#i lean more to the latter most days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaflms · 10 months ago

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round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

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sanjisleggy · 11 days ago

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take care of you (trafalgar law x reader)

summary: Trafalgar Law discovers you’ve been hiding a severe injury from him

a/n: another req from the end of dec last year! back then i still wasn’t very confident with Law’s character but i think i should be good enough with it now :3c

contents: pre-relationship, descriptions of bodily wounds, infection, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, very soft!Law

wc. 1.5k

wanna be on my taglist?

the first thought that comes to mind when you wake up in the infirmary feeling super groggy and sore is: “fuck.” pulling aside the blanket draped over you reveals an impeccably clean, fresh bandage wrapped firmly around your torso where, the last you remember, underneath it lays a gunshot wound you hoped the others would never find out about

you can barely recall the lightheadedness and nausea you felt before you passed out. it turns out re-stitching and re-dressing your own infected wound is a lot harder than doing it for someone else, especially when you have to muffle your groans of pain during the process

you’d gotten the injury during a battle against enemy pirates and you’d decided that since the bullet made a clean exit, you needn’t bother your captain for medical assistance–especially since, at the time, he was busy helping the Straw Hat’s doctor with the more severely-wounded allies. having some experience doing first aid, you foolishly assumed you’d be able to handle it all on your own, that it was a small matter not worth adding to your captain’s already-overflowing plate

on top of the bedside table sits a jug and two plastic cups, one of which looked like it’s been used. there’re also numerous boxes of different medication and a handwritten note that says “do NOT leave this room until you’ve finished your entire course of medication” in Law’s familiar handwriting

knowing that he’s aware of your state–and most likely the person who treated you to begin with–eases your anxiety a little. at least now you don’t have to stress over hiding it from him and your other crewmates

what doesn’t help with your nerves is how for the following week you spend recovering, you don’t see Law at all. everyone else has taken turns coming in to spend time with you: Bepo takes naps with you, Shachi brings you comics to read together and Penguin sneaks you little snacks but not once has your captain shown up at all. your crewmates don’t seem too keen on talking about him when they’re with you, too, which only means one thing: he’s super pissed

you begin to worry and overthink as you near the end of your mandatory bedrest, dreading the inevitable moment Law finally shows up and you have to face the consequences of causing even more trouble for him than if you’d just asked for help right after the battle a week ago

it gets worse when you’re alone with no one to distract you from any intrusive thoughts. what if he thinks i don’t trust him to be my captain? what if this ruins his view of me as his crew member permanently? what if he kicks me out of the crew entirely?

you end up lamely falling asleep with tears staining your face and end up in such deep sleep that–like every night before–you don’t stir at all when Law enters the room and takes a seat by your bedside. he sighs deeply and rubs his face, eyes burning from sleep deprivation, as he leans back in the chair and readies himself for yet another whole night to watching over you and leaving right before the sun rises

Law notices your tears and feels a pang in his chest as he recalls a conversation he had earlier with Penguin; the latter had asked him to come see you while you’re awake since it’s obvious to everyone you’re worried he’s mad at you

“i’m just saying, Captain, it might be better to clear the air sooner or later,” Penguin said as he scratched the back of his neck. “(Y/N)’s been looking more miserable by the day.”

“good. she should be.” Law’s response comes out a lot colder than he wanted it to but Penguin knew him well enough to understand that. “what was she thinking hiding an injury like that? had she hidden it any longer or if Bepo hadn’t found her passed out in her room that day, a near-fatal fever would’ve kicked in at any moment!”

he stopped himself before he could get even more riled up, knowing it wasn’t Penguin’s fault so he shouldn’t be suffering the brunt of his captain’s fury.

as he sits in the darkness of the infirmary, the room only barely illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the open window, Law thinks about what he held back from saying aloud: how learning that you’d fallen unconscious with a badly infected wound made him question everything he thought he knew about his capabilities as a captain

he knows he doesn’t need to sit by your side every night–and deprive himself of much-needed sleep–but he’s deadly paranoid. just a week ago he’d ignorantly assumed his crew members were fine and directed all his attention to Luffy’s crew, only to find out days later you’d been walking around with a bullet hole through your body this entire time

what if i’m missing something else? he wonders, eyebrows furrowing as he rapidly blinks away the sleepiness in his eyes. what if her condition worsens if i leave?

giving in to temptation, he picks up your hand and holds it carefully, before idly running his thumb over your knuckles and the individual joints of your fingers. it’s something you do to him often, especially during the nights when he shows up to your room unannounced, silently pleading for company

you aren’t dating. not yet, at least. though it’s obvious to the two of you–as well as everyone else–that your relationship doesn’t quite fall under the category of ‘friends’, either. for a while now, you’ve been something in between for him; someone whose opinion of him he’s more sensitive about and whose company he yearns for any time you’re not within his sight. he knows you feel the same way, too, from how you spend all of your free time ‘bothering him’ endlessly to how willingly you let him crawl into bed beside you when he needs your warmth and companionship to keep away the nightmares

Law’s pulled out of his own thoughts when he catches a glimpse of the tears still clinging to your face, the moonlight having reflected off the wet surface in a way that caught his attention. without thinking, he reaches out to dry them only for your eyes to flutter open once his fingers make contact with your cheeks

“Law?” you croak and almost instantly he begins pouring a cup of water for you before bringing it to your lips. wordlessly, you drink as he tilts the cup gently, careful not to spill anything. there’s an odd pause between the both of you when he places the cup back on the bedside table and then turns back to looking at you without saying a thing.

he catches the way you fiddle anxiously with a corner of your blanket and a single word fumbles clumsily out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“sorry.”

you look at him, confused. he swallows thickly.

“i’m sorry i haven’t come to see you. i heard from the others you think i’m mad at you.”

“are you, though?” you reply, biting your lip. “mad at me?”

Law sighs and rubs his face again. “no,” he answers honestly. “i’m mad at myself for not noticing sooner.”

“i’m so sorry,” you gasp suddenly before fresh tears begin pouring down your face. he panics internally and reaches out towards you almost as if to grab your shoulders but he pauses before any contact is made, his hands hovering over you. “i’m sorry i hid it from you and the others, i just didn’t want to cause you any trouble but i just ended up making things even worse.” you wipe frantically at your face, almost embarrassed to be crying about such a thing in front of your captain.

“no, no, (Y/N),” Law shushes, finally finding the courage to touch you, resting his large hands on your shoulders before squeezing gently in an attempt to ground you. “don’t cry. i forgive you, okay? just don’t hide such a thing again. it’s my duty to take care of you. it’ll never feel like trouble, no matter how busy i am.”

you nod as you sniffle and smile wobbly at him and the sight sends an arrow straight through his chest. his heart begins to race when you reach out as if asking for a hug.

“sleep with me tonight? and maybe tomorrow night, too?” you ask softly in such an innocent manner it knocks the wind right out of his lungs. not trusting himself to speak without fumbling like an idiot, Law simply responds with a smile and a nod before crawling into bed beside you.

the infirmary bed is much smaller than your personal one–seeing as it’s made for only one adult–but neither of you have an issue with the proximity forced upon you two due to the lack of space. if anything, you welcome it happily, humming with content when you feel him wrap his arms firmly around you, holding you pressed to his firm chest. Law buries his face in your hair as he feels you nuzzle into the junction of his neck while he falls into some much needed sleep.

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16 @Jordan03400 @rebeccawinters @glorywielder101 @slytherinambitious @the0twst0shrimp0mc

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x yn #op #op x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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thargelalia · 2 months ago

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see you in hell, baby

jason todd x fem!reader

Dick naively expects Jason to help him stay in your good graces as the MVP brother-in-law

-> 1.4k words

-> fluff, poor attempt at humor

-> warnings: none, the dynamic duo being dorks together perhaps?

please, reblog if you like or the author will cry

There's nothing better than to enjoy the vast collection of classics at the Wayne Manor library on a rare peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Or is it?

“Jaybird, hey!” Dick greets his younger brother, a little more excited than usual, as he saunters into the library. “Have you.. uhh, is my BFF around?”

He’s scanning around the place like you could emerge from behind the couches or bookshelves at any given moment. Judging by his tone, Jason can already tell Dick wants something, but chooses to ignore him, too immersed in his current book to care.

Dick looks left and right to the hallway before closing the doors, and joining Jason on the leather couch. The latter finally acknowledged his older brother to get this over with, so he can leave and Jason can read in peace.

“She went to the bathroom.. why?” Jason says, narrowing his eyes inquisitively at Dick’s fidgeting. A fake smile plastered on his face, sweat bidding on the temple. He’s obviously worried about something. “You’re being weirder than usual.. Got your pants stuffed with itching powder again?”

His lips twitch upwards a little at the memory.

“No, I— please, don’t ever remind me of that day again.” Dick winces, rubbing on his thigh to soothe an imaginary itch. Steph really goes all in on April Fool’s Day.

He clears his throat. “So, uh.. maybe, just maybe… I might’ve accidentally scratched that Beatles record sis-in-law lent to me last week.”

Jason exhales, contemplating whether he should ease Dick’s mind or not. While you were very careful and protective of your vinyl record collection, depending on which one that got damaged – and the extent of it – you might get a little upset, but let it go without much trouble.

Not before an hour lecture to the culprit about taking better care of other people’s stuff, of course.

“As long as it’s not Sergeant Pepper’s, you’ll be fine.” Jason shrugs, then chuckles to himself a little as he opens his book again. “Perhaps a kick or two to your shins.”

The silence that follows is pregnant with guilt. Jason can almost smell it in the air at the way his brother blanches next to him.

“Fuck. Don’t tell me—”

“It was an accident!”

“Dick, you insane?! It was a gift from her grandmother!” Jason chastises, smacking the book shut with a hard thud. “You damaged an original copy from the seventies, you fucking idiot!”

