socials pops up. Indulge me?

Reader's Point Of View

Draco enters his dorm. He knows immediately that his girlfriend is here because the curtains are open and light is shining in. He usually leaves them drawn like Boo Radley. Once the door closes, he transforms from refined to... a slightly less tense version of refined.

I am waiting on his couch, legs curled up under me and a book on the couch's armrest in front of me. It's 3:30pm and that means his duties are finished and I get him the rest of the evening.

"Hey Dragon." I say sweetly, smiling at the handsome man. He greets me with a kiss and immediately plops into the couch next to me, sighing deeply. I curl up to his side as he faces the ceiling and does a small neck roll. I keep my eyes trained on him, seeing what kind of day he could've had. He faces forward and does five shoulder rolls, thoroughly releasing any tension left in them. I don't push. I let him tell me things when he's ready to.

He turns his full attention to me, and a smirk takes over his face. He's in a good mood, I sigh in relief and meet his smirk. "What?" I whisper, smiling.

"You're the only one who gets to see me like this." he gestures to his relaxed position, arm wrapped around my waist. "Instead of the Slytherin Prince everyone else sees." I lean into him comfortably, arm tucked behind his back where he's pressed against the plush couch.

"A cunning Slytherin Prince by day, lover boy by night." I reflect on the love letters he sends me via Eurasian Eagle-Owl in the middle of the night, "I got your letter by the way. The one you sent me this morning at 1am. You should consider giving him a break. You're sending the poor guy to my window practically every night."

His face flushes slightly, ears turning pink at the mention of his love letter. "Oh? Someone is feeling cheeky today." He mutters, but his arm tightens around me anyway. "And stop calling them 'love letters'. They're just notes." I begin to read the one I got this morning. I was using it as a bookmark, re-reading it throughout my day. I read,

"My darling, the second I met you, you began to draw memories in my mind I could never erase. You give me peace in a lifetime of war. I went through so many things that still make me fall silent when I have to think about them. But, I'm so glad to live in a world where there is you. For the first time, I always feel seen. Not the person I pretend to be, but the broken, aching, beautiful mess of a soul beneath it all." I finish, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. His breath catches slightly at my kiss, and he turns to face me, eyes intense. "You..." He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "You're not suppose to quote my ridiculous poetry back to me." His hand comes up to touch where I kissed him.

"It's not ridiculous. I think they're all very sweet." I say, voice full of love. He rolls his eyes but his lips twitch upward, "It's sappy and over the top." He argues, but there's no bite, only bashfulness.

"You rival the cheesiness with shirtless selfies you send to me." I tease. His face turns an even deeper shade of red, and he buries his face into my hair to hide it. "You're never going to let me live that down. It was one time. I was bored, okay? You have a thing for my abs." His tone is now flirty.

"Yes they're very nice and I've taken quite a few pictures of you with no shirt on my own phone." His head shoots up, eyes wide with mock outrage.

"What are you doing with those pictures?" He demands but I detect a hint of amused curiosity in his voice. "Are you showing them to other people? Because I will hex them into oblivion."

"No!" I declare, quickly. "It's your body and our private moments. I would never show anyone them." He seems to relax at my words, nuzzling back into my neck. I began rubbing his chest, sliding my hand from peck to peck and up and down. Tracing the shape of him, burning it into my memory. "Good." He murmurs. "Those are for my eyes only. And maybe yours since you seem so obsessed with my chest."

"Don't forget your shoulders, too." I slide my hand up to his shoulders now, touching him, tracing him. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. "My shoulders, my chest, my abs." He lists teasingly, shrugging slightly to make his muscles flex under my hand. "Is there any part of me you're not obsessed with examining?"

"I'm not a super fan of your morning breath but that's about it." I tease. He laughs, the sound richer and warmer than usual. "My morning breath, huh?" He tilts his head to the side, his nose brushing against my neck. "I'll keep that in mind. Though I should warn you, I tend to be a bit... cranky in the morning."

"Don't I know it. You threw a pillow at me because I tried to open the curtains in your dorm." His lips curl into a sheepish grin at the memory. "Well, could you blame me? It was disgustingly early, and you were behaving like some sort of demented pixie, bouncing around the room." He shudders dramatically for effect.

"I was seizing the day! Plus, when we took a walk later, you picked up a heart-shaped pebble and gave it to me. I still have it, by the way." He rolls his eyes, pretending to be nonchalant about the memory. "You make it sound like some grand romantic gesture," he mutters, his fingers tracing patterns on my arms. "It was just a stupid pebble."

"It will never be just a stupid pebble." I lay my chin on his head, feeling his breathing on my chest. "And you know what else?" I say

"What else?" He asks, voice low and cautious, wondering what other soft things he does without realizing.

"You took a picture of the sunrise that morning and sent it to your mother. It was the sweetest thing ever." He face turns red but this time he doesn't try to hide it. "Bloody hell, you noticed that? I deleted it right after." He mumbled against my neck, thinking he lied smoothly. He didn't. "For someone who stares at my physique so much, I'm surprised you even took notice of other things."

"I like to store memories away. Look..." I take out my phone, using his face to unlock it since he was already facing down. He smirks and the phone unlocked immediately. I guess it's used to him looking like that. He watches as I swipe to my gallery and his eyes go wide. "Bloody hell" he comments.

"4,000 photos and videos, yes. Hold please." I begin clicking through the several albums I dedicated to him. He leans back against me, watching as I scroll through. "4,000? You've been busy." He murmurs, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with my hair as he waits. I find what I'm looking for and show it to him, victoriously. It's a selfie of the two of us doing facial masks together. He stares at the photo in disbelief, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You kept.... a picture of us doing face masks?" He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over the screen to zoom into our faces. "You look ridiculous. I look.. surprisingly not terrible."

I scoff jokingly and say, "Your skin was glowing the next day thanks to that." He snorts, shaking his head. "My skin was glowing because I have amazing genetics. It was not because of that stupid mask." He argues but finds himself smiling again as he looks at the photo, remembering that silly day. "You know what?" He says.

"What?" I lock my phone, but not before he notices my home screen wallpaper is a selfie of us, him sleeping on my shoulder. His eyes widen in mock outrage and he taps the screen again, spotting his sleeping face. "You've got to be joking! Have you been staring at my face every time you unlock your bloody phone?" But despite his protest, his voice carries a hint of pride.

"I just thought my hair looked pretty that day" I tease. He scoffs dramatically, a playful glint in his eye. "Right. It's not got anything to do with the devastatingly handsome man napping on your shoulder."

"Hey, watch it! That's my boyfriend you're speaking about." I pretend to be defensive. His smirk widens at my teasing remark, the twinkle in his eye still ever-present. "I think you mean the incredibly lucky bastard who somehow ended up with the gorgeous girl and her 4,000 photos." He tells me. I give him a side hug, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. "She's the incredibly lucky one." He melts into the hug, his arms wrapping around me with practiced precision. He kisses me back softly before saying, "Wait until you see the ridiculous number of photos I've saved of you on my phone."

"And you take the worst photos of me." I exaggerate teasingly. He pulls back slightly, a wicked grin taking over his face as he pretends to be offended. "Worst photos? I happen to be the most skilled photographer" He says, boastfully. "All the candid shots of you making silly little faces while you're distracted are masterpieces." He boops my nose playfully.

"Me looking dumbstruck at the camera with butterbeer foam on me upper lip is not a masterpiece." I counter.

"It is when you're making that face. You know, the one where your mouth is open slightly and you're..." He trails off, snickering as I give him a warning look. "You know, nevermind." He sits up to get his phone out of his pocket, holding it to my face. Confused, I look on and watch as his phone unlocks immediately. I guess I make that face as often as he smirks to be recognized so quickly. "Let's see these masterpieces." I tease. He laughs in anticipation, giddy even. Handing it to me he says, "Go on then." He responds, biting his lips to stop from making an excited smile. I raise an eyebrow at him before looking back at his phone in my hand. I guess he's quite proud of whatever these are.

"Ooo! This one is pretty. I'm going to send it to myself to post on my socials." I tease, knowing how protective he gets. His eyes widen in mock panic, "Nooo! You can't. I took them and I don't want them posted except on my pages for credit." He says being dramatic. Again.

Knowing he was going to theatrical, I quickly left his gallery and opened his camera instead. Turning it to selfie mode, I hold it up with a kissy face, him freaking out in the back. I look at it, laughing heartily at his comical expression. He's making an overdramatic "No" face behind my shoulder, his eyes half shut from me taking it mid-blink. It shows one of his hands reaching for the phone, a blurry patch of skin on the top right of the photo. It was hilarious. He watches warily as I go back to his gallery, quickly AirDropping it to my phone. "Okay stop smiling like that" He says, unamused, looking at our selfie. "That's vile." He stares at his own face with contempt. I nudge him with my shoulder and laugh. He breaks into a grin despite himself.

