#i wanted to say my own thanks and share my own hopes for the future before

[cabinetofquriosities]

Virgin State of Mind

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Smut

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Agatha swallowed down any emotion trying to escape her. Her throat burned with unsaid protestations, knowing they would fall on deaf ears. Her gown was fitted to her, the embellishments delicately and thoughtfully added by her ladies. No. Her mother’s ladies. Those women had never been her sisters in the craft. They only dealt with her out of respect for her mother.

The Queendom all feared the princess from the time she accidentally drained a witch who tried to assassinate her. Seeing a six year old reduce a four century old witch to dust was enough to put them off of her for life.

The only person in her family who showed her any affection was her older sister, Wanda. Given their circumstances, people would assume Agatha resented her. She was first in line for the throne, able to create rather than destroy with her magic, and clearly their mother’s favorite.

Wanda was even allowed to marry for love, making her own husband out of magic and giving him his own consciousness. She explained it to Agatha as using the best parts of the echoes of lost souls and assembling them into a good person. He was more accepted by the Queendom than most men were. The place was a strict matriarchy where witches didn’t need men to procreate. Wanda’s choice, while confusing, was respected since Vision would never take power.

Regardless of the favoritism, she loved her sister more than anyone she knew. Wanda was the only person who treated her like an equal.

Wanda walked into the room with a wide smile, lighting up at the sight of Agatha in her dress.

“Oh, you look so perfect,” Wanda sighed.

“I am glad you think so. Mother said it was too good for a girl like me, but that I needed to look good to represent the Queendom…”

“Oh…” Wanda said with a shake of her head before leaning in to whisper, “Fuck her. She doesn’t know how great you are going to be.”

Agatha felt her heart clench at her sister’s sweet words. She took her hands in hers as the royal ladies worked on the hem of her dress.

“I do not know how great I will be allowed to be. I am going to be the wife of a powerful queen… who has a very frightening reputation. I doubt she will want to share her power in any way.”

“Her Queendom only sounds scary,” Wanda assured her.

“It is literally called The Dark Queendom.”

“Because it is in a dense forest with the tallest trees. It is dark there simply because of the nature. Trust me. I have visited. It was beautiful in a strange way. Like you.”

“Thank… you?” Agatha said with a smirk.

“Strange is good. Normal is boring. You, sister, have never been boring. And neither is your bride.”

“Have you met her?” Agatha asked, not having been given so much as a portrait of the woman.

“I have only seen her from afar when she arrived this morning.”

“… She is here? Well… how did she look? How did she seem?”

“She seems… self assured. Regal. And she looks breathtaking. I will admit, I felt a bit of jealousy.”

“Stop, you did not,” Agatha said with a roll of her eyes, “You only say that to lift my spirits.”

“I am telling you the truth. Your bride is gorgeous. A little… intimidating…”

“… scary…”

“Sure, a little scary, but that does not make her bad. Perhaps she has softness within her that you just need to find. Keep in mind that others misjudge you out of fear as well.”

Wanda hardly needed to remind her of that. She silently thought about the description of her future wife. Being the foreign wife as well as a second daughter, she would be at her mercy for all intents and purposes. She only hoped she would be a bit kinder than the world had been to her.

The bells rang in the distance, making Agatha’s heart skitter to a stop. The music of strings and flutes could be heard from the nearby hall. Wanda wrapped her sister in a tight hug before stepping back to watch the ladies put Agatha’s veil on.

The massive doors opened revealing Agatha in an opulent gown. Her veil followed behind her, held by little girls in puffy dresses with curled ringlets. She avoided her mother’s judgmental glare and instead focused on Wanda’s loving expression. She saw her bride already at the altar. Her dress was black lace draped over dark green silk. It clung to her form unlike Agatha’s that had an extravagant, puffed skirt from the small of her waist to the floor. Rio, on the other hand, wore something that flared out only at the very bottom with a lace train. Her crown was made of black obsidian adorned with emeralds. Her face was obscured by a black veil just as Agatha’s was by a white one.

The high priestess began her speech, detailing the history of matrimony between queendoms and the nature of love. Agatha found it absurd to speak of love while marrying two complete strangers.

Once instructed, Agatha reached out and pulled Rio’s veil back. She was grateful she was still partly hidden. Through the sheer barrier of her own veil, she could see how beautiful Queen Rio Vidal was. Rio then took her turn. Agatha braced herself for a disappointed reaction from the other woman. Instead, she saw the very controlled queen lose composure for a moment, her lips parting at the sight.

“Goodness, you are stunning,” Rio said, uncaring of her manners.

Agatha blushed deeply, not used to such compliments. The subjects watching the ceremony went from seeing Agatha as a problem to be married off to seeing her as someone worthy of captivating the legendary Dark Queen. Evanora suppressed a scowl. Even though the match was her idea, she bristled at the thought of Agatha’s happiness. She had seen her as an inherently evil child who did not deserve a life as good as Wanda’s. The nature of Agatha’s powers was enough to turn Evanora against her, taking it as an expression of who she was at heart. Her powers were deadly and destructive, so she considered Agatha to be those things at her core.

Truth be told, she didn’t necessarily need an alliance through marriage. One with the Dark Kingdom was extremely helpful, but she could have created one through other means. She chose to do it this way because she assumed it would be a punishment to Agatha. Being stuck in a place as dark and miserable as she was looked to be a fitting end to her. She had heard stories of how powerful and terrifying Queen Rio was. She was good to her people, but feared by anyone who crossed her. She won every war for centuries before other empires just stopped trying to attack.

She had not taken a bride in all of that time. It shocked everyone when she sent a messenger to ask Evanora for her daughter’s hand, sight unseen. Evanora supposed it was simply loneliness getting to her, or the need of an heir. Regardless of never leaving the throne, she needed a spare.

The priestess read their vows, using a vine to tie their wrists together in an ancient ceremony. Agatha found herself sneaking looks at Rio’s eyes, feeling very shy as Rio kept her eyes exclusively on her. They made the promises to one another before the priestess told them to kiss their bride. Agatha had never been kissed before. At twenty years old, everyone who knew her kept her at an arm’s length. While she was confident in matters of magic, she was nervous and naive when it came to intimacy.

Rio’s hands came up to frame her face. She looked at Agatha in a way no one had before. She looked at her with appreciation and desire. She leaned in, brushing her lips over Agatha’s before pressing them against hers. Agatha felt herself melting into it. She found herself clinging to her biceps as if to steady herself. She found herself smiling more genuinely than she had in quite some time when they pulled back from one another.

The reception was almost obscene in how showy it was. Everything was covered in diamonds and gold. Wanda and Rio got along well, the latter just happy that her sister had someone good. Rio and Agatha were in their own world, bonding over discussions of magic knowledge and favorite writers.

Evanora approached the pair of newlyweds and all but ignored her own daughter. Instead, she turned herself to her new daughter in law.

“Queen Vidal. It is an honor to finally meet you in person.”

“Likewise. Your daughter is amazing. I am grateful you consented to the match.”

Agatha lit up at Rio’s compliment. The boost in confidence was something Evanora couldn’t help but crush.

“If only I had my other daughter to offer. She is dazzling. Certainly the cream of the crop,” her mother said smugly.

Rio looked to Agatha and saw her face fall. She recognized the sight of someone being siphoned of happiness. Even worse, it seemed to be something she was used to. She turned back to her new mother in law with a tight smile.

“As sweet as Wanda is, I would choose Agatha a hundred times over. It is just a shame you cannot recognize brilliance when it is right in front of you every day. I am glad that she will be somewhere where she will be appreciated for the wonder that she is.”

Evanora’s eyes flashed with anger, but she knew she couldn’t say anything back. Rio’s queendom was older and stronger than her own. She needed this alliance more than Rio needed anything from her. One stray insult and Rio could topple her empire.

“Well… I am happy that you see value in her. I wish you a… happy union..” Evanora bit out.

“I thought you would,” Rio said with a smirk.

As her mother left in a huff, Agatha looked at Rio with a look of shock. She never had anyone stand up for her in such a clear way. Even Wanda was held back by the fear of their mother. Agatha suddenly looked at Rio like she had just hung the moon.

“Thank you,” she said, “You did not have to-“

“Yes, I did, my beloved,” Rio said, turning toward her and cupping her chin in her hand, “No one will ever disrespect you like that again.”

Agatha could already feel herself falling.

Once the reception was beginning to wind down, Rio took Agatha to a portal she made by tearing it open with her dagger. It was as if she ripped a hole in the air itself. Once her goodbyes were done, she stepped through into her new home.

There was a party already happening in what looked to be something of a common square. The place was so different from the land Agatha came from. The trees blocked out the sky save for a few openings that showed stars and the moon. Entire neighborhoods were built around massive ancient trees. For such a notoriously feared place, people seemed to be so happy and familiar with each other. People of different classes and standings were dancing together. Mythical creatures who would be banned from public spaces in other queendoms and kingdoms were an equal part of the population. All of it felt warmer and more loving than anywhere Agatha had been.

Between each of the treehouses were vine and wooden branches connecting everyone for several miles out. The queendom was massive, but still held a communal energy. The trees were varied and of magical varieties others had thought were extinct. Their leaves glowed along with the vines that connected the homes. Lanterns and orbs hung from branches along with abundant fruit. Even the ground had a soft glow and glitter to it. Agatha could feel the enchanted energy of the nature itself. It was all dripping with magic as if this was the place from which it all flowed.

“Welcome home,” Rio said with a smile.

After celebrating for a few hours with her new subjects, she knew she would be extremely happy in her new life. People were much closer to their rulers and the social barriers were much thinner. Royal advisors and leaders were drinking and laughing with those who would be considered peasants anywhere else. Rio was on a first name basis with every subject she came into contact with. Agatha was in awe of how different this was from strict and stuffy monarchies. She watched Rio being tackled to the ground by a throng of children. She giggled and rolled around with them, play wrestling like a family friend. Agatha couldn’t imagine her mother even allowing a “common child” to touch her skirt, let alone play with them.

After a feast, dancing, and countless introductions, Rio took Agatha by the hand and led her away. She walked them through the trees to a large clearing. The woods opened up to a palace formed by glowing glass and vines. The glass shimmered and swirled with pale colors, illuminated by interlocked light emitting vines. Instead of the boxy, hard edges of a castle, there were domes and arches. Inside were floors of cobblestone and grass. It was so different from the oversized fortresses of other self obsessed kings and queens. It was a true home that was grand, but not in a way that bragged of riches or stature.

The light from the walls themselves fell upon Agatha, coloring her in hues of purple and pink. Rio found herself staring, speechless for a moment at the sight of her in that moment.

“Would you like to see the bedroom?” Rio asked.

Agatha suddenly felt a wave of anxiety cover her. She had just had her first kiss mere hours earlier. Now, she was going to spend the night with someone. It was comforting that it was someone she already liked, though. She nodded slowly.

Rio laced their fingers and brought her hand to her lips, kissing the back of it. She led her upstairs to a beautiful room. The ceiling was a dome, giving them a perfect view of the constellations overhead.

Rio stepped behind Agatha, kissing her neck. Agatha’s pulse fluttered against her lips.

“We can just sleep next to one another tonight. You should not feel any pressure to do more,” Rio murmured.

Rio’s willingness to wait was the very thing that made Agatha comfortable enough to consider going further. She turned in her arms and looked up at her.

“I want to,” she said simply, leaning up and pressing her lips to hers.

Rio deepened the kiss, tangling a hand in her long, wavy hair. Agatha wrapped her arms around her and clutched the fabric of Rio’s dress in her fists. Rio, meanwhile, moved her hands to work on the buttons along Agatha’s dress. Once it was loosened, the dress slid down and landed in the plume of puffy skirts. Agatha stepped out of it, finding herself completely bare. She flushed red from her cheeks to hers chest. Rio regarded her with reverence, her lips parted and her pupils dilated.

“Perfect,” Rio breathed, causing Agatha to feel a rush of desire that drove her to surge forward and pull Rio into a kiss.

As they embraced, she tugged at Rio’s dress, needing fewer layers between them. Rio smiled against her lips before stepping back. She reached behind herself and undid the ties. The silk and lace fell away, revealing her to her new bride. Agatha was rendered speechless with a dropped jaw. Her mind forgot how to function in that instant.

“I will take your stunned silence as a compliment,” Rio purred, stalking towards her.

Agatha nodded before stepping back, feeling the bed against her legs. She sat down and moved onto the mattress, kneeling and gazing up at her.

Rio took in the delicious sight of this shy bride on her knees for her. She moved down, crawling over her like a panther examining its prey. Agatha felt the rush of danger and the promise of pleasure. Rio leaned down, running her tongue along the column of her throat. Agatha craned her neck, letting out a shaking breath.

Rio reached down and took her hand, guiding it to rest on her ass. Agatha squeezed it hesitantly, gripping it more solidly when the other woman pushed it against her palm.

Rio descended down her body, licking and nipping at every inch of unmapped skin. She felt almost high off of the knowledge that she would be the only person to touch her this way. She left red and purple marks across her chest and abdomen. Her bride squirmed and whimpered as her mouth took her nipple between her teeth, swirling her tongue over the sensitive skin.

“Have you ever touched yourself down here?” Rio asked, sliding her hand down between her thighs.

“No…” Agatha said, “I was told it was wrong…”

“Oh, but it is so very right.”

With that, Rio circled her arms around her legs and tugged her towards her mouth. She pressed her lips to her cunt, running her tongue over her before opening her slit. She explored what made her feel good, pressing her tongue against the area surrounding her entrance, sucking on her lips, and teasing her clit. Every passing moment wound Agatha up even more. She groaned and gasped.

Her hips began to grind against her face. Rio slid her tongue inside of her, thrusting into her. Agatha fisted the sheets in her hands as her back arched. She cried out, riding Rio’s face as she alternated between fucking her with her tongue and sucking on her clit. Purple light sparked in the air around them as Agatha’s pleasure crested. Her heart raced and her thighs shivered before her walls collapsed around Rio’s tongue.

She shivered and let out soft noises as Rio lapped at her, gently cleaning her. She kissed up her form, pressing her lips to hers. Agatha tasted herself and pulled her wife closer to her. Their limbs intertwined as she caught her breath. She felt like her body was thrumming with energy. Rio closed her eyes with a smile.

“Wait.. but you have not gotten your turn…” Agatha began.

“Shhh… rest for now. We are far from finished,” Rio whispered.

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[viaetor]

THANK YOU FOR 2023 AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

as this year comes to a close, i wanted to thank everyone that has been a part of my days. thank you for the conversations, for the plots, for the simple interactions, for your patience, for your caring, for your loving, for the ear pulls, for the fights, for the comfort. thank you for being you and for allowing me to meet you, partially or wholly. thank you! for the good memories, for the bad ones that turned into lessons, for the dreams, for just being around. thank you for everything! i will carry it all out with me, heartfully.

i hope that 2024 brings you kindness, happiness, laughter, cheer and good tears and so many accomplishments. i hope that next year you can face the difficult times with strength and love, with your chin up. i hope i can be there to see you being reborn into thousand other versions of you and that we can meet in the intersections of our roads. may we grow wiser, kinder, happier, more patient, welcoming and understanding. may we celebrate each other! may we write and fall in love with each other! may we find art in one another! may we meet!

thank you and we will see each other soon! i can't wait to meet more of you and mesh your art with mine. ♡

[wilwheaton]

I know it’s been a bit since you were in school, but as someone who is about to go to university, do you have any tips?

It is such a huge privilege when someone your age asks an Old like me for advice. When I was young, I thought dudes in their 50s were lame and had nothing to offer. Now that I'm one of those dudes, I understand what a gift it is when you ask me to share my experience. I hope this helps you a little bit.

Make time to meet your professors during their office hours.

You don't have to go have a deep conversation, just introduce yourself, tell them which class you are in, and thank them for their time.

You're doing this because there will be a time in your future when you need an extra day for something, or a little extra help or attention, or something like that. When you go to talk to your professor about that, it won't be the first time you've met them, and that will make a difference.

That's on an academic level. On a personal level, you're going to spend a LOT of the next few years figuring out who you are, what your values are, and how you want to live your life. Most of us try to be someone profoundly different from who we are, in our first year or two, because we're on our own and trying out what it feels like to be an adult. The thing I want you to just remember while you do that is: you know who your are in your heart, and if you try to not be that person, you will draw people to you who don't like *you* as much as they like who you are pretending to be.

It's a long way of saying "be true to yourself. Know what your values are and live them consistently, so you find other people who share them."

Finally, the advice I give everyone who asks me questions like yours:

Choose to be kind.

Choose to be honest.

Choose to be honorable.

Choose to do your best and understand that your best will vary from day to day. Don't judge yourself when your best on Monday is not the same as it was last Thursday. Just do your best, consistently.

You're at the beginning of a really great time in your life. I hope you get everything you want out of it, enjoy learning, and make life long friends.

[kat-mobile]

Hey love ❤️ hope you’re doing good

Can I request Tommy with a gentle, empathetic and sensitive reader please. It was an arranged marriage and he found out his new wife would cry herself to sleep over a book she read or just a cat. His reaction to someone who is completely opposite of him

Thank you in advance ✨

Tommy with a wife who's his complete opposite

A/N: Hey baby, thanks for the request!! I'm doing good and I hope you are too ❤️ I forgot to put on the requests post to specify if you want it as a fic or headcanons so I've made it sort of a mix of the two, hope that's okay anon. I made this blog to try and improve my writing skills and as this is my first attempt it isn't the best, so sorry about that lol. Hope you like it!! (this is set sometime around series 1-2 cause those are my fave)

It was an arranged marriage and to be honest... you weren't particularly thrilled by the notion of being married to Birmingham's most known and feared gangster. But you would do anything for your family and if your father decided that this is what would be best for securing the future of the family then you'd follow through on your part of the deal, even if it seemed like you and Tommy had absolutely nothing in common.