Dick slides down on the couch, a pout taking over his lips. “I know!”

“Can’t believe she let you borrow it.” Jason huffs, crossing his arms while shaking his head indignantly.

Dick has his hands on his head, about ready to rip his hair out.

“I know! What do I do now??”

“Well… for starters,” Jason begins dead serious, leaning towards Dick, who straightens his posture, desperate to hear a solution, “when was the last time you updated your last will and testament?”

“Shit.” Dick falls into the cushions, a desolated sigh leaving the depths of his soul. “Not helping, man.”

“Maybe Bruce can recycle my gravestone,” Jason continues, tapping his chin in fake thought, “what about an epitaph? Sure you’ve got some ideas.”

As always, any comment remotely related to his death has all the bats squirming or tensing like they’ve been poked by Catwoman’s sharp claws – which most of them have, in fact. They tend to feel uneasy whenever Jason makes his grim jokes.

And perhaps that’s exactly why he does it.

“Please, don’t talk like that,” Dick says softly, furrowing his eyebrows. Then, he changes his demeanor completely. “And yes, I do. Here lies Gotham’s hottest piece of ass. S.I.P.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look, lifting his eyebrow. “S.I.P?”

His brother smiles as if he was dying to be asked that. “Sashay in peace.”

“Hope you make a safe passage, disco queen.” Jason deadpans. “Make sure to head straight to heaven, though. Don’t wanna put up with your glittery ass in hell, too.”

Dick seems to suddenly remember why he was there in the first place. He grabs his younger brother by the shoulders, and shakes frantically. “This is serious, Jaybird! What now? I’ll lose my ‘favorite brother-in-law’ privileges!”

Jason kisses his teeth in annoyance, immediately releasing himself from Dick’s grasp, and pushing on his chest with zero delicacy. “You never had those.”

Anyone other than Dick — and Bruce — would’ve splattered themselves on the cushions at being on the receiving end of Jason’s hard shove. But his older brother only tilts back, and recovers his posture like a roly-poly toy. An impressive display of sheer core strength.

“Yes, I did. I do. Remember her last seminar? She only had one other seat aside from yours, and she chose to invite me.” He points at himself, sounding smug. “And what about the wine she got me from her trip to France? Or the tequila from Mexico, huh?”

“The others aren’t old enough to drink.” Jason points out, groaning as he massages his temples. This conversation is getting tiresome. Baby, where are you? He thinks in exasperation. Dealing with his family outside patrol is easier when you’re right next to him.

Dick freezes, his index finger lifted in the air.

He lowers it, closing his mouth.

Then, he raises it again, attempting to hide his wounded pride.

“That’s not the point! The point is—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Jason cuts him off, waving impatiently before he adds dryly, “too late for that, though. Replacement joined her Public Health research group last month. She’s invited him to dinner at our place twice now, unfortunately.”

There’s a shocked gasp.

“Not to mention the little demon asking her for help with his school projects, even though everyone knows he’s damn well capable of handling himself.”

An even bigger gasp leaves Dick’s lips, this time followed by a dramatic hand to his chest.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking stop?”

“I need to amp up my game. Urgently.”

“Good luck with that. Not sure you can—”

Jason’s interrupted by the sound of the doors opening. The scowl on his face immediately dissolves into a relieved look at your return. Meanwhile, his brother appears as if he’s staring at a ghost.

You smile, tipping your head up. “Hey, Dick! What’s up?”

“Heeey, bestie!” He shoots up from the couch, sounding extremely unnatural as he glances at the watch on his wrist. “I–um.. Damn! I gotta pick up Babs at her friend’s house now. See you guys later!”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, he breezes past you and out the doors like he’s suddenly been possessed by Wally West.

“What was that?” You turn from the door to your boyfriend, giving him a puzzled look.

Jason contemplates for a brief moment whether he should tell the truth or not. More out of concern over you, as he’d hate to upset you, than over Dick’s sake obviously. But if you found out later that he knew about this fuckup, he’d join his brother’s body in the graveyard. And Jason is very much enjoying his second chance at life right now.

“Dick ruined your Sergeant Pepper’s record.” Just as predicted, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for snitching on his older brother. Jason wishes he’d broken the news in a better way, but he let his eagerness for throwing Dick under the bus override his judgment.

Much to his surprise, you don’t show any expressive reaction aside from the slight purse of your lips.

“You’re talking about the scratch?” You ask simply, joining him on the burgundy couch as he opens an arm to envelop you in a half embrace.

He tilts his head to rest against yours. “You’ve seen it already?”

“It was there before he got it. Probably happened during my last move out.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Poor Dick. I told him my grandma loved that record… He must be feeling like trash.” A sigh escapes your lips as you lean against Jason’s chest. “You should probably tell him when he comes back.”

“Baby, I’m not telling anything.” Jason laughs wickedly, taking your hand in his large one and bringing it up to his lips. The tender kiss offers a stark contrast against the disapproval in his tone. “Serves him right for not being watchful enough.”

“You’re so evil, Jace.” You tilt your head up, so he can see the playful glint in your eyes. “There’s no place for you in heaven, you know that, right?”

Jason eyes you in disbelief. “Are you planning on telling him?”

The pressing of your lips together is already enough to answer him – a futile attempt to conceal a mischievous smile.

“That’s what I thought.” He pulls you to sit sideways on his thighs, arms tightening around your waist as he leans in to kiss your neck. Lips lingering there as his voice lowers in a way that makes you shiver when he says, “guess we’ll both be sharing Satan's throne as you sit on my lap in hell, baby.”

A/N: I wanna be Jason's boo, and Dick's bestie so bad y'all!!

Remember to reblog, and let me know your thoughts if you liked. It helps me stay motivated to post on here <33

divider is from here

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc fanfic #jason todd x y/n #dc imagine #red hood fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfiction

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papenathys · 2 months ago

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People need Jennifer's Body (2009) and Love Lies Bleeding (2024) to be lesbian films even if they are two of the queerest, messiest and most openly bisexual films of our times, simply because there is a certain subset of queer folks who see bisexuality as inherently less queer and more falling into the paradigm of heterosexual titillation for the male gaze. It is pretty much the same theory that governs the criticism of media like The Secret History (1992), Saltburn (2023) or Hannibal NBC (2013-2015) for queerbaiting or for "being cowards" about the depiction of same sex love stories between two men who are clearly bisexual or attracted to multiple genders in canon.

The onus of the blame for heteronormativity in contemporary publishing and media often falls upon bisexual women. I'm thinking of that God awful YouTube video by that Lavender Menace person who started speaking of how sapphic literature these days is so normative (I personally agree) before veering way™ off course to spew vitriol about how this was because every popular sapphic book nowadays is bisexual and not performing the acceptable model of lesbianism or sapphic desire.

When films like Bound get talked about in terms of being a lesbian classic, nobody mentions the fact that Corky, the butch from the film demonstrates biphobic (and by extension lesbiphobic) feelings towards Violet, the femme, and considers her to be "lying" for the male gaze and performing queerness. The film ends positively, with Corky overcoming her biases and acknowledging that Violet is just as queer as she is. It's irrelevant if Violet is bisexual or a closeted lesbian (I lean towards the latter with reference to her character), what's relevant is the policing of certain kinds of identities as being "less" queer and the refusal to accept or show empathy towards bisexual women, as we are considered beings incapable of authentic self presentation or autonomous desire. Instead, we are all just a gaslit hivemind of people operating under comp het.

Bisexual women cannot have peace when it comes to representation; people took that one sentence about Poison Ivy wildly out of context, retconned decades of her representation as a bisexual icon in popular culture in love with another bisexual woman and then gaslit bisexual folks for being "annoying" about it on social media. When Love Lies Bleeding released, on Twitter, bisexual women were told to stfu because this is a film about "REAL butch4butch dykes" (and then you see the film made by a bisexual director and the muscle mommy you love to gatekeep is a) not a butch and b) an open and proud bisexual).

Villanelle, who was openly bisexual in the Killing Eve books, was retconned by fandom into a man hating lesbian and that apparently made her more authentically queer than Eve, who remained bisexual in both TV and source material. Of course, it is easier to see the more "visibly queer" Villanelle as a lesbian, while Eve, whose relationships centre men more, and who has to have her eyes opened by the sexy assassin hunting her down, can be bisexual.

I find this a really weird pattern. The whole subgenre of "bisexual woman having a reckoning and leaving her husband for a lesbian" is corny at best and poorly equates bisexuality with heteronormativity at worst, especially because the same formula is almost never applied to show a bi woman leaving her husband for another bi woman, or a lesbian leaving behind a comp het marriage or having a mid-life awakening in popular sapphic tradpub literature; the closest to this I can find is the novel Cash Delgado is Living the Dream (2024) by Taylor Kay Mejia.

It's silly, and vapid and frankly very condescending to assume that every bisexual women in popular media is actually a lesbian facing comphet. You need to unshackle your points from separatist biphobic rhetoric on social media, even if it is dressed in shallow feminist terminology. It's literally okay to let a film or book be bisexual, and I can promise you it doesn't make the narrative less queer or feminist or subversive.

I know some nasty people will be rbing this post and talking about how bisexuals are the privileged white people of the lgbtq community etc etc, and honestly I don't know how to articulate about this issue without coming off bitter, so here is an essay by Carmen Maria Machado, whose writing on bisexuality, queerness in horror/dark fiction and on sapphic literature & culture in general I highly recommend:

NON BISEXUALS DON'T DERAIL 💗💜💙

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months ago

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Tormented Spirit | 11

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: very brief daemon cameo here. but he'll be back next chapter. please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Upon Daemon's abrupt leave, the king named Rhaenyra his heir and she has since then set out to look for a suitable match. Though the crown princess was loathe to leave, you envy the fact that she is permitted to leave King's Landing at all.