"You're going to regret this. You and that bloody phone." Voice slowly raising higher in pitch. I ignore his drama king threat and begin raking my eyes up his gallery. I quickly become shocked, mouth hanging open as I say, "There's hundreds of them!" I exclaim. Out of his 300 photos, I'm about 295 of them. His gallery is filled with countless candid photos of me. Me laughing, me sleeping, me making funny faces in different instances without realizing it, me blowing my hair of my face. There's even some videos of me walking ahead of him, turning back to look at him with a smile. There's one of me brushing my hair while looking into the mirror and several of me singing while doing mundane things around his dorm. I spot a video of me twirling in the rain. A blurry video catches my eye and I play it.

The video was of me laughing so hard you can hear me slightly wheezing. The camera slides from underneath the table in which the recording started. I spot the familiar black of his slacks and the gleam of his rich-boy shoes. He was sneakily recording me.

In the video, I begin to lean forward, clutching my stomach and laughing silently. The tears of joy were flowing down my face. You hear him half-heartedly trying to insult me off-camera. He would not let the camera be on anything except me. If I moved, so did he, keeping me in center frame. It doesn't take long for him to break down in laughter too. The rest of the video is us laughing, breathing heavy. He faces the camera to himself for a split second to show his face was wet with laughter tears and he flips it back, zooming into my face which also was covered in laughing tears. He zooms back out, putting me center-frame again. Now, I'm wiping my tears, cheeks flushed with joy. The video ends. I guess he's a memory hoarder, too.

"What was so funny?" I had started laughing along while watching the video without realizing it. When I looked up he was looking at me with such a tender gaze I felt not only loved, but cherished. He shakes his head, "You asked me if I would still love you if you were a worm." He chuckles fondly at the memory, "And I told you, 'I would lose a worm, babe'." He laughs and says "I don't know what you were on about then, I still don't now." I turn and hug him, crawling on his lap and laying my head on his shoulder.

"You remember all those details?" I ask in awe.

"I remember everything." I look into his eyes and I'm met with sincerity and devotion. I kiss his nose and begin to look through his albums again. He has them clearly labeled by date and duration. I shake my head with a smile. He's so organized, I love that about him. I take a look at his 'favorites' album.

"Why do you have a picture of me taking a picture of the sunset in your favorites?" I laugh. He smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corner and he looks at the photo. Smirk melts into an entranced grin. It's a close up of my face, the sunset reflected in my eyes and my phone was in my hand, frozen mid-air. "Because that's when I realized I was well and truly fucked." He admitted.

"When I was staring at a sky?" I giggle. He hugs me closer, one hand sliding up my back as look at the photo together. "No, when you made this exact face. The one where you're completely oblivious to everything around you and awe-struck. It... hit me. Right in the gut." His voice gets warmer, becoming intimate. I gasped and looked at him. I was looking at a picture taken the very moment he realized he didn't just love me. He was in love with me. True, raw, healing, inspiring, encouraging, devoted love. I sit up, propping myself on his knee and looked at him.

His guard was completely down and he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful woman on Earth. Eyes wide in admiration with a smile so warm it could melt the winter snow outside. He feels just as deeply as me, and in fleeting moments I see it. This was one of those moments. I leaned in and kissed him with all the love I have in me. He returned the kiss tenfold. I was having a sunset moment again. Oblivious to my surroundings, and awe-struck.

After our love-filled kiss, my eye catches one more in his favorites. "Wait..." He tenses slightly. "Don't you dare," he says firmly, trying to take his phone from my hand with a sternness that tried to cover his true feeling... embarrassment. But it's too late, the photo is already on his screen.

The picture is of me sleeping- peaceful, vulnerable. My hair is spread out on his pillow, moonlight casting across my face through his tower window. The way he's captured me is... intimate. Too intimate. "That's... private." he says softly, trying to be cool and failing.

"This is the sweetest thing I've ever seen. You took a picture of me in my most vulnerable moment." His cheeks flush pink and he swipes the photo off the screen. "Shut up" He mutters, taking his phone back and tucking it away. "It's just a picture. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm so lucky to have you." I say sincerely. Something genuine flashes across his face- the vulnerability is back for just a second. He hides it behind his usual stoic mask.

"Would you stop that? You're getting on my nerves." He says, but his hand finds mine and links them together, tightly. He looks up, eyes burning with adoration as he mumbles "Me too.." I lean in to kiss his cheek and he smiles even though he tried very hard not to. I push back the hair on his forehead with my free hand and kiss the crown of his head.

"Why did you want to keep that photo a secret?" I say quietly in his hair.

His eyes close for a moment, leaning into my touch as he tightens his grip on my hands. "Because it..." he pauses, struggling against himself once more, "It shows too much. Shows that I... care. Deeply. It shows..." His voice gets quiet. "The real me. Not some Slytherin prick." I nod in understanding. He took that photo in complete sensitivity, unguarded. It was just us. He was letting himself feel everything all at once and he could only do that by looking at me. He realized in that tower moment he didn't have to be anything but himself around me.

I didn't say anything, I just held him. An unspoken understanding between us. Our moment felt infinite. I looked at him, the window next to us showing the sun was setting. Golden hour. I looked at him in awe, he looked ethereal. He looked like he was glowing from the inside out. He met my gaze and let all his guards fall. He was having another tower moment. I was looking at the raw, uncut Draco Malfoy. He was letting me. I held his gaze, waiting for one of my favorite moments.

When the sun goes down and his ice blue eyes turn molten silver.

Masterlist

[idesofrevolution]

Party Animal

Danny smiled his signature perfect smile, posing stereotypically as the phone sat propped up on a sidewalk trashcan with a timed camera counting down. While it was his 21st birthday, and he'd invited nearly twenty people to come out clubbing with him in New York City, he wasn't entirely shocked when everyone had some lame excuse as to why they couldn't come. Victoria was in the middle of watching Yellowjackets and couldn't be bothered to get up off her couch. Taylor was stuck at the airport in Nashville, unable to board his connecting flight due to "inclement weather." Felicity couldn't find a dog sitter for the night (bullshit), and Kyle just didn't even respond to the text. This was relatively par for the course for poor Danny, who'd gotten all but used to the feeling of his "friends" ditching him when it was plans of his own.

There were absolutely reasons in their mind as to why going out with Danny was less than an ideal evening: he was a wallflower. Sure, like everyone else in his small town, he had a fake ID. So one would assume that his relative experience in bars would at least teach him something about how to have a good time in one. Unfortunately, this was certainly not the case. Danny was the friend who would get to the bar, order two Long Islands and drunkenly cry for the rest of the night. He couldn't hold his liquor, he couldn't hit a joint without having a fifteen minute coughing spell, his moves on the dancefloor were generously described as "cringe," he would leave early and complain about it the next day. Yet, without fail, the next weekend would roll about and he would be the first one in line at open. His messy party ways had completely eradicated any chance of an entourage going with him, even on his birthday. Thus, as he posed rather stereotypically on the side of West 17th Street, alone and underdressed for his first gay nightclub of legal age, there was a level of disappointment.

Chelsea was bustling that evening, with stunning people in outrageously skimpy outfits strutting from building to building. All were in their little cliques huddles together until they made it to the doorman, where they'd quickly disperse into the drunken crowd within. Guys like him were the ones standing in line, waiting for someone to leave so they could have a chance of getting in; wallflowers, all of them. Thus, as he finally arrived at the club he'd heard so much about on every gay travel blog imaginable, he wasn't shocked to receive a quick look up and down from the bouncer and a head shaking no. Dejected, alone, and not even buzzed, Danny pulled out his phone to call the Uber back to his hotel. That is, until he felt a subtle tap on his shoulder. He sighed and turned around, locking eyes with an unexpected but very welcome sight.

He was tall, maybe 6'4 in a cutoff white tank top, a golden chain hanging from just beneath his nipples. His abs sat like the cobblestones on the street against his chiseled torso, flanked on either side by two huge, vascular arms. His fly was undone, with his thumbs suggestively holding it open. He had a gentle, yet sultry face: perfectly manicured facial hair and sweaty, wavy curls atop his head. He smiled as he leaned against the wall, illuminated brightly by the streetlight above them both.

"Baby you're not gettin' in looking like that." He had a thick accent, perhaps Cuban or Dominican, but it rolled off his supple lips like the drool which had begun to slightly dribble down Danny's jaw. The man smiled and ruffled his hair, getting ready to walk back into the club.

"Hey! Uh... I really like your outfit. You wear it really... really well." The stud turned back, a small chuckle under his breath.

"Thank you baby! I wasn't sure about the chain, but it draws attention to all the right places, am I right?" He ran his large hands over his abs, winking at the salivating 21 year old. "I'm Mateo, by the way." The two shook hands, Danny barely able to contain himself.

"So, you come out to these clubs often? It's my first time in the city. My twenty first birthday, actually." Mateo's face lit up. Tossing his arm around Danny's shoulder, he leaned in close to hopefully be heard above the hustle and bustle of the chattering crowd outside. Danny blushed. He could feel the heat from Mateo's pit on the nape of his neck, the smell of wet armpit after a night of dancing tickling the hairs in his nostrils.

"Where's your party? You better not be out here alone on a Saturday night!" Danny looked down, trying to hide the thirst which had overtaken him.

"Ahh, they all cancelled. It's just me tonight." Danny felt an immediate yank, as Mateo squeezed him tightly against his pillowy pecs.