This was a couple months ago now and you had somewhat settled into your new life in Small Heath and with Tommy by your side, the two of you living in comfortable tandem. You had settled into a routine and life was good, or as good as it could be with the risk of being married to a Shelby.

He would buy you any book that you so much as happened to glance at and in turn you would patch up and sew back together any unfortunate pieces of clothing that got in the way of Tommy and his dangerous life style and work, fighting back tears and worrying at your lower lip as you did so. You may not quite understand why he was constantly putting himself in danger but he was your husband all the same and you had grown to love him as your marriage progressed

you would also force him to go and see an actual trained medical professional whenever he came home with said ruined clothing, as a dead husband is less than ideal and you have grown attached these last couple months

Your empathy and tendancy to cry over him when he got hurt was a shock at first but he quickly got used to it, he even tried to avoid getting hurt just so as to not have to see you cry over him

He may not say it outright but he appreciates everything you do and how much you care for him

He doesn't like to keep secrets from you but he doesn't share all aspects of work life with you as he doesn't want you to worry too much, but if being kept in the dark would worry you even more he'd make an effort to keep you in the loop

Your gentleness and compassion is a welcome contrast to his life from before you were apart of it, Tommy didn't know that he needed it before you

If there's one thing about Tommy Shelby, it's that he protects what's his and as his wife he treats you with the utmost care (especially if you have a tendancy to seek out the good in all people)

One night when Tommy (finally) came to bed he found you curled up in a ball on your side with your back to the door, tears gently running down your smooth cheeks

Unsure of what to do when confronted by your distress but still wanting to help, he'd rush to your side and scoop you up onto his lap, holding you close with your tear-stained cheek pressed against his chest and an arm thrown protectively around your shoulders. He'd cautiously rock back and forwards whilst his hand moves slowly up and down your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He's a little awkward and stiff but damn if he isn't fucking trying

He'd use his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin up and force your eyes to meet his own before softly questioning you on why you were crying

"What you crying for, hmm love? Ruining your pretty face"

He'd say, wiping away your tears with his thumb

Upon hearing that the reason for your tears was a sad ending to one of the books he bought you he'd be a little taken aback and he would honestly have to suppress the urge to laugh

It all seemed rather silly to him that you'd cry over some words on paper

"Tommy it isn't funny, it was really upsetting" you'd hiccup out through your tears

he'd just shake his head and sigh, apologising, before pulling you closer, finally laying down on the bed with your legs intertwined

Tommy had hoped it would be a one of chance but when he caught you crying in bed again over the ending of Of Mice and Men, he very quickly figured that he'd have to adapt

Tommy developed a system for when you had your... shall we say moments, he'd sit down on his side of the bed with his back pressed against the headboard before he lifted you up and placed you in-between his legs

Sitting you so that your back was resting against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat

You would then explain to him the sad moments in your books as he softly hummed and nodded his head along to your words

And when he got tired from your quiet voice lulling him to sleep he'd pull you down with him as he laid on his side, caging you in against his chest with an arm around your waist

Those were the nights that he slept the best

[gghostwriter]

Camaraderie

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.1k a/n: something short n’ sweet, get it? i know i said i was sick and I still am but i wanted to really write something based on this post so i did and since I’m still battling the flu, this isn’t my best work nor has this been edited but still posting it for the fun of it all! Hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Spencer Reid was never one to forget. After all, his near perfect memory didn’t allow him to, which was a curse and a blessing on itself. So it came to everyone’s surprise when Morgan came strolling in the BAU office after hours to pick him and Luke up for a scheduled boys’ night out and the boy genius innocently asked what he was doing there.

“No way,” Morgan chuckled, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Pretty boy has forgotten something? It must be my lucky night ‘cause this only happens once in a lifetime.” 

“You really forgot?” Luke clarified as they all packed into Morgan’s four door vehicle. “Oh man, I thought you were pulling my leg a while ago when I brought it up and you made no comment.”

“It really slipped my mind!” Spencer’s voice going up in defense. 

The duo laughed. 

“Or maybe you’re getting old,” Morgan needled as the car came to a stop at a red light.

Spencer shook his head, wishing to drop the subject. “Hey, do you mind passing by the apartment for a bit? I didn’t tell her that I was going to be out late since it you know, slipped my mind—”

“Can’t you just text her for that?” Morgan argued back.

“—and I’ll drop off my dirty go bag.” 

“Oh got the missus doing the laundry?” Luke teased. 

“She’s not my wife yet,” he sighed dreamily. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was looking forward to it. He had half the mind to propose elopement when got down on one knee but the excitement you radiated off when discussing about themes, dinner placements, and the wedding gown was enough for him to dispose of that idea quickly. It didn’t matter how fancy or how long the planning would take, as long as at the end of it all, he got to call you his and you get to call him yours. Everything in between was just lavish wrapping to present the world Mr and Mrs Reid. 

The car came to a stop, bringing him out of his musings. 

“Thanks Morgan,” Spencer started to exit the passenger seat. “No need to go up, I’ll be quick.”

They both shook their heads, also stepping out—Morgan from the driver’s side and Luke from the side beside him.

“We’ll say hi to the future Mrs Reid,” he patted his back as the trio packed into the elevator up to his floor.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. With your busy work schedule and the upcoming nuptials, it was a rare occurrence for anyone from the team, expect for Garcia, to catch even a glimpse of you.

Echoing melody was the first thing that greeted them once they stepped out of the lifts. 

He laughed under his breath, already knowing that it was coming from the home you both shared. It had been a ritual for you, of sorts, as the only neighboring apartment was empty from tenants. There was really no one to scold you for making any ruckus at this acceptable 7pm time. Spencer, for one, wasn’t one to spoil your fun. He loved seeing you be free, dancing around in his clothing and singing the lyrics no matter how off key. 

Key slotted to the door, he let themselves in without any words exchanged—just looks and laughter under their breath.

—and I’m obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we’d have really good

Spencer admired your swaying form from behind. Wearing his Caltech tee that was three times too big for you, neckline slipping off to one shoulder. His very own personal sunshine chasing away all the darkness that had tainted his very being. 

Unaware of your audience, you belted out the next cheeky lyrics. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my—” 

Luke slapped his mouth to stop his chuckle from escaping while Morgan’s eyebrows raised at an all time high.

“Love,” Spencer urgently called out.

“—timezone, but you wanna be—eek!” You shrieked, turning to face the voice of your lover, only to find two more unaccounted for in the audience. 

“Hey pretty girl,” Morgan drawled out. “That’s some nice singing you’ve got there.” 

You felt your face flush with mortification. Out of all the people to have caught you, it had to be Morgan. The self titled big brother who liked to tease all he held dear to his heart. 

“W-what are you all doing here?”

Spencer reached out to give you chaste kiss on the lips. “We’re going out for a boys’ night out and I forgot all about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all here exactly.”

“I was just going to drop off my dirty go bag and they wanted to say hi,” he smiled at the embarrassment he could clearly see written in your expressive face. 

But i bet we‘’d have really good bed chem How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when—

“Oh my god,” your feet pattering on the hardwood floor as you ran to stop the vinyl still playing in the background. “Not one word,” you threatened the duo with a finger raised up high.

They both raised their hands up in defense but mirth was clearly painted on their faces. This was definitely becoming a lethal ammo perfect for quips and teasing. 

“Okay, you three out,” you all but pushed them out to the lobby. “I need to bury myself in copious amount of wine and please, forget everything you saw, okay, and Spence—” you leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye and squeezed his hand that held yours. “—I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun!” 

The door slammed shut without another word uttered.

Morgan turned to Reid with a smirk on his lips. “So camaraderie, huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer quipped back, giving him a slight shove towards the elevator.

But before he himself stepped into the awaiting lifts for a night of no doubt teasing and innuendos, Spencer sent a quick message back to his other half with cheeks red and a grin on his face.

Your wish is my command, love. Later. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[nkjemisin]

The results of the election has been absolutely devastating and terrifying and I wanted to pop in and say thank you. Firstly, for what your work has meant to me over the years. Broken earth resonated with me in a way no other piece of media has. Essun has lived in me ever since I finished the series, and I hope to get a tattoo of her as a stone eater at some point. More relevantly to how I started this, however, I wanted to thank you because your work has given me solace twice over in dealing with the world right now. With the world feeling like it’s falling apart and the future so uncertain, thinking of broken earth reminded me that even when the world is ending around us there are still people and things worth fighting for. Secondly, nearly all of my comfort media deals with antfascist or antiracist themes, and it’s felt all either too real to engage with, or hopeful in a way that felt too bitter given the state of things. I had started relistening to the city we became just before the election, and I had to stop for a bit because the hope in that story felt like more than I could bear. I hesitantly picked it back up saturday as I was walking to meet someone, and it surprised me by having the opposite effect. Seeing all of us — queers, jews, people of color — at the forefront and fighting reminded me that we are out there, that we won’t give up, that while we live the fight is not yet over. So I just wanted to say thank you for giving me some much needed hope and strength in these bleak times.

I am always astonished, and honored, when people tell me my work has this kind of effect on them. Thank you. It's good to know I've helped, even if only in spirit, and even if only a little.

As for the rest -- yeah. I feel you. I'm going to forego sharing my own feelings about all this; they're too raw, and I express myself best through my fiction, anyway. But I resolved something a few days ago, and I'll at least share this: I am not letting these motherfuckers steal my joy. There is too much beauty in the world, and too many people who are worthy of my time and attention, for me to waste more time/energy than I must on people who aren't. I will protect whom I can including myself, fight back where I can, but I am also just going to live my goddamn life, because therein lies the fuel I need to keep fighting.

So if you're getting some of that fuel from my work, wonderful. Get more from wherever else you need to -- with caution as you must, but without guilt or fear.

Take care.

[ithebookhoarder]

It's completely fine if you don't do this but I loved your Colin one, so can you do how the other brothers would react if they found out you were pregnant??!?!?!?!

Unexpectedly Expecting (Anthony / Benedict Bridgerton x AFAB!reader):

A/N: Thank you for sending this in! I'm combining this with another request - I hope that's ok? 👇 As both were on a similar track, but I can always do more later on this because who doesn't love imagining the Bridgerton boys with little ones?! 🥰

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, references to doctors and medical professionals, pregnancy symptoms like nausea and morning sickness, mentions of trouble conceiving a child, sex references, swearing, blood (let me know if I missed any!).

Masterlist:

Anthony Bridgerton:

As Viscount Anthony would likely be expecting to have children and heirs of his own and yes, it would be a concern if you weren’t falling pregnant as a couple. However, I think it upsets him more than anything because of how upsetting it is for you. He loves you and seeing you beating yourself up and making yourself sick with worry is heartbreaking. 

He has so many siblings and they have children so the Bridgerton estate and line will continue, he soothes, hoping it would take some pressure off of yourself. If you fall pregnant then that would be a blessing, but you weren’t a failure. In fact, for all he knows, he could be the issue. It’s impossible to be certain either way and he would never let you take that on yourself. Any arguments you’d have would be about that and nothing else. 

“If you think I will sit here and allow you to abuse yourself in such a way then you are sorely mistaken, my love-“

“-You don’t understand, Anthony! This is my fault. Even if you do not agree. To society, to the rest of the world, the blame will lay solely on me! That’s all that matters!” 

“No! You are all that matters and I will not allow you to keep torturing yourself this way. We will stop, do you hear me? No more talk of heirs or blame or anything to do with the subject. Let us just enjoy our life as it is for now. The future is unimportant.” 

Violet would side with Anthony, as would all his siblings. They love you too and want you to be happy - even if Violet does offer some tips and insights on ways one could assist with falling pregnant, but only at your request.

Still, when you’re not with child months later you start to lose hope. 

It gets worse as more of the Bridgerton siblings start getting married and falling pregnant. They would never rub it in your face, but it doesn’t make it any less painful when you see them or their partners caressing their bumps or discussing what names they could choose.  

You’d wish them well, obviously, but inside you feel like you’re dying. Even Anthony holding you close and pressing a comforting kiss against your cheek does nothing to raise your spirits. 

With each passing day you become just a little more certain that you’re not destined to have a child… which is why you’re utterly stunned when you miss your monthly bleed - not once, but twice… 

You didn’t say anything at first, obviously worried that it was just delayed from your recent stress. However, when it happens again you start to dare to hope for the impossible and you’re all but racing to get a physician to confirm the diagnosis. 

As soon as you do, you’re racing straight back to your husband to share the good news. You don’t care if he is in a meeting, at his club, with his family or even in the middle of the street. You still sprint to his side and blurt the news for everyone to hear.

The tears are instantaneous, as is the cheer of delighted disbelief he gives, throwing his arms about you and spinning you around until you’re both dizzy. “This… this is the greatest blessing we could have received, my love. I’m so happy… we’re going to be parents? We’re having a child?… oh, lord. We’re having a child.”

This man has been acting as a father to his siblings for so long you have no problem imagining him taking to the role like a duck to water. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be scared out of his mind to think of the responsibility of raising a child of his own. 

You can expect this man to be badgering his mother with a never ending list of questions - heck, he’d even swallow his pride and ask Simon and Daphne for advice if it came to it. After all, ‘if Hastings can do it, it can’t be too difficult’.

You’re laughing too hard to even try and correct him.

This man would be so protective of you whilst you were pregnant - especially after the troubles you’ve had getting to this point. 

“I really think you ought to have a maid accompany you when you journey to and fro. I should hate for something to happen to you."

“Anthony, I’m only going for a walk around the garden!”

“But still-“

Anything you could possibly need he has already bought three of them. No expense is spared for you and your unborn child - including summoning doctors from their beds in the middle of the night if you even think something might be wrong with either you or the baby. 

Speaking of doctors, he would fight anybody who tried to banish him from your side when the time comes. He and his mother, should you wish her there, would be at your side the whole time. They would be your biggest cheerleaders and would do whatever they could to ensure you were cared for and supported, whether it be mopping your brow, holding you as you pace around, or advocating for you against any doctor who tries to violate your wishes about the birth. 

And when you are finally handed a crying, wrinkled, cherub with Anthony’s eyes… well, it’s all worth it. You have never felt a love as pure as this, except for when you met Anthony, and nothing can ruin such a perfect moment. 

Benedict Bridgerton:

Benedict would be so calm about possibly having children with you. If you do have children, then they will be loved and adored - obviously. But if you don’t? Then that doesn’t matter. It means you two can continue your adventures together for a while longer, travelling wherever your heart desires, visiting galleries and indulging in your bohemian lifestyle with all your friends.

You have your freedom - even more so now that you’re married. Society doesn’t care what you do now that you’re no longer on the marriage mart. It’s liberating, and any pressure to produce heirs comes from only you or your loved ones, so it’s non-existent.  

However, if you did want children then Benedict would be more than eager to help create them… and get creative about doing so. 

“Benedict! That is not how a child is conceived… no wonder you’re a student of the arts. The academy of science would never admit you with such a lack of understanding about basic anatomy!”

“You’re right, my dear, but you have to admit - this is a hell of a lot more fun.” 

He would be nothing but supportive of you and so gentle every time your monthly bleed approached, especially if nothing happens. He understands how your hopes rise and how hard it hits you when you realise it hasn’t yet worked. He’d never insult you or diminish your feelings. 

If anything, he would be quick to shoulder any possible blame, refusing to let you even begin to suggest that it has anything to do with you or your body. You are perfect. End of - and he’ll fight anyone who suggests otherwise. 

“You can’t rush things, angel. After all, the best things are worth the time and effort. Michelangelo took over four years to finish the Sistine Chapel, and Da Vinci sixteen years to paint the Mona Lisa. Some things are worth the wait… and if it doesn’t happen how we wish, then we’re already creating something so beautiful between us. Our family will be perfect, no matter how it looks, how it comes about, or even when it does.”

And when it does? Well, then you’ve never seen him look so happy, tears pouring from his eyes as you confirm the good news.

You also fear for a moment that he’s about to swoon, he goes so pale and he even starts to breath heavily as he paces back and forth, muttering ‘I… I’m going to be a father? A father? Me?’. His imposter syndrome would hit him with full force and it would take several weeks for him to process it enough to calm down and be excited rather than terrified. However, he’d never have been anything other than positive towards you. You know it’s his love for your unborn child that makes him panic about being a good father.  

Also, he would be SO supportive once you are expecting. He would be there holding your hair back if you felt nauseous and bringing you endless cups of tea without you even asking. 

He wouldn’t complain in the slightest about staying in with you, rather than going to whatever social events his family had organised. As he argued, it gave him ample time to finish whatever piece he was working on next and he got to keep you company in the meantime. 

I just feel he’d paint something for the baby, whether it be a piece to hang on the wall of the nursery, or the wall of the nursery itself. You’d find him stood in front of the nursery wall, covered in paint, but beaming ear to ear. 

“It’s beautiful, Benedict.”

“Well, our baby should be allowed to enjoy the full beauty of a spectrum of colours, rather than just ‘white’ on the walls - and the sooner they begin to understand the art of composition, the better in my opinion.”

You would also be receiving gifts from all your artistically minded friends, which is heart-warming. They’d crown them their newest ‘little liberal’ and would devote themselves to ensuring your off-spring would have a well-rounded eduction about the higher arts of life - something Benedict is keen to endorse.  