There is a knock on your door. "Princess?"

You open the door and smile at the knight, "Erryk."

Erryk nods and tries to smile back at you. It is hard, considering you look like you have been crying. He tries to lift your spirits by saying, "I am flattered to know I am now set apart."

You take his arm after closing your door, "you have always been set apart, good ser."

The two of you walk off and break fast together. It is silent, as it has been for two moons now. You have not told him any stories since your husband's leave. You barely speak at all, in fact. Most of the time you lock yourself in your room and he pretends he does not hear your sobs. To say he is concerned is an understatement.

And, of course, there was another matter.

Once more, in silence, you walk down the halls, this time with him trailing behind you. You are headed for your father's office. Once there, you knock on his door, and he answers.

Erryk hotly eyes Otto before nodding in regard, "Lord Hand."

"Has my daughter eaten?" is all Lord Hand ever says, to him or his brother.

"Yes," your ward replies each time.

Erryk watches as your father takes your hand and links it in his arms. He leans towards you and gentle speaks, as he has ever since you threw yourself into the sea. He even rubs your knuckles as you walk off to the maester's ward. Yet, through it all, Erryk finds no comfort in this new found gentleness your father offers. He is deeply suspicious, but for your sake, he tries to convince himself your father has changed.

Each day, without fail, you and your father visit your maester together, and each day, without fail, he worries for you more and more.

Erryk straightens up when the door to the maester's opens. He is quick to come to your side and offer his arm as you wave your father good bye. Otto does not regard you before walking off. He never does.

You smile at Erryk once it's just the two of you. The latter asks, "how are you feeling?"

You notice the lines on his forehead, and it makes your lips flatten. You tilt your head, "same as I felt yesterday," you place a hand on his cheek, "and the day before... so do not worry for me."

"Forgive me, princess," Erryk lowers his gaze and pulls your hand away, "but such a thought cannot comfort me for you have been nothing but sad since Daemon left."

You clasp your hands together, "that's hardly his fault."

"Is it not?" Erryk questions rather harshly.

"Not really..." you offer a soft smile, "none but my brother remembers the days prior to my sadness." You chuckle under your breath, "and even then, I am aware he feeds me honeyed words"

Erryk gulps when you take his arm. He wants so badly to caress your cheeks as you bring a beaming smile to your face.

"Do not torture yourself trying to make me happy," you raise your brows at him as you lead him off, "you did not meet me happy, Erryk, and it is not your job to make the impossible happen."

You examine his expression as you make your way back to your chambers. You had hoped he could find some sort of comfort in this truth, but he looks only more worried. You sigh, "would you like to know why it is I visit the maester everyday?"

Erryk knits his brows, "I only like what you want."

"..."

"And if my lady wanted it, she would have already told me why her father brings her to the maesters daily."

You carefully mutter his name.

He stares at you for a moment, hand itching to clutch your cheeks. He holds himself back but mutters your name with such a softness, it makes your skin prick with goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you have to look away. You huff and lick your lips, "I am with child."

He stops in his tracks.

You pull away to stand before him. You feel incredibly self-conscious as his face contorts.

"My-" he starts by then bows his head, "Seven bless you for the fortunate news," he slowly looks up at you, "congratulations."

You slowly raise your brows, "you congratulate me yet appear so frightened."

"No," he shakes his head, "I am not frightened... merely... shocked."

You aimlessly look off.

"... and perhaps... worried."

You chuckle, soft and dry, "worry will do none of us any good."

"Does the prince know?"

You look back at him. You shake your head, "no one knows."

He clenches his jaw.

"I plan to tell Arryk next," you rub your belly, "soon, I will be showing... and I do not want you to be frightened."

There is much Erryk wishes to say, much he wishes to promise you. I promise to sever any hand that rises harm you or your child. I promise, so long as I breathe, to do all I am able to assure your safety. But he says nothing because he knows you will cry. He says nothing because he can sense that you are frightened.

You begin to walk off again and Erryk wordlessly follows. You look back at him, finding him in deep thought with his gaze lowered. You turn to your fingers and fidget with them, "I did not want to announce it in case it does not last."

You can feel him looking at you.

"Even now, we do not know what the future holds."

He clenches his fists tightly, "princess-"

You turn.

"-I know it means nothing, but I believe you are stronger than you think. I have seen it, your strength... and your happiness, however small and fleeting you may think it."

Your eyes water. You reach out for him and squeeze his hand, "do not hold yourself in such low regard. Your words mean everything to me, Erryk."

You walk back to your chambers and invite Erryk inside. He remains stood by the door as you get quill and parchment. You have been writing daily two letters— one, which comes easy:

𝔐𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔶𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯, 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔚𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯.

... and another which takes far greater effort and attempts to complete:

𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔯 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩-𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔱. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩. 𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔢? 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔣 ℑ 𝔲𝔭𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔬𝔣𝔣. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔩𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪, 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰

In the end, this is what you sent:

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲, ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢.

—of course, after reading it aloud to Erryk, just to be sure it was appropriate.

Erryk has only ever assured you that whatever it is you mean to tell your husband is more than appropraite, but for once, he offers that you add something. "Perhaps you should tell him that you're... you know."

You spare him a glance as you seal your letters with wax and shake your head, "why? Do you think he would return if I did?"

No. Erryk does not hold him in such a high regard.

"If he wanted to respond, he would. No matter what I have to say, I cannot change his mind if he's already set it," you stand, "and again... we don't know what the future holds."

You were right.

Woe is you who understood the inner workings of your husband. Daemon was in the middle of chewing tough, flavorless meat when he received your latest letter. You were right about not being able to change his mind about writing to you, but you were wrong in thinking your words wouldn't bring him to write back.

It would have, that is, if he ever read them.

The prince goes to Caraxes and feeds him what remained of his food. He then goes to his tent and chucks your letter along with the rest of it. He lies down in his cot and wonders what you write to him about. He wonders if you miss his touch, then touches himself to the thought of you.

A moon passes. Though you knew neither your maester nor your father would ever trick you into believing you were with child when you were not, the truth of it all only set in upon catching a glimpse of your bare body in the mirror. You had taken a warm bath in the evening because you felt sore, and upon seeing how big your breasts had become and how your belly protruded in a way it has not, you realize why you were so sore and just how real it was that you were carrying a child.

It was terrible that upon your awareness of the changes in your body, so much started to change. You found it harder to fit into your clothes as your breasts and arms required much more space than normal. Your face began to change as well, and you could scarcely recognize your own reflection with how swollen you looked. What's worse, is that your skin began to break out with painfully deep pimples.

You knew that you shouldn't be picking at them, but you couldn't help yourself, so you did, and soon your face, your neck, and even your back was littered with red blotches. You were so horrified with the way you looked, you barely left your room.

It was then Alicent began to worry.

"Just place it there," Viserys points haphazardly from where he sat.

"Here?" Alicent places the figure near some tiny stone trees.

The king looks, "no-" then comes behind her, guiding her hand from behind. Alicent tenses when his other hand comes to her waist. Viserys moves her hand and Alicent finally places the figure. The former smiles, "there."

Alicent catches her breath as the king pulls away.

Viserys sits and continues carving out the piece he had at hand. After a few moments, he notices Alicent staring at him. He quirks a brow, "something wrong, my dear?"

"Have you heard from your brother?"

He releases his block and leans back on his chair, "no."

Alicent nods, lowering her gaze.

"Why?"

She shakes her head.

"Come now," Viserys stands, "you can tell me."

Alicent looks at him when he takes her hand. She presses her lips as she feels her heart race. Her voice trembles, "m-my sister."

He hums, "has something happened to her?"

She rapidly shakes her head, "I barely see her anymore. She stays in her room days on end."

"I see," he nods, "did she and Daemon argue before he left?"

"I-" she shrugs as the king pulls away, going back to his chair, "I don't know."

Viserys spares her a look before picking up his block.

"I do know that she feels abandoned. First, Gwayne, now the prince," Alicent sighs, "she has no one."

"She has you."

She shakes her head, "she and my brother have always been close, close in a way twins are, close in a way I can never understand. She does not regard me as dearly, I don't think."

This makes his brows furrow. He tilts his head, "that is not true. Many a man would regard you dearly, Alicent."

Her throat tightens.

"And your sister is not a man," Viserys raises a hand, "does she not like to pray?"

Alicent nods slowly.

"You might want to invite her to the temple. It might cheer her up."

The girl rubs her hands together and nods. She then curtsies and heads for the door, that is, until Viserys stops her.

The king rises and takes her hand, "eager to leave, are you?"

"N- I-"

"I don't bore you, do I?"

Alicent shakes her head, "n-no! Not at all, I simply--"

"I jest," Viserys chuckles, pressing a kiss at the back of her hand, "go to her." He rubs her knuckles, "she is most fortunate to have your affections."

Alicent curtsies again and leaves.

As she makes her way to your chambers, she sees one of your servants and calls for her. The servant girl is quick to greet the lady and Alicent notices the letters in her hands.

"Have you gone to my sister?" she asks.

The servant girl nods, "yes."

"How is she?" the red haired girl sighs.

"She... is her normal self," she nods slowly.

Alicent shakes her head, "... sad?"

"Yes," she agrees.

"Who are those for?" Alicent motions to the letters she was holding.

"These?" the girl raises, "ah... your brother and good-brother, milady."

"Oh," she tilts her head slightly, "does she write to them often?"

She nods, "everyday, milady."

"Oh," she blinks. There is something about this comforts her and... hurts her. She thinks about what she confessed to the king, how she was aware you did not regard her so dearly, and yet, there was an ache in her heart to know her sister would not seek solace in her during this time.

Alicent dismisses the servant then comes to your chambers.

The Cargyll stood outside your door greets her, "my lady."