"Nahh. It's just you and ME tonight. C'mon." Mateo began guiding Danny down the street, chatting about the nightlife in New York City, how it's better than anywhere else, how it has the hottest guys and the best vibes. Mateo had been a staple of the ballroom scene for a couple years at that point, and was well acquainted with the bars and their owners. Any place of any note, he'd be able to waltz right in. Though in this instance, he decided to do something special for this little guy who he'd found meandering the streets. "It's definitely an in-the-know kinda place, if you know what I mean. And you're not getting in wearing that, so I guess we're just going to have to get you a birthday present." The two strolled up to a relatively inconspicuous apartment building, Mateo flashing his card to open the heavy metal door. Two flights up and ten doors down the hall, Mateo opened the door to his apartment. It was tidy for the most part. Plants sat on every imaginable surface, even hanging in macrame slings from the popcorn ceiling. Mateo flipped the lights on in his bedroom and opened his closet door.

"Uhhh, what are you looking for?" Danny nervously shuffled from side to side. This wasn't going to be one of those makeover scenes a la Clueless, was it? Mateo flashed several articles of clothing in front of his face, each vastly different from the one before: leather pants, a silk button up, a ripped up tank top, a latex polo... Under his breath, Danny could hear the quiet mutterings Mateo whispered after each one. Too young, too bulky, too preppy, too kinky.

"Hey. Like what's the vibe you're going for? If some hot guy walked up to you and was looking you up and down, what would you want him to see in a perfect world?" Danny sat there a moment, pondering. He wasn't entirely sure. He'd never thought about it. Closing his eyes, he tried to go back to his days of fantasizing about what a perfect Danny would look like. What he'd always wanted to look like. Though, for him, those days were far behind him. The years of being ditched and cast aside, while he understood why, had taken a toll on him. He'd only ever seen himself as that annoying friend who ruins the mood. Danny shuffled his feet beneath him, hanging his head.

"I don't know... just not... this." He motioned up and down, alluding to the rather sad appearance he'd taken on. Mateo stopped what he was doing, chucking a pair of sunglasses at the frowning young man, hitting him square on the nose.

"You stop that. This is not a pity party, it's a birthday party." Danny nodded, picking up the sunglasses from his feet: Balenciaga. "You know what you need? You need a confidence boost." Mateo pinched his chin, analyzing his closet. "And I have just the thing." It was like a frenzy. Within seconds, clothes were being tossed at him. Looking down at them, he anxiously investigated them. A long, almost see through tank top, a well worn sleeveless leather jacket, and a pair of wide, baggy pants- all of which about two sizes too big.

"Uh, hey, I really appreciate it but I don't think I'm gonna fi..." Mateo had plopped a heavy pair of beat up combat boots on top of the pile in his hands, nearly spilling the whole outfit out of Danny's arms.

"Shut up and go put this on, I promise you'll look great." Sighing, he started headed toward the bathroom, only for Mateo to stop him. "Here, just..." Mateo grabbed the wrists of Danny's shirt, pulling the gaudy top off his frail body. Snatching the tank top from the pile, he ripped it off the hanger and slipped it over his arms and head. The shit was undoubtedly massive on him. Danny was after all 5'4 and 100 lbs soaking wet, the tall hunk which stood before him would obviously be wearing way larger clothes than him. "Arms back!" Mateo slid the sleeveless leather jacket onto him. Danny could smell that this item was well loved, catching a subtle hint of weed, cigarettes, and sweat gently wafting from it. "Pants off!" He directed, Danny followed. Pulling his skinny black jeans down to his ankles, and taking off his brown loafers. He stood before Mateo in his whitey-tidies, and an unimpressive flat bulge. "Yeah, take 'em off and burn them. Besides, easier access for the lucky guy later tonight." He winked, causing Danny to blush. Any time his gal-pals had tried to do a makeover it always ended in a trip to Hollister or Abercrombie to look like every straight high schooler in 2013. He'd never had a guy, let alone a gay guy take the time to dress him. His guard finally down, he dropped them, quickly snatching the lightweight pants and pulling them up his legs, tightly pulling the drawstrings to keep them up.

Mateo looked him up and down, clearly thinking about what was missing as Danny slid his feet into the massive boots, feeling the squish of gogo boy sweat bubbling up onto his soles. Mateo snapped his fingers, grabbing the sunglasses and sliding them onto his face. Danny couldn't deny feeling cool in these ill-fitting clothes, whether or not he felt hot in them or not- if this sexy club kid thought he looked good he probably did.

"Awesome, here, take this bag. Happy Birthday, we gotta go!" Danny didn't even get a chance to peer into the mirror before a large leather bag was tossed at him and he was pushed out the door. He tripped over the baggy pants dragging on the ground, and the clunky boots which slid around on his now damp feet. "You look great," Mateo said as they hopped down the stairs. "I got just the place to take you."

The two walked for perhaps only a block or two before they turned into a dark alley, only a single red lamp far down the brick walled canyon illuminating the surroundings. They strutted up to the rusted metal door, Mateo knocking only three times before it swung open. The huge bouncer blocked the door with his arms crossed, though the moment he saw Mateo, he silently stepped aside. Thrust inside from behind, Danny entered the club.

From then on, the night was a blur. The few moments of clarity and recollection told quite the story. The club was packed, sexy guys dancing on eachother, gogo boys on the bar, discarded ecstasy pills littering the floor brightly glowing from the blacklights. A DJ played derivative beats as they approached the bar. The last clear decision that was made was to take a round of shots.

"Zayn! Could you get us two blowjobs?" Danny turned quickly, shocked at the prospect. He was slightly less anxious when the two cream topped shots were placed in front of them. After a quick birthday toast, the two downed their shots. Immediately, Danny felt an instant release. The nervousness had subsided, and he felt ready to enjoy the evening. He couldn't help but notice, before Mateo had ordered round two, that the sexy bartender seemed to smirk with every shot, heading to the back room for a moment only to come back with two perfect drinks. Round 2 felt just as good as the first, feeling himself smile and sway to the music. It was followed up by round 3, then round 4, then round 5... The shots just kept coming, and by round 7, the world was spinning.

From what little could be recalled, he hit the dance floor with Mateo, showing off the notorious dance moves which had caused him so much grief back home. Though, as the night progressed, he felt the music in a patently distinctive way. Every beat, every note hit differently. His body seemed to just move on its own, his hips swaying, his hands slowly wandering around Mateo's firm waist. The unfittedness of the clothes seemed to dissipate, and they began to feel... right. He liked the way that they showed off his broadening shoulders, his widening biceps... As he dropped, effortlessly pulling off spins and dips, his strong, muscular legs kept him firm in his stance, rooted in the perfectly fitted boots.

He could remember Mateo running his hands over the light tattoos sprawled on his pulsating forearms. He'd even done a few of them himself in his boredom during a relatively crazy shroom trip a few years back. In fact, as the two of them stood there in eachother's arms, looking eye to eye and towering over the dancefloor, he was so grateful that his bestie Mateo would give him such a night out on his birthday. Though, it seemed every year got more and more wild. The two didn't waste any more time. This was going to be a wild birthday, as Mateo planted a deep kiss onto his lips. Their sweaty, muscled arms wrapped around eachother, passionately making out on the dancefloor, before Danny reached into his bag, pulling out the magnum ribbed condom he'd gotten earlier that day, hoping the two would arrive at that point sometime during the night.

Mateo smiled and nodded, the two heading outside to wait for the Uber to take them back to the apartment. As Mateo eagerly tapped away on his phone, Danny leaned against the street pole, thrusting his sizeable package toward his boyfriend.

The next morning, Mateo woke up to an empty bed. Sweaty sheets tossed from one side of the room to the other, the stench of kinky sex still wafting in the air. He rolled out of the stained bed, walking past Danny's still warm, musky combat boots splayed on the hardwood floor. After a night of being railed with his face buried in it's ripe opening, he couldn't help but take a quick whiff down memory lane before going down to the front door. There, perched on the step, in all his blonde, shirtless glory sat Danny smoking his American Spirits.

"Good morning, sexy bitch." His velvety voice soared like the wind to Mateo's eager ear, something about that cocky, confident swagger behind his words always hit just right. He plopped down next to his boyfriend, sensually nibbling on his pierced ear. "Gonna get the neighbors all hot and bothered." Danny chided, Mateo knowing full well he loved being seen in even more compromising positions by anyone who stumbled across them.

"That's the idea." The two laughed and kissed, hoping old Mrs. Prallatt across the street was huffing and puffing in an indignant rage. "Hey the house is performing later tonight in the Bowery, I think you should show off the new number. Kick the LaBeija's ass off the floor." Smirking, Danny took a long drag and let out a large cloud of smoke before turning to Mateo.

"They don't stand a chance." Mateo stood up, kissing Danny's smooth hand before getting ready to head back up to get dressed for the day. "Hey, babe." Mateo turned and looked down at the beautiful creature which had been the wildest ride he'd ever taken. "How about you take those sweats off and I show you a couple more moves before we head out?" A strong grope of Mateo's growing bulge and a wink from behind his Balenciaga shades was all that his man needed to see.