“When are they not ‘too young’ to have an art tutor?” 

“Maybe wait till they can hold a paint brush first, Benedict.” 

“What about poetry?”

“Again, I think they should probably learn the alphabet before we try them on Wordsworth or Donne.” 

Given what he says in his book I know he’d secretly want a girl but you know that as long as it’s happy and healthy then that would be enough. After all, it would be yours, made from your love in a living, breathing creation greater than any painting or sculpture. 

He would be awe struck when you hand them to him, afraid he might break them somehow. He would just sit and stare at them for hours, admiring them like the finest sculpture.

“I promise to be the best possible father you could ever want, my love. I will do whatever I can to protect you and make you, and your mother, feel cherished. I won’t let you down… even if you turn out like most of your Uncles and have no idea what the difference is between a sonata and a sonnet.”  

[taintandviolent]

Regular ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: You live in Gotham City and are a waitress at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Oz is a regular and you've developed quite the crush on him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 6.4K | older man/younger woman, semi-established history, making out, cockwarming, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving, dirty talk, smut with a teensy bit of plot (but not really).

a/n: to the 99.9999% of my followers... I'm so sorry but I am begging you guys to hear me out about him!!!! I thoroughly expect this to flop, but I needed to write it for my own sanity. absolutely massive thank you to @redravenblogs for beta-reading! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Ah, Tuesday night. 

In Gotham City, every night is a good night for an Italian restaurant. Especially one that’s been in business since 1964 and acquired a hefty lot of aging locals that know the food is good, and a possibly even longer list of trendy, younger foodies that have heard that food is good because of the aging locals. 

There’s also the… criminal side of the patrons. Have a place with delicious food and wine, and Gotham’s elite underground is sure to follow. You’ve seen your fair share of men who look like they’re here to discuss a deal over a good meal, and a number of elected officials with them. You know better than to meddle, though. You just do your job, and hope for a good tip. Usually, you get one. 

Tonight, it’s raining. Heavily. Surprise, surprise. People flock in from the street as an escape from the deluge outside and the restaurant is filling up quickly. Your section is about three quarters of the way full, and you’re busy. You hear the door open again, followed by the momentary rush of the sound of tires on wet pavement outside. You straighten up, throwing your glance in the way of the entrance. 

There he is. A warm smile spreads across your face as you watch him amble in, shaking the rain from his leather coat. Though his appearances aren’t regular, his habits are. He always sits at the same table in your section, towards the back and next to the corner window. Once he figured out it was in an area you attended to, he never sat anywhere else. 

You only know him as Oz, the big sweetheart of a man who comes in and always orders the chicken parmigiana. Says it’s the best in town. After seeing him a few times, and sneakily taking note of his last name, you took it upon yourself to do a little digging and found out that he’s known for running with Falcone’s gang and that he’s also the owner of the elite Iceberg Lounge. You never bring those things up to him in fear of starting a conversation he doesn’t want to finish. It’s really none of your business, anyway. You give him a moment to settle into the booth, but once he does – you’re immediately headed that way. 

“There she is,” he starts with a smile, watching you as you make your way over to the table, pulling your order notebook from your apron pocket. “There’s my girl.” 

A blush hits your cheek – it does every time. From day one, he flirted with you, harmlessly and has continued it ever since. You’re used to patrons being a little flirtatious, but something about the way Oz does it makes your stomach tighten. 

“Buonasera, Oz…” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. In the year you’ve worked here, you’ve picked up a little Italian, but the appropriate greetings are mandated by management. “How you doin’?” 

“Better now.” 

You smile again and dip your chin to your chest shyly. He’s always so affectionate, so warm. For being a guy who meddles in Gotham’s seedy underbelly, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met.

“The usual?” 

He nods. “The usual, sweetheart. But gimme’ a side of fettuccine tonight, huh?” 

You scribble the order down, and snap your book shut. “You got it.”

“What time you off tonight, doll?” 

“Same as every night, Oz. In about an hour.”

“They keepin’ you late every night, huh?” 

“Yeah, but a girl’s gotta’ eat.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head and shifts in the booth before looking up at you. “I keep tellin’ ya, I could take care uh ya, baby.”

The running joke, but sometimes you wonder if he’s serious. He always tips you generously, alarmingly so, and it’s always put directly in your hand, as though he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that he takes care of your groceries for the week.

“And I keep sayin’ I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“Ahh–!” He jerks his head to the side, dismissing those words. 

You reach forward to touch his broad shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Let me put your order in, honey. I’ll be right back with your wine.” 

With that, you walk proudly off towards the back, swaying your hips. You can feel Oz’s eyes on you as you go and maybe the way you move is intentional, because you know he’s watching. So, what if it was? Can you really blame a girl for liking the attention?

As you round the corner to the kitchen, you clear your throat and call out to the cooks. Angelo is working tonight, and he’s one of the few guys who knows about your little affinity for Oz. As soon as you pin the ticket, Angelo spins the wheel around, looking at the order. He recognizes it, and gives you a knowing smile. 

“Oh, look who’s back, eh?” 

“Quiet,” you hush, looking back towards the table. You can’t see it from this angle, but you know he’s there, sitting, probably on his phone, or tapping his big knuckles on the wood of the table. 

He looks at the sheet again, noticing the addition, and raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend’s hungry tonight.” 

“Angelo, will you quit it? He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Sugar daddy then, eh?” 

You scoff, giving him the finger before reaching for one of the bottles of wine ��� Oz’s favorite.

You return to his table with a skip in your step. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen him, and you can’t help the giddiness in your gait. As you bump your plush hip into the corner of the table, Oz grins crookedly at you, his gold teeth glinting in the low lighting of the restaurant. You reach into your apron, pulling out a corkscrew. 

“So, whatcha’ been up to, Oz?” You say, as you twist the prong into the cork. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Ah, y’know… business as usual.”

He usually gives you an answer like that – something that doesn’t reveal too much about what he does. You wonder if he knows that you’ve looked into him. You suddenly furrow your brow at the cork – it’s being stubborn – and quickly situate the bottle between your legs, squeezing it tight between your thighs. This action isn’t lost on Oz, who watches you with a deeply interested grin, watching how your skirt rides up just slightly at the front, not enough to reveal anything aside from some of your creamy soft thigh flesh. Everything you do is done with such innocence, but there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to him, he thinks. After a moment of yanking, the cork finally gives way with a hollow POP and you grip the bottle, bringing it up to the table. You mutter a quiet apology and fill the glass, pulling the bottle back to wipe the edge on your apron.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Always is.” 

Someone calls your name from behind you, and it’s one of the other tables, looking for refills. You offer Oz an apologetic smile, and head in that direction. Sadly, you don’t return until his food is ready.  He’s extra present tonight; your eyes meet every time you look in his direction, giving him a timid smile and going about your tasks, but your heart flutters with an adoration for the older man. You’re attentive too, and go over to his table a million and a half times to ask how the food is, if he needs anything else. 

“Only you, doll.” 

You swat playfully at his shoulder, though the little quip has heat pooling in your core. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about him taking you over the table a handful of times; lustfully imagining what his hips would feel like rutting against your ass as he sunk himself inside of you. You constantly wondered what his cock looked like. He was a big man, and you assumed that rang true for all parts of him – but the hunger to find out was terrible.  

He’s one of the last ones to leave, lingering as long as he can before it’s considered rude. Tonight, something’s different about him, like something is on his mind, something he wants to say. Each time you’re at his table, he looks like he’s about to ask, but never does. Finally, as you return to clear his table, reaching for the empty plates on his table, he downs the rest of his wine and clears his throat. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, pivoting slightly in the booth with some effort. “You uh, you busy after work?” 

“N-no.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You straighten up, holding the stacked plates with one flattened palm.

“Why don’t you come down to the Iceberg Lounge? Unwind a little.”

“Oh, Oz, I’m not much of a clubbing girl.” 

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in those dark eyes of his, but he sets his jaw, and gets to his feet. This puts him in your proximity, and you can feel the heat rolling off his large body. Your stomach aches to lean into him, press yourself into his gut, and lace your arms around his neck.

“Just think ‘bout it.” He reaches in his pocket. 

The tip he gives you tonight almost makes your knees give way. It feels thicker than usual in your left hand and when your fingers close around the bills, you swallow down the protests. You don’t dare count it, not in front of him or anyone else. You’ve stopped telling him no, or that he doesn’t have to, because it’s almost like it offends him. He always hushes you, and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tuck it in the pocket of your apron, and swallow hard again. 

He smiles and steps around you. Your eyes are glued to the visual of him leaving, watching him through the windows as he limps down the sidewalk. God, you want him. It’s a lethal hunger, something that claws and rips at your insides. 

Once the restaurant is empty, you and the rest of the crew make quick work of cleaning up and closing up shop. It’s about forty-five minutes later when you’re slipping your arms into the sleeves of your black, wool overcoat and heading through the door. The rain hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You heave a sigh. You’ve got a walk ahead of you, but it’s something you’re used to. 

“Doll!” 

You stop walking, poised just at the end of the sidewalk. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and pull your jacket right around your neck, squinting into the rain. 

“Oz? That you?” You take a step in that direction, knowing full well it is. Your casual act is embarrassing to you, but you persist, pretending you’re surprised to see him getting out of his car. It’s a nice one, too… a Maserati. Was he… waiting for you?

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You ain’t walkin’ home in this, are ya?”

“Just to the station,” You defend. 

“Nah. C’mon.” He limps around the front of his car, rain splattering against his leather coat. “Lemme’ give ya’ a ride.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really. The rain is brutal and you’re cold, a chill settling into your bones. You hurry towards the plum-coloured car, your high heels clacking against the wet pavement as you do. Oz opens and holds the door for you, waiting patiently for you to make your way over. You get in the car gracefully, making sure not to flash him, though, you doubt he’d mind if you did. It’s warm inside, the heat is on, and the leather interior has absorbed some of that heat. You snuggle into the seat, watching in the rearview as Oz makes his way back around the car, and for a moment you’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the shlick of the wiper blades as they whisk the droplets off the windshield. The driver’s side door opens, and he tucks himself in. Droplets of rain decorate his shoulders, and he smears his hand over his hair. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” He asks, a familiarity in his voice. He’s used to driving people around, but he’d drive you around the whole city if you asked. 

“The complex on the corner of 7th and Onyx…” you say, almost sheepishly. Sure, it’s not the best part of town, but your little apartment is cozy, overlooking the city. You imagine he’s used to much nicer, and is probably silently judging the location. 

“Oz,” you start, looking at the girth of his fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly reign it in with a hard blink and an inhalation of breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, doll. Anything you want.” 

“Were you waiting for me to get off work?”

 “Gotta’ look out for my favorite girl, y’know?” 

It’s an indirect answer, but an answer all the same. You smile to yourself as he eases his foot into the gas pedal, the car moving forward. His right hand departs from the steering wheel to turn on the radio. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the inside, and for the rest of the drive, you’re silent, occasionally stealing looks at Oz as he drives. He handles the car beautifully, and you wonder if he handles a woman as well. 

Oz is sweet. You know this. Despite his constant heavy flirting at the restaurant, he’s sweet, charming and at times, awkward. Endearingly so. But you aren’t taking pity on him. Your interest in him is purely selfish, driven by your lust for older, dangerous men. You inhale a deep breath and turn your attention to the road. You’re close to home. A few minutes later, he pulls up next to your building and puts the car in park. 

You reposition yourself to face him, shifting your feet underneath you. He’s watching you, those smoldering, dark eyes following your every move. Carefully, you lean over the center console, enough to close in the distance between you two and press your lips against his warm, scarred cheek. His aftershave wafts into your nose, and you take a deep breath of it, remembering it. You think you hear his breath hitching. 

“That’s for the ride, Oz.” 

“Shit, I oughta’ drive you ‘round more often if that’s what it gets me, huh?” 

You hesitate a moment, looking into his eyes. There’s that look again –  like he wants to ask something. You fill the void with another question. 

“Is our chicken parm really the best, or do you just come for me?” 

Oz’s thick brows flick up on his forehead and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart...” 

“Do you come for me?” 

Now he’s really looking at you, squinting at you. Hearing that question repeated has him twitching in his goddamn slacks. He looks out to the rain, then back to you and you’re still staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“If you only fuckin’ knew,” he chokes out.

“Well.. what if I wanna’ know?” 

“Doll,” he grins and laughs, almost nervously. It’s loveable and you can’t help but smile, your gaze fixated on his scarred mouth as he speaks. You aren’t staring negatively, quite the contrary. Like everything else unusual about him, you find his scars sexy. 

“You don’t gotta’... y’know, do that.”

You smile again, letting your lids close slightly. He thinks you’re doing this because you’re what? Paying him back for all the tips? Treating him like a charity case? Hysterical. If he only knew.

“Answer my question, Oz. What if I wanna’ know?”

He shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable? You can’t tell. 

“Then uh… I ain’t gonna’ deny you that. Find out.”

You lean back over, and instead of kissing his cheek, you tilt your head and go for his mouth, your soft, plush lips pressing against his. He doesn’t respond… not right away, at least. He’s stunned, but also trying not to devour you like some goddamned hungry animal. Finally, his lips twitch to life, pressing back against yours. 

He ain’t used to this. But, fuck, it feels good. 

As his mouth opens, his large hand comes up to the side of your face, holding you where you’re at. The cool chill of the band of his ring is a stark contrast against the warmth of his digits. His fingertips graze the edge of your hairline, massaging gently. The taste of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating, the wine lingering on his breath mingles with his own personal notes. You let an open-mouthed moan fall from your throat, into his, and he reciprocates, moving his body slightly towards you. Your tongue slips along his bottom lip, pausing to nibble at it softly. He groans deep, his eyes rolling back in his head. You’re getting him stiff, worked up and all you’re fuckin’ doin’ is kissin’ him.   

This is getting heavy. You feel your own arousal burning between your legs, a fiery, throbbing heartbeat that gets more incessant the longer his tongue is in your mouth, tasting you. Oz is practically taking you in mouthfuls, and your hand crawls over the center console, just far enough that your fingernails scrape against the fabric of his slacks, over his thigh. A desperate attempt to get closer to him without just straddling him in his front seat. 

A deep rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning pulls you two from each other. You lurch away, panting, and look out through the front windshield. The rain comes down harder, and you can hardly make out the outlines of the buildings in front of you. 

“I should… probably go inside before this gets any worse.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about the rain or the mutual arousal. Maybe both. He clears his throat in response; he wants to tell you that you’re a cruel woman, leaving him like this, but with the taste of you still on his tongue, he ain’t about to push his luck and get greedy. He unlocks the doors from the panel on his left. You open the door and get out, dragging your bag with you. You lean back inside, looking at him with dreamy, half-lidded eyes. 

“I’ll see you, Oz. Thanks for the ride.” 

But not the kiss? You cringe at your words. There’s that look again – but this time, you know he wants to ask you if you’re coming down to the Lounge later. You know it, and you’ve already made up your mind. 

Instead, he shrugs with both of his shoulders. “Sure, sweetheart. Any time. I mean that.” 

With butterflies in your stomach, you exit the car, and shut the door, careful not to slam it. You hold your purse above your head as you run to the front door and you hear the roar of Oz’s engine as he speeds off. The second you’re inside, you kick off your heels at the door and hurry to the back of the apartment. You flip the lightswitch, illuminating the modest bedroom. You pull the dress from the back of your closet, half expecting a cloud of dust to come with it.  

Thank god it still fits. 

You catch a cab downtown, which is much less luxurious than your previous ride. It drops you off in front, and the line to get in stretches down the length of the building. You knew it was a popular place, but you hadn’t expected this. The rain, nor the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening, deters these patrons – whatever’s inside must really be something. You pull your dress down your thighs, and walk carefully up onto the sidewalk. Deciding to try your luck with the bouncers, you bypass the line, trying not to look at anyone to your right. If you stand in line, you won’t be inside for hours. 

Two men – identical twins – stand in front of the door.

“Can we help you?” One of them asks, sternly. You don’t take offense, they’re only doing their job. 

“Um…” You blurt out your name, adding, “Oz asked me to come.” 

One of the men speaks into a small mic attached to the lapel of his jacket, covering it with his hand. It’s only a moment before one of them opens the door and the music goes from muffled to booming, vibrating your bones. You mutter a quick thanks, and step inside, feeling like you’ve just cheated the system. The visual that meets you truly overwhelms you at first, and you hesitate. 

It’s a staggeringly massive venue, filled with undulating bodies. The building itself is industrial in nature, all steel and flashing red lights. The dance floor stretches as far as your eyes can see, a literal sea of human beings, all grinding against each other, feeling the music in their veins. You stand, stunned at the start of the crowd, unsure of where to go.

After a moment, you lift your gaze and your eyes meet for the hundredth time that night. Oz stands on the second floor, on almost a catwalk above the crowds. He looks like he did at the restaurant, save for the leather jacket which was replaced by a white suit jacket; he’s wearing the same purple shirt and black slacks. Your shoulders relax, knowing that whatever happens next will be something you remember for the rest of your life.

He doesn’t make it a secret of how he’s checking you out, a devilish sneer on his face. He’s only ever seen you in your waitress outfit, which let it be known, is sexy enough on its own, but this plunging number that gives him a peek at your cleavage, and hugs your hips in ways he could only dream of… He deepens his grin and jerks his head to the side, urging you up. You follow his gaze and clock the staircase to your left. You make a beeline for it, holding the chain of your purse in a fist and climb the steel staircase carefully, until you get to the platform that Oz is standing on. 