"Ser..." she nods, "Erryk?"

"Arryk, my lady."

"Ah, yes," she lowers her head, "forgive me."

"An honest mistake," he smiles, "you are here for your sister, yes?"

Alicent nods.

He turns and knocks on your door, "princess. Your sister, Lady Alicent, is here."

"I-" she steps forward and raises her voice, "wish to invite you to pray at the temple."

Arryk turns to her and smiles. Alicent smiles back and they both wait for you to respond. Only, it seems you are really taking your time.

She begins to pick at her nails and the minutes pass. She sighs, turning to ser Arryk, "maybe she is asleep."

He shakes his head, "she does not sleep at this time. She is probably changing."

"How do you now? Do you go inside to check on her?"

"I only come inside when she needs help with something," he nods curtly, "or, if perhaps, I feel sense danger in the air."

Alicent tilts her head, "but how do you know?"

"The princess is a creature of habit. Though she is good at concealing her emotions, you can only hide so much from someone who watches you closely."

"How close do you watch her, ser?"

Arryk is taken aback by the question. It was in all accounts innocent; Alicent meant nothing more that what she said, but it did not feel such to the knight. It feels as though he was caught staring longingly at you right this moment. "W-What?"

He is thankful Alicent does not get to clarify herself because you finally emerge.

Alicent perks and deflates all at once upon seeing you. You smile at her through the lacy, black veil you have covering your face. She returns your embrace as you hug her, but she cannot help but knit her brows at you, or rather, that veil on you.

"You look well, sister," you smile, taking her hands.

She takes a moment before replying, "and you...'re wearing a veil."

Your smile flattens.

Alicent is quick to shake her head, "it looks good. Very stylish."

You contain your frown and take her arm, "I am most pleased to have you here."

The both of you begin to walk off and Arryk follows after. Alicent asks, "you are?"

"Of course!" you give her a look, "why, you are normally with the princess-" you raise a finger, "-which I do not have any qualms with. Most people dream to have a friendship that you both have. But I am glad you have a moment to spare for me."

Alicent's brows raise.

"Rhaenyra is doing better now, I hope?"

"Yes," she nods slowly, "she can now talk about the queen without weeping."

"Better than I ever was," you squeeze her arm.

Alicent offers you a soft smile.

The sight of her face brings you comfort, "I have missed your company, and your pretty face, my pretty girl."

She chuckles.

"You inherited our mother's beauty and left none for me—"

"That's not-"

"—especially none for Gwayne."

Alicent chortles and you giggle in response.

Arryk smiles, feels his heart clench at the tender display before him. Thank the Seven for Alicent Hightower.

"You should join us, sister," Alicent squeeze your hand, "Rhaenyra enjoys your company as much as I do."

You shake your head, offering her a kind smile, "I would not want to infect you with my bitterness."

For a moment, Alicent wants to ask if that was why you were wearing a veil, but she decides against it.

Arryk stood a few paces away from you as you prayed in the temple. Both you and your sister were on your knees with your hands clasped and eyes closed as you recited your prayers.

"Lastly," Alicent mutters, "we pray for Daemon's safety-"

You open your eyes and turn to your sister.

"-that he, as well as the Velaryons and their fleet, may find swift victory so that they may all return to their families."

You unveil yourself, "seven hear us."

"Seven hear us," Alicent ends, bowing her head for the final time.

You try not to think of the acne staring back at Alicent when she turns to you, but her initial reaction to seeing your face makes it quite hard. She does you a favor of not saying anything regarding it however.

You squeeze her hand and whisper, "there is something I must tell you."

She gives you a solemn expression.

"I am with child."

Her eyes widen and her lips part.

"Of course, father knows, but I have not told anyone, save my wards," you shake your head, "it is why my skin is littered with blemishes, and why I do not wish to come out of my room."

She frowns, calling out your name softly.

"Not even my husband knows, Alicent," you shake your head, "and I did not tell him because-" you eyes begin to water, "because the chances of a miscarriage is still high."

Alicent can feel your fear, your worry.

"But gods, I feel like I will go mad if I keep this in any longer," you break down into a sob.

She immediately seals you into an embrace. Arryk is immediately alerted by the sound of your cries. He observes for a moment but does not act, knowing you need this moment with your sister.

Alicent feels her chest tighten, not because of how tightly you embrace her, but because of how evidently you needed this hug.

"I want to go home," you mumble.

She nods, "I'll take you back to you-"

"To Oldtown," you sniffle, taking in her scent. She smelled like your mother and it made you wonder if your presence ever felt comforting for anyone, or if you just inspired distress, "this is not my home."

"Sister," she tries to look at you, "you are married to the prin-"

"And where is he?" you blurt, pulling away.

Alicent frowns at the redness of your eyes and the wobbling of your lips.

"I feel nothing but emptiness here," you place your hand on your belly, "I do not want that emptiness to manifest within me-" you shake your head, "I do not want my bitterness to kill my unborn child."

Alicent's cheeks instantly become wet.

You wipe her tears away and frown, "will you try and help me convince father to send me home?"

She stares at you, "sister..."

It is an impossible ask, and you both know it.

"Please," you brush her red locks, "he has always favored you."

Alicent does not know if that was true. She lowers her gaze and shakes her head, "I... I will try."

Your lips wobble as you watch worry manifest on her features. Guilt begins to choke you, "forgive me for asking much of you, my baby sister."

Alicent shakes her head quicker then steels herself away, "no. I-" she nods, "I want to help."

You squeeze her hands, "do not force it if it is too hard."

Later that evening, Alicent builds her nerve and visits the Lord Hand's office. The moment she enters the room, she knows she's made a mistake, for he was in a sour mood.

"What?" he snaps, head in his hand.

It was too late, however. He will be cross if she says she's changed her mind, he will be cross if she lies and presents him with something unimportant, and he will be cross if she tells him what she actually came here for. She takes a breath, might as do it, "it's regarding my sister."

Otto immediately perks, eyes squinting, "what of her?"

"She... asked me to ask you if she could... continue the rest of her term in Oldtown."

The man tilts his head, eyes widening in disbelief, "I beg your pardon?"

"She sai-"

"She told you she's carrying?" he points a finger.

Alicent tenses. She gulps, "yes."

"When?" he snaps, coming to a stand.

"J-" she watches her father walk over, "just today."

Otto's face is hard as he recalls how you begged him not to make a spectacle of your childbearing, lest your body fails you. He thinks there is something to be said about how you were now willing to divulge this information with Alicent. He raises his brows, "who else knows?"

Alicent feels cornered. It does not feel right to divulge this information.

"Did she tell Daemon?" he places his hands on her shoulder.

She stammers, "I-... I do not know."

Otto examines her daughter. He thinks she knows more than she lets on but does not pursue it further. He sighs, caressing her cheek before pulling away, "you know, you both know, I will not allow such a thing."

He walks back to his desk and Alicent takes in a deep breath.

"If she is here, then I can see to her needs."

"She needs the warmth of home," she says.

Otto sighs as he sits down. He motions vaguely to his child, "this is her home. She's married to Daemon Targaryen."

"But the prince is not here," she steps forward, "she can return when he does."

He tilts his head. He knows her boldness comes stems from her love from you. That is why he says, "and do you really think she can return if she leaves?"

Alicent's face falls. It is incredibly subtle, but Otto catches it nonetheless.

"If your sister were to go to your brother in Oldtown, what do you think the Rogue Prince will say?" her father leans on the desk, "you bore witness to how he acted when your sister came to Gwayne when he was knocked off his horse at the tourney. Do you think he will enjoy the fact she retreated to him in this time? Do you think he will care enough to retrieve her once he returns from the Stepstones? Or will he squander in brothels and sire a thousand bastards?"

She begins to pick at her nails.

"And what of your sister's child?" Otto raises a brow, "what if she loses the babe during the journey to Oldtown? What if she loses the babe once she's there? Who then is to be blamed?"

"I-"

"And what if the baby does not inherit a single Valyrian trait?" he leans back on his chair, "what if the babe looks like a Hightower and Daemon decided to accuse her of infidelity?"

"But she would never-"

"I know that," Otto raises a finger, "you know that. Does her husband share in this knowledge?"

"..."

"It would look like she left to hide her sins."

Alicent's heart begins to pound.

"Do you understand the risk, child?"

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

Otto sighs and stands again, "I understand you mean well."

Alicent is at the brink of tears as her father approaches her again.

"But there is no way for your sister to go to Oldtown," he ushers her to the door, "without risking much." Lord Hand opens the door and gives his daughter one last, "not unless the king allows such a thing."

Alicent takes in her father's features. He smiles softly at her. Her stomach feels uneasy.

"Go to bed, Alicent," he strokes her hair, "your sister is mine to worry about, not yours."

The door closes.

It was a shock that Alicent came to you the next day, telling you that you were set to leave for Oldtown at noon. You were overjoyed and sealed your sister into the tightest hugs, "I can't believe you convinced father!"

Alicent rubs your back, softly muttering, "...I really didn't."

"Oh but you did," you chuckled in between sobs, "I owe you my first born's life."

She pulls away and shakes her head, "d-don't- don't say that."

You frown at the worry that over her face. You shake your head, "very well. Forgive me for burdening you with such a thought."

So it was that you left that day for Oldtown. You were grateful the king graciously allowed you to bring both your wards along with you. You would have been less so, had you known Alicent requested it specifically, even less had known it was not actually your father that she had convinced but the king himself, and less than that to know she was able to do so because she had been visiting him oft since the queen's passing. You would outright abhor it had you known Alicent's relationship with Viserys was borne from your father's encouragement.

Your unawareness of this made you deeply cherish the moment you saw your twin brother's face. You were exhausted from the travel, much more than usual, and yet an energy burned within you when you saw Oldtown's heir.