[vivalas-vega]

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.” 

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.” 

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get. 

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?” 

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous. 

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought. 

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed. 

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out. 

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue. 

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast,  we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.” 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again. 

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

[beatrixacs]

My final thoughts on Shogun

Overall rating: 9/10.

The show has its ups and downs - the downs mainly being the way they handled the romance in the show that could have been much better and much more impactful for a casual viewer, and the ups everything else.

I have never read the book - actually, I'm reading a copy I was lent by my colleague right now - but I have seen the 80s version many, many years ago and fell in love with it. By 'fell in love' I mean that I was up to 4:30 AM on Saturday because for some reason, the airing time was in the middle of the night.

I've always wanted to read the book (in my native language which is not English) but it was one of those that is rarely re-printed or found in second-hand bookshops. When they finally re-printed it in 2009, I preferred a different book with the money I could afford to spend, thinking that I would buy Shogun later when I save enough money.

Well, it was a mistake I regretted for long 15 years because the copies were quickly sold out and begging for re-print went unheard. It has a good ending, though. I can buy a new brand copy in May.

And I have FX Shogun to thank for that because they revived the interest.

When the news about the show broke out in 2018, I was excited but of course that my second thought was 'please, don't suck'. But then it seemed that the project was called off or something because I heard no news about it. You can imagine by happiness when the airing date was finally announced.

From the cast and photos to the trailers, podcasts, making of videos and the episodes themselves, the whole ride was amazing. The attention to detail was exceptional. The cast was superb. The whole feel of the show and the story was magnetic. Shogun Tuesdays rightfully became a concept people were looking forward to.

As I described above, I can't really comment on the changes as opposed to the book since I'm in the process of reading it for the first time but from my understanding, some of the changes were actually pretty good some of them less.

While I am the fan of "don't take too much liberties with the source material", one has to keep in mind that the source material might not be always as perfect or as easy to translate on the screen. That is why I am open to changes if they make sense. Since I haven't seen much outrage from the book fans (aside the romance), I suppose most of the changes were okay. At this point, I expect the book to give me better insight on the characters I saw on the screen because that is something only book can do.

As for the 80s show that has a special place in my heart, I actually want to avoid comparing them. You can feel that FX Shogun has a great respect for the legendary adaptation but they were bold enough to go their own way in some points and I'm glad for that. I don't want to watch a modern copy of something that has been already filmed, I want to watch a new, fresh adaptation of the book that shares some similarities but it's not the same.

Boths adaptations deserve praise. Both adapations are excellent in their own right. Those who haven't seen it yet, I say - do it.

All in all, I want to thank FX for bringing Shogun back on the screen (and on my bookshelf) and giving us one of the best series of 2024. I hope gets a lot of awards so the creators get the appreciation they deserve.

Arigato gozaimasu.

[monimarat]

Marat tells Camille Desmoulins about escaping arrest on January 22nd, 1790

L’Ami du Peuple - No. 170, July 23, 1790

I like to believe that my brother in arms, Camille Desmoulins, will not abandon his country, and will not renounce the care of his glory, by losing courage in the middle of his noble career. He is outraged to have heard his head called for by deputies to the federation. But a few drunken or abused men do not make up the public; and this public, even if it goes astray, always contains a large number of estimable citizens, full of admiration and gratitude for their generous defenders . . . I’m not looking for praise: but my friend, how far your fate is from the harshness of mine!

As you love to laugh, here are a few anecdotes to cheer you up, and give you an idea of the turmoil in my life since the revolution.

On January 22nd, the day on which the Minister of Finance, the Mayor and the Commander of the National Guard sent an army to attack me, I was resting in a nearby street, when a young man attached to my office came to tell me, weeping, that my house was surrounded by several battalions. My host and his wife entered my room in dismay; they wanted to speak, but could only moan. --- Never am I more cold-blooded than in the midst of imminent danger. Not wishing to go out in disorder for fear of arousing suspicion, I groomed myself. I put on a rodingotte, covered myself with a round hat, put on a laughing face, and off I went, gaining the Gros-Caillou, through a detachment of the guard sent to kidnap me. On the way I tried to distract my caravan companion, and I kept my good humor until about five o'clock in the evening, the time when I was expecting the proof of the sheet in which I would report on the famous adventure. No one came. I sensed the blow that threatened me, and the next morning I learned that the seals had been put on my presses. The day passed in sadness. Word had got out about the route I'd taken. In the evening, the house was invaded by spies; I recognized them through a jealousy. They suggested I escape through the roof at nightfall. I passed through them in broad daylight, giving my arm to a young woman and walking at a leisurely pace. When night fell, I made my way to the Luxembourg basin, where two friends were waiting for me. They were to take me to a lady in the neighborhood. We found no one at home: here I am on the pavement. One of my companions began to cry, and I dried his tears with a burst of laughter. Arriving at the Greve, I wanted to see the reverbere that had been intended for me two days before, and passed under it. Arrived at rue de la Perle: my new host had company: I found a person who was no stranger to me. To change the mood of the curious, it was necessary to be cheerful: and so I was. After a quarter of an hour of conversation, I asked my host if he was sure of such and such a person. --- As of myself. --- Very well; and I continued the conversation. I sighed and went to bed. In the middle of the night, a cavalry squad alights under my windows. I jumped up and opened my shutters. I noticed that none of them had set foot on the ground; I quietly returned to my bed, until the next day, when I had to get out of bed.

Dear Desmoulins! you who know how to amuse your readers so well, come and learn to laugh with me. But continue to fight with energy against the enemies of the Revolution, and receive the augury of victory.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 14 AHEAD!

“What in the name of all things holy is going on there?” Zaida’s jaw dropped open and her eyes narrowed as she and Allison turned a corner in the school corridor to see Erica draping her arms around Scott’s neck, effectively pinning him up against the lockers seductively. The blonde bombshell turned towards them with a satisfied smile as Allison averted her gaze with a crestfallen expression. Scott must have decided he’d had enough of her antics because he gripped her arms aggressively and pushed her away from him, but Allison was already walking in the opposite direction towards the cafeteria. Zaida followed after her hurriedly.

“You know it’s not his fault. He pushed her off.” Zaida pointed out once she had caught up with the girl.

“Now I know how Lydia felt.” Allison scoffed as they lined up for food - thankfully it was hamburgers today.

“Erica wanted you to see. She’s trying to drive a wedge between the two of you because they want Scott in their pack. Don’t let her get between you.” she advised with a stern arch of her brow and Allison nodded. It wasn’t long before Scott sat at the table beside them in the chair directly behind Allison and diagonally behind Zaida. Their backs were towards each other but they could still hear each other talk. It was just Zaida and Allison today (Lydia had stayed home after her freak-out at the rink the previous night) so both girl’s listened intently over the noise of the cafeteria.

“I know how it looked, but she came up to me.” Scott promised.

“I'm not jealous.” Allison stated, and Zaida had to hold in her hum of amusement. Allison was definitely jealous, whether she knew it or not.

“You're not?” Even Scott sounded surprised.

“She's with Derek now, isn't she? Like Isaac.” Allison questioned. “You can't get caught in the middle of this. Don't you feel what's happening? My grandfather coming here, Derek turning Erica and Isaac, it's...It's like battle lines are being drawn.”

“We know.” Zaida sighed deeply. “We figured it out yesterday.”

“There's always crossfire.” The taller girl continued.

“What am I supposed to do? I can't just stand by. I can't pretend to be normal.” Scott sounded frustrated. Being caught in-between it all was hard enough for Zaida, she couldn’t imagine the pressure Scott and Allison were feeling.

“I don't want you to be normal.” Allison’s eyes darted around the room, making sure no one was watching. With her grandfather as principal, anyone could be watching them at any given time. “I want you to be alive.”

Allison didn’t allow Scott a chance to answer before she got up, abandoning her lunch and walking out just as Stiles came bounding towards them. The stress was really getting to the girl, and Zaida couldn’t blame her.

“Scott, do you see that?” Stiles panted, slightly out of breath as he pointed, and Zaida turned in her chair to see what he was talking about, not being able to figure it out. The cafeteria looked normal to her.

“What? It's an empty table?” Scott frowned, just as lost as Zaida was.

“Yeah, but whose empty table?” Stiles prompted and waited for Scott to put the pieces together.

“Boyd.” Scott realised and Zaida recalled that the missing boy was a friend of Isaacs. That couldn’t be good. The bell signalling the end of lunch rang and Zaida picked up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and following the two boys out into the hallway.

“What’s the plan?” She asked them. “We need to make our counter move, and fast.”

“I'm going to the ice rink after school to see if he's there. You and Stiles go past his house, and if he's not at home, you call me, got it?” Scott instructed and Zaida nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should let him…” Stiles interrupted hesitantly and when Scott and Zaida looked at him with outraged expressions. “You said Derek's giving them a choice, right?

“We can't just let Derek bite him!” Zaida insisted, taken aback by Stiles’ suggestion. “It’s not like lycanthropy is an ugly sweater you can decide to return later if you change your mind about it. It’s pretty freaking permanent.”