“Hi!” You shout over the pulsing music. You’re giddy, like a schoolgirl. It’s embarrassing, really. 

“I gotta’ be honest, doll, I didn’t think I’d see you.” he confesses, leaning into your ear. His voice is rough, but enticing. He pulls back, gauging your reaction. You stare at him for a moment, saying nothing, prolonging the moment and torturing him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes flick down to watch. Something he does a lot, you notice. 

“What?” you ask, leaning into him. “After what happened in the car?” 

When you pull back to look at him, there’s a bemused smile on your face. Confident. Cocky. Like there was an unspoken contest of who would mention it first and you won. He shrugs lightly, huffing out a laugh. You reach for his cheek, palming it softly. Oz keeps his composure, even though inside, he wants to lean into it and whimper like a dog. He’s glad he doesn’t though. 

“I’m the one who kissed you, remember? It’s not like you did anything to offend me, Oz.” you coo.

“I ‘spose not, huh?” 

You nod, slowly, coyly. 

“The chicken parm,” he says suddenly, shrugging with his hands. “It ain’t bad. But I guess you’ve figured out the real reason why I come there, huh?”  

You laugh brightly, looking over the railing at the throngs of people below you, neon red lights washing over them in time with the music. You smile softly, feeling special. It’s not every day that you get private access to an elite club in Gotham City and get to schmooze with the owner. 

“Come upstairs with me.” Feeling like your attention is drifting from him, Oz takes your hand, guiding you in the direction of yet another flight of stairs. Your eyes trail up the steps; they lead to a loft, glass windows on every side. 

You’re stone cold sober, so you can’t blame the alcohol, but the second you’re in his office, above the crowds, above it all, you’re on him like a bear on honey. Your hands smear over his chest, fingers grazing through the hair that peeks out from his open shirt. He smells like cigars and an expensive cologne that you take lungfuls of. 

“You're an eager girl, aren’t ya?” 

“Yeah, Oz… I am.” You reply breathlessly, kissing a path along his bottom lip and chin. 

“How long have you felt this way, huh?” 

You finally pull back, and lick your lips, watching him intently. You knew he was a talker from the restaurant, always chatting. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “Uhm…” Your chest heaves visibly, and Oz has to fight to keep his eyes on yours. “The first or second time you came into Bellini…” 

“Ah, c’moooon!” he says, incredulously. 

“No, I’m serious!” You laugh a little, moving your head to try and keep Oz’s gaze. He looks off behind you for a moment, and when he returns his attention to you, his expression is serious.

“Chicks like you don’t go after guys like me –”

You bristle and take his face in your hands. “Chicks like me? What do you know about chicks like me, Oz? You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” 

He sidesteps that with another question. “What, you like older guys or somethin’?” 

“They’re better…” You say in between tiny kisses. “They know better. They’re more experienced. Guys my age…” You pause to run a finger along his lip. “They don’t know how to take care of women.”

Oz smiles. It’s a dirty, devious smile, and it sends a pulse to your core. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and he brings his hand up to the curve of your shoulder. “You want me to take care of ya, baby? Is that what you’re sayin’?” 

You nod. A little too enthusiastically, maybe. 

“It’s a busy club, sweetheart.” He says, almost nonchalantly, as though his slacks aren’t tenting in between both of you. 

But… he has a point. You hum quietly. 

“Later, then? Give me a tour of the club and – “ Your voice trails off because Oz looks like he’s just gotten an idea. He smirks, and his hand grips your hip, pulling you close to his gut. “What?” 

“How’s about you sit on it, huh?” 

Your head turns, gaze heavily resting on the room across the way. You assume it’s for the dancers of the club. Whatever it is – it’s right there. You glance at it nervously, and your expression reads strong, apparently, because Oz chuckles next to you, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing it back in his direction. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. They ain’t gonna’ know a thing.” 

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, where his thumb swipes circles over your dress. His hand sweeps around to the back, where your skin is exposed, and begins stroking patterns over the skin, igniting tiny fires wherever he touches. You lean forward, pressing your mouth against his again, hungry for his taste again. After a few minutes, Oz pulls away, ending the foreplay. He turns and ambles to the leather sofa angled in front of the window and you follow, taking slow, careful steps. One foot in front of the other. 

Once he’s seated, you lift your dress just enough to grip the delicately stretchy lace of your panties on either side, and carefully pull them down the curve of your ass. Oz is watching, his brown eyes locked on the tantalizing visual in front of him. You discard them on the sofa cushion, not thinking about where they land. Oz watches though, and his large hand snakes out, fisting them and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. If you asked, he would’ve told you that he didn’t want anyone fuckin’ seein’ ‘em. The reality was that his perversions were too loud, and he was going to take a token of this dream he was experiencing.  

Oz reaches down, unlatching his slacks, and pulling the zip down just enough to reach in and pull his aching cock free. As you lower yourself, he lines it up, watching intently. You whimper his name, feeling the cockhead nudge your entrance. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. That’s it, nice n’ slow.” He licks his lips. 

At first, you nestle yourself down onto his thick cock gradually. The fat, leaking head pops in first, sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitches in your throat, and instead of sliding yourself down his shaft slowly, with a huff, you slam your ass down hard. You’re sitting all the way down on Oz’s wide lap, stuffing the rest of him in. He’s thicker than he is long, but god, it’s everything you thought it would be. He vocalizes, surprised at your determination. You still, letting your walls accommodate the girth of the man beneath you. 

“Hoo, baby...” 

The tiniest little movements have him clenching his jaw, hissing through his teeth. And then… with his hand casually holding onto your hip, Oz starts to rut his hips up into you. It’s just enough to rock your body up and down and move his cock inside you. 

He grunts underneath you, his grasp tightening on the satin of your dress. He craves skin, and his hand slides into the space between your dress and your back. You can’t help but let out the tiniest of whimpers at the feeling of being so full – you don’t remember the last time you were stretched like that. Your dress pools, hanging heavy between your legs and concealing your leaking core. 

Abruptly, the collective sound of high heels approaches, and your eyes snap up to the glass windows. A group of girls crowds the room parallel, and the second one of them spots you two, they’re heading your way. Oz stops moving. 

“Alright… quiet, doll.” He slaps your hip a few times. It’s a warning, and one you immediately heed, straightening up, tucking your hips into a more natural sitting position. His cock twitches inside you, and you swallow back the noise that bubbles up your throat. 

“Ozzy,” the girls coo in unison. One of them has a martini in her hand and asks who you are. God, they’re all so beautiful, you think. Insecurity threatens, but the stretching between your legs calms it.

Leaning to the side to meet their gaze, he tells them your name, proudly – the bastard – and you wave, sheepishly, trying not to allude to the fact that Oz’s girthy cock is buried inside you. Maybe they know. Maybe he’s done this before. You swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“We was just havin’ a meeting. She’s thinkin’ of workin’ here.” A bold faced lie, but it distracts the women from looking too hard at the scene in front of them. They all titter excitedly, delighted by the prospect of having another friend to play with.  

“Oz takes real good care of us,” one of them chimes in, earnestly. “You’d love it here.” 

You clench around his cock as hard as you can, your internal muscles squeezing him in a vice. You smile as naturally as you can at the girls as Oz continues speaking casually. The man’s poker face must be insane because he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give away a single thing. 

“Alright, alright. Girls, what am I payin’ ya for, huh? Get down there.” 

In a flurry of nods and apologies, the women disperse, heading back down to the throbbing club below them. The sound of their high heels clicking down the stairs fades away, replaced by the dull, muffled thrumming of the music below. As soon as you two are alone again, Oz bucks his hips up into you hard, almost painfully, pulling a low groan from your throat.

“Tell me how good that feels, sweetheart. Tell me.” The roughness of his voice, the harshness of his accent makes everything sound intense, but the desperation in which he asks that isn’t lost on you. He’s practically begging you to tell him, revealing a deep-rooted hunger for praise. You wet your throat, and lean your head back onto his shoulder, bringing your hand up around to the back of his wide neck; the flesh is warm and damp with sweat.

“It feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah…” You close your eyes, wincing slightly at the way his cock bullies you and stretches you open. “So good, Oz. I’ve thought about this… so many times.”

His hips rut up into you, finding a hungry, incessant rhythm and your slick walls clench around him. The action brings a choking grunt from his mouth, and your ego swells with the control. An idea blossoms. You straighten up; setting your hips and grinding them back and forth on his lap. Beneath you, Oz moans, his grip on you tightening. You feel his large body shudder, and a cocky smile curls its way around your lips. 

“You like that, Oz? You like me fucking you like that?” 

He nods, breathlessly, reaching up to palm the sweat that drips into his brow. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, arching your body against his. 

“I l-like the way you’re fuckin’ me. It feels real fuckin’ good… ” He grumbles, pleased. “Feelin’ that tight pussy uh yours… like heaven, doll.” 

You whine at that, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. Your hips gyrate, continuing their ruthless pattern on his cock. His hand strays from your hip and juts between your legs, finding your cunt. His thick fingers slip between your folds, stroking you just enough to drive your orgasm closer to the edge. You whimper, tossing your head back. 

Oz’s gaze drops from your back to your ass, watching as the flesh swells when you push back against him. God damn. It’s a perfect fuckin’ view, and he sucks in a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tightens, even if he ain’t ready for that.  

“Aw, fuck–” he grunts, low. Deep in his stomach, his muscles clench, trying hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm. His eyes open, focusing on the ceiling, the sound of the music, anything except for the way you’re ridin’ him. It ain’t workin’, because he feels his whole body tense up. Fuck. 

His hand goes slack between your legs and you grit your teeth, bringing your brows together in a pained expression. The dual stimulation was nice, but the way his cock massages your walls, stretching them out and filling you in a way that has you gasping is enough to drive you mad. You’re thankful that the music is so loud beneath you, because your desperate mewls and whines are getting higher and higher in pitch. Oz mutters something, something filthy about filling you and you drive your hips back against him. And with that, he loses it. He thrusts his hips up into you a few times, with a frenzied sort of desperation. You feel the heat painting your insides, coating your walls in his ecstasy. Underneath you, Oz’s thrusts have turned languid and lazy. He’s silently justifying the too-quick orgasm with the fact that he had to; anyone could’ve walked in at any time. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s been like a slobbering dog for you for months. 

Chest heaving, your hips continue rutting back and forth, and Oz shifts underneath you, still panting heavily. It’s tender, but he doesn’t complain. His thrusts continue to slow and you desperately reach between your legs, tapping his hand back to life. “D-don’t stop Oz, please… don’t stop…” 

Behind you, Oz chuckles under his breath and straightens up, having sunk back into the sofa a little too far when he lost it. His thick index finger strokes your clit upwards, and a shiver rips through your body. The coil in your stomach winds tighter as you settle into the oncoming feeling. Still full of him, your slick walls shudder around his cock as the first wave hits. The coil snaps, your thighs clamp shut around his hand, and you look down, sighing loud as he continues flicking between your folds. One of your hands is situated on his thigh, and the other comes to grip his wrist, feeling the cuban link chain beneath your palm.

“That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it…” As you ride it out, bucking your hips against his groin, he coaxes you through your orgasm, both vocally and with the way he massages your clit, the pad of his index finger pressing into it. You can hear the pride in his voice, it’s absolutely dripping with it. “Atta’ girl. Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You furiously nod your head as your legs begin to tremble. He doesn’t stop, and your immediate reaction is to dig your nails into the flesh of his hand, silently begging. 

“You good, doll?” 

“Y-yeah. I’m… wow.” 

Oz removes his hand from between your legs, and strokes the side of your thigh, gently. Tenderly. For a moment, you stay like that, just enjoying all of the post-coital sensations. Eventually, you get to your feet, curious about how the patrons downstairs are faring. Speaking of dripping… You swallow hard, and press your thighs together. 

While still in front of Oz, you straighten yourself out, pulling your dress back down over your hips. Now, you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing beat beneath your feet and make your way over to the window. 

“How about that tour?” You ask, running a nail along the glass that overlooks the dancefloor below you. After a few moments, you feel Oz’s presence behind you, his stomach pressing into the curve of your back. 

“I thought you weren’t a clubbin’ girl…” he murmurs throatily, in between kisses to your neck. You tilt your head, allowing more space for him to smother. 

“Well,” you confess, honesty tinging your voice. “I’m not. But it’s not every day you get invited to the most elite nightclub in Gotham City.” You shrug. “Might as well.”

[milswrites]

My Beautiful Girls

~ Cassian x SingleMum!Reader

Series masterlist

Summary: An anxious Cassian meets your daughter for the first time.

Warnings: Fluffy goodness

Notes: For the ultimate Cassian girly @sarawritestories

"Hi, I'm Cassian. It's nice to meet you!"

The Illyrian General smiled crookedly as he spoke, clammy hands trembling around the flowers trapped within his steel-like grip.

"Fuck . . . fuck . . . Come on Cas, you can do better than that."

Slowly unfurling his wings, Cassian lightly shook them in the hope of brushing away his steadily growing nerves.

"Breathe Cas, breathe" the male exhaled deeply, rolling back his tense shoulders before locking his determined eyes onto the closed door in front of him, "Hi, I'm Cassian! I've heard so much about you!"

A groan of frustration tore from Cassian's lips, shoulders slumping in dejection as he miserably dropped the flowers to his side.

Cassian had seen his fair share of carnage, having stared death in the face a plethora of times and still lived to tell the tale. Yet no battle, nor life-threatening experience, could have prepared him for the terror he felt in this moment.

The great Lord of Bloodshed riddled with fear at the prospect of meeting your sweet little girl, so only for her not to like him.

It was almost laughable, thinking back to how confident he was when you had first brought up the topic of him meeting your daughter. Cassian recalled flashing you a toothy grin, eyes bright and laugh carefree as he promised you that all children loved him. He was, after all, Nyx's favourite uncle.

Yet now, standing before the door to your home, Cassian wondered if he would ever find the courage to enter. Every possibility as to how this introduction could go wrong festered in the male's worrisome mind, until his poisonous thoughts left his wings twitching with the desire to fly away and hide from his fears.

But Cassian couldn't bring himself to flee, not if it meant losing you.

So here he stood, the icy winter air uncomfortably nipping at his wind-kissed cheeks, rehearsing exactly what it was he would say to your daughter when he first met her. Seeking to gain back some control in the face of his uncertain future.

Adamant that he would not be the one to ruin the one good thing in his life, Cassian drew in a long shaky breath before trying again, "Hi sweetheart, I'm so glad I get to finally meet you."

"Right back at you gorgeous"

If the sight of the Illyrian General practicing a mental script to recite to your five year old daughter didn't bring you to the brink of laughter, seeing the way he startled at your sudden appearance did.

Cassian stumbling backwards as you pulled open your door to great him, cheeks flushing a deep rouge as though you had just caught him in a compromising position.

It was only once your laughter had subsided, and the low grumblings of embarrassment from the male's lips had ceased, were you then able to greet him. Your warm lips coming to meet his own frozen ones in a soft kiss, the action working to further deepen Cassian's flustered blush.

An impatient shout from inside pulled you from your kiss, a light chuckle leaving both of your lips as you quickly glance inside to where your daughter was waiting, "She's been talking about this all day you know? I've never brought anyone home to meet her before, she's really excited."

Your gaze falls to Cassian who was drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Concern pooling in your eyes as you watched how his lips were stretched into an anxious smile which failed to meet his eyes.

"Hey, there's nothing to worry about," you reassured your partner, moving a soothing hand to rest against his cheek, "she'll love you just as much as I do."

Appreciation swam in Cassian's eyes, a soundless thank you falling from his lips before he raised a bouquet for you to take. Or rather two bouquets.

"For you and Evelyn" he nervously mumbled, awkwardly shuffling his feet as he waited for you to take the flowers, "I wanted to get her something nice but . . . I'm not actually sure what five year old's like."

"They're beautiful Cas" you spoke, tears of joy lined your eyes at the male's generosity as you placed a gentle kiss onto his cheek in thanks.

"Are you ready?" you asked whilst stepping aside, making space for Cassian to squeeze himself through your doorway, the male having to curl his wings in tightly in order to fit through the smaller entrance.

"Come on, bat boy. It's time for you to meet your new best friend."

Placing the flowers down onto a nearby console, you led Cassian through your home, softly calling out to Evelyn as you approached the room she was playing in, "Evie, there's someone here to see you."

The sound of tiny feet padding across the floor followed your words, Cassian curiously moving his gaze to the entrance of the room as he waited for your daughter to emerge.

Only his eyes didn't quite catch her face as the small girl barrelled right into the skirt of your dress, shyly hiding within the flowing material of your skirt. "Come on Eves" you encouraged warmly, a tender hand coming to rest against her back, "Aren't you going to say hello?"

A little head tentatively peered over the fabric of your dress, Evelyn's eyes widening as she took in Cassian's wings which imposingly filled the space of your corridor. The nervous girl squeaked a small hello in the General's direction before moving to hide behind the safety of your body once more.

Worried that his wings were too intimidating, Cassian drew them in tightly, bending his knees in order to lower himself to Evelyn's level before greeting the shy girl, "Hi Evie, I'm Cassian." The male allowed a bright smile to cross his face as he watched your daughter's curious eyes peer over the skirt of your dress at his introduction, "Your mum has told me everything about you."