Gwayne outright laughed and pointed at you as you sobbed on your way over to him, "what in god's name is on your face, twin?"

You felt nothing but affection from his blatant mockery.

He coos as he pulls you into a hug once you are close enough, "now, now. I cannot have a princess weeping in my arms." He is relieved by the warmth of your being. He has not been embraced so tenderly since you've been separated. "Not an ugly one at least."

"I am with child, you miscreant," you mutter against his chest.

Gwayne's rubs your back as his face hardens with worry, "I know. Father wrote to me."

You sniffle and pull away. You glare at him, "yet you still dare to be mean to your beloved sister?"

"Spare me your tears," he says rather genuinely as takes in your wet face, "your cry-baby attitude will get nowhere with me."

Your lips wobble at the sentiment.

Gwayne actually starts feeling bad, but then you release a soft laugh.

"You fucking rat," you scratch your eyes as you break into a giggle.

Your twin gasps, turning to your wards who were approaching. Lord Hightower raises a brow at them, "are you aware your lady has a vulgar mouth on her?"

"Please, Gwayne," you shake your head, "I'm a fucking princess."

The laugh that leaves your brother is ugly, loud, and real.

Yes, your unawareness made you cherish every moment you spend in Oldtown. It was still hard to be with child; there were the food aversions and cravings, soreness, sickness, and mood swings that haunted you, but the spirit of emptiness remained in King's Landing. Now that you were free from the scrutiny of court, from the politicking of your father, there was a lightness within you that you had not felt in a long time.

You recounted the things you and Gwayne used to do when you were younger, then caught yourself imagining your child doing the same. Suddenly, you didn't feel so terrified by the thought of bringing a child into this world. The Cargyll twins can attest to the shift in your demeanor.

It was a shame that a moon's worth of happiness disappeared in an instant all because of a single letter.

Gwayne comes to a stand from his spot upon seeing you react so physically to whatever it was you were reading. The Cargyll twins, who were breaking fast with both of you, stand to attention as well.

You clutch your chest as your other hand crushes the letter you just read.

"What is it?" your brother asks, "what has happened?"

"It's Alicent," you feel your chest tighten.

Gwayne comes to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder. He is alarmed by your tension, "sister, sister. Breathe."

You clutch your belly. It's much pronounced now, and you know it adds to your struggle to breathe.

"Breathe," your twin repeats, "that's it."

You manage to calm yourself, but soon tears begin to fall from your eyes, "Gwayne."

"Yes, I'm Gwayne," he squeezes your shoulder, "what's happened to Alicent?"

You shake your head and look up at him, "she's getting married."

The man pulls his head back. His brows knit, "married? To whom?"

Your breath hitches as you push yourself up to a stand, "to the king."

Whatever confusion he had regarding your reaction instantly dissipates. This match reeked of politicking, politicking from the Hand of the King. Gwayne clenches his jaw as helps you up. He feels the same emotions he did upon learning of your own betrothal. History was repeating itself, yet now, your brother's chest is tighter. He had always believed your father wouldn't be so cruel to willingly give you to the Rogue Prince, but now... he realizes this was something he wanted to believe.

Gwayne calls your name out as you begin to walk off, "where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" you snap.

You despise every second spent on the way back to King's Landing. You are exhausted when you return and you are loathe to see your father waiting for you.

Otto calls your name and greets you with a smile. His glee is genuine. He is wholeheartedly pleased to see how much better you look from your visit to Oldtown, "I am glad to see time with your twin has livened you, my girl."

As true as that may be, it was your anger that livened you in this moment. You despise him as he takes your cheeks and kisses your forehead. You destest him as he grins.

"I have missed you."

You wish you hated him more as not to be so affected by this. Your nostrils flare, "where is my sister?"

His face falls slightly at your complete ignorance to his greeting. He pulls away, "getting ready for her nuptials."

You stare at him. The burst of affection he had for your wanes enough for him to recognize your look, your glare. It was written all over. Anger. Defiance. Hurt. It could not be contained.

"Am I not enough for you, father?" you quip under your breath as your eyes begin to water.

Otto looks around then takes your hand, "let us speak insi-"

"Is it not enough?!" you break free from his hold. You seethe, "—that I am about to deliver you a royal grandchild and you should require my baby sister to do the sa-"

"She is not a baby," he quips.

You clench your jaw, "she just turned ten and-"

"She is in ripe marrying age."

You turn away from him. You are about to walk away, and he knows it. He cannot stand it.

"She did this so you could go to Oldtown," he snaps, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You give the Hand one last look before going to your sister.

Alicent is equally overjoyed and worried by your appearance. Just as she assures you that you didn't have to come all this way, you silence her by telling her, "it is not too late."

Your sister is frozen in her spot as you explain the plans you have for her to escape her marriage with the king. She can tell that you have thought about it greatly, considering the speed and detail in which you speak it. The only thing that manages to quiet you is the way she says, "it is done."

"W-what?"

"I am decided," Alicent shakes her head as her eyes begin to water, "do you not notice how your plans to save me demand your suffering?"

Your brows knit, "I will suffer no more than I already do."

She sniffles as she speaks your name, "when mother died... I watched you writhe in pain. None but Gwayne ever offered you true comfort."

"And you!" you clutch her cheeks, "you foolish girl! Do you not understand, I wish to free you from-"

"We are all of us destined to be a prisoner," Alicent mutters as tears fall from her eyes, "us, more than most. If not the king, I will be married off to another man I do not want."

You clench your jaw, "Ali-"

"At least if I am queen, I can save you from Daemon."

Your heart stops. You rest your forehead on hers, "you stupid little girl."

Your words burn her. She watches as you pull away, finding the tears staining your cheeks.

"If you are doing this for me, and you marry him... I will never speak to you again."

Her face drops.

"Did I not tell you that I should be the one to do such things for you?"

"Sister," she takes your hand, "... I am stronger than you."

"... oh."

"I can help."

You lower your gaze and nod. You pull away from her and walk away.

Less than a fortnight later, your sister marries the king and is proclaimed the new Queen of the Seven Realms.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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lidiasloca · 2 months ago

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Hey, love!

I have this thought. So, Azriel and Reader have accepted the mating bond and Azriel is in his Frenzy, but it’s been like two weeks. Reader (AFAB) is exhausted. She has barely slept and she loves Azriel but she needs a moment to sleep. She convinces Azriel to leave their little hideaway in the cabin in the mountains, and they return to the House of Wind. Reader hunts down Rhysand and Feyre for assistance. Begging Rhys to send Azriel on a mission just for a day or two so she can sleep. However, once he gets back, Rhys confesses to Azriel what is going on.

az during mating bond frenzy

azriel x reader

part one

a/n: anon, this is just part one of the fic, the following part will anwser your request faithfully (i promise!). thanku for requesting btw, love the idea :).

Azriel lets the door open so you can step into the warmth of the foyer. You wait for Az to close the door and lead you to the living room, his hand securely in yours.

The duality of your nerves has you on edge. You are excited to see your friends again after weeks without seeing the Inner Circle. However, you fear the tactless jokes Cassian and Rhys might throw at your mate’s way. And worse, you fear the reaction Az could have.

The frenzy of the recent mating bond is unpredictable. Would he snicker? Would he fly you back to your apartment? Or would he put up a fight?

The latter seems the more likely.

“Well, well. Look who’s back.”

You can’t help but grin unashamedly at Cassian, who responds with his signature smile.

“Cassian,” Azriel greets his brother, still not leaving your side, not letting go of your hand.

“No hug, Az?” Cassian pretends to be offended, but your mate gives no reaction. Then Cass’ eyes find yours again. “Hello to you too, sweetheart.”

You feel Azriel’s grip tighten. Your other hand moves to his shoulder, gently stroking in an attempt to calm him.

He seems to loosen up, and you cannot help but lean your head into his arm, relieved. He looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips. When he sends warm love down the bond, you smile back at him.

But the moment is broken by the sound of steady footsteps.

Rhys appears in the living room with a wide grin when he sees the pair of you. “Az, brother. Y/N, Y/N you look… nice. The mating bond suits you both well.”

Cassian tries to suppress a laugh. He fails.

Rhys turns to Cass, and you seize the opportunity to tug Azriel’s sleeve, trying to gauge how he is handling both Cassian and Rhys being in the room.

Quite literally, the two most shamelessly flirtatious males on earth.

But Az’s eyes remain fixed in a glare toward his brothers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Rhys asks Cassian, and by his smirk, you know this is all meant to rile Azriel up. “I mean, she always does, Az. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve sure bagged a gorgeous one.”

Maybe you’re the one about to hit him.

“Yes, he has. Gorgeous. But don’t tell Ness I said that though.” Cassian doesn’t back down, not even when Az takes a step toward them, letting go of your hand. “Actually, maybe do tell her. I have the feeling she’s interested in… sharing.” Cassian’s eyes move to yours, assessing you from head to toe. “I may be interested in sharing as well.”

“Shut up,” Azriel barks, making your breath catch. “Shut up now, Cassian.” He keeps walking toward him, arms tensed as he moves, and then he is in front of Cass, looking as though he’s about to strike.

But Cassian’s smirk only grows as he hears Rhys chuckle.

Illyrian stupid babies.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months ago

Text

tw - nsfw, physical/psychological abuse, wildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, and derogatory language.

Most days, Bailey struggles to decide whether you're an idiot or a masochist.

He’s leaning towards the former, but it wouldn’t take much to sway him towards the latter. That doesn’t make you special on its own, though – no, most of the stupid brats in his orphanage have shit for brains and the survival instincts of pre-splattered roadkill, but you manage to make your peers look like shining pillars of intelligence and caution and all the good, important, necessary traits that you were tragic enough to be born without. If he didn’t know better, he might think that you’re doing it on purpose, that your behavior is just the product of some misplaced cry for attention. You should count yourself lucky that he’s a hell of a lot smarter than you’ll ever be.