“You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good. You know, the word ‘sensational’ comes to mind…” Stiles stated and Zaida glared at him as her agitation spiked.

“Could you stop thinking with the head that’s between your legs and use the one you’ve got on your shoulders for a moment, Stilinski?” She hissed at him, whacking the back of his head with a light slap.

“Yeah, how good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?” Scott scoffed, taking Zaida’s side.

“All right. All I'm saying is, maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility.” he defended his opinion.

“They all are.” Scott shook his head. “And you know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible.”

“With great power comes great responsibility, right?” Zaida nodded in agreement. They couldn’t just sit around and do nothing when they had the opportunity and the means to help.

“All right, I'm with you.” Stiles sighed and hiked his backpack up higher over his shoulders. “And, I also gotta say...this new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you both.”

“Shut up.” Scott said exasperatedly and Zaida rolled her eyes.

“No, seriously! Do either of you wanna just try making out for a sec? Just to see how it feels?” Stiles kept going, which earned him another slap to the back of the head by Zaida’s hand.

[just-roommate-rage]

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

This is the most outrageous fuckery I have seen this month.

To be clear, this was posted by someone I used to consider family. Who I kept living with me and my family RENT FREE for years. I am not reblogging and I have blocked any identifiable info because I'm not trying to dox anyone but.... this is from "middle" roommate. They posted this a couple of days ago. I don't know what to say honestly. I'm just here to scream into the void about the bald-faced audacity of posting exaggeration and deception publicly where you KNOW I FOLLOW YOU?!?

"Me and my partners" (which does not include me) currently have access to two cars, both of which are drivable. The driver window on car 2 was shattered a week or two ago, and will cost about $200 to fix. But we live in a temperate area and the car drives and is fine when needed. (Note that middle in particular refuses to think of this car as available because they are convinced that a slight alignment issue it has means that it will explode or something. Which honestly, given how manifestation works, maybe it would.)

Even disregarding car 2, this does not address the primary car, which is completely fine and used every day for drop offs, pick-ups, errands, etc.

This is a person without a valid driver's license, who has not tried to drive, learn to drive, or practice driving in at least 6 years despite being offered opportunities repeatedly. That's who is fundraising for a car.

"Everyone" implies more than one person. Currently only youngest works outside of the home. Eldest works from home, middle has actively refused to consider any work which involves exposure to other humans. No fast food, no retail, no customer service.

"Rideshare" is not what you call it when your housemates - who also own the cars, pay for insurance, and pay for almost all the gas that goes into them - take time off of their jobs every day to drop off that one person at work. Then eldest picks that person up each night. Youngest has had to use a uber/lyft to get to work about 4-5 times in the last year... certainly not 'relying on rideshares' consistently.

Middle in fact brags about their good credit score frequently. The issue is that middle doesn't have income and eldest and youngest, who do have income have bad and no credit respectively.

Car 2 was offered to them before I took it from a family friend. They refused to accept a free car for reasons that were not made clear to me.

Additionally, I offered them a free car four years ago, and again at least twice before I sold it last Winter. They declined because it had a hard time starting sometimes. A FREE CAR THAT RAN. But no, not good enough for you to even practice driving in, let alone take and use.

Anyway, I'm guessing this is coming up now because they are being asked to use car 2 once a week while I have car 1 out taking child to dance classes. So suddenly, after more than three years without a car of their own, now 2 cars = 0 cars.

[socialseasons]

"I have no real knowledge of your musical prowess, but I imagine you'd be an excellent instructor. It takes both patience and compassion, and thus far you've exhibited both -- especially after I called you a spoiled princess."

Despite the smile that laced Francesca's features as he spoke, his tail-end comment elicited mock-outrage, lips parted in shock as a mischievous glint entered her eye. "Oh, you did?" she asked, a challenge hidden behind every word. "If you want spoiled, I am happy to oblige -- I could make your job a lot more difficult."

She wouldn't, of course; It wasn't within her nature to be difficult on purpose without good reason. Still, she wasn't certain if his quip stung or not, trying not to hone in on the details too much -- After all, she had heard far worse from the press so why did she care so much about the opinion of a relative stranger?

"Ashamed of me already? Though no, I completely agree -- the less people who're aware, the better. That'll make it all the easier to fool the rest of the world, and thus, the potential perp."

Nodding in agreement, Francesca decided to omit the part where her eldest brother would see red at their alleged affair, intent on making sure that Ben would not set foot near his sister again. That would come later. Much later, when she was able to explain the plan to him in excruciating detail.

"'Night then," she replied, stretching out as he stood up from the couch, intent on staying up a little longer. It would be an early start, but Francesca found herself rather looking forward to the day ahead.

--

The morning rushed by, the meeting a complete blur as she found herself continuously fascinated by the view from the window rather than the words that came from the executive's mouth. Luckily her sisters did most of the talking, allowing Francesca to blend into the background until the clock hit two-pm.

Spilling out of the meeting room, she felt strangely relieved when she caught sight of Ben waiting for her, greeting him with a grin as he approached.

"Are you ready to go? I took the liberty of having someone drive out your wardrobe, because...well...I was bored. And I really don't feel like driving back to the hotel."

"Lifesaver," she replied with a sigh, glad that they didn't have an extra leg of their journey to worry about. "Thank you."

Her sisters, however, did not intend on letting them get away without any prodding. "Where are you heading off to?" Daphne asked casually, although her eyes betrayed the curiosity that she tried to hide.

"Just out," Francesca replied. "Ben's going to show me around the city -- Sightseeing, like a real tourist."

"And you've told Anthony about this?" the eldest responded, at the same time as Eloise scrunched her nose and repeated, "Sightseeing?"

A beat. Francesca ignored Daphne's question, instead raising a brow at Eloise who looked entirely unconvinced. "Is that all right with you?" she asked, sarcastic as ever.

Instead of responding, the middle Bridgerton simply looked at them with a raised brow and tight-lipped smile, eyes darting between her sister and the man beside her. "Good luck with that," she retorted. "Those people are absolute vultures."

"Eloise!"

"We'll be fine." Francesca turned to Ben, a desperation in her eyes as she glanced towards the lifts -- Lets get out of here. "Lead the way, tour guide."

"You should do it."

Ben lifted his head in surprise.

"If that's what you want to do, why not? Life's too short otherwise," she insisted. "You know, I used to have a music teacher when I was little - She'd come over and we'd spend the afternoon playing piano and violin. I always thought I'd love to do that -- Either that, or looking after little ones. Nursery or pre-school, when they're learning to read and write."

Unbidden, a soft smile touched Ben's mouth at the thought of a smaller, bouncier version of Francesca standing before him, poised with a violin while her teacher accompanied on the piano.

"They say it's always best to get them young," Ben agreed. "If you're from a family of musicians, I suspect you were ejected from the womb with a miniature bow and violin in hand. A piano, on the other hand, might've been a bit harder on your mother to pass." Chuckling, he lifted his eyes again. "I have no real knowledge of your musical prowess, but I imagine you'd be an excellent instructor. It takes both patience and compassion, and thus far you've exhibited both -- especially after I called you a spoiled princess."

Or had he only said that in his head?

Francesca beamed. "We're in a meeting until lunchtime, and then I want to come back and change - So let's say two o'clock?" she suggested. When Ben nodded, she confirmed, "Its a date, then. Though maybe we should hold off on telling Anthony about the plan... or anyone else, for that matter."

Ben snorted, though he was smiling. "Ashamed of me already? Though no, I completely agree -- the less people who're aware, the better. That'll make it all the easier to fool the rest of the world, and thus, the potential perp." Grabbing a piece of pizza from the box, he rose and flashed a lopsided smile. "Guess I'll take this 'to-go.' I'm sure I can find something to preoccupy my time until two."

--

Unfortunately, Ben's "occupied time" required him to stay abreast of Francesca, but without actually being present for any of her meetings and practices. This meant he was tasked to furtively blend in along the outskirts, choosing to loiter or read, but never too far away from where the Bridgertons were gathered.

Despite barely focusing, Ben kept one eye on a book and the other on the unoccupied hallway. Just when he was about ready to test the acoustics to entertain himself, the door down the corridor opened, and Francesca and her sisters came spilling out through the door.

Checking to make certain that the hall was still clear, Ben gratefully pocketed his book and approached with an arched brow. "Top secret musician meeting?" he quipped. "When I was asked to guard you all, I didn't realize that protecting you would be like protecting the pope." He chuckled. "Are you ready to go? I took the liberty of having someone drive out your wardrobe, because...well...I was bored. And I really don't feel like driving back to the hotel."

[doodlesofmyheart]

I AM NOT WITH HER II

Florence Pugh x R

WC: 1,180k

a/n: I always think that the continuing parts I do are never really good, so here it is. I really do hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

Part 1 linked at the end

TW: Some angry sex that might not even be bc im just not able to write it?

Getting home to a house full of cop cars, Florence's mother was outside talking to one of them and Raffie stood hugging Florence by the waist whilst looking at the driveway, which made her the first to notice that my car had pulled up. She let go and ran to the passenger side climbing in a locking the door behind her.