Wanting to aid Cassian who was growing increasingly panicked at the prospect of having to break the ice with your timid daughter, you bent down to speak to her, "How about we go into the room so you can show Cassian your toys hmm?" With a sheepish nod, Evelyn takes your hand, hesitantly moving out from behind your skirt in order to lead you into the living room.

Cassian followed suit, standing from his crouch before moving to the door, only to be unpleasantly surprised upon discovering he was unable to fit through the small wooden frame. His large wings blocking him from entering the room.

Curling them in tighter, the male tried again, attempting to walk into the room once more only to be stopped by the thud of his wings against either side of the doorframe. Just as a frustrated curse was about to tumble from Cassian's lips, a melodic laugh pulled him from his anger.

And Cassian could have sworn it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

There stood Evelyn, in the middle of your living room, clutching her stomach as she laughed to her hearts content at Cassian's unfortunate situation.

It was impossible for him to be angry, Cassian's brows unfurrowing at the beautiful sound of her laughter, a deep chuckle of his own breaking from his mouth as he watched the young girl giggle. Love already growing in his eyes as Cassian wished to bottle the sound of her joy.

"Evie," you started in-between your cackling, "Why don't you help poor Cas get in?"

It took all his effort for Cassian not to melt when Evelyn padded over to him, cheeks still rosy from her laughter, and held out a tiny hand for him to take.

Making sure to move his wings into a position that would enable him to enter the room, Cassian took Evelyn's hand which was dwarfed by his own, allowing the girl to pull him into the room.

"My hero" Cassian sweetly grinned, crouching down to place a delicate kiss onto the back of your daughter's hand, "Either I'm going to need some smaller wings or your mum's going to have to get a bigger door."

Another round of giggles fell from Evelyn's lips at his words, her little hand still tucked into Cassian's palm, the girl shaking her head as she quietly spoke, "I like your wings just the way they are."

"Thank you" Cassian replied with a smile, cheeks dusting with a pink blush at her sweet compliment. "I like your dress" he replied, coming to lightly poke Evelyn's button nose which earned him an excitable squeal from the girl before her face adorably scrunched into a picture of curiosity.

"Can . . . can I touch them?" Evelyn shyly asked. Her question being met with sounds of protest from you, knowing just how sensitive Illyrian wings can be. Yet Cassian's answer surprised you, the male telling the girl yes without even an ounce of hesitation.

"Here" he softly spoke, taking Evelyn's hand which was still wrapped in his own and moving it towards a spot on his wing he knew wasn't as sensitive as the others.

Not wanting Cassian to feel obliged to do this just to keep your daughter happy you protested once more, "Cas you don't have to-"

"I don't mind sweetheart"

And as Evelyn's hand came to lightly press against the membrane of his wing, Cassian couldn't stop the spark of joy he felt at seeing the young girl smile. Knowing in his heart that despite this being their first introduction, the General would do anything and everything within his power to ensure your daughter's happiness.

It took everything in you not to cry at the sight of Cassian sating your daughter's curiosity. At the dazzling smile which was painted across his face as he looked at Evelyn with such love. A type of love you had only hoped she would one day get to experience, the love that only a father could provide.

“Can I mama? Can I please?” Evelyn’s begging voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Can you what sorry sweetheart?” You ask, wondering exactly what it was that left your daughter so eager for an answer.

“Can we go flying? Please, please, pleaseeee.”

Cassian grinned at you wickedly from behind where Evelyn was stood, shrugging his shoulders as he mimicked your daughter’s pleading tone, “Please mama, we promise we’ll be good!”

As you flatly stared between Cassian’s smirking face and Evelyn’s equally mischievous smile you silently cursed yourself, scoffing in disbelief at the fact Cassian had known your daughter for under an hour and had already pulled her into his troublesome ways.

Praying to the mother for the strength you are going to need for the restless days ahead.

It had been an evening to remember for Evelyn, Cassian having been more than willing to occupy her until the late hours of the night. Bed-time forgotten as the two of them played and played until Evelyn was no longer able to keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.

Your daughter sprawled across yours and Cassian’s lap as the three of you cuddled on the sofa. It didn’t take much longer for you to follow suit and join Evelyn in her dreaming, eyes drifting closed as Cassian’s warmth pulled you into an inviting slumber.

Cassian was more than content to sit and watch the two of you sleep, lip curling at the soft snores which escaped from Evelyn’s mouth.

And as Cassian lay there with the two of you safely tucked within the sanctuary of his arms, he wondered if this was what he had been missing all of his life. For being here, surrounded by the small family you had built for yourself, Cassian could have sworn that his heart had grown two sizes bigger.

So as he stayed awake, scared of missing out on a single moment, Cassian whispered into the silence of the night. A hushed prayer for whoever was listening.

“Thank you” a soft smile graced his lips, “For bringing me my beautiful girls.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ahhhh I love them so much 🥹

If you want to see any more of them and have an ideas for what it is you want please do feel free to send in some requests because I totally wouldn’t mind writing more about this little family 🥹

[rosesareredrosa]

So Obvious part 2

Theo x fem reader

Summary: Y/n realizes her feelings and mistakes and now comes to Theo to apologize and slowly restart their friendship and maybe become something more.

w/c: 920

The days following Theodore's confrontation with Y/N were agonizingly slow. The weight of his confession hung over him, and the uncertainty of Y/N's response gnawed at his thoughts. He replayed their conversation over and over, wondering if he had been too harsh, too impulsive. His friends noticed the change in him, but they respected his need for space.

In the Ravenclaw common room, Y/N was equally tormented. Theodore’s words echoed in her mind, the raw pain and frustration in his voice a stark contrast to the calm demeanor she had always associated with him. She had always admired Theo’s quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty, and his subtle kindness. She had been so focused on her studies and her own world that she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.

Determined to make things right, Y/N decided to find Theodore and talk to him again. She needed to understand his feelings better and share her own. She found him in the Slytherin common room, sitting by the fireplace, staring into the flames. Gathering her courage, she approached him.

"Theo, can we talk?" she asked softly, her voice tentative.

Theodore looked up, surprise and a flicker of hope crossing his features. He nodded, gesturing for her to sit down.

Y/N took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about what you said. About how you've been trying to show me how you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t see it. I was so caught up in my own world that I missed the signs."

Theodore's gaze softened slightly, but his expression remained guarded. "I didn't mean to be so harsh, Y/N. I just... I needed you to understand how much this has been affecting me."

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, and I appreciate your honesty. I’ve been blind to what was right in front of me. But now that I know, I want you to know that I care about you too. More than I realized."

Theodore's heart ached at her words, a mix of relief and lingering pain. "You do?"

"Yes, Theo. I do," Y/N said, reaching out to take his hand. "I just didn't think you'd ever feel the same way about me. I thought you were just being a good friend."

Theodore squeezed her hand gently, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I’ve always felt more than that, Y/N. I’ve just been too scared to say it outright."

Y/N's eyes filled with regret. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to hide your feelings. I want to make it right, Theo. I want to try, if you're willing to give me a chance."

Theodore studied her for a moment, his emotions a turbulent mix of hope and hesitation. "It’s going to take time, Y/N. I’ve been hurt, and I need to trust that things will be different."

"I understand," Y/N said softly. "I’m willing to wait, and to show you that I care. You deserve that."

Theodore nodded, his heart swelling with a cautious optimism. "Alright. Let’s take it slow. We can figure this out together."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore and Y/N began to rebuild their relationship, taking tentative steps toward something more. They spent more time together, sharing their thoughts and feelings openly. It was a process of healing and rediscovery, and while it wasn’t always easy, it was worth it.

One evening, as they walked along the edge of the Black Lake, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the water, Y/N looked up at Theodore. "Thank you for giving us a chance, Theo."

Theodore smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I’m glad we’re trying. I’ve always been a fool for you, Y/N. And I think I’m okay with that."

Y/N laughed softly, leaning into him. "I think I am too."

As they stood there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they both felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t the end of their journey, but a new beginning. For the first time in a long while, Theodore felt hopeful about the future, knowing that they were facing it together.

Days turned into weeks, and their bond grew stronger. Theodore found himself opening up in ways he had never imagined. The quiet moments they shared in the library, the walks by the Black Lake, and the late-night conversations in the common rooms all became precious memories.

One afternoon, while they were studying in the library, Y/N glanced up at Theo. “You know, Theo, I’ve been thinking about us.”

Theo looked up from his book, curiosity in his eyes. “What about us?”

Y/N smiled softly. “About how we started, how oblivious I was. I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me.”

Theo reached out, taking her hand in his. “I’m glad you see it now. It’s been a long road, but I wouldn’t change a thing if it brought us here.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with emotion. “Me neither. I’m grateful for your patience, Theo. For everything.”

Theo leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re worth it, Y/N. Every moment of doubt, every second of frustration. You’re worth it all.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with affection, and she leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence, finding solace in the unspoken words between them.

In that moment, Theodore knew he was no longer a fool. He was simply a man in love, and that was more than enough.

[hsunrry]

wedding // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~3,5k

warnings: smut18+, cheating, angst (i guess), mention of being hit, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“ready to see me?” you asked excited from behind the bathroom doors that was built in your room. tomorrow is your wedding and you wanted to show your best friend Harry how you look like in the dress.

“go ahead.” he called. when you walked out from the bathroom and stepped to the room he swallowed thickly. “you’re…” he cleared his throat. “i mean you look beautiful, really.”

“thank you.” you only smiled. he was sitting at the bed you were sharing with Denis- your future husband. situation was difficult. you loved him, of course. but there was a person you loved more, unfortunately. you didn’t really wanted that marriage, but your mother was pushing it so hard it was almost painful to hear all the time, so you decided to just give in and do it for your own sake, since you never even thought that your feelings could be reciprocated. little did you knew- you were the love of his life. you thought the same, you were sure he was the love of your life. but instead of getting married with him, he was looking at you in wedding dress, ready to marry someone else. it was painful, for the both of you. he was looking at you from the bed, like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. because for him- you were. he let out shaky breath.

“can i tell you something?” his eyes roamed over your body in this dress one more time. you nodded, sitting next to him. “this gonna sound crazy, god, i don’t even know why am i doing that.” he chuckled nervously.

“come on, i heard a lot crazy stuff coming out of your mouth.” you smiled, looking at his nervous expression.

“i’m in love with you.” he looked at you and you thought that you’re gonna throw up.

“wait, what?” you spoke after few seconds, blinking few times. he nodded slightly.

“yes i… i know you’re getting married tomorrow and that it’s probably the worst time i could tell you this, but i want you to know before i lost you for good.” he confessed. his leg nervously bouncing up and down. you were only looking at him with shocked expression.

“why are you telling me this now? i’m getting married tomorrow Harry.” you shook your head.

“because i know that if i didn’t say something, i’d have to watch you with some other guy for the rest of my life. i can’t keep pretending that you’re not the love of my life, because you are.” he said, feeling already that it was too late for that. he swallowed, looking at you. “i just… please, i just need to hear that you don’t feel the same and i’ll try to move on. i need to hear that.” he looked at you desperately.

“i can’t say it.” you said quietly and you could see hope in his eyes. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “this it’s so complicated, god, why didn’t you said anything earlier?”

“i was afraid that you don’t feel the same.” he grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “do you feel the same?” you only nodded. “so why did you decided to marry him?”

“it’s just… i never thought you could feel the same about me. ever. i said ‘yes’ to him, mostly for my mother. she was pushing it so hard.” you explained. he wasn’t looking at you, but at your hand in his.

“please, don’t marry him… you could be mine. all mine.” he looked at you again. “i love you, i’ll do it for the rest of my life, i’ll treat you better than he treats you. you’re the love of my life, y/n.” desperation in his voice was almost killing you. the way he was looking at you. you could see the love in his eyes, it was so different from what Denis was doing. you knew he’d treat you better. but most importantly, that you loved him more than you could ever love Denis. in very different way. “please, don’t marry him.”

“this is crazy, you know that?” your eyes lingering at your intertwined hands. he chuckled lowly, bringing your hand to his mouth, kissing it.

“i know, but maybe we’re just crazy for each other.” he smiled, giving your knuckles another lingering kiss. you bite inside of your cheek, thinking. he was hopeful, that you’ll choose him. “please, don’t do that. spend your life with me, i promise i’ll make you happier than he ever could. i’ll give you everything and i know, that you know i’ll do that. you know me like no one else.”

“jesus, this is so complicated now.” you sigh, looking at him.

“i know and i’m sorry. i should’ve say something sooner, but i was too scared, so i’m telling you this now.” he shifted his body closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand. “please, tell me you want me. say you don’t want to marry him. that you’ll be mine.”

“Harry…” you licked your lips slightly, looking at him this whole time. you swallowed quietly.

“say it, baby. say that you’ll be mine.” he watched your tongue slowly licking your lips. he started to caress your cheek with his thumb, leaning closer with his face to yours.

“fuck it.” you gasped, pressing your lips to his. he groaned when he felt the contact, immediately kissing you back. your lips moving slowly, feeling perfectly against each other. he pulled you into his lap, cupping your cheek back right after. his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth when he licked your lower lip. his free hand going up and down your waist slowly. you both moaned quietly when your tongues met, his hand went from your waist to your thigh, touching you over the material of the dress. “take this thing off me, i don’t need it anymore.” you said between kisses. he pulled back from the kiss, looking into your eyes.

“are you sure?” he was searching in your eyes for hesitation, anything really. but when you nodded he smiled. “i can’t wait to take this off you then. i want to mark you, to show everyone that you’re mine.”

“baby, are you in there?” you could hear knock on the bedroom door and Denis’s voice right after. you both froze. you looked at him.

“i have to tell him that it’s over.” you bite inside your cheek. he nodded, giving you quick peck on the lips. you stood up from his lap, going to the doors and unlocking it. you opened them, seeing how he quickly covered his eyes with his hand.

“what are you doing? i’m not supposed to see you in the dress before our wedding.” he chuckled. you swallowed quietly.

“we need to talk.” you said, looking at Harry for brief second.

“sure sweetie, but change first, it means bad luck if i see you and i don’t need bad luck in our marriage.” he smiled, still covering his eyes with his hand.

“Denis, i’m not gonna marry you tomorrow.” you sigh, looking at his reaction. he uncovered his eyes, looking at you concerned.

“w-what? i don’t understand… what are you talking about?” he chuckled nervously.

“i can’t be with you.” you swallowed quietly.

“what are you saying? i thought you love me, we’re engaged for months!” his eyes narrowed, he finally noticed Harry sitting on the bed, but he didn’t said anything just yet. his eyes went back to yours.

“i’m really sorry Denis, i didn’t planned that…” you took off your engagement ring, handing it to him. he grabbed it, looking down at it in his hand.

“are you seriously doing this? you’re telling me that you’re breaking our engagement the night before our wedding? is this some kind of prank or something?” he asked, looking at you like you just escaped mental hospital. you only shook your head. “how long have you been feeling like this? you said you love me, you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me! how can you be so heartless telling me this when we’re supposed to get married tomorrow?!” he snapped.

“i’m really sorry.” you almost whispered.

“so that’s it? we’re officially over? what am i supposed to tell our friends and family? it’ll break your mothers heart, you know that?” he was mad. his hand clenched on the engagement ring.

“i don’t care what my mother will say about that, i’ll handle it.” you saw him looking into Harry’s direction.

“is this because of him?” he looked back at you.

“it doesn’t matter.” he scoffed at your words, lingering his gaze at him.

“it doesn’t matter? you’re dumping me for your best friend and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter? we were together for over two years! all my friends knew i was going to marry you, my parents were so happy that we’re finally taking this step! you can’t just throw it away like that!” he yelled, causing your flinch.

“i love him.” you whispered, looking up at his face. his eyes went back to your face.

“for how long have you been sneaking around with him behind my back?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he was supposed to marry you tomorrow, but there you were, confessing that you love someone else.

“i never cheated on you, it’s not like that. i wouldn’t take it that far if i knew earlier that he love me too.” you pinched your hand nervously few times. his gaze softening.

“please baby, you have to be joking. this is a joke, right? please don’t tell me you’re actually in love with someone else…” he was desperate, looking at you pleadingly. you only shook your head saying quiet ‘sorry’. he sigh deeply. “you were always saying that you love me. that you want that, that you want us. now, you’re telling me that you just… fallen out of love with me?… just like that?” his eyes were just simply sad. the way he was saying all of that was too much.

“you deserve the truth, so i’ll tell you.” you started, looking for brief second at Harry. your eyes went back on Denis when you continued. “i’d never thought, that Harry could ever feel the same way about me. it sounds cruel, but he’s the love of my life. not you Denis. i’m sorry.”

“so what?” he clenched his jaw, anger building in him at Harry’s name. “you think you’ll just live happily ever after with him? you think he’ll treat you better than i would?”

“you really wanna talk about treating me better?” your eyebrows raised in disbelief. his face went pale.

“i- i’ve treated you great, no? i’ve given you everything… money, stability, love, home-“

“some bruises and cuts sometimes too, but you weren’t planning to say this out loud, hm?” when you said that, Harry’s brows furrowed. his hands clenched on his sides.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you, babe. i’m sorry, i’ll change, i promise.” his voice cracked softly when he was talking. “i’ll be better, i promise, just give me one more chance.” he grabbed your hand with his.

“i love Harry, you can’t change that.” you looked at him going on his knees. “i’m sorry it all happened like that.” he looked pathetic. his eyes were wide, his skin ashen. he looked like his entire life was burning with your words. maybe because in fact, it was like that. he knew it was over. he wanted to beg, he was ready to do everything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. it was like realization hit him. he let out shaky sigh, going up from his knees, but still holding your hand in his.