He should’ve gotten rid of you the first time you failed to pay your rent. He should’ve, and he tried to – selling you off to the highest bidder, leaving you blindfolded in alleyways and restrained on the edge of town, but like a beaten dog too stupid to acknowledge that its master left it for dead, you always seem to drag yourself back, always bruised, most often bloody, and occasionally soaking wet. More than once, you haven’t made it all the way back, and he’s had to go out of his way to pick up ‘his precious ward’ from the intensive care unit at Harper’s request. He would leave you there, if he thought his reputation would survive giving that freak of a doctor a free lab rat.

You can’t hold down a job. That part, he can’t entirely blame on you. If going outside is risky, then trying to earn a living is all-but a death sentence in a town like this. He knows you have a few minor gigs, pick up odd jobs every now-and-then around the wealthier neighborhoods, but it’s never more than petty cash, and having to watch you drag yourself through the orphanage halls with torn clothes and that distant, glazed-over look in your eyes almost makes what little rent money you can scrap up not worth it. You’re wary enough to keep your head down in school, so you don’t have a lot of friends, either. Most of your time is spent at home; toiling in your weed-infested garden, trying to pretend you aren’t hiding in your room, and when he lets you, curling up in the smallest, darkest corner of his office – your legs pulled into your chair and your eyes fixed on the floor. He asked, once, why you thought you had to waste your time sulking in his peripheral like some poor, attention-starving kitten. Despite help from the better half of a bottle from his vintage stash, he can still remember your answer.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, with a smile so delicate, he was almost tempted to see how easily it shattered. “I guess I just feel safe around you.”

He stopped asking for rent, after that.

He tries not to think about you. It’s a constant effort, but he tries the hardest when he’s standing in your doorway hours after midnight, fucking his fist as you pretend to sleep less than a full ten feet away. He still hasn’t made up his mind about the masochist part, but you have to be an idiot. A pretty, empty-headed idiot.

His pretty, empty-headed idiot.

He decides, as he finishes to the sound of your muffled sobbing, that he’ll soak it in while he can. Even if he does his best, even if he keeps his distance, even if you never come to your senses and run far, faraway, he knows he won’t have long left to enjoy this.

He knows that, no matter how hard he tries to hold himself back, you’re not going to feel very safe around him for much longer.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol x reader #dol #degrees of lewdity bailey #dol bailey #bailey x reader

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kashverse · 15 days ago

Note

us and geto having a selfcare day together? haircare, skincare, masks, nails all that good sh★t

wishing all the gays and girls and everyone in between to find a man like this 🙉💗🕺💐 happy birthday getooo <3

self-care sundays with your fiancé suguru are an event. they require extensive planning, a dedicated budget (suguru’s black card), and, most importantly, the unwavering commitment to looking unreasonably good while doing absolutely nothing.

the setup is pristine: warm candlelight flickering on the dresser, a bluetooth speaker playing kali uchis like it’s a sacred ritual, and your bed covered in self-care products. you’re both dressed in matching cow-print pajamas, a last-minute online impulse buy that suguru pretended to be unimpressed with but now wears with a very unserious level of smugness.

“ready?” you ask, holding up a jar of an expensive face mask. suguru tilts his head, arms crossed. “depends. is this the one that tingles and makes me question my choices, or the one that smells like an overpriced smoothie?”

“the latter,” you assure him, unscrewing the lid. “but we’re double-masking today, so you’ll get to experience both.” his dramatic sigh is muffled when you smear the cold mask over his face. suguru, being the effortlessly attractive menace that he is, somehow still looks good—even with streaks of green goop on his cheeks. he doesn’t even flinch. a seasoned veteran.

“i see you got everything from the list,” you say, reaching for the body butter. “of course. do you think i’d let you down?” he grins, stretching out his legs as he watches you. “i was a man on a mission at sephora. dodged at least five aggressive salespeople, flashed my wedding band to scare off a few flirts, and even walked out with my dignity intact.”

“that’s debatable,” you mutter, scooping out a generous amount of cream and rubbing it into your arms. he narrows his eyes. “i’ll have you know i was very graceful.”

“you spent thirty minutes contemplating which cuticle oil was ‘more luxurious.’”

“and look at us now. thriving,” he retorts, wiggling his fingers at you. “unbothered. moisturized. focused. flourishing.” you snort and reach for his hands, rubbing the excess body butter into his palms. he watches you closely, eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. suguru loves this part—where you take his hands and carefully massage each finger like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“i still can’t believe you dropped two hundred dollars on a serum,” you tease, reaching for the bottle in question. “oh, we’re still on that?” he chuckles. “you act like i don’t drop that on lunch.”

“lunch feeds you. this makes you glow.”

“and isn’t my glow worth every penny?” he flutters his lashes dramatically. you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, yeah. close your eyes.”

he obeys without question as you pat the serum into his skin, gentle and precise. suguru has the nerve to sigh like you’ve just lifted all his worries off his shoulders. “you are so spoiled,” you murmur, rubbing the product into his temples. he hums, eyes still closed. “and whose fault is that?” you smack his arm lightly, and he chuckles, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to your jaw.

once your faces are sufficiently pampered, suguru lounges against the pillows, eyes tracking your movements as you grab the nail polish. “so, what’s the color of the week?” he asks.

“baby pink,” you reply, shaking the bottle. his brows lift. “not my usual black?”

“nope. we’re doing soft aesthetic suguru this week.”

he doesn’t argue. he never does. instead, he stretches his hand toward you with all the regality of a man who has fully accepted his fate. “paint away, my love.” you start with his pinky, carefully brushing on the color, while suguru watches you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

“i love you, you know,” he says suddenly, voice soft.

your brush pauses for half a second before you resume, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “i know,” you say. “you show me all the time.”

his thumb traces lazy circles on your knee. “i’m gonna keep showing you. every day.”

your chest feels full. warm. like this moment—cow pajamas, kali uchis playing, suguru’s gentle affection—is something sacred.

“good,” you murmur. “now hold still, i’m not redoing these nails if you smudge them.”

he grins. “you're the boss.”

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not-magdi · 26 days ago

Text

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

#lando norris fluff #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #mclaren f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 imagine #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris fanfic

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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 5 months ago

Text

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he coos softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?”

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

#annatar x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power

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teamred · 5 months ago

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in sickness and in health

✩‌ logan howlett x reader x wade wilson | fluff | 1.6k

SUMMARY | you may be bedridden with the flu and feeling miserable, but you're blessed with two boyfriends to take good care of you. // part of the home sweet home series + requested by anonymous!

WARNINGS | s*xual jokes, none really!

RATING | teen+

It’s early Monday morning when your body feels like utter shit.

You toss and turn in bed, fighting the blanket away from your boyfriends in a struggle to warm up, only throwing it off seconds after because of how hot you also feel. Your muscles are starting to ache, like you ran a marathon and then some.

Next to you, Logan’s the first to stir awake, picking up on your restless movements. Propping himself up on one forearm, he gently places the back of his hand on your forehead.

“Darlin’,” he whispers, brushing the damp hair away from your face. “You should call in sick. Ain’t no way you’re goin’ to work like this.”

You turn away from him in protest. “No, I’m okay. Just feeling a little tired.”

Logan huffs and shakes his head over how stubborn you are.

He suddenly grabs his pillow and hurls it directly at Wade’s head, who’s sleeping on the other side of you. The pillow smacks into the latter, waking him from his deep snoring with a snort and a startled jump.

“What the fuck?!” Wade mumbles, rubbing his eyes and stroking his bald head as if he’s running fingers through his non-existent hair. “If you wanted to fuck this early in the morning, you could’ve just asked, sunshine.”

An eye-roll from Logan. “Time to wake up, sleepin’ beauty.”

He gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt, then walks towards Wade’s side of the bed, shoving his head. “Back me up in tellin’ our girl she’s gotta call in sick today.”

“Huh?” Wade squints at your resting body, but when he leans over and presses his hand to your forehead, his eyes widen in shock.

“Jesus H. Christ, you’re burnin’ up more than the Jonas Brothers did in 2008. You’re staying home, peanut, and that’s not a request. Doctor Deadpool’s orders!”

You whine. “Do I really have to?”

“Yes,” they reply sternly in unison.

Giving into your boyfriends’ commands, you groan. As Logan heads out of the room, Wade hands over your phone.

And you hate to admit it, but you know they’re right because you barely have enough energy to call in sick. To be safe, you ask for two days off, then flop right back into bed.

Carefully, Wade pulls you into his arms and whispers into your hair, “Need a sexy nurse to take care of you, baby? ‘Cause I think I got an outfit stashed somewhere.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a flat wheeze. “Maybe later, babe.”

“Awww, you poor thing.” He frowns sympathetically. “You can barely even laugh. Man, you must be dying.”

A few minutes later, Logan returns, holding a steaming cup of tea and ibuprofen in his other. He sits down onto the bed.

“Here. Take these and drink this,” Logan orders. Wade releases you as you sit up slowly, wincing as you do, and follow through with Logan’s instructions.

“You guys should probably avoid being near me,” you rasp. You’ll definitely need to drink more tea to soothe your oncoming sore throat.

Logan chuckles softly and Wade ruffles your hair.

“I can’t get sick,” Logan states matter-of-factly.

“Neither do I,” your other boyfriend adds. “Well, I mean, unless you count cancer constantly fucking me in the ass.”

In the moment, you’re filled with utmost envy for your superpowered boyfriends and their ridiculous healing abilities.

Wade climbs out of bed, patting Logan on the shoulder as he stands.

“I’m gonna run some errands for our little sicky princess. Hold the fort down and keep her tied to the bed with those strong arms of yours, yeah?” He squeezes Logan’s bicep playfully and gives him a wink.