"Where is Luna?" Raffie looked at the back seat as she sat down

"I left her at Hailee's. Raff why is the police here?" You asked her

"Florence called mom when you left and she was in hysterics, couldn't get a word out only that you left and took Luna, I told mom to not make this a big deal, to let you guys work your problems alone. But she had to butt in apparently. I really am sorry" The younger version of Florence took a hold of your hand squeezing it slightly with a sad smile "Florence is going to freak when you get out of the car and Lulu is not here"

"She will learn today" You turned off the car getting out of it in one swift motion "Y/N" you heard Florence's mother say

"Y/N! Where is Luna?" Florence ran to you looking back at your SUV

"I'm only going to say this once, I'm going to walk into my own house, go into the bedroom to change and when I walk out again, EVERYONE will be gone. That includes your mother and Raffie" your hands were wrapped around her waist firmly briefly whispering into her ear "I really hope you know what you just did" walking off into the house.

You heard her dismiss her mother’s outrage cry about you walking in as if nothing happened. By the time you walked out of the room, Florence was closing the door, her face was red, her eyes puffy from all the crying and you couldn't help but feel your heart crumble into tiny pieces.

Before you could stop yourself, your feet carried you to her, one of your hands surrounded her waist whilst the other grabbed her face roughly and your lips attached to hers in a desperate kiss.

A kiss to feel something other than hurt and angryness

Your arms went down to her thighs lifting her up easily, her lips never letting yours go, her arms wrapping around your neck grabbing the baby hairs at the nape of it.

She knew you liked that.

"Make love to me" she whispered against your lips going back to kissing you desperately.

Body grinding against yours, your hands taking a hold of her butt and squeezing before throwing her on the bed. She didn't waste time in taking her clothes off, you didn't waste time in taking yours off either. Climbing over her, you kissed every inch of her body, starting with her thighs, going up her pelvic bone, your hand rested in between her legs. Her breathing picked up, you smiled knowing that you had her exactly where you wanted her

You were angry.

Your lips travelled along her abdomen continuing up, her ribs pocking through as she arched her back letting a moan out her mouth. Your lips met her left nipple, sucking and slightly biting it. Your fingers brushed against her extremely wet folds. Her pale hands grabbed your face bringing it up to hers and kissing you, you couldn't bring yourself to stop this, you didn't want to stop. So, you kissed her back.

A kiss to show her what she will be missing.

A kiss to try and stop any self-doubt that you could have ever had.

Your tongue met hers, sloppily, not giving her a chance to react to your actions. Two fingers met the tight walls of her wet center, not caring that it was unexpected or rough. Her moans filled the bedroom quickly and loudly. You loved the fact that Florence was very vocal about what she enjoyed in bed and what she didn’t. She liked when you took control and when you made her cum more than twice in a single night. She didn’t like when you stopped to look at her in the middle of it all, but she appreciated that you loved observing her every move and how you made her feel like the only one in that moment.

Or at least that’s what she used to like

This was the first time the two of you shared an intimate moment since Luna was born and you couldn’t hate it more. That your baby girl was not at home with the both of you, that you came back to talk and are doing everything but that. Your mouth travelled down from her lips to the valley between her breasts giving attention to them both once again before kissing her slightly marked abdomen, her belly button and down to her clit. Your hands pushed up her legs as you went in between them licking her clean, her reaction causing your own core to pulse. Her hand reached down to take a hold of your hair pushing you down when you stopped to look at your work proud of making her so wet after 7 years of being together.

“Y/n please, I need you” she said squirming with impatience

“Don’t say anything” Diving back in this time not stopping even when she was begging you to after her first climax. You wanted her to miss you. You wanted her to remember you. You wanted her to feel you everywhere when you were not there.

You hated that Florence couldn’t give you a place in her life.

The next morning Florence woke up alone and naked in bed. The bed still smelled like you, but it was cold. She called out for you, expecting you to come through the door as soon as she said your name.

But you weren’t there.

Putting on a shirt quickly she went to your shared closet finding your side almost empty, her eyes opened wide, she ran to Luna’s room opening each of the drawers, not finding her clothes or toys either. She called out once more entering your bedroom, the note on the bedside table coming into her view

Flo,

Happy 7 years of love, companionship, and creating our own little family. You gave me, US, the greatest give anyone could have ever asked for, our Luna. The last year together was one for the books and I am grateful that I got to spend most of it by your side. That you chose us before your career and that you loved us with all of you. Today is our day, but we will not be celebrating it together, Luna is with me and by the time you read this letter I will already be gone. Don’t bother asking Hailee where we are, she doesn’t know. The only one that knows where to find me its you and I only ask that if/when you do come to me is because you are prepared to tell the world that I am not just “her”.

I am yours

I was yours Florence Pugh.

- Y/N

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___

Tag: @jeyramarie @flosbelova @mar-romanova @bring-mecoffee @simpforflorencepugh1

P.D: I had to stop at some point and this was it. Don't hate me :)

PART 1

Okay, I'm signing off now!

- Sofia

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

[sassyhobbits]

rowaelin with their first child and they get into that stranger anxiety phase and cry with everyone except when they're in their mothers arms and it's exhausting but also adorable but rowan sometimes feels like a bad dad because his kid doesn't want to be held by him so aelin has to reassure him and then some day this phase is finally over - prompt 😢🥺