„what do you want me to do now?” he asked, without any emotions in his voice.

„you have to let me go.” you answered quietly.

„you’re killing me baby…” he chuckled in disbelief. „you’ll… you’ll be happy with him? you’ll be treated better?” you nodded at his words. „you deserve that. you deserve to be treated better than i treated you.” his eyes lingering on your face and then your body. „you never looked more beautiful than in that dress.” he smiled weakly.

„i hope you’ll find someone for you.” you smiled softly.

“yeah…” he mumbled. “it was supposed to be you, you know? i always dreamed of marrying you, growing old with you… having family with you.” he swallowed thickly.

“i know Denis, i’m sorry.” you said quietly, looking at your hand in his. mention of family brought a new sort of hurt in his eyes.

“i always thought we’ll be great parents together. i just knew you’d look amazing with baby bump.” his smile weak and full of pain.

“stop saying things like this. you’re only hurting yourself more by saying that.” you pulled your hand away from his. he froze at sudden lack of contact. it was like he couldn’t accept that you’re not his anymore. that he won’t be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

“before i leave, can i ask you something?” you smiled softly and nodded. “if i hadn’t done anything wrong, if i had never laid my hands on you, would we… would we still be together now?

“i don’t know that.” you shook your head slightly. he accepted your words, looking at Harry now.

“i hate you, you know that?” he said firmly.

“yeah? you can hate me all you want. i never liked you a bit and now that i know you laid your hands on her, you better be grateful that you’re still alive.” Harry smiled rudely at him.

“you have no idea how much i just want to punch you right now. for taking everything i ever dreamed of away from me. for stealing the love of my life.” he looked like he was about to jump on him every second. you speak up to avoid the situation.

“it’ll be better if you just go now.” Denis looked at you, his face softening. he only sigh quietly and nodded.

“i’ll go to my parents for tonight.” he swallowed. “i hope you’ll be happy, you deserve it. goodbye, my love.” he almost whispered, going out from the bedroom. few seconds later you heard front door closing.

“you okay, baby?” Harry wrapped his hands around you, pulling you close to his chest. he kissed the top of your head.

“yes, i… i should feel bad about this, right?” you pressed your cheek to his chest. “it’s cruel that i feel happy.”

“there’s no need to feel bad. you’re allowed to feel happy now, maybe it is cruel, but… it’s how life works. you can’t force yourself to be with someone who you don’t want to be. everything’s fine.” he caressed your hair, holding you close. he smiled. “he was right about something tho, you really look beautiful in that dress.” you looked up at him with a smile. he leaned down, kissing your lips softly. “i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” he smirked right after his words. “but for now, i can’t wait to spend this night with you.”

“yeah? then take this dress off me.” you licked your lips slightly, smiling at him this whole time. his hands immediately went to your back, where the zipper was. he slowly started pulling it down. wedding dress pooled around your ankles, exposing your body. he looked at while laced set, his eyes darkened.

“you’re so impossibly beautiful.” he touched lace of your bra over your breast. his touch gentle. his hands continued to moving around your body, when in meantime you started to unbutton his shirt. you were looking up at him this whole time. you pushed shirt off his shoulders, touching his chest right after. he let out shaky exhale, squeezing skin on your waist. your hands went down to get rid of his pants. he pressed his lips to yours right after you took them off, backing you both towards the bed. he sat on it, making you stand between his legs. he left lingering kiss on your stomach, looking up at you in this position. his hands went to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. he let out quiet groan when he looked at you only in panties. “god, how can someone look this perfect.” he gasped, leaving kisses all over your chest, sucking in few places. his hand went to cup one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his thumb. he took care of the other one with his lips, licking and sucking gently. you moaned quietly, putting your hand into the back of his hair. his free hand went to touch your core over your panties that were already drenched. you never felt like this in your entire life- it was almost like he was worshipping you. “can we take this off?” he grabbed edges of your panties.

“yes.” you smiled at him. he quickly took them off, his dick twitching in anticipation in his boxers. he stood up from bed, picking you up and laying down on bed. before he hovered above you he took off his boxers, freeing himself from tight material. his kisses started on your neck, going down to your collarbones, chest, stomach, when finally his lips hovered over your core. he looked at you, silently asking if it’s okay. when you smiled at him he opened your legs more to have better access. he started kissing your folds, causing your gasp. when his lips met your clit you arched your back slightly, moaning. he smiled against your pussy, licking and sucking slowly on your sensitive place. his hand went under his chin, pushing his two fingers into your wet slit. you clenched at his digits automatically at the contact. you putted your hand into his hair for some more contact, hearing him moaning into you at that. action sent vibrations, adding to the sensation. his fingers curled into perfect angle, making you go insane from this and his mouth. you’d never thought that it all could feel that good. “oh my god.” you only managed to gasp. he was moving slowly, clearly wanting to prepare you for his cock. he eventually pulled out after few minutes, licking his fingers clean. he went back with his lips to yours, kissing you. you could taste yourself on his tongue, so you hummed quietly. when you break the kiss you smiled at him. “top drawer.” you said and he looked from you to the bedside table. he opened the drawer, taking a condom from it. he quickly opened it and rolled it on his length. he positioned himself between your legs, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“i love you.” he smiled, pressing soft kiss on your mouth.

“i love you too.” you smiled back, feeling him slowly entering you. his eyes searching for any discomfort, but when he found none he started slowly moving in and out.

“god, you feel so good, so perfect.” he gasped, leaning to your neck and kissing it. your hands went on his back and your legs around his hips. he wrapped his arms around you to feel you as close as possible. his breath was hot against your skin. your gasps and moans were driving him crazy. he picked up the pace when your nails started digging into his skin slightly. “i want to make you feel so good.”

“you’re already doing it.” you caressed his back with one hand. when he adjusted slightly you found yourself almost crying out of pleasure, when he found spot Denis was never able to reach. you let out desperate whine and he started moving even faster. he couldn’t hold back anymore. the way you were moving under him, the way you sounded. your back arched towards him, making you both even more skin to skin. his arms tightened around you and you could already feel your orgasm approaching. “oh my fucking god.” you panted, tilting your head back.

“look at me.” he gasped, looking at your face. “i want to see your eyes.” you quickly obeyed, looking at him. he grinned, moving even faster. his movements desperate already, chasing his own climax. “i don’t know how long i can hold that, you feel too good.”

“i’m close, so close, please.” your one hand went from his back to cup his cheek. he licked his lips, moving faster. you kissed him, moaning loudly into his mouth when you finally fell over the edge. your whole body arched and your core clenching around him, milking his length. he moaned himself at the feeling of you squeezing your cunt around him. he fucked you through your orgasm.

“fuck.” he panted, feeling himself emptying into the condom. his dick pulsating inside you, his hips twitching from intense pleasure. after you both get down from high he peppered your face with kisses, making you chuckle softly. last peck lingered on your lips and when he pulled out he looked into your eyes. “you’re truly the love of my life, baby.”

[ashwhowrites]

Man I always have the best ideas for your requests and then the moment I see they’re open it’s like no thoughts only smooth brain.

Can I request where reader is friends with both Eddie and Steve, they become a little trio. Reader is attracted to both of them but keeps it secret because she doesn’t want to mess up the dynamic, doesn’t know how she’d pick when she loves them both. Eddie and Steve both really like her but their situation is complicated. They’ve been secretly together for a little bit but both agree they want reader. It’s just how do you spring that on someone and if they refuse not make everything weird? (Plus, people are really judgmental about same sex dating and alternative dating etc.) They both actively flirt with her, treat her right, they think they’ll actually reveal if she confesses to liking one of them. They all go out together as they normally do but there is a lot more teasing flirting from both boys to her. She says goodbye to them at the end of the night but is so keyed up from the flirting and what not she has to have an answer. She is intent on telling them that she likes them both and doesn’t know what to do. Except She catches them messing around? (Cause obviously they liked the flirting a lot too.) She’s super embarrassed and lowkey a little sad that they kept the relationship from her and that if they’re together they won’t want to be with her. But then Eddie and Steve confess and happy fluffy sexy ending.

Thank youuuuuu I love you mwah

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️little bit of smut

Flirting game

Y/N dreamed about the day she'd fall in love ever since she was young, how her heart would race from eye contact and plan a future by their side. She didn't expect how hard it would be to be in love with two different people.

Y/N, Steve, and Eddie had been close friends and didn't spend much time apart. It was easy for them to get along, and they barely had boundaries. Everything in their life was shared and secrets didn't exist. Well, that was a small lie.

Y/N was head over heels for Steve. She felt it was obvious since she could never keep her cool around him. She craved to run her hands through his hair, feeling how soft and silky it was. His sweet compliments paired with his smile made her stomach do flips. He was softer than Eddie, offering a comforting shoulder. He listened to all her feelings and made her feel accepted.

To make it more complicated, she was in love with Eddie too. His long hair and boyish charm never failed to make her heart race. His dirty jokes warmed her cheeks. His rough exterior always had her attention and she wanted his attention on her.

She felt tugged between the two. Steve pulled one arm and Eddie pulled the other, and she wasn't sure who she wanted to win. Her plan was to suffer in silence until one of them made a move, but one night got too hard to walk away from.

~

"Steve this place is amazing," Y/N said in awe as she walked around Steve's newly owned apartment. Eddie nodded as he sipped on his can of beer, walking behind her.

Steve smiled as he handed her a glass of wine. "Thank you, there's one place I want you to see." Y/N was intrigued, blushing to herself when Steve ran his fingers down her arm and moved to hold her hand. Eddie smirked as he stood behind, sharing a look with Steve.

Y/N let Steve lead her blindly, enjoying the feeling of his hand in hers. Steve walked her down the hall and stopped, a smirk on his face as he opened the door.

She looked in the room, expecting something exciting but all she saw was a bed and boxes. "What is it?" she asked, not understanding what he wanted to show her.

"It's my bedroom," Steve said, his hand still in hers. She looked at him confused, and then she felt Eddie's body pressed against her back. She held her breath as he moved his nose against her neck, her eyes locked on Steve.

"You know what happens in a bedroom right, baby girl?" Eddie whispered into her ear. She tried to cover the fact that her insides were burning as she stood between them. Steve moved closer until his body crashed against hers.

"Don't look so scared, love," Steve chuckled, pushing up her head as he placed a finger under her chin, "The bedroom is for sleeping." Eddie and Steve moved away at the same time, allowing air to move through her lungs. Their touch was gone and she felt cold air wash over her. She stood in shock and confusion as the boys walked down the hall. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what happened.

"Coming?" Eddie asked from down the hall. She turned around and nodded, quickly walking towards him.

They worked on putting away boxes for the next few hours. Steve's apartment slowly came together as more drinks were shared. Building up an appetite, Steve ordered pizzas declaring they'd take a break for food.

"Since I have no table, the floor it is!" Steve said cheerfully as he sat on the ground. Y/N held her third glass of wine as she took the spot across from him, and then Eddie joined after. Steve and Eddie's knees touched and Eddie's knee touched hers, all connected in a way.

They talked among themselves as they ate. Y/N listened closely as Steve talked, watching his lips form the words. She was so zoned in on him that she didn't realize she dripped sauce down her chin, but Eddie noticed.

When Steve finished his sentence, Eddie reached over gaining her attention when he swiped his thumb over her chin. She jolted in surprise, her eyes on Eddie as he cleaned up the sauce. She was stunned by the small intimate touch, staring in awe when Eddie slipped his sauced thumb into his mouth. He soaked in her stare, giving her a wink. She quickly looked away, gulping down the rest of her wine.

Eddie excused himself to the bathroom and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. With her body warm and brain in overdrive, she stood up to grab water from the kitchen.

Steve followed, walking quietly enough that she didn't know he was there. She opened the fridge and let the cold plastic soak into her skin. She took a few sips as she calmed herself down. She turned around and her back was pressed against the fridge. Steve looked down at her with a smile, loving the way her breathing picked up.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a bit warm," Steve said reaching his hand out and pressing it against her forehead.

"Um, yeah. I think I need some rest, though," she said, needing a break from the way these boys were throwing her around. Steve clicked his tongue, and his hand moved down to her neck. She held her breath as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. She couldn't help but look down at his lips, wanting to lean in. Steve's lips formed into a smirk, and he backed away, his touch no longer lingering on her skin.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No!" Y/N knew she wasn't going to survive a car ride with him. "I can drive."

She grabbed her keys and practically ran to the door, saying goodbye to Eddie as he approached.

"She's leaving?" Eddie asked, watching as the door closed.

"Yep. But I think our plan is working," Steve smiled walking over to Eddie.

"Then why won't she just admit something?" Eddie groaned. It's been months of the cat-and-mouse game, and he wanted it to end.

Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's slim waist, bringing the boy against his chest. "She will, I know she will." Eddie rolled his eyes as he lost patience.

"In the meantime, we can enjoy what the little show does to us," Steve flirted, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie smirked as Steve's hand slid down his body, landing on the button of his jeans.

"Yeah? Turns you on working her up like that?" Eddie teased. Steve unbuttoned his jeans, sliding his hand inside. Eddie shivered as Steve teased him over his boxers, the touch setting him on fire.

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, moving his hand inside Eddie's boxers to wrap around his cock. Eddie moaned into his mouth, diving his hands into Steve's hair. Eddie slid his tongue into Steve's mouth, their tongues massaging against each other. Steve moved his hand up and down on Eddie's cock, twisting near his tip forcing his pre cum to drip out. Steve smeared the pre cum along Eddie's length, using it to help jerk him off.

~

Y/N was halfway home when she turned around. The heat between her legs reminded her how badly she wanted them. Even though she was scared as hell to tell them the truth, she made her way back to Steve's.

Her head was all over the place and she had no idea what she would say but kept moving forward. She dug out the spare key Steve gave her and let herself in. The house seemed empty but she knew they were there somewhere.

She walked down the hall towards the bedroom, freezing when she heard the sound of moans. She gulped as she went to step back, not wanting to intrude on Steve's private time. But a part of her wanted to see, she wanted to see Steve moaning out curious of what was making him feel so good. She stepped forward, peeking her head in the open doorframe.

Eddie and Steve were naked and tangled in Steve's sheets. Their naked chests pressed against each other as Steve pushed himself in and out of Eddie. Their moans meet each other in the air between them. Y/N stood in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She never thought anything was going on between them, hell she didn't even know they were gay. She felt hurt that they kept this from her and that her feelings didn't matter anymore.

She turned to sneak out but her step caused a loud creek to echo throughout the hallway. The boys froze and looked towards the door, catching Y/N's stunned expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Then she booked it, running down the hall. Steve and Eddie called out to her, quickly scrambling out of bed and throwing on their underwear as they ran after her.

By the time they reached her, she was staring at the door, trying to decide whether she wanted to leave.

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself in," she apologized. She turned around and took them in. Their sex hair, Eddie's marked chest, and Steve's bruised lips.

"It's okay," Steve coughed, "can we talk about what you saw?"

Y/N nodded and hugged herself. "Are you guys...together?"

"Yeah, for almost four months now," Eddie answered.

"Four months?" She screeched, she dropped her arms in shock. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Did you think I wouldn't accept you?" She accused.

"NO!" Steve rushed, "It's just we are so used to hiding so we hide from everyone."

"So was all the flirting to throw me off? Make sure I believe you're straight? Because that's fucking shitty! You played with my feelings!" Y/N cried, getting so frustrated that tears began to fly down her cheeks.

"No, baby. It is nothing like that," Eddie said softly. He slowly walked up to her, and she allowed him to touch her arm. "We weren't playing with your feelings or using you. We meant the flirting, we were hoping if we made advances towards you that you would tell us how you felt about us."

"How I feel about yo-ouu...b-both?" she stuttered. Did they already know? She looked between the two with fear in her eyes.

"We are both interested in you. We both have strong feelings for you." Steve confessed. Y/N was stunned by their confession. All the time she hoped they'd look her way, and they truly were.

"What do you feel about us?" Eddie asked, leaning closer to the shaky girl. He smiled as he cupped her cheek, landing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Just tell us," he whispered, his lips leading down to her neck.

She gasped in pleasure, and her eyes met Steve over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie continued to kiss her neck as Steve stared into her eyes.

"I want to be with both of you," she moaned out, Eddie's teeth sinking into her neck. Steve smiled at the confession and walked towards them. He walked around her, his naked chest to her back as he pressed his lips to the open side of her neck.

Y/N shivered as both of their lips pressed against her skin, her eyes closing as their hands began to work up and down her body.

"Let us show you how much we want you," Eddie whispered.

"Please," she moaned.

"Our pleasure, baby girl," Steve whispered against her skin.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Make you happy." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

Daryl reminisces about the day you two got married, when you found out you were pregnant, and when Marley was born.

A/N: If you want to read another story about dad!daryl you can check out: "My everything" "A whole new world" "For life". Hope you like this. Sorry if it's a little bit long :c But thank you!

For the first time in his life, Daryl could feel his hands shaking, but he had never felt so alive.

Daryl Dixon had always considered himself a lonely person.

It was like that since he was a child and had to survive the adversities of life, instead of living his childhood and adolescence like any other kid. Daryl had fought his way through life, literally, getting into so many fights that it was normal for his mother to see him come home with bruises while he was growing up, although nothing compared to the beatings his father used to give him while his mother watched as a silent spectator, doing nothing to protect her own child, until finally one day, the supposed paternal figures left his life for good.

He was alone, yes, but Daryl could feel he could finally rest, taking a moment to breathe without his body aching from the remnants his father's fists left on his body.