“Pick up more tea for her.”

“Oh, most definitely. And I’ll get condoms too! You know, they say that fever sex helps you get better faster.”

“Wade.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

He leans down, whispering above you. “I’m not kidding. I’d still do you in your current state, but only if you were up for it. Love you, babe.” He plants a kiss on your head and departs with a wave of his fingers.

The older of your boyfriends shifts closer to you on your bed. “Do you want me to hold you right now?”

You groan in negation, shaking your head slightly. You appreciate the gesture, but with your body switching between chills and a fever, Logan’s body warmth would just make things worse.

“If you need anything, baby, just let me know,” he says softly.

In response, you hum and nod, allowing yourself to relax as much as you can. Soon enough, you drift off, and can feel a hand stroking the side of your head, soothing you towards your much needed rest.

“Wade, she’s sick, not on her death bed.”

You blink awake, the sunlight coming through the window stronger than before. Judging by the position of the light, a few hours have passed since you fell asleep. You’re woken up by the familiar sounds of your boyfriends bickering in the other room.

To strangers, and even to themselves, it sounds grating. But to you, it’s strangely calming and comforting.

“Well, excuse me for being an exceptional boyfriend! I just wanna make sure she’s got anything she needs,” Wade fires back.

A brief pause.

“That’s… thoughtful of you,” Logan grumbles stiffly.

Wade’s laugh rings through the apartment, and you can envision him standing up with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in amusement. “Wow, that must’ve felt like pulling teeth for you, huh? Wait—why aren’t your teeth adamantium?”

You think Logan sighs and probably rolls his eyes too. “Go check in on her, dumbass.”

“Love you too, my lil honey badger,” Wade says, his voice and footsteps coming closer to the bedroom door.

A soft knock on the door.

“Feelin’ better yet, honey?” Wade asks, peeking his head through the door.

“Not really,” you grumble.

In a flash, he’s right in front of your face, his nose pressed against your cheek. “How about now?”

That gets a small laugh from you. He grins, leaving a loud, exaggerated smooch on your cheek, holding it down for emphasis. You scrunch your face up at the lovely gesture.

“What did you get from the store?” you ask with Wade’s arm now slung around your body.

“Literally everything. Whatever you want, I’ve got it. I’m basically Costco now.”

You test him. “Diapers?”

“Okay, I don’t have that,” he admits, deadpan. “But I do have five different flavours of soup, an action figure of myself and Logan for you to play with—or to enact voodoo sex, you know I love a little one-on-one action with our man!—some random German cookies, and a bottle of Chinese herbal medicine the lady down the street swore by. At least, I think it’s medicine? Hard to say. And that’s only a few of the things I got.”

“Can I have some soup?”

“Of course. Tomato, cream of mushroom, chicken noodle, spicy nacho cheese, or clam chowder?”

“Surprise me.”

“Spicy nacho cheese, it is.”

You grunt in disapproval.

“Chicken noodle soup, it is.”

After Wade spent some time spoonfeeding you your soup and Logan replenishing your cup of tea, sleep claimed you once more. By the time you wake up again, the room is pitch dark.

“Logan,” you groan weakly. You immediately hear the TV volume lowered, followed by recognizable footsteps approaching the room.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Logan murmurs gently, sitting on the bed and reaching out to touch your forehead. You’re warm, but it’s an improvement from the morning. “Everything okay?”

“Is there any dinner?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is our girl hungry?” Wade hollers from the other room. “‘Cause I’m cooking up a storm right now!”

A corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up. “I think Wade’s on it.”

He turns on one of the bedside lamps, the soft light illuminating the room. With it, he catches the pleading look in your eyes, one that he can decipher in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, he scoots closer and pulls you into his chest, embracing you with a tight hug.

“I feel like shit,” you grumble into him with your arms twined at his neck, inhaling his scent.

“I know, baby, but it’ll pass. The more you rest, the faster it’ll go away,” he reassures you, stroking your back. “You gonna admit staying home was a good idea?”

“Mm-mm.” You shake your head, even though you know he was right.

He looks at you with a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re as cute as you are stubborn.”

Moments later, Wade, adorning a “Blow the Chef” apron, comes in with a bed tray. You pull away from Logan, allowing Wade to properly position the tray in front of you. At the sight of syruped pancakes, you beam, especially at the attempted heart-shaped ones.

“Voila! Voici les crêpes,” Wade declares in a decent French accent, but you’re pretty sure he’s mispronouncing crêpes as he says it like crap.

“Thanks for everything, you guys,” you say, glancing up at your boyfriends. “I feel really bad.”

“Never ever feel bad about being sick, baby.” Wade says, setting in on one side of you. “It just means more time for us to spoil you.”

Logan snuggles you on your other side, wrapping an arm around you. “It ain’t your fault, and it’s what we’re here for.”

After being out for so long, you spend your time eating the pancakes and asking how their day was. Logan gets in a word before Wade rambles on how he almost got into a fight with a kid at one of the various stores he dropped by.

With both of them beside you, you finally start to feel a little better, if not from the flu, at least from the comfort they give.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #logan howlett fluff #wade wilson x you #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #deadpool fluff

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tacticaldiary · 2 years ago

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A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

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lesservillain · 7 months ago

Text

best friend!eddie x reader

cw: SMUT, unprotected piv, pregnancy scare, one sided feelings, sort of sad at the end? an: the prequel to baby daddy!eddie but could be read as a stand alone if you wanted wc: 3.4k

A few years ago…

Music played on the stereo in Gareth’s garage, filling the house through the cracked door that connected to the house. The host himself was passed out on his living room couch, the rest of the boys laughing at him for falling asleep. The only ones left at the party were Jeff, Grant, Eddie and you, the few other guests who came to celebrate their graduations left not long ago.

You rolled your eyes as they placed Gareth’s hand in a bowl of water, a prank that one of them heard would make someone piss themselves in their sleep. Instead of taking part in their stupid prank, you chose to help out with cleaning up. Empty beer cans and other snack bags started filling up the trashcan as you made your way around the kitchen.

“What are you in here doing, sweetheart?”

You turn to see Eddie leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, watching you as you pick up more trash.

“Trying to be helpful,” you say, shoving as much trash into the can as you possibly can. Eddie laughs, pushing off from the frame to walk over to you. He grabs the bag from the can and proceeds to tie it. You smile up at him. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he says after a moment of looking at you. You get an overwhelming feeling of domesticity as you watch Eddie take the bag out the back door. You watch him through the window as he places the bag in the can. Lighting up a cigarette, he waves at you from the cans, and you feel your cheeks grow hot from being caught staring.

Eddie was your best friend. Has been since he moved to Hawkins back in 4th grade. The two of you met after you spent the summer in the trailer park where his uncle and your grandma both live in. You rolled with most of the kids there, but Eddie was like a new toy to you.

He was hard to get out of his shell at first, mostly due to traumas you weren’t aware of at the time. In retrospect, you really pushed him hard, ever persistent in your daily trips to Wayne’s trailer to get him to come out. But when he finally did agree to play with you, the two of you became immediately inseparable.

Everyone always joked about the two of you spending so much time together, laughing at the grossed out reactions the two of you would have at the mention of the two of you getting married one day. If your grandma was still alive, she would probably be distraught knowing that you had a massive crush on anyone other than Eddie.

After replacing the trash bag, you decide to join Eddie outside. The cool air feels amazing on your skin. The boys don’t have a lot of friends outside of each other, but when all of them start drinking and playing games they seem to generate a lot of heat in such a small space.

“Want one?” Eddie asks as you approach, smoke billowing from between his lips. You nod and he pulls out his pack.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as he lights the cigarette for you, your hands brushing as he hands it over. The feeling of your skin touching felt like electricity through your hand.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, taking a drag. “I mean, I think it could have been just the two of us and I would have been happy. I’m just glad to finally not have to go back to that hell hole.”

“I’m happy for you, too,” you smile, taking a step closer to him. “Eddie, you honestly have no idea how proud I am of you. Like, I want to shout from the roof tops that Eddie fucking Munson graduated!”

Eddie giggles at your praise, swaying a bit where he stands from the amount of alcohol he’s consumed tonight. He stretches an arm out and you oblige, accepting his tight embrace. He smells like alcohol, weed, sweat, and notes of cheap cologne that he sprayed on earlier in the evening. It was a bit intoxicating in your current state.

Drinking either made you super friendy or super horny, and tonight you were heading towards the latter.

You would never admit it, but you’d been watching Eddie all night. There was an air about him tonight. Call it confidence or call it something else, but it was something you’d never seen in him before. It’s like he’s gotten a new found sense of life knowing that he was finally free to do whatever he wants in life. There was nothing left to tie him down and he knew it.

And, maybe unfortunately, it was doing something for you. You’d never really thought about Eddie like that before, your long time crush on Steve clouding your mind when it came to paying attention to anyone else. But something has…changed.

And after a shot or two that you took with a few of his friends from theater class (those kids are wild), everything he did just seemed to be doing something for you. You almost fell over when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his stomach that you’ve seen a thousand times on on display looking extra lean and just…

“Hey, are you okay?”

You instantly went from feeling good to being super aware of the way Eddie’s body was touching you. With the way he was holding you, his hand rested just above your chest, almost resting on your breast. The veins in is hand seemed more prominent, the rings on his fingers suiting his hands well.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. When he doesn’t say anything, you slowly turn to look at him. Which was a mistake, because the way he was staring at you took your breath away again. His big brown eyes stared into yours, lidded in a way that made you want to squirm.

“Eddie? Are you good?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinks. His gaze shifts, flickering back and forth between your lips and your eyes and you feel your stomach flip.