ok i adored writing this one. dad rowan is so much fun to work with. i hope everyone enjoys!!

~~~

In his over 300 years, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius had been awoken by many different things. Whether it was a call to battle while sleeping in a war tent, a summons from his queen late at night, or a lover trying unsuccessfully to disappear quietly before dawn. Yet, none of these manners of waking up had filled him with as much dread as he felt currently.

He was woken in the middle of the night by a shrill shriek coming from the room that adjoined the one he shared with Aelin. In the recent months, what had once been a leisure room had been converted to a nursery for their new baby girl.

It took three years after Aelin’s coronation before they decided to start trying to have a child. It took another year before they were successful. Rowan counted his blessings. He had seen plenty of Fae couples take decades before they finally conceived.

Eliora was four months old now, which meant four months of troubled sleep for both him and his mate.

Rowan was instantly on alert at the sound of his daughter’s cries. He knew that they were no more than a normal babe’s troubles, but his instincts made him tense anyways. He quickly sat up, looking down at his wife quickly to see if she had woken up. Luckily, she still slept, likely beyond exhausted from the mix of raising a child and ruling a kingdom. If Rowan was successful, she wouldn’t have to wake up at all.

He got out of bed and swiftly stepped into the nursery, coming before Eliora’s crib. Her tiny face was pinched up in dainty outrage, small limbs flailing as she cried. Rowan took a deep breath, sending a prayer up to the gods more out of habit than faith at this point, and picked his daughter from the crib. Hopefully, this would be the time he could get her to stop crying.

The little princess shrieked and protested whenever she was in anyone’s arms besides her mother’s. Rowan’s included.

“I’ve got you, my little light,” Rowan whispered to his daughter, cradling her tiny body to his bare chest and lowering himself onto the rocking chair they kept beside her crib. “Everything’s alright.”

Despite his soothing words, Eliora still continued to cry. It broke Rowan’s heart to hear, broke it even more to know that nothing he did could seem to calm her down.

“Please stop crying, love,” Rowan pleaded, threading his fingers through the fine, silvery-blonde hair growing on his daughter’s head. “Your mother is so tired and needs her sleep.”

Unfortunately, even begging didn’t seem to work.

Over the sounds of Eliora’s cries, he heard the door hinges creek, and the sound of bare feet scuffing over stone. Rowan glanced over, finding Aelin walking towards him. Exhaustion weighed down her beautiful face, but her eyes were still full of fondness at the sight of the two of them.

Rowan looked to her apologetically before his face crumpled in defeat. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Give her to me.”

Rowan handed the squirming bundle of blankets to his wife. Aelin situated their daughter in her arms before she lowered herself on Rowan’s lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, press a kiss to her shoulder, and begin to rock them.

Quickly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away. Her face unscrewed, looking at Aelin with those wide, Ashryver eyes that she had.

Aelin began to sing a low, Terrasenian lullaby as he continued to rock the three of them. It never ceased to amaze him how good she was with their daughter, how quickly she was able to sooth her temper. He only wished that he could do the same, that Eliora would look at him the same way she looked at Aelin and not scream and scream and scream.

Rowan’s heart was full of love as he watched Eliora’s eyes begin to droop shut at the soothing rocking motion and the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t long before she was once again asleep, the night perfectly silent.

Rowan helped Aelin stand, keeping a hand against her back as she brought their daughter back to her crib and laid her down. Perfect. She truly was perfect.

A gentle hand on his arm drew his attention away from the slumbering babe. Aelin nodded her head towards their room and Rowan dutifully followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” Rowan said again, drawing Aelin into his arms and kissing her forehead. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“No more so than you.”

Rowan could only sigh, pressing his lips together tightly. His emotions were troubled, and he should have known that Aelin was going to notice. She leaned back slightly, peering up at his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rowan, and you’re wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rowan wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What am I doing wrong?”

He had faced many challenges over his years. Wars and battles and tortures. He had survived them all and came out victorious. And yet, the thing that brought him to his knees, was the fact that he couldn’t bring comfort to his own daughter when she needed it. A baby had finally defeated him.

“You know you’re not doing anything wrong,” Aelin said firmly. “The nurses said this happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

Rowan had heard this what felt like a thousand times. It did little to soothe his troubles.

Rowan was good at many things. He was a warrior and a general, had stepped confidently into the role of king consort. His hands could kill and heal and build, but they couldn’t get Eliora to stop crying. He couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, being a father… wasn’t something that he was made for.

It broke his heart to think. He remembered how excited he was when they found out Aelin was finally pregnant, how they cried and kissed and clung to each other, whispering about the future. He had been ecstatic, but also terrified. He knew Aedion, who had welcomed his own son into the world a year before Aelin got pregnant, had felt the same before he was born. But, Aedion hadn’t had the troubles Rowan did. He had stepped into fatherhood gracefully, and his son loved him immensely.

“Hey,” Aelin said, a bit snappily. She put her hand on Rowan’s cheek and urged him to look at her. In those eyes was a familiar fire. “Stop that. I know what’s going through your head. You’re a wonderful father.”

Rowan sighed and hung his head, pressing Aelin’s hand more firmly against his cheek. “How can I be a good father if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Aelin said. “Neither did Aedion or Lysandra. No new parent has any idea what they’re doing. It’s part of the job.”

She made it sound so easy. Aelin had always had a knack for that.

“I wonder if there’s some secret behind it,” Rowan mused as Aelin tucked herself back into his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He felt his wife shrug. “I don’t know… but if there was, I think it would be to love them. To support them. To do everything in our power to make sure they’re happy.”

“I love Eliora more than life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I know, love.” Aelin rolled on the tips of her toes and brushed a soft kiss against Rowan’s mouth. “Now, all you need to do is have patience.”

He chuckled. “Look at you. Who would have ever guessed that Aelin Galathynius would be lecturing me on patience.”

Her grin was a slash of white in the dark. “I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years.”

“Who the hell has ever told you that?”

“People. Now, will you come back to bed with me?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

They climbed back under the covers, pressing their bodies close. Aelin fell back asleep almost comically quickly. Rowan wasn’t far behind, holding his wife tightly throughout the night.

…

Another month went by and little changed. Both Rowan and his wife were getting little sleep during the night, leading to some groggy mornings. He had seen Aelin taking short naps at her desk or dozing off when an advisor spoke for too long. She would, of course, deny it if Rowan ever brought it up, so he wisely stayed silent.

Eliora still abhorred being held by anyone except Aelin. The fact that it wasn’t just him brought Rowan a bit of solace. His daughter cried when held by Lysandra or Fenrys or Elide. She had a particularly nasty meltdown last time Lorcan had held her.

“I know, sweet girl,” Aelin had murmured, taking Eliora from Lorcan. “I wouldn’t want to be that close to him either.”

Still, Eliora’s reactions didn’t deter Rowan from trying to hold and soothe her, though he had not yet been victorious. Patience, Aelin had said. It was easier said than done.

The sun had set below the Staghorns hours ago. Eliora was asleep in the nursery, Aelin was treating herself to a long soak in the tub, and Rowan sat in one of the plush armchairs they kept in their room, sharpening and polishing some of his blades.

It was an easy practice to get lost in. The simple, repetitive movements were a welcome distraction. A good way to cool down before bed.

However, his hands froze when he heard a tiny whimper sound from the nursery that quickly morphed into a shrill cry. Eliora.

Rowan placed his blades down on the low table before him, pushing to his feet and quickly striding into the nursery.

Eliora was wiggling as she wailed. Rowan wished he could read her mind so he knew exactly what was bothering her and how he could help. But, all he could do was take a deep, bracing breath and scoop his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Rowan whispered, carrying her over to the rocking chair. “What is it?”

Eliora’s only response was to continue crying.

Rowan sighed, wondering how much longer he had before Aelin got out of the bath and came in to calm Eliora down. He had seen Aelin do it countless times. She would take Eliora into her arms, smile down at her, start to whisper nonsense or sing a low lullaby. She made it seem so easy.

“Everything’s alright, Eliora,” Rowan murmured, switching to the Old Language. “I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, little love.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Slowly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away to a whimper and then, to nothing at all. Rowan held his breath, worrying that one wrong move would put her back into a fit of hysterics. His daughter slowly opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Rowan smiled down at her. “You’re just as lovely as your mother. Just as stubborn, too.”

And then, as if she understood his little joke, Eliora flashed him a gummy smile. The shift in expression floored him. She had never given him a smile before.

Rowan felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to burn, but he smiled back at the tears welled up. A tiny laugh escaped his throat. Finally, finally, he had done it.

Eliora’s chubby arms reached up. Rowan held out a finger, letting her wrap a tiny hand around it. He always forgot just how small she was.

“I love you more than you could possibly know, Eliora.”

He was too distracted by his daughter and the little grip she had on his finger to notice that Aelin had entered the nursery until she was almost upon them. Rowan looked up at his wife, knowing that his eyes were still watery and there were likely tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Regardless, he beamed.

“It would seem, once again, that I was right,” Aelin said with a triumphant smirk.

“As you often are, my love.”

She laughed and dropped a kiss to his forehead before draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning over and watching their daughter, who was studying them with wide eyes. Once again, Eliora smiled. Rowan would never tire of the sight.

“She looks like you when she smiles,” Aelin mused.

“You think?”

She nodded slowly, reaching out and running her knuckles along the smooth curve of Eliora’s cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s ours. She’s just so… perfect.”

“Like her mother.”

Aelin snorted. “Kiss ass.”

“Maybe a little.”

They faded into silence, simply standing there, wrapped up in their little, blossoming family. They stood there until Eliora’s eyes fluttered shut once more and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. One she enjoyed for the entirety of the night.

Rowan didn’t know what he had done to deserve such bliss, but he knew it must have been something good.

[grey-sides]

Angst prompt 7 for harringrove? </3

"do you think about them when you look at me?" Here it is anon! I tried to give us some resolution because it appears to have been a rough day for all. Feel free to send me prompts, I'll likely draft up a fix-it this weekend after I get through Volume 1 too!

Steve’s window is open to let in some cool night air because it’s almost summer, but his dad hasn’t turned the air conditioning on yet. His ceiling fan is going, but he and Billy are both laying on the bed, panting, sweaty, naked. Billy is silent like he usually is, one hand tucked behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling.

And Steve is tired and irritable because his seasonal allergies are acting up and he didn’t get much sleep last night. He’s going to blame these things on what he accuses Billy of next. He’s just tired from lack of sleep and tired of being jerked around. And Billy never talks, barely says two words to him in the middle of it all which is so unlike him in every other situation. And Steve is. Steve is putting his foot down. 

“Am I just a placeholder?” Steve asks, sitting up so he can look across his bedroom at his stupid plaid wall with the stupid chair railing. 

Billy makes a sound in the back of his throat and he lifts his other hand in the air, waving it around. “What? You’re gonna have to elaborate?”

Steve clenches his jaw for a moment and forces a breath out his nose. Maybe he should just kick Billy out before it can start to hurt. “This. Is this just something for you to do while you’re stuck in Hawkins? I’m just someone for you to do while you’re stuck in Hawkins?”