By the time Daryl grew up, he had convinced himself that he would be better off alone, that his past was too dark to ever truly be seen by anyone, or any woman in particular. For that same reason, he believed, in an almost sacred way, that the very idea of getting married or ​​having children one day was a crazy one, if not fatal given his temperament, which was like a volcano, too dangerous to play near.

But the moment he met you, he never felt alone again: he knew you were the peace, the silent, the color the world lost even before the apocalypse. And in that instant, when your hand held his, his body recognized your warm, and his trembling heart finally calmed down.

Father Gabriel kept talking, making the wedding official, and Daryl took the opportunity to look to his right side. There you were, as beautiful as always: your hair was loose, and the left side was behind your ear. You were wearing a white dress and it was a simple one, with long sleeves and a skirt that fell a little below your thighs, but it was as overwhelming as the memory of you and the life before the end of the world.

Now, he was completely happy, as never before.

When father Gabriel asked to say your vows, you two turned towards each other, sharing an amused expression.

“Do we have to?” You said, with a worried but playful tone that made Daryl smile.

“Yes.” Maggie answered next to you, giving you a serious look as she gave you the ring.

“Better say somethin’ that makes me cry, peach.” Daryl chuckled, but he was so nervous that his hand continued to hold on to yours.

“And I wanted to start saying you are hot as hell... but that feels wrong in God’s house.” You chuckled, making the few presents laugh: your future husband, the family you made in the apocalypse, and even Gabriel. But in the next second, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your anxious heart. “There is so much in yourself I would like you to be able to see, Daryl. Like the way you protect our people, even if that puts you in danger. You don’t talk much, but your silence says it all, and it's comforting. When I met you, I realized that I had always lived in a house, but it never felt like a home until you and I started our own. And yes, you do have some anger issues, but I find that strangely attractive…” You teased him, earning you a snort from him. “But I wouldn’t change this for anything, ever. And I promise you couldn’t make me any happier than I am now. I’m happy just because you’re with me, because while you’re here, I don’t need anything else.”

You slipped the ring on his finger, smiling so cutely that Daryl had to stop himself from pulling you towards him. But when Father Gabriel asked him to answer and while Rick gave him the ring, Daryl couldn't help but feel so shy.

“Fuck… shit, sorry, father…” Daryl looked at Gabriel, who smiled to say silently that it was okay. And when he looked back at you, a new wave of feelings washed over him when he realized he was your husband. “Peach, ya know I ain’t good with words, so I guess I'll just tell ya what I thought when I met ya...” He looked at you so deeply, that for a second, you felt like you could swim in the depths of his blue eyes. “In ma world full of chaos, ya are the silence, peach: ya were, and ya always will be.”

Then, Daryl put the ring in your finger, pulling you towards him before father Gabriel could say he could kiss the bride. You smiled softly against his lips, one hand caressing his cheek as he kept you in his arms, the place where he knew you belonged.

There was a time when Daryl thought his heart couldn’t keep beating, but it was you who made it beat again. There was a time when he thought he was giving his last breath, but you made him breathe again. Over a year and a half and even living in that new world, what a wonderful life you two lived. Alexandria gave you a house, but you two turned it into a real home. Daryl never knew how to be the man who gave flowers or chocolates: but it was sweet how he always came back from the runs with a book, some old cassettes, even a few movies he found in a store.

However, when Daryl brought in a pink stuffed octopus, claiming it was too cute to leave behind, perhaps that should have given you a clue as to what would happen shortly after.

You two never really talked about the idea of ​​having children, not in that world or the previous one actually, but one evening when the wind began to bring the first whispers of spring, you found yourself at a crossroad.

PREGNANT.

For you, the world was suddenly spinning out of control and it felt unstable, as if it was going to split open and swallow you alive. And it was then that the lust of weeks ago turned into guilt inside you, hitting you with a hard force right in the place where a life was beginning to grow.

Your body was the home of a future person, to an embryo that was the result of some nights of alcohol and fun sex, because even when you two had always been careful, let's be honest: sometimes alcohol was a good conduit for fun and unexpected results. But as you held that pregnancy test in your shaking hands, hundreds, thousands of ideas came to your mind, a projection of the future that awaited a baby in that apocalyptic world.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hands clasped in prayer for mercy, and guidance, or divine intervention, you thought it was funny how one screaming mind could silence the entire world around you. It took two people to make a baby, but, would the roots of Daryl's love be deep enough to handle the change in the future? And most of all, would it be the right thing to do to bring a baby into the world under those circumstances?

“Peach, ya okay?”

His deep voice pulled you out of your trance, but the surprise made you drop the test as you turned around.

“Fuck…” You whispered as you rushed to pick it up, but Daryl was closer than you thought, and yours and his hand brushed together as he was the one who picked the pregnancy test up.

He looked at it for a seconds that seemed longer than that first night when the end of the world began.

“I dun–” Daryl raised his head, his long hair covering part of his eyes, his brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression. “Dun know what this means. Never seen one in real life.”

Your mouth was dry, and the words you still didn’t say aloud were like fire on gunpowder about to explode, or at least that was how dangerous the situation felt, but, armed with nothing but the truth, you ventured to say it.

“It means positive.” You answered softly, your heart beating faster.

Daryl’s mind ran as fast as possible, registering your words, processing who he was and who he will be: a future father?

“Are we…” Daryl finally said, but he had to clear his throat first. “Happy ‘bout it?”

He looked confused, not angry.

“I don’t know. Are we?”

Then, he did the last thing you thought he would do: Daryl started smiling, just a little bit.

“Yeah, I mean, I'm fuckin’ scared, but…” He paused, looking at you with a worried expression, and his voice became even lower. “But if ya don’t want to have her I would get that, ‘cause for yer face ya ain’t lookin’ so sure ‘bout it.”

In that moment your face relaxed, too immersed in fear to notice that you were holding an unpromising expression.

“No, sorry, it’s not that. It’s just that…” You chuckled, a nervous little laugh. “I’m fucking scared, too.”

His smile faltered, but it was still encouraging in those moments of turbulent thoughts for you. Then, he extended his hand towards you.

“Come, let’s sit on the bed.”

You took his hand, and it was so warm that it seemed it could reach every part of your heart, filling it a little bit with hope while fighting fear. Daryl took you towards the bed on the middle of the bedroom, to help you sit down on the edge, one of your legs under you, with him still close to you. He let go of your hand for a moment, only to hold the evidence that seemed to be weighed down with the possibility of having a baby, for real.

“Can you please say something?” You said. “Because I don’t know what to say.”

Daryl chuckled, looking back at you, and somehow, he was looking at you the way he always did. Like the first time you two met, the time you got together, when he proposed to you, always with so much love despite his constant fear of not being enough for you.

“Ya know all ‘bout ma childhood, peach, ‘bout ma mom, dad, ma asshole brother. Didn’t have love, like, not a little shit about it, until ya came along. Everythin’ was better since I met ya n’ hell, I pictured us havin’ a kid a few times. A little girl or a little boy walkin’ around the home, getting’ all excited to see me like I was a real father, nothin’ like the asshole one I had.”

You chuckled, even if you knew well how bad and sad his story was.

“Are you gonna teach it to swear too?”

“Fuck no.” He answered instantly, and when he cursed under his breath again for his mistake, it made you laugh a little more. “Listen, peach, I know exactly where we are right now. This life is jus’ fucked up, but… only if ya wanna do this ‘cause I ain’t pressurin’ ya to do somethin’ ya don’t want to, ya got to know I wanna do this with ya.”

Daryl said it so sweetly that you felt like your heart was about to burst. You knew he was also very scared, but when you looked at him, you could see clearly how serious he was too.

“You said she.”

He blinked, confused.

“What?”

“You said: if you don’t want to have her.”

“Oh, that?” He chuckled, kind of relieved. “Every time I pictured us with a kid, always thought ‘bout havin’ a girl first. I had a big brother n’ that bastard was the worst brother ever.”

You laughed softly.

“I met him so I can say that was kind of true. But I know he loved you, in his own special way…”

“Yeah, guess he did after all.” Daryl said, in a soft but deep voice, and his hand caught yours. “Ya have to tell me if this is what ya want, peach…” His words trembled, he could feel it in his fear. “But If ya want to get an abortion we can talk to Denisse. S’yer body and s’yer decision.”

You looked to the open window for a moment, and for Daryl, the wait was almost defeating, and so suffocating. For him, escaping was not an option, but he wanted to give you the freedom to choose, to think about what was best for you too, but when you looked back at him, Daryl could see a sparkle of hope between the shadows of fear.

“Can you at least promise me that you won't be leaving on supply runs so often from now on? Because if this child gets your personality, he or she won't be easy to take care of, you know?”

And there it was, the way you teased him, but at the same time, telling him that you and him were going to be parents. Then, Daryl smiled, thinking that he never imagined that he could be even happier than he already was.

He hugged you tightly, trying to banish all fear in your body, even when he had some fears too. And it was kind of overwhelming the way he talked, as if suddenly the baby was his whole world and his reason for living, but because that was a beautiful thought, you hugged him back.

From there, his life was even better. The promise of being a father scared him to death, but it was so liberating too that he silently counted the days and weeks until he could meet his baby. Daryl knew he could never be like his own father; he knew he could give his child all the love he never got. Over the next few months, he kept his promise and stopped going on all the supply runs: but when he did, Daryl always came back with some toy or a piece of clothes, even with a book about parenting that he started reading in an almost sacred way. He wanted to be as ready as possible, to learn how to hold a baby, how to change a diaper and more.

The night of his last run and when Daryl reached the gates on his bike, Maggie was there to meet him.

As he got off the bike, he just knew.

“But we still had a few weeks ahead.” Daryl said, even when he knew anything was possible.

However, the moment he walked into the bedroom, nothing could prepare him for that. The doctor and Carol were there, next to you as you were lying sideways on the bed, almost in a fetal position, eyes tightly closed, holding yourself against the sheet, too immersed in the pain to notice he was there.

“Peach, hey, I’m here…” Daryl knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. There, you opened your eyes, but you looked so scared like never before. “I’m here, okay? I’m here with ya.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this…” You said breathlessly, your eyebrows furrowed in an expression of pain as a new contraction pressed against your belly.

But you and him knew well you couldn’t turn back now.

“Ya can do this, sweetheart, jus’ hold on a little more, okay? We’re ‘bout to meet our baby.” Daryl kissed your hand before getting up again, helping you to sit when the doctor said it was time to push.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting behind you to hold your body against his, to let you know that he was there with you. And the entire time it took you to give birth, he did nothing but encourage you, assuring you that you were doing an incredible job, that you were strong, that you just had to hold on a little longer because soon you were going to hold your baby.

But when Daryl heard the baby crying for the first time, that was the most beautiful sound he ever heard.

Neither of you knew if the baby was going to be a girl or a boy, but when Carol said it was girl, making Daryl's wish come true, it felt like the world got back its color. Like breathing for the first time, like waking up from the sweetest dream, everything just made sense.

The doctor wrapped her in a blanket, laying her on your chest. But the moment she felt your touch, the baby looked into your eyes and it was as if she could see deep into your soul, to see all the love you had for her, giving you a new feeling of peace.

And in that moment, she stopped crying.

“She has your eyes.” You said softly, exhausted and in pain, but happy in a new way.

Daryl was smiling since he heard her, but seeing her there, so little and healthy and even more beautiful than in the dreams he had about her, it was like taking the first step into a whole new world, but one that promised nothing but happiness. His hand caressed her cheek, feeling a tickle on the tips of his fingers at the contact of his daughter's soft skin.

His daughter, his princess, his little angel.

“She’s so little.” Daryl said softly, afraid that if he talked louder she would be scared.

“Ya can hold her. Do you want to?” You asked in a small voice, thinking that he would be the one who would end up scared.

Daryl pulled away from you slightly to sit on the edge of the bed, taking the little life he helped create into his arms. For a single second, he feared that he might hurt her, a small thought in his frightened head, but when she locked her eyes with her daddy, Daryl knew well he would always make sure to make his daughter happy.

“Did you choose a name?” Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled, looking at you.

“Remember when Merle joked ‘bout namin’ our child after him?”

“Yeah. You told him to fuck off.” You chuckled, too. But you could see clearly the idea in his eyes, asking you the permission first. “Marley is a good name; don’t you think? Marley Rose Dixon. I think it sounds sweet, and your last name will make her look intimidating too after the people meet her daddy.”

"That's what we need. Another Dixon." Carol chuckled.

But the idea was more than a delight for him. And right there, Daryl promised Marley he would always make her smile, he would always make her happy, showing her nothing but love.

And he kept his word.

Now, they are lying on the bed, his head on the pillow and with her in his arms as he caresses her back, one arm under her head. As the night falls in Alexandria and Daryl finishes telling his daughter that story (omitting some thoughts, words and curses) Marley is still awake.

“Are ya sleepy now, angel?” Daryl asks softly, looking into her eyes, but when she shakes her head, giggling, he sighs. “How ‘bout ya lay back and daddy rubs yer back? Ya loved that when ya were a baby.”

“Really, daddy?”

“Yeah, ya spent most of yer day on daddy’s chest.” Daryl nudges his nose against his daughter's, earning another laugh. “It was much better than sleepin’ with mommy.”

“Hey…” You complain, entering the room. Marley chuckles, sticking her body even closer to her daddy. “I don’t like you, any of you.”

Daryl chuckles.

“Told ya she was a Dixon.”

You sigh dramatically, joking, laying on your side of the bed.

“Nine months in my belly but she loves daddy more.”

Marley giggles, but before you can say anything, she pulls away from her daddy, turning until she is next to you.

“I love ya too, mommy.”

“I know, baby...” You hold her in your arms, kissing her head as you hear her accent. “Mommy loves you too, my love.”

She looks at you, her blue eyes as deep as her father.

“And daddy too?”

“Well…” You tease him, earning a snort from your husband. “Yeah. I love daddy too.”

“But s’time to sleep, angel.” Daryl says softly when he knows the late night has begun, one hand rubbing her back. “Close yer eyes, okay?”

“Okay, daddy…” Marley does it, snuggling into your chest. “I love ya both.”

@fluffy-dixon

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Right This Way

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get lost on a campus on your first day of college and a helpful stranger shows you around.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: this is the third of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’ve leapt over one hurdle for the day but it won’t be the last. Your first lecture is done, but now you have to find your way to the second. Typically, you’d be on your way home. For years, you languished in part-time or sabbatical coverage but now, you have achieved regular faculty status. It might not be the school you hoped for, but these days, a job is a job. 

You gather up your things as the class disburses. A few keeners come down to ask you about the midterm and you assure them it’s only day one. Full details will come soon. In the meantime, they can review the readings schedule. 

You set your phone on the corner of the table as you search for your wireless mouse. You bring your own. You’ve had enough experience with neglected classroom equipment. 

“Hey, Miss,” a deep voice rolls behind you and swings you around. A young man with golden hair, a square jaw, and a letterman jacket stands across the table. He is a factory-issue frat. You had your share of those in your own time as an underclassman; as a professor, they don’t often bother you unless they get an F. “Just wanted to chat about a few things I got this term.” 

“Oh, sure,” you say as you reach for your phone. His eyes follow your hand. His cheek dimples. 

“You on your way to Ford too? We can walk and talk if that’s easier?” He offers. 

You’re not sure if you should take his eagerness as a good sign. At least he is mindful. At first glance, you don’t expect that. 

“Um, if you don’t mind, I have my next class there,” you agree. 

You hike up your bag and black the screen of your phone. You’re a bit embarrassed that he noticed the maps wide open on your phone. You’re still gearing your way around. 

He waits patiently, bouncing in his brown leather Vans as you round the table. “Steve, by the way.” He offers his hand in an overly formal gesture. You know that brand of frat. They put on that gentleman act for the elders. It’s a charm you would’ve fallen for twenty years ago. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” you shake his hand then continue to the door. 

He hurries past you and pulls open the door ahead of you. Again, that overly helpful gesture twinges your suspicion. He must be asking for something big. 

“So, I play baseball,” he begins as you set off down the hall. He quickly catches up, walking parallel with you. “And I just got my schedule. I can get coach t give you a call if you need but I’ll be out of town for a few classes...” 

“Right, baseball,” you repeat. You’re not fighting the senate on this one. They prize their start athletes much higher than due dates. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Did you have your schedule with you?” 

“Um, you know what, I don’t have it printed but I can email it,” he says. 

Once more, he opens the door ahead of you. You step out into the early fall sun and descend the steps. It’s a quick conversation, it might be awkward to stick around. 

“That works,” you agree. “I don’t want to keep you so if you want--” 

“Nah, really, I’m headed in your direction,” he insists. “You do know where that is, right?” 

You look at him. His blue eyes gleam. You peer around and shake your head, “that way?” You point. 

He laughs, “no worries, professor, I got you.” 

He puts his hand on your lower back and points in the opposite direction. You turn to move away from his touch. You blame the little club he’s joined in his youthful arrogance. They never do abide by the rules. After all, he is asking for exception, so why wouldn’t he overstep other barriers. 

“So, you must be new,” he intones. 

“Here, yeah,” you confirm. 

“What else do you teach besides Renaissance history?” 

“My specialty is medieval but I’ve taken on various subjects; ancient warfare, Victorian culture,” you rattle off. You know he doesn’t really care. For the jocks, classes are simply an afterthought. “What got you into this subject?” 

“I like art,” he says. “Figured it wouldn’t be a bad elective.” 