This isn’t how best friends look at each other. Friends don't caress your cheek like he does. They don’t pull you in, making your fronts flush with each other. They don’t start to block out the light from the moon as they lean in. Their lips don’t meet yours, and you aren’t supposed to accept it, kissing them back.

But, before you know it, your kiss turns into kisses. Feverish and hungry, tongues dancing in sync like lovers do. You’re not lovers, but you feel that line blurring as your body is being pulled away.

The two of you don’t disconnect until you suddenly stop. Eddie is the first to break off the kiss, reaching behind him to open the doors of his van where he pulls you in. You don’t protest, gladly jumping in and pushing him down so that he lays under you. You can tell by the look on his face he wasn’t expecting it. His eyes watch you as you pull the van doors closed.

Once they click together, everything happens quickly. Rushed touches and clothes flying in every direction, the two of you melt into each other.

Your perched in his lap, breasts are pressed into him with arms wrapped around his neck as you almost eat him alive. His hands rub down the expanse of your back until they land on your ass, palming you underneath your panties as you grind down against him.

Eddie is painfully hard under you. For the brief moment that you looked down at him, you were shocked at the size of the tent in his boxers. It was the one thing about him that you didn’t know anything about after all these years. It sent waves to your core that only made you feel things for him you’d never felt before.

In an attempt to speed things up, you let your hand trail down his chest, his stomach, and down past the hem of his boxers. Your brows shot up when you gripped him, his true size in your hand taking you by surprise.

“Mmmm, shit,” he moans under you, and your breath hitches. You watch him carefully as his face contorts in a way that you’ve never seen; a new side of Eddie that you feel privileged to witness.

And then his his hand is on your head, guiding your mouth up and down on his huge cock. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks with how far down your throat he tries to get you. But you do your best to take it like a champ. Especially with how he praises you.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” The words fall from his lips like flowing water. He lost the barrier to keep his thoughts to himself as soon as you took your bra off. “Please don’t stop.”

How could you possibly deny him? You can’t. You blow him better than you ever have before, until his thighs are clenching around your head. You were fully expecting him to blow his load in your mouth at this point and you would have let him. But he pops you off of him and holds you in his hands until he can catch his breath.

“Eddie, whats wrong?” You ask confused.

“I’m sorry,” he says with heavy breaths, “Didn’t want to waste this chance by cumming too quick.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at his words, insinuating that he wanted more than just a quick bj in the back of his van. You’d never thought you’d be doing this with him, but in your current state Eddie could tell you to kill someone you would without question.

“Okay,” you say with a nod, shifting your body until you were sitting in front of him. There was an awkward pause as the two of you stared at each other. You waited for him to make the next move but it seemed like it was never going to come. You’re sure Eddie is just as wrapped up in the moment as you, so you decide to go ahead and make the next move.

You crawl towards him until you’re sitting just above his lap. His eyes never leave your face, round and in awe of you as you move closer to him. You place a hand on either shoulder and you can feel how tense he is.

“Eddie, are you sure you want to do this?”

He’s frozen for a moment. Until his head begins to nod so quickly he could have given himself brain damage from the speed.

“Yes, yeah, I am. As long as you are…”

“I do, too,” you assure him. You look around the messy interior of his van for a moment before looking back at him. “Do you, um, have a…”

Eddie’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of his head as his face shifts into that of a state of panic. He starts to babble, words incoherent until he’s able to form a sentence.

“I-I-I don’t, um, I don’t have any…condoms.” The last word comes out in a hushed tone, almost ashamed as he admits it.

“Well, shit,” you say, finger coming to tap against your lip as you think. You’d never done it without a condom before, and even if you trusted Eddie, the last thing you two needed was an accident to happen.

“I’m sorry, I just--I’ve never done this, so--”

“Wait, what?” You say, stopping him in his tracks. He looks up at you like he said something wrong and it kills you. “Eddie,” you try and keep your tone as neutral as possible, “Are you…still a virgin?”

Eddie swallows, eyes now looking anywhere but you. Eddie’s never brought up anything about his sex life before to you, but you’d not really been all that open with him for that very reason. But you’d always assumed it was just a mutual respect thing, not that he didn’t have anything to share to begin with.

“It’s okay if you are,” you add, “It doesn’t bother me.”

Eddie looks at you again, though now with cheeks pinker than ever. He sighs, nodding once again, but with less vigor than before.

“Yeah, I’m a…virgin.”

Something inside you flips when you hear him admit it out loud. A giddy feeling inside takes over your thoughts as you come to a realization.

“Do you want me to help you change that?”

You barely recognized your own words, and the look that Eddie gave you told you that it came out just as suggestive as you intended.

“Are you sure?” He stutters out, “I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to--”

“Shhh,” you shush him, placing a finger on his lips. “I’m doing this because I want to,” you say, lowering yourself so that the tip of his cock sits right at your entrance. You feel it jump in your hand at the contact. “You just have to say the word.”

Eddie’s eyes are locked where the two of you touch, his breath hitching as your juices coat his thick head.

“Please,” he says, still looking between you. “I want to.”

You smile, a heat taking over your body as you realize what you’re about to do. But, you try not to let the idea of taking your best friends virginity take you out of the moment. You had to be in charge here and you didn’t want to let Eddie down.

Without a second thought, you start to lower yourself down on him. He’s bigger than you’ve been with before, so you take your time to work him in since you didn’t get any prep before hand.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, stopping you just as you get the tip all the way in.

“What, what’s wrong?” You ask, starting to pull off of him. But his hands land on your hips to keep you in place.

“I want to do this. Like, you have no idea how much I want this right now. But, what about the no condom thing?”

You blink, thinking quickly over your options. The two of you are too intoxicated to go and get a condom right now. Plus, he’s already technically inside of you, so what good would one do that pulling out wouldn’t, right?

“Just…when you’re about to cum, just tell me and I’ll get off. Okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

Eddie mimics zipping his lips, and you roll your eyes at his playfulness.

“Can I continue now?” He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.

You try to get yourself back into the moment by slowly moving up and down, focusing on the feeling of Eddie’s cock inching deeper and deeper inside of you with each movement. Eddie’s head rolls back and you feel his hips bucking subconsciously beneath you.

You decide not to torment him anymore and fully seat yourself in his lap. He bucks forward, face colliding with your chest as he’s taken aback by the feeling.

“You okay?” You say with a giggle, though you’re barely holding back a moan yourself at feeling his cock fully stretching you.

“Mhmm,” he whimpers into your skin, the grip he has on your hips almost bruising.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?”

He shakes his head. “No, please move.”

And so you do. You take your time at first, really to give yourself ample opportunity to prepare to take him at a faster pace. But with the sounds he’s making, you feel yourself getting wet enough that you can bounce yourself on his cock with more ease. He keeps his face burried in your chest as you move up and down on his cock.

Eddie’s hands loosen on your hips and move themselves up your sides until they land on your breasts. He holds them around his face, fondling and groping as they rub against his face. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and teething at it softly, sending little shocks of pleasure through you.

All of the feelings were honestly a lot for you to take in. And the more you looked down at him the quicker your own orgasm was approaching. You let yourself forget about his pleasure for a moment as you chased your own high, fully seating yourself to let the thick patch of hair at his base rub deliciously against your clit. You rolled your hips against him and he whined into your chest.

Suddenly, your vision goes white as you feel yourself cumming on his cock. Your body starts to shake, and you’re pussy spasms around him, coating him in your cum.

“Is that you cumming? Holy fuck, I--”

There wasn’t much time to react as your pussy was suddenly being filled. Eddie’s body tenses under you as you’re only just now coming down from your own high. But when you finally realize what was happening, you jump up as fast as you can, head hitting the top of his van.

“Fuck! Damn it, Eddie!”

He snaps out of his post orgasm bliss and jumps up after you, also hitting his head on the ceiling in the process.

“Shit! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Eddie’s never been more panicked in his life than right now. Not even when he almost got caught by Hopper selling out in the woods. “I can fix this! I-I-I-”

“Eddie, how the hell are you going to fix this? Fuck me, this is my fault. I should have just said no when you said you didn’t have a condom.”

“No, please don’t be mad,” he says, grabbing your arms and giving you the most pathetic, sad look you’ve ever seen.

“Do you have any money?” You ask him after a moment.

“I probably have like $3 to my name right now. Why?”

“Shit, I just paid my car payment so I only have like $10. I was going to say we could run to the pharmacy and get a Plan B.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a pill that’s supposed to keep you from getting pregnant. But they’re, like, $20 or something crazy like that.”

“I’ll go to Rick. I can probably get some supply from him and sell it in a couple days.”

“I think it only works like the next day. It’s called the morning after pill for a reason I think.”

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What about Wayne?”

“I can’t go to Wayne.”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t you ask your mom?”

You sigh. He had a point. There was no way you could ask your mom without her asking why. And money was already tight so there wasn’t a good excuse to make up for you needing $20 out of the blue.

“You know what, it’s fine.” You say, convincing yourself that it was. “My period should be coming soon, so I think we’re okay.”

“How soon is soon?” Eddie asks, clearly not convinced.

“Like, in a week and a half? Usually around the beginning of the month.”

Eddie breaths in, then out, head slumping. He drops to his knees before you and you can see his body start to shake.

“Eddie?” You drop down to his level and get a look at his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and it sent an arrow through your heart to see him so upset.

“I’m so sorry.” His words come out watery, his head starting to shake. “I didn’t want this to be how it happened.”

His words hit you like a truck. Of course he didn’t want his first time to be like this. He probably wanted it to be with someone he loved, not with his friend, and definitely not with the possibility of getting you pregnant.

Guilt washed over you. You should have been the better person and not given in to your sick desire to share something like this with him.

But it’s too late.

You can only hope that this doesn’t ruin your friendship forever.

than you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #baby daddy!eddie munson x mom!reader #baby daddy!eddie #baby daddy!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fic

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