“Huh?” Billy is always slow after sex, lazy and unwilling to engage in conversation. 

Steve turns and he’s sure he has fire in his eyes. Plants one hand on the bed while he looms over Billy’s head. “Do you miss the boys you fucked back in California? Do you think about them when you look at me?”

Billy blinks at him twice before his brow slowly furrows and he leans up on his elbows. “What?”

Steve turns away again and draws his knees up. He hates feeling vulnerable, hates feeling like he’s opened up his ribs so demodogs can chew at the soft cavity underneath. 

Billy sits up more and puts his warm, warm palm on Steve’s shoulder, trying to turn him around. “Steve, what the hell is this about?”

Steve swallows hard because that means Billy means business. He’s not calling him Harrington, he’s calling him Steve. “You just- you close your eyes every time we have sex where I can look into them.”

Billy sighs and Steve hears his flop back down, his hand falling away from Steve’s shoulder. “God, that’s so dumb.”

“No it’s not!” Steve snaps, turning to him again. “It’s not. Because I’m not here to be a placeholder until you can go back to California.”

Billy rolls his eyes and looks away, sticking both arms behind his head now. He looks good, but his jaw is set like he’s not going to say anything to deny it.

“Are you fucking serious? You are! You’re just fucking around with me until you can leave this town!” Steve cries, outraged and hurting. 

Billy sighs again, but his eyes roll over to Steve at least. “What do you want me to say, huh? Oh no, Steve, I would never do that. In fact, I love Hawkins now just because I got involved with your big dick and now I want to stay forever! Get fucking real, man, we haven’t been doing this long enough for you to make demands of me.”

Steve sets his jaw next and he wishes Billy would have just broken a plate over his head again. He gets out of bed and grabs the nearest pair of boxes, they’re his, thankfully. Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable. 

“Where are you going?” Billy asks when Steve crosses the room to open his door. 

“Away from you!” Steve snarls and wrenches it open. He stalks out of the room and down the hall, cursing up a storm.

Billy waits a few minutes before hauling himself up to find his own boxers. He rubs his hands over his face for a moment, unreal. Drama Queen Steve Harrington, that’s what Tommy H should have called him. 

He follows after that, listens to the sound of Steve spitting curses and finds him in the kitchen. He’s drinking orange juice straight out of the carton when Billy gets downstairs. He’s gross. Billy thinks he could love him. 

Billy crosses his arms and leans against the counter, waiting for Steve to turn around. They’re both stubborn. Billy can wait. Worse places to die of patience than Steve Harrington’s house. 

When Steve puts the carton back, Billy decides he has to be the adult here. “Are we gonna talk about it or do you just want to pout?”

Steve turns to him, nostrils flaring, brows drawn down because he’s still angry. He’s allowed to be angry. “What’s there to talk about? You were pretty clear just now.”

Billy tilts his head back, takes a deep breath, looks back at Steve. “You know what? You don’t get why I’m allowed to be mad too. So let me lay it out for you. I’m not making plans with some guy who waxes poetic about every girl he talks to the second he gets off. I don’t wanna hear about your ex or the new cute girl you work with. I don’t know what we’re doing and now you wanna get mad at me for not promising you forever?”

Steve’s fury dies a little in his eyes and he shakes his head a little. But he doesn’t deny doing it. Every other sentence out of Steve’s mouth is about Nancy or Robin. Billy wonders if he ever tells either one of them about him. “I- fuck. We’re dysfunctional,” he mutters. 

Billy snorts a little and nods. “We are. But we have good sex.”

Steve rolls his eyes and looks over at him. “I’ll shut up about Nancy and Robin. Just feels like I gotta fill the silence sometimes, you know?”

Billy walks around the island so he can look at Steve, gaze into his eyes, stare into his soul. “I’ll try to keep my eyes open while you give me mind blowing orgasms.”

Steve gives him a half-smile, but he still looks a little hurt. “Are you gonna forget about me when you go back to California?”

“Fat chance,” Billy chuckles. “No one guys doing it like you do out there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees with a nod, a quick flash of teeth. “King Steve was my first dude, you know?”

Steve looks surprised for a moment, but he smiles and starts to look cocky. “Oh really? So I’ve ruined you for all the other guys?”

Billy rolls his eyes and lightly punches him in the shoulder. “Come on, I wanna go listen to a CD in bed.” He reaches for one of Steve’s wrists, pulling him along.

At this moment, he can’t promise him forever. Can really only promise him right now. But maybe by the time Billy graduates and Steve figures out how to actually let Nancy go. Maybe he’ll take him to California too. 

[mmvalentine]

Can I please get a moonstone palace bathtub smut for feysand???

Pleaseeeeeee

Honey I'm sorry this took me soooo long, this was actually the last one on my list before I decided to cut off my prompt intake so I did always mean to write it I've just not been having as much motivation lately! But yes, let's do this, let's get SOAPY!

Moonshine

Rhys was a little drunk.

Feyre had been at the Summer Court with Amren all day, up to their necks in meetings. Rhys had been doing the same at the day court and Helion conducted his official court business... differently. And so it was that Rhys got home just after Feyre, rather worse for wear.

"Feyre!" he called, slurring a little.

"In here," she called back, in the middle of folding some clothes away. Rhys poked his head round the door.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."

"In... our room? Yes, where else would I be?"

Rhys sighed. "I couldn't remember which house I was supposed to be at. I went to the house by the river, but it's all covered up."

"Yes," Feyre agreed, her lips twitching. "Renovations, remember?"

"So then I went to the House of the Wind," Rhys continued. "But Cassian and Nesta were there and kicked me out, so I went to the townhouse, and then remembered that Nyx lives there now- did you know our son is an adult who lives alone?"

"I did know that."

"So then I went to the cabin but you weren't there either... and here you are in the moonshine palace." He shook his head, and corrected himself. "The moonstone palace. Feyre we have so many houses."

"We do," Feyre smiled. "And you have had so much to drink. Moonshine indeed."

"Yes, well, you know Helion's rules. You have to do a shot every time you raise a new point. Or win a point. Or concede a point. Next time, I'm going to see Tarquin and you can deal with Helion."

"Tarquin doesn't like you, and you know I can't get through the agenda with Helion's rules."

Rhys looked outraged for a second. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am half the size of Helion. Maybe less."

"No, why doesn't Tarquin like me? Everybody likes me."

"Darling I have a more pressing question."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What... is all over you?"

Rhys looked down at himself, and appeared to think about it for a second. "It's marmalade," he said eventually.

"It's what?"

"A delegate from the human realm brought it."

"Okay," Feyre said slowly. "But why is it all over you?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"And how did you get it on your wings?"

Rhys turned his head quickly. "My wings are out?"

Feyre laughed. "Okay, never mind. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed."

Rhys' expression shifted then, and bewilderment became something much more wicked.

"You know," he said, "the marmalade is quite delicious. You should give it a try. You could clean me off with your tongue."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and pushed her mate toward the large bathtub. Around the bathroom, candles flickered to life of their own accord.

"Or I could just clean you off with a sponge like a regular fae."

"Oh so you are going to be doing the cleaning," Rhys said, his eyes lighting. And with that, his orange stained suit disappeared and he pulled her against his naked chest.

Feyre landed with her hands on his skin, and her breath caught at the sudden movement. She made to push him away, but when she looked up at his face Rhys was looking at her with an intensity she did not think he was capable of in his inebriated state.

"You're joining me, yes?" Rhys purred, and already his hands were pulling at the fastenings behind her back.

"Well I-"

"Of course you are," and then faster than she expected he had the dress falling around her feet, and his teeth on her left nipple.

"Woah, okay, down boy," she struggled out. "You have sticky stuff in your hair."

"Marmalade," Rhys reminded her.

"Right." She led Rhys to the tub, and they both climbed in. Feyre bundled her hair on top of her head while Rhys located the aforementioned sponge, and handed it to her. He waved his hand and the tub filled with bubbles, and beneath them Rhys pulled Feyre's legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Rhys she found him suddenly hard between her legs.

Her eyes went wide, but she did not acknowledge it. Instead, plunged the sponge into the water and then rubbed it over Rhys' chest and neck where the sticky substance had gotten under his shirt. Rhys, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Feyre's back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.

"We haven't had a bath together in ages," he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.

"Well," Feyre said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him up, "it's not often you're in need of such thorough cleaning."

Rhys reached forward and pulled Feyre up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.

"Maybe I should get dirty more often then," he murmured, and then Feyre was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and used it to clean the stuff out of his hair. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.

"You know you don't have to go to such extreme measures for us to spend time together," Feyre said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down one of Rhys' wings.

Rhys shuddered violently in shock and pleasure as Feyre collected more water and rubbed down his other wing.

"Ohhh darling," he groaned. "Do that again."

Feyre bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Rhys' shoulder and carefully wiping away all the marks on the leathery surface. Rhys' hands had left her back and were now gripping the edges of the tub. His forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge into the curves of his joints, and around the base of his wing's talon. She lifted a wing back to get the underside, and pretended to not notice the way Rhys' cock twitched beneath her as she wiped rough strokes down the inside edge.

Rhys groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Feyre was fairly satisfied that she had gotten the muck off him, and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off.

"Is that better?" she crooned.

"Mmm it's the most exquisite torture," Rhys replied, and started to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his wings. His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge over a particularly sensitive spot, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.

Feyre dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Rhys kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when Rhys was tipsy. There was just something a little looser, a little messy but sexy about him when he was handsy-drunk, and even though Feyre hadn't been drinking, the intoxication seemed to be contagious.

Feyre drank the taste of moonshine off Rhys' lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.

It should be so familiar by now. A hundred years together, and one might think this wouldn't surprise Feyre anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of Rhys inside her was almost too much to bear. Feyre cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.

"Fuuuck Feyre, fuck," Rhys groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Feyre took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace. "Gods you could kill a male fucking like this."

Rhys sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Feyre moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Rhys' tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.

Rhys saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Rhys was not far behind, and Feyre reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.

When they had stopped moving, they sat for minutes just curled together like that. Eventually, Rhys yawned and Feyre kissed his head before whispering "Let's go to bed."

"I'll just sleep here," Rhys mumbled.

"You can't sleep in the bathtub," Feyre argued.

"Sure I can," Rhys said. "I'm doing it right now."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and disentangled herself from Rhys' arms. He growled in protest, but she managed to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright your turn, come on."

Rhys slid down in the bath.

"Come on you big baby." Feyre reached in and hauled her giant, heavy mate out of the water with some difficulty, and decided it would be easier to magic him dry.

Rhys practically fell into bed and was asleep within seconds- but not before he managed to grab a hold of Feyre, pull her tight into his body, and kiss the back of her neck while his arms wound round her middle.

"Good night my love," Feyre said quietly, and then used magic again to send their clothes to the laundry and snuff the candles out, since once Rhys was unconscious and wrapped around her like this, there was no getting up until morning.

****

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