“I hope,” you reply. He points you around the curling path. You hesitate. You peeked at the map. This seems wrong but you did find the only dead end on campus earlier. 

“You seem young for a prof,” he says. 

You snort, “I don’t give extra credit for compliments.” 

“I mean it,” he argues. 

“Right,” you huff dryly. “Steve.” 

He smirks as you glance at him, “wow, you got that professor voice down. ‘Steve’.” He mimics your tone and chuckles. You shuffle closer as you pass a group of young girls but he doesn’t seem to notice them. 

“Like I said, it isn’t my first gig. Just new around here.” 

“I think you’ll like it,” he intones. “Nice campus, nice people,” he preens. “A few profs pop by the parties even. Open invitation.” 

It’s your turn to laugh, “oh, I’ve outgrown that.” 

“Classy lady, I’m sure,” he agrees. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you. “Well, what about back in the day?” He wordlessly gestures you along as he guides you. “You are party girl? Sow your wild oats?” 

“That was a long time ago. It’s probably better left back then,” you deflect. 

“Come on. I won’t judge. I’m a bit of a square myself. I’m the designated tidier. I pick up after all the drunks,” he snorts. 

You hum. You don’t miss those days. Everything was so much more stressful. Not just classes but everything outside of it. Who to hang out with, what to where, where to go. 

You slow as you look around again. You’re behind one of the large gray buildings but not too sure where. It’s a path lined with trees and abstract statues. They’re benches and an engraved stone wall memorial. You don’t see any buildings close by. Maybe it’s one of those at the other end. 

“Told you, it’s a nice campus. Doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten to see much of it,” he says. 

“Not yet,” you agree. 

“It’s a short cut. Trust,” he says. 

You nod and continue on. He turns towards the twisted metal owl and you go with him. You really don’t think he’s going the right way. You sneak your phone out of your pocket and press your thumb to the screen. 

Suddenly, you’re nearly knocked off your feet at he bowls into you. 

“Woah,” he collides with you so hard your phone falls onto the ground. “Shit-- I mean, holy cow. Sorry, miss. I tripped on--” He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder. “Did I--” He looks down at your phone on the stone path. “My bad.” 

He scoops it up before you can and you recoil. Your eyes wander away from him and you examine your surroundings. The trees, the statue, it all blocks you off from the main path in an eerie way. You can hear the bird’s tweeting and the coeds chatting but you can’t see them. 

“Damn,” Steve’s voice draws you back as dread simmers in your stomach. “I think it’s cracked.” 

He walks ahead of you as he examines it. You trail him, “it’s fine. I can take it to the store and have them look--” 

“I’m real sorry, professor,” he cradles the phone between his large hands. “I’m such an oaf. Bet I’m not gonna get that extension now, huh?” 

“Everything’s okay, Steve. You can give me my phone,” you reach for him as he leads you into the shade of a large oak. “What are you doing?” 

He pulls his arm back, aims, and throws your phone. It flies through the air as you gasp and lunge forward. What the hell? 

His arm wraps around you from behind and he swings you back. You cry out but only for a split second before his palm smothers your mouth. He leans his body weight back and brings you down with him into the grass. What is he doing? 

You struggle to get away. You grab at his arm hooked around you and claw at the grass with your other hand. You writhe and try to twist away from him. He follows you, crushing you to the grass beneath him. You wheeze as his weight forces the air from your lungs. 

You flail both arms and sink your fingers into the dirt as you fight to drag yourself from under him. You can’t. He growls as he pulls his arm from under you and grips the back of your skull. He keeps your head twisted on your neck, clamping it between his large hands. 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “Be good for me, professor, and this will all go quickly.” 

You gurgle into his hand as your heart hitches. Why is he doing this? You said yes. You didn’t argue. 

“I’m going to move my hand and you’re going to stay nice and quiet, aren’t you?” 

You try to scream into his palm and he wrenches your head down into the ground. The grass is soft but the impact is enough to make your nose fuzzy. He hushes you. 

“I mean it, alright? Shut your mouth or I’ll fill it with dirt,” he snarls. 

You whimper and nod, puffing against his palm. Your body tenses before you slowly make yourself go limp. You lay your head against his hand and let your arms still. You raise your hands slightly to say, ‘see, I’m good’. 

He huffs and slowly drags his hand away, smearing your spit across your cheek. You sniffle as your eyes prick and you inhale the scent of dirt. You can hardly breathe as your chest throbs and burns. 

“Ah, don’t act so hard up,” he chuckles. “Bet you don’t get a lot of guys these days,” he pushes his knee between both of yours. “Sad, cause you don’t look half bad in this.” 

He tugs your skirt up your legs as he shifts his weight around. The satin tickles your thighs and sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes, your forehead flush to the ground. You liked that skirt so much. You bought it just for your first day. 

The thought stabs into your heart. You push your hands flat to the ground and brace yourself. Denial cords around you as terror clogs your throat. This can’t be happening but it is and all you can do is let it. 

“Mm, not bad,” he rasps as he pushes between your thighs. “Come on, loosen up for me.” 

He moves your slack legs apart and runs his fingers along the cotton of your panties. He purrs as he traces the edges along your ass and back again. He snakes his hand under you and presses against the fabric and feels your folds through the thin layer. 

“I’m so goddamn hard right now, you have no idea,” he says.  

You chuff out air. You try not to hear him, not to feel him. He slips his fingers beneath your panties and rubs your lips. He pets your head as he cooes in your ear. 

“See, I’m being nice. Isn’t that nice? I know you wouldn’t be shaking like that if you didn’t like it.” 

He rubs between your folds roughly as he presses his crotch against your ass. He rocks against you as he teases you. You scrunch your toes tightly as a tingle crawls along your thighs. No, please. You don’t want to feel anything. 

He purrs as he continues to move his pelvis, breathing heavily behind your ear as he growls. He stretches his fingers along your cunt and delves into you. He pushes his hand further and curls his finger through your entrance. 

The heel of his hand brushes against your clit as he moves. You whine as the coil winds around and around and around, tying up your guts in knots. You shudder and bring your hands to your hand, digging your nails into your scalp as you spasm. You cum, slickening his touch as a mortifying moan escapes between your lips. 

He slides his fingers out of you. You groan. Your tears leak out and trickle onto the grass. He trails his hand around, leaving wetness along your shirt. He angles above you, pushing your knees apart with both of his. He splays you and tugs your panties to the crease of your thigh. 

His zipper slices the moment. Your breath cramps in your chest as you hold it in. He guides his tip along your thighs. He feels you quiver, teasing and toying, as he rubs up and down your folds. He slides up by your cheeks and you clench. He laughs and traces back to your entrance. 

He uses his thumb to push his tip through your resistance. You tighten around his intrusion and squeak out your breath. He shushes you and you swallow down a sob. He inches into you, his own exhale flowing over you like a cold storm. 

He sinks in to his limit and you bury your toes into the dirt. You heave as he pulls back and thrusts in again. Your shoulders curl with tension and your spine locks. He pumps again and moans, petting your hair as he falls into a rhythm. 

“God, you’re tight,” he grits. “I heard... well, I guess everyone lies.” 

He runs his hand down the side of your head and beneath your forehead. He forces your head up and nuzzles your hair as he tilts into you. He puffs across your scalp. 

“I didn’t see a ring,” he reaches up to clasp your hand, twining his fingers through yours as he continues to rut. 

He keeps you like that, fucking you harder into the dirt. He lifts his hips, slamming them down so his zipper bites at you. He pounds at you relentlessly, shallow breaths mingling damply in the cool autumn breeze.  

You open your eyes and stare across the grass. Your vision blurs around the tree trunks and wooden benches. Your grief and glazes over and drowns you in horror. 

“Welcome to campus, prof,” he growls between nipping your ear. “Oh... and don’t worry about those missed classes. I didn’t make the team.” 

[yunyunrin]

Prologue: Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : ot8!demonateez x angel!reader (future chapters) (gender neutral reader)

chapter warnings : mentions of the following: abandonment, sexual assault, harassment, murder, alcoholism, abuse. side character death, slight descriptions of drowning. main character death (reader, but you come back to life don’t worry) suicide

WC — around 2.3K

MDNI

A/N — please read at your own discretion!!!! the prologue contains so so many heavy topics so please read the warnings!

A/N 2 — thank you so much for the love on the original masterpost! it gives me a lot of motivation to write this and bring my idea into fruition! feel free to send an ask if you have any suggestions or would like to be tagged! if you’re leaving suggestions please be kind! i have experience in writing but it has been a while since i’ve written a story like this. thank you so much and i hope you all enjoy <3 i can’t wait to show you all what i have in mind for this story!

The ache in your feet from standing for the past twelve hours is slowly being replaced by the harsh cold air hitting your body as you speed walk back to your shared apartment with your best friend Dina. You will likely regret that when you get back to your apartment, but currently, you just want to get out of the dark city.

Your apartment isn’t in the safest part of Seoul, but it is what you and your friend could afford. You went straight to work, something you often regret. Now that you’re the age you would have graduated with your bachelors had you went to university, you know it is too late. You chose your fate, and now you just have to live your life.

You’re back before you know it, your daydreaming seemingly making your days go by faster than they should be. Furthermore, you fumble with your keys due to the chilliness that has now settled in with the night. You walk in to your apartment, the eerie feeling settling in.

“Dina,” You say with your regular voice, hoping that your cheery best friend would walk in from her room. She never appears, so you call her name again, louder with a sense of urgency.

“Dina,” Again, your friend gives no answer. You walk to her door, it is cracked but not enough for you to see fully into her room.

You knock on her door a couple of times, holding the door knob, so your knocking wouldn’t fully open the door. “Dina, if you don’t do anything that indicates you are here, I’m going to come in.”

You slowly open the door, your eyes widening at the scene in front of you. Your friend is laying on the ground, pale, with her mouth ajar. Like something had sucked the soul out of her.

You rush to her immediately, holding her head in your lap as her name falls out of your lips with an urgency. You’re feeling for a pulse around her wrist, to which there is none. “Dina, please wake up,”

You pick up your phone to call the emergency services, your pleas from earlier having fell on deaf ears. Thinking to yourself, this is one of the worst things that has ever happened to you.

“Hello, this is Jenny with the emergency services, what is going on?” The voice of the women on the other end of the line seems to wake you up out of the sort of trance you have been in for the past couple of minutes. “Hello?” She says again, waiting for you to speak.

“Hi, yes. I need you to come to this address. I just got home from work to my roommate passed away on the floor. I checked for a pulse, she didn’t have one. I need you to send emergency personnel as soon as possible.” You say, in all but one breath, your impending panic attack is settling in.

“Are there any signs of an intruder? I’m sending someone over now.” The lady on the other end of the line says to you.

“No, there isn’t.” You respond back to her, your voice becoming faint.

“Stay there, the medical responders will be there in 15 minutes.” The lady says to you, asking you other questions that you can’t register in your mind.

“I’m sorry. This is the last thing that I can handle. I will leave the door closed, but unlocked. I’m leaving.” You say to the lady before hanging up the phone, not giving her the chance to convince you to stay. A lot of the times you were easily gullible, this is one of the times you don’t need to be.

“Goodbye Dina, I love you. Thank you for everything, also I’m going to take your keys for a little while.” You say to your friend before putting a pillow under her head and leaving the apartment to go to the parking garage, with Dina’s keys in hand.

You start up the car, a peer is about twelve minutes away according to the GPS. The first responders will be too worried to think about you when your dead friend is why they are there.

It is pretty late, so no one should be on the peer, you think to yourself. Putting a plan in action for something you have wanted to do ever since you were twelve years old.

You begin to drive, going where the GPS takes you. You have come to realize that you have heavy feet, getting to the beach where the peer is located in eight minutes instead of twelve.

You hesitate to put your foot on the gas pedal, having put the car in park. Not only that, but you get a surge of flashbacks from your early life.

You’re walking home from school, as you make your way to your driveway you notice something strange. Your mother’s car is not parked there, and she definitely should be home by now.

You walk into your home to see the whole house a mess, and your oldest sister, who was freshly eighteen, laying on the floor with your dad on top of her, with his hands around her throat. Immediately you run over and pull your father off her, knowing that if you were just a minute later you would have been too late. As the hands of your father leave your sister Mimi’s throat, you see the life that was just exiting her reenter her body.

“The bitch left.” Your father mutters before walking off, the smell of alcohol is permanent on his breath. You look at your sister with desperation in your eyes. You didn’t want to believe that your mother had left you both with your monster of a father. Mimi nods at you, confirming your fear. Your mother left you with a monster.

The rest of that night is spent staying in your room to escape the wrath of your father. You didn’t eat that night, you were lucky that your room was connected to Mimi’s by a bathroom so you didn’t have to wait to use it. Your sister had kept her side locked, you craved her company at that time. You were scared out of your mind, but you understood.

You then woke up to more things breaking, you walk out to see that your father had just exited your sister’s room. Walking into her room and you see no sign of your sister. Drawers opened, ransacked closet, piggy banks emptied and an open window. Your sister left during the night, likely when the alcohol had finally put your father to sleep.

Not wanting to be subjected to your fathers' wrath, you run out of the house and go straight to school. No fear in mind of being scolded due to your lack of a uniform, no fear in mind of being made fun of for your messy hair or bad breath because you skipped brushing your teeth that morning. The only thing you feared at that moment was your drunk and angry father.

Every day since your sister and mother had essentially abandoned the home, your life was hell on earth. He was drunk and if he wasn’t drunk, he was at work; if he wasn’t at work he was drunk.

You had gotten into a routine, you knew your father’s schedule. You’d make sure he was fed, you’d eat a little yourself, and then go to your room to do anything else you needed to do.

Ever since that day, the house has been cleaned and reorganized. You tried to make it as similar as it was before. Something about it just eased your mind, hoping that you’d wake up from your nightmare. That you’d wake up twelve years old, with your mother and sister still in the house.

That was never the case. You catch yourself more often than not finding solace in your sister’s room. You used to go into your mother and father’s room. That room had been abandoned since she left.

You had come to regret doing that, though. One night your father had woken up while you were laying down on her side of the bed, trying to feel close to her.

The alcohol had not worn off his system, and that night, at that moment you had realized you had grown into the looks of your mother. No matter how much you begged, no matter how many times you screamed that you weren’t her, no matter how many times your name left your lips in a hope to snap your father out of his trance, it never worked.

For years, it went on like that, as you got older you found ways to get out of your house so you couldn’t be near him. Faking your age so you could get overnight shifts then going to school the next morning, barely sleeping, but it was better than being home with him.

You have seen many things since working at a convenience store in a bad part of town, you’ve seen people get harassed, you’ve seen car accidents, you’ve seen people get stabbed.

Occasionally, you wonder to yourself if it is bad that you’d rather watch them go through that than go home.

You had grown to resent your whole family during that time for different reasons. You resented your sister for leaving you alone, your mother for not taking you and Mimi with her. Both of them for not trying to contact you. Your father for hurting you in ways no father should.

All of that you had bottled up once you turned eighteen. The only light in your life had been Dina. She kept you afloat. Made sure you finished school, she’d do your homework to make sure you’d pass classes. She’d bring you food because you often forgot to eat.

Dina didn’t have the best life growing up either, you had come to find out. She would regularly stay with you during your shifts at the convenience store, and you can’t count on your hands how many times you and her would sleep in her car so you both could escape everything.

Perhaps that is why Dina and you had bonded so closely. You knew what each other went through and you had never judged each other.

When you and Dina turned eighteen, you both moved away and got jobs. You found a roomy apartment that was cheap. Sure, it was in a bad part of town and not the prettiest, but it was the apartment you shared since the day you both abandoned your previous lives.

Nothing about it had changed until today. You have gone through the worst things imaginable, but never without Dina. You can’t fathom living without her. So now you are here. In her car at the beach, about to drive through a peer.

You put the car into drive, your foot still on the break. “If I don’t floor it now, I am never going to get the courage to do it again.” You say to yourself.

During your flashbacks, tears had started falling down your face and your nose had begun to run. You wiped your eyes and your nose with your sleeves and floored the gas pedal.

No one was on the peer and if they were, they had moved to the side. Everything happened instantly. The sound of the wood of the peer breaking on the car as you went through the peer was enough to bust your eardrums. The impact of falling into the water was enough to break every bone in your body.

You had passed out on the impact, only waking up once you tasted the salty water of the sea enter your mouth. You’re struggling for air, but you know that in a couple of seconds there will be no space to try to breathe that last bit of oxygen anyway.

A light with a golden aura shines beside you, but the rising water level has caused you not to care. Your last thought was wondering why the hell you drove off a peer when you are so afraid of big bodies of water. You guess it is because there is no escape.

You feel something like entering your mouth that is not water but quickly that feeling is replaced with the salty water from the ocean. At that moment everything goes still. Death must have taken you now.

It feels a bit weird. Not being able to move, and you can’t open your eyes but in a odd way you can breathe. Death feels so peaceful at this moment. Although, you can hear and that seems to be the only sense that you still have.

There is rustling next to you, and then humming. It sounds similar to that of a lullaby. After a couple of minutes, the humming stops.

“Y/n, you aren’t dead.” A soft voice says to you. You want so badly to open your eyes and look at whoever just said that to you, in your mind thinking that there is no way you are alive right now.

As if whatever told you that you weren’t dead could read your thoughts it says something that eases your mind a bit, “Just rest for right now, everything will be explained later.”

You never liked being in the unknown, so this comforted you. Whatever — or whoever was with you is holding you and rubbing circles on your arms. You slowly drift into sleep, wondering if death was playing tricks on you.

tags

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies