#it’s been a bit of a mess since book 1

[galpalaven]

The Wayhaven Chronicles was never really like “good” it’s more of a… cute lil game where I want to rewrite 100% of it out of spite or just because like the POTENTIAL is there to be really interesting but it needs a lot of substantive editing and narrative structure work to be Actually Good

@ Mishka im available for hire as an editor btw I have a degree and everything 😉

[caramelkoo]

honeysuckle

boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut

summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.

warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.

a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo

"Oh yeah baby, just like that"

"You fuck me so good"

'Take my cock like a good slut you are"

Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.

Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.

Step 1 : take an everything shower

Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background

Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.

Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.

Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.

You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.

Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.

Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.

Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.

If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?

After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.

As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".

Spoilsport, your ass.

Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.

The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.

When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.

You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"

When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.

"What's with the song, sweetheart?"

"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"

After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.

You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"

"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.

"What was that?"

"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.

"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.

Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"

Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.

"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.

Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"

Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.

"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"

Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.

Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.

Him.

Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.

When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?

With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.

Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?

"So, how was the business trip?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"

You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.

"Jungkook"

"Come here"

"Wh-"

He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'

You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.

Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.

His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.

"How long did you say they were going at it?"

You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"

He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.

"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"

Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?

"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"

The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.

"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.

She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.

His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.

"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"

The sound that leaves her is filled with need.

"Jungkook, baby please."

He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.

Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.

His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.

Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.

"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.

His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.

Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"

Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.

She screams.

"That's my girl"

He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.

"You want it faster, sweetheart?"

"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"

Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.

"Oh my fucking god"

"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"

He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.

She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.

When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.

"Aghh"

It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.

When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.

"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"

Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"

"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.

At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.

He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"

He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.

"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.

"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.

Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.

"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.

"I love you"

"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.

Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.

Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.

Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.

He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.

The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.

"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.

Thrust Thrust Thrust

As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.

"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"

Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.

He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.

A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"

"That was…" you bite your lip.

"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.

his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"

"One more?"

"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"

He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.

Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.

"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,

"So warm"

Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.

His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.

So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.

Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"

When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.

He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"

Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"

So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.

Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.

"I fucking love this body of yours"

She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.

Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.

"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"

He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.

He hopes.

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

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[runa-falls]

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

[wonuwonder]

still playing? pt 2 – jeon wonwoo

content: 1k words, smut, established relationship, gamer!wonwoo, boyfriend!wonwoo, fem reader x wonwoo, anything else lmk! mdni

an: as promised🫡, i really liked how this one turned out, lmk what you think! lowercase intended. read part 1 here

you’ve been waiting for almost an hour now, since he got carried away playing games. you’ve been needy all day long, and receiving a picture of wonwoo’s bulge in front of the mirror while you were at work hadn’t helped, at all. he knew it would tease the hell out of you so he sent it on purpose.

you were in your bed, trying to read something, but it was all too much. you were stressed out and tired, and the only thing on your mind was your boyfriend’s cock.

you got up and went to his desk in front of your bed, you moved his chair back and sat on his lap without asking, flustering him.

“take a seat then” wonwoo said, and locked his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him while he could still continue to play.

you were kind of pissed at him for not giving you the attention you wanted, so that meant teasing in your books.

you started to rub your ass lightly against his crotch, trying to look as innocent as possible, so that he wouldn’t suspect that you were trying to get off on him. you did it again, roughly this time, which made him groan. he grabbed your hipbone at the surprise and looked at you from the side.

“babe what are you?-” you moved again, completely bluntly this time, whimpering at the feeling of his semi hard cock against your ass. “fuck-” he grunted.

you turned to look at him, and signed at him to turn his mic off.

“can you please do something ? i’m fucking soaked and will rip your pants off if you don’t move” you blurt out.

“you’re really that needy babe?” he scoffed “and all for my cock huh?” he got close to your ear and bit the hem if your ear softly, making you squirm.

“yes won, please” you whimpered, while he moved his hands to your waist, guiding your movements against him.

he reached for the hem of your pijama dress he had bought for you and lifted his hand reaching your pussy, groaning when he finally got to feel your arousal all over his fingers.

“fuck y/n” he groaned, kissing your shoulders. while he started to play with your pussy, making you a whimpering mess in a second. he knew you perfectly well to know what buttons to press that would make you go into abyss. he would never get enough of your sounds and seeing how good he made you feel, even if he was busy, he would never reject making his girl feel good.

“gosh i’m gonna cum-” you whimpered, head falling back to rest on his shoulders, while you rocked your pussy onto his fingers “need your cock inside me” you could barely get your words out, and he had just started.

he kissed your cheek and left your aching pussy, making you take his fingers in your mouth. he made you stand up before him so he could get loose of his pants and boxers, spreading his thighs on his gaming chair, his cock sprung out reaching his lower abdomen, the tip red and leaking with pre cum, he was just as needy as you were.

you licked your lips at the sight, normally you would take him in your mouth instantly but your pussy was aching, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you would save that for the morning.

he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him, rubbing his dick over your entrance, coating himself with your juices, making you both whimper out loud. he lifted your silky pijama dress and made sit on his cock, entering slowly at first to let you adjust to his size. you had been dating for a year now, but his cock was still a lot to take. once you were settled he wasted no time in start pounding on you, lifting you up and down his length, his thighs slapping against your skin. making all kinds of noises. your thighs all wet from your juices trailing down your skin.

his movements started getting sloppy so you grabbed onto his shoulders and started to rock your hips against him, taking the lead, moving yourself deliciously onto him.

“you fill me up so nice won” your eyes fell shut.

“so good for me baby” he growled while kissing and massaging your breasts through the thin layer of clothing.

the noises wonwoo was making made you go absolutely insane, he was a big grunter, but once in a while he became a loud whimperer, specially when you rided him. the sight of him at this state because of what you were doing to him, turned you on even more, even if it was impossible. your moans were loud as hell, and he couldn’t last much longer. he grabbed your hips and thrusted into you a few times before he came undone, gasping and grunting loudly, you coming after him just a few seconds later.

you fell onto him from your high, his palms trailing your spine, squeezing you against his chest, you hissed at the touch, and drunkly kissed his lips.

“better now?” he asks out of breath, smirking at you, brushing the strands of hair from your face, he kisses your cheek and nudges into your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as well.

“fuck yes, that was- gosh i love you”

“i love you too, so much”

you kiss again.

and after a few minutes of silence of just the two of you making out, you hear their intruding voices.

“next time make sure to mute your mic guys” it’s cheol’s voice.

“or don’t, i liked it” soonyoung adds,

“that was hot as hell” mingyu says.

covering your mouth with your hand, you look at your defeated boyfriend’s face, you’ll never hear the end of it now.

tags: @effielumiere @viewvuu @honglynights @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @zerocoded 💗 luv u

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 1

Summary: 

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

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

Warnings: 

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

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Azriel is kind an idiot, Rhys is for once a good older brother, and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

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

Azriel was currently regretting his life choices that had brought him to this moment. 

“Wow,” Cassian drawled as he stared at the wall in Azriel‘s room in the House of Wind that was covered in…research. 

Intelligence. Information. Whatever one wanted to call it. 

And Azriel was ready to rip his hair out. 

“I did it all wrong,” he growled, slamming the dusty old tome the shadows had procured for him closed…only for them to take it out of his hands and open it up to check for themselves. 

“What did you do wrong?” Cassian asked as he stepped nearer to the wall, staring at all the things Azriel had pinned up there. 

It was a complete and utter mess

“This said that I should have given Eira a gift when I made my first courting overture.“

What kind of mate was he, when he couldn’t even follow the bloody rules of human men for her? 

He had been supposed to procure a gift before even asking her to let him court her. He should have started with that gift. Actually no, they would have been supposed to dance together at a ball, then he should have made that decision to court her, then he should have gotten the first gift and then…

“Well, you could argue that since your shadows bought her things, you did it?“ Cassian suggested and Azriel growled.

“That’s not the same,“ he snapped. “I am supposed to give her a gift that shows my deep affection and appreciation of who she is as a person…What in the world am I supposed to give her?“

Cassian chuckled at Azriel’s frustration, stepping closer to the wall and peering at the various items pinned up.

“You’re overthinking this, you know?“ he said, a smirk on his face. “Just give her something that’s meaningful to you and her, something that shows her how important she is to you.“

Azriel growled. This was not helpful. "Also how is a pearl necklace a show of deep affection and appreciation?" he asked Cassian. Cassian just stared at him. "That was one of the first suggestions the book had," he said with a sigh. The book about human courtship rituals. Well, one of them at least. It was better to get his information from more than one source after all.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk only widening. "Well, apparently humans think that something shiny and expensive is the way to go," he teased. "You’re not exactly giving her a ring yet, so you could consider it a placeholder."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "I don’t want a placeholder," he growled. "I want something real. Something that shows her how much she means to me, not just how much I can spend on her."

"Could it be that you are taking this a little bit too seriously?" Cassian said carefully.

Azriel bristled at Cassian’s comment. “Of course not,” he said sharply. “This is Eira. My mate. This isn’t like some casual fling I’ve had for a little fun. This is different, and I won't just let it go without putting the effort in that she deserves.”

Cassian held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know, I know,” he said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. “Believe me, I’ve never seen you so worked up over a female before. It’s just…you’re acting as if the fate of the entire world rests on this courtship gift.”

Well, it did. The fate of his entire world. The fate of his children. He needed to get this right.

“You’re being dramatic,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “It’s not like the gift is going to ruin everything. You’re acting like if you don’t get this right, the whole idea of you and Eira being mates will just poof into thin air.”

He growled in annoyance. 

“Are you trying to court my sister or kill her?” Nesta's voice came from the doorway, her arms crossed as she stared at his wall.

Azriel whipped around to see Nesta standing in the doorway. His irritation deepened at her unexpected intrusion.

"Court her, obviously," he grumbled.

Nesta sighed. "“This is obsessive, Az. Also creepy," she told him drily. "You are approaching this like Eira is the King of Hybern and not your mate."

Azriel let out an exasperated growl. He wasn't obsessed; he was just being thorough. He had never cared about anyone as much as he did Eira, and he didn't want to mess this up.

"I’m simply doing my due diligence," he replied, trying to sound as firm and confident as possible. "I won’t fail her. I won't.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at Azriel’s comment. “Then stop acting like she’s some adversary to be conquered and start treating her like your mate already,” she said. “This is about your love for her, not your obsession to control every little detail.”

Cassian snorted, chuckling. “Only you, Az,” he chortled. 

Azriel shot Cassian a dark look, clearly not amused by the comment. “This is not a laughing matter, Cassian,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is serious. I need to get this right, and I can’t afford to mess it up.”

"How about you start with what you know about her? What are her hobbies?" Nesta suggested.

"I am not buying her needles or a shovel or a rolling pin. Or a toy for Nyx," AAzriel responded immediately. He had already gone through all her hobbies: Sewing, gardening for fruits and vegetables and cooking and baking.

Cassian let out a snort, clearly amused by Azriel’s response. “Why not? Those could all be very useful gifts,” he teased. “Especially the rolling pin, I bet she could beat someone over the head with it. You know, for that assassin instinct of hers.”

"Or I could borrow it and hit you with it," Nesta muttered under her breath.

Cassian chuckled at Nesta’s comment. “I’d like to see you try, Nes-“ he began to reply, but was cut off as Azriel growled at them both.

“Enough. I don’t need you two bickering.” He massaged his temples, trying to hold back the headache that was starting to form

"Well, doesn't Eira sing?" Cassian suggested.

Azriel paused slightly and he thought for a moment, recalling a memory of hearing Eira singing softly to herself.

"Yes," he said quietly. "She does. But that doesn't help me at all unless you have an idea in that thick skull of yours."

"She used to play the harp," Nesta said quietly. “Well, not the dead trove harp. A real, human harp,” she clarified.  

Azriel's interest was piqued. "She plays harp?" he asked, turning his attention to Nesta. "In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never heard her mention that."

"We all learned some kind of instruments. It was vital for a well-rounded education. She was the only one who enjoyed it," Nesta explained.

Azriel thought for a moment. That actually sounded ideal. His shadows immediately perked up at the idea, starting to whisper amongst themselves.

"A harp…" he mused. "A harp could be perfect. If I can manage to find one that's good enough."

Cassian chuckled. "You'll probably spend the next year researching harps, won’t you?" he teased.

"I don't have time for that," Azriel responded.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "Sure, you don’t," he said dryly. "That’s why you’ve been holed up in this room for the past three days researching things humans consider romantic. I bet your research for this is more extensive than your missions."

“She's more important than a mission," Azriel said evenly. "Also, Hybern was less terrifying."

"Go buy her a harp, Az. Alternatively, if you want her to start crying, buy her a kitten," Nesta said with a shrug. "Though maybe not...Though that will only live a decade and then she’ll be heartbroken."

"Why should it die that quickly?" he asked Nesta, furrowing his brows.

Nesta gave him a deadpan look. "Have you never met a cat before, Azriel?" she said. "That’s how long kittens live. A decade, at most. And that's not even considering the time it takes a cat to grow from a kitten to an adult. You’ll be lucky if Eira gets fifteen years."

"Magical cats live...a very long time," Cassian disagreed.

Nesta stared at Cassian. “How long do magical cats live?” she demanded. 

"Well, theoretically forever," Cassian said with a shrug. “Unless they are killed by a predator of course.”

Azriel sighed. He could see where this was going. This was one of those decisions where there was no clear-cut right path.

Cassian, sensing his hesitation, chuckled. “Come on, Az. Where’s that ‘mysterious broody spy’ everyone loves?”

"Kitten or Harp?" he muttered.

"Just buy her one and keep the other for her birthday," Nesta suggested.

Azriel shot Nesta a glare. “Stop thinking so far ahead when I can barely decide on the first one,” he muttered, making her laugh. 

Cassian just smirked. “That’s rich, considering how much work you’ve put into this entire thing.”

*******

Eira had always liked being outside. 

When they had still been in that godforsaken cottage, Eira had taken her mending outside...had doted on that little patch of horrible earth that had only ever managed to grow a couple of potatoes, carrots, radishes and green beans...so many green beans...

But she had loved it. Even the small, withered things she had been able to grow there, it had been her tiny corner outside. She had prised her hands with dirt, tended to those potatoes and carrots, and had felt alive. Now she was terrified to even look outside the window.

Now, Eira would have loved to simply lock herself in her closet, because there was no window there...to go hide there, because maybe there she would be safe…

It was irrational, she knew that. She couldn’t help it. Every time she looked out of a window, she saw them again. Saw these horrible dark uniforms…saw the faces of the men she had killed. She saw them again and her chest burned in response, her stomach turning, bile rising in her throat.

She couldn’t help it. 

"It's healing very well," Madja told her, weathered fingertips trailing over the closed gash just underneath her breast. Eira stared at the ceiling, wishing herself far, far away. It had healed well. In just a few days, it had closed, just a thin red line reminding her of what had happened.

A thin red line and the feeling of lightning crackling underneath her skin. 

Eira winced as Madja touched her tender skin, the scar still sore to the touch. Even with her accelerated healing, it would take some time before she would fully recover.

"Are you still experiencing any pain?" the elderly healer asked kindly, her eyes studying Eira closely. Eira took a deep breath, trying to find her voice. The pain was the least of her worries. She had felt worse. So much worse.

"No, not much," she replied quietly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Just a little...some twinges, here and there."

Madja nodded, her expression a bit sceptical. She had probably seen hundreds, maybe thousands of patients in her life, and she could likely tell when they weren't being entirely truthful. "Are you sure?" she pressed gently.

Eira’s face twisted into a grimace. She didn't want to be....she didn't want to be weak. She didn't want to...She had seen how Cassian's wings had been shredded, how Azriel had an ash bolt shot in his chest...and neither of them had complained. And she...she had a single knife stuck inside her and it felt like…

“Eira,” Feyre said, her voice taking on an edge.

She knew that Feyre was right, she knew that she should be honest with the healer. But saying it out loud, voicing her fears and anxieties, would just make her...so pathetic.

Still, she took a deep breath and looked at Madja, meeting her gaze. "It...It hurts," she admitted quietly. "More than just...it hurts, whenever I move."

Feyre squeezed Eira's hand tightly. Madja nodded, her eyes studying Eira with a careful, almost calculating gaze, before it softened, a flicker of sympathy passing over her features.

"I suspected as much," the healer said bluntly. "A wound like that can heal on the surface, but sometimes the internal damage is more severe than it appears." Eira‘s breath hitched. The internal damage. The internal damage she had done to herself when she had killed these males…when she had…burned them alive. 

"You should rest," Madja said quietly. "You need to give your body time to heal completely, or you'll risk making the damage worse...you can leave the room and sit outside...but you should not do anything strenuous like gardening or training or whatever else you normally get up to. Though the sunshine outside would do you well," Madja pointed out.

Sunshine...outside. Outside. Alone the thought made Eira break out in cold sweat.

Her breathing turned shallow at the thought of being outside. She knew she couldn't stay in this room forever, but...the thought of being outside...Alone...In the open air, with no protective walls around her...It made her heart race. She could feel Feyre's worried gaze on her.

Madja also studied Eira carefully. "No training," she said pointedly, "but you should try to go outside for a little...Sunshine and fresh air will do you good. It's good for healing."

"I...I’ll try," she managed to choke out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to leave her room.

Madja finished, and Feyre went to bring her to the door…leaving Eira alone. She forced herself to sit up, to pull her nightgown back together…and then escaped into the bathing chamber. No windows. No windows meant she was safe. Once the door to the bathing chamber closed firmly behind her, Eira allowed herself to finally break. She sagged against the door, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Alone. No windows. Safe.

She was vaguely aware of tears falling down her face. It seemed like that was all she ever did these days, cry herself into exhaustion. She didn’t even know how often she had woken up that particular night…how often the shadows had come to soothe her back to sleep. The shadows came every time Eira awoke with a start, her heart pounding or tears streaming down her face. They were always there. 

They would whisper to her, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket, soothing her back to sleep.

You are alright, they whispered now too. You are safe.  She wondered if they didn’t have anything better to do. No more important people to spy on. Why don’t you wash your face? the suggested gently. Water. Face.

Wash her face, repeated Eira mentally, slowly gathering her thoughts.

The shadows were right, of course. She should wash her face. Her eyes looked as tired and red-rimmed as she felt. Perhaps washing her face would...would help her feel somewhat better, even if only a little.

She took a deep breath, as she dried her face on the towel the shadows found for her…and then they fluttered around her like a swarm of excited butterflies, bringing her a new nightgown and dressing gown. She took a moment to examine them.  

The nightgown was a much darker colour than her usual ones, a deep, rich blue instead of the usual whites and creams. She looked at the dressing gown, taking note of its heavier fabric. The shadows were right to have chosen it - the nights were getting chilly, after all.

But still… “Did you steal it from Feyre?” She asked weakly, even as they helped her shrug out of the old dressing gown. They let her deal with her nightgown, never touching her naked skin anywhere but her hands and face if they could help it, as they drew the new one over her body…and then stuck silky soft slippers on her feet.

The shadows didn't respond to her question, and for a moment Eira wondered if they even heard her. But she had no time to dwell on it further: they were already working on her hair, untangling her braid with deft, careful movements and brushing it out. They started to braid it again, a new, different braid than the usual ones she wore, pulling it back from her face. The braiding was precise and quick as if they had done this many times before.

“How did you learn that?“ she wondered quietly.

The shadows paused for a moment, almost as if they were contemplating her question. They continued braiding her hair though, a little faster than before.

Practice, they whispered, their voices low and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Eira let out a small huff. Sometimes, she had the distinct impression that the shadows were purposefully not answering her questions, or giving her a non-answer, as they had just done. But she didn’t have the energy to press them for an answer, no matter how much she wanted to hear one.

So instead, she just leaned against the sink quietly, letting the shadows tend to her hair.

You should go outside. The sun is shining. The healer said it would be good for you.

No. She didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to…She wanted to stay in this room, in this safe, dark and windowless room…

She didn’t want sunshine. Didn’t want fresh air. 

It would do you good, the shadows continued, their voices low and soothing. Go outside. Sit in the sun.

“I can’t.“ she forced out.

The shadows paused in their work, just for a moment.

You can, they insisted firmly, their voices growing almost persuasive. It’s good for you. You will feel better once you go.

She highly doubted that. Her hands turned clammy at only the thought.  As soon as the shadows finished braiding her hair, they flitted away, making a beeline for the door. Eira tried to call out, to stop them, to tell them that no, she couldn’t go, but the words died in her throat, the door opening before she could even try.

Rhys was there, standing in the middle of her room.

She had no clue what he even wanted from her. She had spent the last couple of days…resting. Sleeping half the day away, which wasn’t helped by her nightmares at seemingly every damn moment…Nesta and Feyre had kept her company when they had. She hadn’t so much as sneak a peek at Azriel since their…talk two days ago. Though his shadows were a constant companion of hers, doting on her like a cat would do to a sole kitten. 

Now…Eira’s heart thudded in her chest at the sight of him. He didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look...friendly either. He just looked at her with watchful, careful eyes as she stared back at him, frozen like a deer before a hunter.

The silence was thick, stretched thin like a rope that was about to snap. Eira bit her lip, unable to tear her gaze away from Rhys’ searching stare. She could feel a sheen of sweat on her skin, her heart thudding so hard she was surprised it hadn’t burst out of her chest yet.

Her knees trembled, and she nearly pitched forward, if the shadows hadn’t caught her. The shadows appeared out of thin air, wrapping themselves around her like a silky, dark blanket as she swayed on her feet. They held her up, stopping her from falling to the ground.

Rhys was suddenly at her side, wrapping his arms around her as well, his hands warm and firm against her cold, clammy skin.

“Shhh, I got you, little one,” he shushed her. Rhys’ voice was soft, gentle, and soothing, his hands firm around her. Eira sagged against him gratefully, her body trembling and her breath coming in short gasps.

“It’s alright. I won’t let you fall,” he murmured, as he scooped her up, easily carrying her like she weighed nothing.

She thought she probably didn’t. Just because he didn’t have arms the size of tree trunks like Cassian did, didn’t mean that Rhys wasn’t an Illyrian warrior trained in his own right. 

He had absolutely no problem with just swinging her up like she did to Nyx. 

“Bed or do you want to brave the garden?” he asked her carefully. “Madja said some fresh air would be good for you.”

Of course, he already knew. 

She swallowed, her heart racing.

Bed was safe, comfortable, and familiar. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day there, under the covers and away from the world. To go outside...to face the wide-open sky...that was a terrifying prospect.

“Bed,” she whispered.

Rhys nodded, carrying her over to the bed and gently placing her on it. The shadows fluffed the pillows behind her, letting her lean against them in a comfortable position.

She expected her brother-in-law to disappear again, though she had no clue why he had even come to see her in the first place. Didn’t he have something more important to do? Like, run this court maybe? 

But he didn’t disappear again. Instead, he sat down next to her, not touching her, just staying close enough that she could feel his presence. “Madja said the garden would be good for you,” Rhys insisted quietly. He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the wall across the room. “Fresh air, sunshine...she said it would help you recover faster,” he continued, his voice neutral.

Recover. Recover what? Recover that bit of her that had died on that playground when she had killed these men without even thinking about it? She had taken multiple lives. And she was just supposed to be fine with it?!

Eira chewed on her lower lip. She knew what the healer had said, but...the thought of going outside, of being away from the safety of these four walls, was enough to send her heart racing in her chest.

“I...” she started, her voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Rhys turned to look at her then, his expression carefully neutral. “Why not?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. ”It’s just the garden,” he said evenly.

Eira felt a flicker of irritation rise in her chest at his words.

”it was just the playground,” she shot back shakily. Rhys visibly froze, his eyes widening as he flinched visibly. She could see the pain in his eyes, the hurt and the guilt...but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

“Eira...” he started, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“I can’t,” she whispered. She knew it was stupid. She knew. But she couldn’t help it. It must be ridiculous to him, to a 500-year-old warrior that she was afraid of facing the outside but she couldn’t help it. She was utterly terrified. 

“You need to heal,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “You need the sunshine, the fresh air. You can’t just stay locked up in here forever...” She could. 

She really could. 

If it stopped her from feeling like dying, she would stay right here for the rest of her life. 

“What…What is it that scares you?” Rhys asked her gently.  Her breath hitched in her throat at his question.

She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to explain how terrified she was, how the very thought of leaving this room filled her with a sense of dread that was nearly paralysing… “I don’t want it to happen again,” she choked out.

Rhys’ face darkened at her words, his eyes filling with anger and pain.

“It won’t,” he said, his voice tight. “I won’t let it. You’re safe, Eira. No one will hurt you in that garden. I swear.”

Eira wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to cling to his words like a lifeline...but she couldn’t. The fear lodged in her chest like a rock, refusing to be dislodged.

“You can’t promise that,” she whispered, her voice small and shaky.

“Yes, I can,” Rhys cut her off. “You’ll go outside and I’ll be right there. And if any rogue darkbringers suddenly show up, I’ll mist them with a single thought,” he promised her fiercely. “It won’t happen again.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating furiously in her chest. It sounded so easy when he said it like that, so simple. He would keep her safe, keep her protected...

“Let’s just try it,“ Rhys said softly. “We can go back inside if you can’t stand it, little one.”

Eira chewed on her lower lip, her fingers trembling in her lap.

Just try it. We can go back inside if you can’t stand it. 

Those words gave her a small flicker of hope, a lifeline to cling to. Eira took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Alright,” she agreed weakly.

Rhys smiled at her words, the expression strained but genuine. He stood up from the bed, holding out his hand to her.

“Come on then,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit in the garden.”

Eira swallowed, her entire body tense with anxiety. She looked at his outstretched hand, feeling her heart race at the thought of taking it.

For a moment, she couldn’t move, her entire body frozen and immobile. But then, with trembling fingers, she reached out and slowly took his hand.

Rhys’ hand was warm, strong and firm around hers. He held her hand gently, as if he were afraid she might break, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“That’s it,” he murmured gently. “We can go as slowly as you need.”

She nodded weakly, her knuckles turning white as she gripped his hand tightly. Slowly, hesitantly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body trembled as she stood up, her feet feeling unsteady on the floor.

Rhys was there, hovering close to her side, supporting her gently as she took her first shaky steps away from the bed. The shadows flitted around her like dark, flickering butterflies, whispering reassuring words that she could barely hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Eira…how about you let me carry you?”

Her breath hitched at the suggestion, her heart skipping a beat.

Her first instinct was to refuse, to shake her head and insist on walking on her own. But her legs felt like jelly, her steps unsteady and shaky...and she hated the thought of looking weak, of being lifted like some helpless child.

But as much as she hated it, she knew she would crumble if she walked on her own, her legs giving out like a newborn fawn.

So, with a small, defeated nod, she agreed.

“I…alright,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rhys wasted no time in scooping her up in his arms, lifting her with ease. She tried not to let it bother her, not to think about how pathetic she must look, being cradled like a child.

The shadows fluttered closer, their dark forms brushing against her skin as they whispered gentle words of reassurance.

You’re doing well. one of them whispered in her ear, its voice low and soothing. The High Lord is right here. You’re safe.

"It will be fine," Rhys promised her as he carried her down the stairs, making no appearance that the extra weight of her in his arms bothered him in any way. "Just outside. We'll sit on the terrace, and nothing bad will happen."

Eira clung to his words like a lifeline, her hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulder.

She tried to ignore the way her heart raced, the way her blood thundered in her ears...she tried to focus on Rhys’ voice, on his words assuring her that it would be fine.

The terrace wasn’t far, it seemed. Soon enough, they were there, the doors swinging open silently as they approached.

Outside. Out of the relative safety of the house. Outside.

Eira clenched her teeth, the panic rising in her chest.

The air around them was fresh and crisp, the faint scent of grass and trees filling her nostrils. The sun streamed down, its warmth caressing her skin...and yet, Eira felt cold, her breath coming in small, shallow gasps as her heart thumped against her chest.

The wide-open space, the vastness of the sky, was suddenly so much more overwhelming. It felt like it was pressing down on her like it was closing in...

She heard a deep rumble of thunder, could feel something static-y in the air...felt the taste of metal in her mouth...

"Take a deep breath, Little One," Rhys soothed her. "It's alright. We are there already..." Just a moment later, he put her down onto the soft cushion that covered the lounge area on one side of the terrace...a place where she had often laid down Nyx for his afternoon nap this summer...

The plush cushions were a familiar comfort, their softness reminding her of the times she had spent with her nephew…

She tried to focus on that, on the memories of those times instead of the overwhelming feeling of being outside...but as she looked around, as she took in the sheer vastness of the sky stretching out in every direction, it was almost too much.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she found herself clinging to Rhys’ arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

"You are alright," he promised her again. She knew it was ridiculous. He must think she was utterly mental that being outside scared her, overwhelmed her into silent fear.

Eira was sure he must think her completely insane: Scared of being outside, of being in the open...it was ridiculous. It was pathetic.

But she couldn’t help it, no matter how much she tried to calm herself down, to shove her fear back down. It had a hold on her, a tight grip that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

"It's alright to be afraid," Rhys said quietly. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Eira tried to believe his words, tried to take comfort in them. But it was hard, so hard. Her fear felt so stupid, so silly, so pointless.

She should be able to handle being outside, shouldn’t be so terrified of it…and yet here she was, clinging to Rhys like a frightened child, her heart thundering in her chest. The High Lord of the Night Court had volunteered to be her protector and she was still utterly and completely...terrified.

The shadows fluttered around her, sensing her fear, her terror...whispering softly in her ear, trying to calm her, to soothe her. But even their attempts couldn’t stop the way her body trembled, the way her heart raced.

Rhys wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. His touch was gentle but firm, a silent reassurance that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

"You have every right to be afraid, Eira. That doesn't make you weak, little sister. It only means that you went through something traumatic and you haven't fully dealt with that yet," Rhys said softly. "I still wake up from nightmares. So does your sister. Cassian, Azriel...all of us deal with that as well."

"I am pathetic, " she whimpered.

Rhys’ expression darkened at her words, his jaw clenching.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re the farthest thing from pathetic, Eira. Some fully fledged warriors would have taken one look at these Darkbringers and ran. They wouldn’t have stood their ground.” He huffed, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again? Do you understand me?”

"In what world am I brave?" Eira asked weakly, her hands still trembling, fear settled in some kind of panic in the back of her brain, leaving her utterly spent and exhausted.

"You threw yourself between my son and a knife, Eira," Rhys told her drily. "In what world isn't that brave?"

Eira’s breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, and her mind suddenly filled with the memory of that day.

She had done that, hadn’t she? She had thrown herself in front of a knife for Nyx, not caring what happened to herself as long as the baby was safe… For Nyx, she had done that. She hadn't thought twice about it either.

But it had been for a good cause, in a moment of crisis. This…this was just her being weak. This was her reduced to a trembling, blubbering mess, too scared to do anything but cling to Rhys like a child for comfort. How did that make her brave?

"I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but it does get easier," Rhys promised her softly.

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But right now, it was hard. The fear felt so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that it was hard to imagine ever feeling anything else.

Eira took a deep, shaky breath, her body trembling as she tried to control her emotions. But despite her attempts to steady herself, she couldn’t seem to calm down. Her heart raced, her hands clammy, her breath coming in short, anxious gasps.

“It’s alright,” Rhys said softly, his voice reassuring. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

The shadows fluttered around them,  brushing against her hands in a soothing caress.

Slowly, slowly, the fear that had consumed her began to ease, the frantic thumping of her heart returning to a more normal rhythm. She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling her body relax slightly in Rhys’ embrace.

"I am scared all the time," he continued softly.

Eira felt a flicker of surprise at his admission, her eyes widening slightly. She had never, ever considered that Rhys might be afraid. He was so powerful, so confident and in control...it almost seemed impossible to believe.

“But...why?” she asked, her voice small and wavering. “What could possibly scare you?”

Rhys chuckled softly at her question, a humourless sound that seemed almost bitter. “Plenty of things, little one,” he replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “More things than you could imagine.”

Eira frowned, her confusion growing. She had always assumed that Rhys was above fear, that he was somehow above the worries and anxieties that plagued the rest of them. To hear him admit otherwise...it was jarring, to say the least.

“What...What are you afraid of?” she asked softly, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

Rhys was silent for a moment, his expression growing more serious.

“Losing my mate,” he said quietly. “Losing my son. I'm afraid that if I don't keep them safe if I make a single mistake, it could all be taken from me.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he spoke. "I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and it will all have been nothing but a dream. That it was never real.”

She had never considered that he might be scared...that he might feel the same way that she did, the same fear and uncertainty that gripped her heart with a vice-like grip.

"It's real," she promised her brother quietly. "It's real, Rhys."

Rhys smiled faintly, his expression softening slightly as he looked down at her.

"I know it is,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t make the fear go away."

Eira felt a pang of sympathy in her chest at his words.

She knew all too well what it was like to feel the weight of fear, the way it could consume you and control you and leave you feeling helpless. And yet, to hear Rhys, the High Lord of the Night Court, a man so powerful that he could crumble mountains with a snap of his fingers...

It was almost surreal.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked quietly, her voice quivering slightly. “The...the fear. How do you make it go away?”

Rhys was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"I don’t make it go away,” he said finally. “I don’t think that’s possible. The fear is always there, lurking in the back of my mind, waiting for me to let my guard down." He paused, his gaze fixed on some point over her head. “I just…I try to keep it at bay, remind myself that it’s just a feeling, that it doesn’t have to control me. I focus on the people I love, on the things that matter."

Eira felt her heartache at his words. She knew that feeling, that constant fear that lurked in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment to strike. And yet, to hear Rhys say that he felt the same...it almost made her feel better, to know that she wasn’t alone in her fear.

"Look at the flowers growing...Look at your vegetable patch," Rhys said softly. "Feel the fabric underneath you...Look at Nyx being happy and smiling..." She looked up to see Feyre walk outside, Nyx on her hip who happily squealed as soon as he saw Eira.

Eira's heart lurched at the sight of the baby, her chest constricting with emotion.

Nyx wriggled on Feyre's hip, reaching out his tiny arms towards her, babbling happily as he recognized her. Eira couldn't help but smile, her heart melting at the sight of the baby's little face. Feyre smiled, walking closer to Eira and Rhys, with Nyx bouncing on her hip.

The baby was babbling happily, his eyes fixed on Eira as he reached out for her. "Look how happy he is to see his Aunt Ra Ra" Feyre said gently, a fond smile adorning her lovely face.

"Ra Ra!" Nyx cheered at that moment, and Feyre sat him on Eira's lap, sitting next to her.

Eira felt her heart melt as Nyx settled himself on her lap, his little body bouncing with energy.

The baby looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, his little fingers reaching out to grab at her hair. He babbled happily, his voice high-pitched and cheerful.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her chest as he continued to babble and coo.

Safe, untouched. 

She was safe. Maybe one day she would believe that again. 

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Little Lupin {pt.3}

A/N: Can't be stopped. Working on an angsty part 2 to "Too Late" and another angsty Fred x Reader I needed a fluff break. Once again, not proof read, didn't have the time

Cw: Suggestive, cussing, love sick James, getting walked in on

Part 1 - Part 2

James always tasted like treacle tarts.

You used to smell them, on his shirt and on his breath when you would talk to him in the halls, but now? Being locked away in James’s dorm, where he laid you down on his bed, the taste became your absolute favorite thing.

Caramelized toffee and minty toothpaste filled your senses as his tongue danced over yours. Ever since your first kiss on Halloween, James had become so much more confident with you. From Christmas break to summer rendezvous you could hardly believe it's been a year.

Bold too, considering he just got out of Quidditch practice and asked you to his dorm under the guise of studying. You hardly got out your books before he was kissing your neck and tugging you along to his sheets.

You could hardly keep up with the intensity as James pulled you closer, the sheets cool against your skin contrasting with the warmth radiating from his body. The way he held you, a mix of gentleness and urgency, nearly sent you into a frenzy. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you found yourself lost in the rhythm of his kisses, each one reminding you, you both were on borrowed time.

“Are you sure?” He murmured against your lips. The question didn't have time to hang in the air. You met his gaze, his hazel eyes were the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You bit your lip and nodded, his boldness infectious.

“Definitely.” You practically begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that cheeky one that got you into this mess in the first place.

“His weight shifted, slipping between your legs easily, trailing his kisses down your neck. You took a shuttered breath, your hands tangling into his hair to pull him back to a proper kiss. He deepened it as his hips pressed hard against yours, making you gasp a bit.

“Just so you know…” He mumbled as he broke the kiss. Kissing the corners of your mouth, before nipping at your lip. “I'm absolute shite at studying.”

You have a laugh, unable to help how your body was absolutely giddy with excitement. Merlin, he was driving you crazy and knowing he could see your flushed cheeks made it so much worse.

“What?” He chuckled as you whine and squirmed with your smile that dazed him. He leaned closer and nipped at your ear next, making you squeal. “So much energy.”

“Maybe it’s your fault.” You shot back, trying to sound teasing but the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. You felt electrified, every touch igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know could burn so brightly. The playful banter was a welcome distraction from the way your heart raced, the way his body pressed against yours felt like an uncharted territory you were eager to explore. Merlin, did you love this boy? You were certain of it at this point.

“Me? I’m just trying to help you study.” He gasped with mock seriousness, his lips curling into that infuriatingly adorable smirk. “And clearly, we need to work on some… practical applications.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh, your heart twisting with a mixture of affection and exhilaration. “Practical applications, huh? Is that what we’re calling this?”

“Absolutely.” He hummed, his voice low and teasing as he leaned closer, grinding his hips again and making you gasp out at the reminder of your position. “I know you're a hands-on learner.”

He smirked at you, clearly seeing how much every little touch was driving you mad. He loved it.

“Jamie…” You gasped as he ran his lips over your neck again, only for him to pause, his breath warm against your skin as he pulled back slightly to look at you. The way he gazed at you made your heart skip a beat; a mix of desire and mischief dancing in his hazel eyes. There was so much affection you thought you might just burst.

“What?” He teased, his voice low and playful, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against your collarbone. “You don’t want to study anymore?”

“Of course I do.” You breathed, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably as a giggle escaped your lips. “But I didn’t realize this was part of the curriculum.”

He laughed, a bright, infectious sound that filled the room. “Well, I can assure you, it’s definitely on the syllabus now.”

With that, he leaned back in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with enthusiasm. You responded eagerly, your fingers gripping the fabric of his Quidditch jersey, pulling him closer as if there was a fear he might pull away.

“James.” You murmured against his lips, your heart pounding in your ears. “Jamie, baby.”

He groaned against your lips and bit your lip again. “Please never call me anything else. Fuck, that sounds so pretty coming from you.”

You didn't want to ruin the moment- but come on- “Yes, Professor Potter.” You cheeked and he paused.

Pulling back he looked at you, horribly offended, his face a mix of disgust and absolute astonishment.

“Professor Potter?!” He exclaimed, his eyes wide as he tried to suppress a laugh. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve ever heard! You’re going to ruin my reputation!”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his expression, the way he feigned horror making your heart race in a completely different way. “Oh, come on! It’s perfect! Imagine the rumors that would spread: ‘James Potter, the Quidditch star and esteemed professor of… practical applications! With his studious assistant.’”

“Not if I can help it!” He leaned in closer, a bright smirk on his lips. “I’d rather have you call me something far more appropriate for the situation… how about ‘James, the amazing kisser’?”

You couldn't help but giggle at his confident proclamation, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “James, the amazing kisser? That sounds more like an ego boost.”

He gave a hurt expression, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Ego boost? No, no. It’s a title I’ve earned through hard work and dedication!”

You laughed, your heart throbbing at his playful antics. “Sure, if you say so, Professor.”

He rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face told you he was enjoying this banter just as much as you were. “Okay, fine. But let’s not forget who’s the one getting the real education here.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, silencing any further protests.

As his kiss deepened, you felt the world around you fade away. The teasing, the laughter- it all melted into a warm haze of affection. His hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer as if he were trying to meld your bodies together. Every brush of his arms and lithe fingers was doing you in.

It was perfect. It was blissful, lovely, patient, and everything you could ask for. He treated you like a precious jewel, like one wrong move would ruin you. Even though he was the one ruining you- day in and day out.

It felt like, for once, everything was as it should be. And as his hands lowers to your thighs, putting more weight down on you as his finger tips inched up your skirt- “Prongs! Where's the damn map?”

Almost. Until Sirius came storming in asking about some stupid map- what map? Why does he need a map? Right now? Right when James was about to get into it again-

“H-holy shit.” Sirius laughed out and you threw your head back into James’s pillows in frustration, not upset to be caught again but more upset to be interrupted.

James groaned, clearly as frustrated as you were. “Sirius! Can’t you knock?” He shifted slightly, creating a comical barrier between you and his best friend, though it did little to hide your bruised lips and ruffled uniform.

Sirius’s laughter only grew, his dark eyes taking over you two. “Knock? Mate, this is my room too!” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “I just needed to know if you’ve seen the Map. I swear it’s missing, and I need it.”

“I have it.” He huffed and got up. Leaving you to lean up on your elbows and pout as you waited on his cold bed.

“I took it so Remus wouldn't find us. Why do you need it?” James huffed and crossed his arms. Sirius looked James up and down before arching an eyebrow.

“Why do you need to know?” Sirius teased.

“Well-” Before James could argue, you knew were this was going. You've watched them mock eachother on a daily.

“Jamie.” You whined out and you watched him stiffen from where he leaned against the bed post. Sirius got a wicked grin on his face as James’s ears turned an inviting red. Turning to look at you with a surprised look. “Just give him the map. I'm cold.”

“Bloody hell.” He whispered before scrambling for his bag and practically throwing the map at Sirius. The black haired boy winking at you with a mutter of thanks before hurrying off.

Leaving you with a very red James, who was looking at you like he was debating something in his head. You stared at him, slowly shifting your legs as he continued to stare at you. Your legs curling up and he took a heavy breath. “Oh I'm fucked, man.”

“Jamie?” You whispered and this time, you noticed how blown his pupils were, how he kept staring anywhere but your eyes, just how shaken he was just by the semi public display of affection.

“James?” You whispered again and he shook his head. “Are you okay?”

“I think I'm going to die. You're going to kill me. You or Remus when he finds out.” He mumbled and you gave a laugh and a confused look.

“You're worried about that now? Jamie, it's okay.” You cooed and he walked over, sitting down by you and leaned down to steal a quick kiss.

“He won't find out.” You reassured and he shook his head, running his hands up your sides before slipping into the bed to burry his face in your stomach.

“I want him to. I want everyone to know.” He whispered against your skin, making you give a startled yelp. You stared down at him in shock and slowly but your lip.

“Jamie-”

“Hear me out. Just, just hear me out.” He stammered and sat up. Looking into your eyes as he caged you against his bed. “Why not? Give me a good reason.”

“My brother will kill you, for one.” You laughed nervously, remembering how Remus was already growing suspicious with your constant dodging- and James wasn't exactly secretive when it came to his affections for you.

James’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter, a playful grin creeping onto his face. “Well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take- he'll have to understand, it's love, yeah?” He declared rather bold, throwing his arms wide as if to emphasize the grandeur of his declaration. Still on his knees between your thighs.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though your heart raced with a million emotions at once. “Love? Now we’re jumping to that already?”

“Is it not?” He leaned in closer, his expression earnest, the teasing glimmer in his eyes softening. “I mean, we’ve been dancing around this for months. I like you, you like me. It’s a simple equation, Professor Potter would know!”

“It’s not that simple, Jamie. There’s more to it than just liking each other.” You countered, though the warmth in your chest grew at his words. He looked so desperate, in such a good way. This was for you- you could about die from that look in his eyes. But love? That's a big word to say so freely. “What about the fallout? What if it ruins your friendship with Remus? He's always been protective. And what about the whole ‘anyone but my sister’ lecture he gave you?”

James laughed softly, almost nervous, shaking his head as if dismissing your concerns. “Remus will come around. He always does. And if he’s really as good a friend as I think he is, he’ll want me to be happy. And you make me happy, more than anyone else ever has.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words. Slowly, you were watching this fun fling of yours turn into something so sincere you felt your mouth growing dry. “But what if it doesn’t work out? What if we end up ruining everything?”

His gaze turned serious, the playful glint replaced with sincerity. “I don’t think that will happen. I’m not going anywhere, and I want to make this work. I’m not just messing around here. Haven't.. haven't been for a while” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the tenderness of the gesture making your heart race. “You mean too much to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had never seen him look at you in this context. So real. And looking in his eyes like this, you were sure. It was love.

“I'm needy.” You challenged him and he laughed.

“So am I.”

“I am selfish. I would want more of your time then you'd be willing to give.” You furrowed your brow.

“How do you know?” He arched his eyebrow playfully.

“W-would it be weird? Dating your best mate's little sister?” You pushed and he slowly turned serious.

“Why are you trying to talk me out of this? I want you, Lupin. I do.”

“I-” You choked up and sat up, wrapping your arms around his neck. Unable to verbalize just how much you adored him.

He seemed to get it. Wrapping his arms around you and rolling onto his back with a plop. Holding you close and nuzzling his face into your hair. “I love you, I do. I swear on Godric Gryffindor I always will.”

You nuzzled into his neck and gave a low sigh. “Okay.” You croaked.

After a long pause, his grip on you tightened. “... I know it's a lot. But I want to try.” He whispered and you slowly smiled. “I want to know what it feels like. To be loved by you.”

You bit your lip and slowly sat up. Sitting on his lap and letting him sit up with you. Resting on his thighs as you took his cheeks in your palms. “You do, Jamie.”

His eyes widened and a bright smile crossed his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered and slammed in to hold him back. “I love you, I do.”

He absolutely melted, holding you closer and harder then before. Making you laugh into his chest. “Jamie-”

“Did you know my parents were Hogwarts sweethearts?” He pushed and you gave another, even louder laugh.

“Jamie, please, I can only take so much in one night.”

He laughed and nodded, nuzzling against your neck too. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You gave a small giggle. James had always been one to be thinking years ahead, like he had everything planned out, down to the date of your wedding night. You should of figured it was more then just a fling.

James Potter doesn't love carefully.

[writingoddess1125]

The Jessica Rabbit Effect (Shorts)

Buggy Headcanon+story. Buggy x Reader

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This is a series of random thoughts from the Jessica Rabbit Series

Buggy likes to be the little spoon at times, so if he's had a bad day will cuddle against his darling wife and let her take care of him.

You often have to do Buggy's hair. Since its a wild mess at the best of times when he returns from see its a bit of a ritual for him to shower, get into his favorite pants and sit between your thighs as you brush out his hair.

Has bitten your Thigh- earning a playful smack of the comb

Sometimes he will sing for you- He actually has a lovely singing voice but you'll be the only one to hear it.

Surprisngly decent at cooking- Hes no chef but sure as hell can make one hell of a breakfast sandwich.

YOU are the secret Perv of the relationship, Most would assume its Buggy but its actually You.

You had been stalking your prey for the last 5 minutes, Buggy was currently going through some crates he had kept in the closet- saying something about a old hat of sorts. It was the perfect angle however-

However he was unaware of his wife slowly stepping forwards him as he bent over once more to dig deeper in the box-

Closer...

Maybe right overrr..

Buggy Yelled suddenly as he felt fingers dig into the flesh of his ass as he turned and heard you cackle and quickly dash away as he gives chase.

He often returns from his sailing with gifts of whatever you like. Jewlery? More Sewing stuff? Books? Whatever you want he will snag for you.

You two secretly read raunchy novels together, Sometimes you will send him a book while he is away and he will read it at night before bed. Before sending one of his own-

Often resulting in the two of you speaking about the books in depth when together good or bad-

Buggy Takes care of you since you are more likely to burn out-

EXTRA! (Short Story)

You'd been hard at work, it seemed your business had been really taking off with now your two most demanding customers Sir Mihawk and Sir Crocodile. Who seemed to not only be picky about their fabrics but also seemed to damage their clothes constantly! You'd been busy to say the least.

Right now was no exception, You were standing in the Livingroom of yur home adding a few final buttons to a coat of Sir Crocodile, Letting your mind wonder as you worked tirelessly to have it completed before the morning-

As you worked you felt a hand touch your waist, giving a loud shrill yell as you spun around and swung-

"OW! What the hell!?" Your husbands voice sounded as you managed to whack his nose with a open palm. Buggy seemed to have just sailed in, still in his hat and coat and now rubbing his now sore nose with a frown-

"Im so sorry darling! I didnt realize it was you here let me get a pack for your nose-" You started, still coming down from the fright your husband had given you and went to flutter away to get a ice pack, However Buggy stopped you and pulled you close. Examming your face closely and frowning.

"Forget it- What are you doing up so late anyway? You should still be asleep.. You look tired-"

He grumbled, catching your look of confusion.

"Early? Its only- Um" You look to the large clock and blink in surprise at seeing the time. 1:37am!?

"O-Oh i guess I lost track of time an-"

"Did you eat dinner!?" Buggy cut you off again seeing your little work table and spotting only half finished tea and almost a finished pastry, most likely from the morning before- You bit your lip in embarrassment not even having the voice to say anything at being caught.

With a etched frown Buggy suddenly hoisted you up to his shoulder causing a loud yelp to leave you.

"Buggy!" You yell as you are carried like a sack to your shared master bedroom, red faced from the action.

"Buggy I still have to finish Crocodiles Coat an- EEP!"

A full palmed smack hit your behind from, Buggy- Cutting off your tirade as you felt your brain short circuit for a moment. Buggy walked into the master bathroom and set you on the counter, grumbling to himself as he started up a bath and went to your bedroom to start grabbing clothes.

"Buggy Boo-"

You started again but his hand floated to you and placed a finger to your lips.

"Id start undressing if I were you! Cause If I do it I may get handsy!"

Buggy called out from the bedroom as he grabbed more clothes. His free floating hand making a grabbing motion to your chest as if to give warning- You couldn't help but let a laugh out at this as you pushed his hand away playfully and slid off the countertop and getting undressed.

Setting your clothes in the hamper as Buggy came back in the bathroom with fresh PJs and already in his boxers only. He eyes looking over your figure in desire, Making you blush of course. Setting the clothes down Buggy removed his Boxers with dramatic flare of course and climbed in the water first, turning it off in the process as his other hand detached and guided you in with care. You leaning back against Buggy's chest and sighing in delight at the hot water. The stress already melting away as the two of you sat and soaked.

After a little while the two of you began to wash up, Buggy putting your hair up as the comforting silence and occasional splash of water from rinsing could be heard.

After the two of you smelled like sweet apple soap and the hot water had cooled to warm the both of you got out. Buggy taking the time to dry you off with a big fluffy towel while you braided his hair so it wouldn't tangle.

Getting dressed you walked into the bedroom and plopped onto the bed, starting to finally feel tired as Buggy laid next to you. His hands however leaving the room-

"Better?" Buggy asked as he looked at you, you leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Much, Thank you darling" You smile, just to glance over and see his hands returning with a series of items half hazard. A box of crackers, some cured meat, a few apples and some random half eaten cheese blocks. Paired with a knife of course you assume from his belt.

"Dinner of champions!" Buggy boasted, cracking open the wine bottle and handing it to you, rolling your eyes playfully as you took a sip.

The two of you seated on your marital bed, drinking straight from a wine bottle and eating the simple meal, chatting away about random topics.

"So you think the treasure is further south?" You ask, Buggy nodding as he took another bit of cheese and crackers in his mouth as he spoke with his mouth full cutting some meat for you and passing it over. "I 'Hink Cap Jo'n hit it und'er som' seri's of i'slands sout-" (I think Capt John hid it under some series of islands south).

"A Yellow VELVET Shirt!?" Buggy said dramatically making you laugh as you took some apple into your mouth and nodded. Buggy face scrunching up in disgust. "Come On, I'm a clown and I think that's tacky! Even for Crocodile!" You start to laugh as buggy passes the now half empty bottle to you.

Laughter and Chatter filled the bedroom till around 3am, when Buggy set the leftovers of the impromptu meal on the nightstand, the empty wine bottle on the floor and cuddled you close. Pressing you against his neck as you two felt exhaustion take you.

"Your not working for the next few days.. Gonna Burn Out-" Buggy mumbled as he felt your breath even out and cuddle closer to him. You nod "Fine.. But same goes to you" You yawn, Buggy patting your arm in agreement.

"Deal.. Now sleep" He grumbled closing his eyes.

"I love you Bugs"

"I love you More.."

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x f! reader

Warnings: Wanda finally makes an appearance, pet names, ghosts, paranormal activity

Summary: "Silly, silly girl. Isn't it obvious? I want you."

Masterlist

"She must've seen something, right?" Kate's voice rings through the room.

You blink, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"She looked like she was about to fucking die," Yelena hisses, "of course she saw something. We need to leave."

"I don't think we can," Peter mumbles. "We tried, didn't we? And it led to whatever this is. I suggest we stay and leave in the morning."

"That's what she wants," Yelena objects. "Maybe you want us to just leave Y/n here alone, for good measure, to make that b- to make her even happier."

You groan, burrowing your face in the pillow.

What the hell are they talking about?

Kate's eyes flicker to you, seeing you no longer asleep. She clears her throat. "I think Y/n should decide."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. You feel like you've been run over by a train.

"What happened?"

"W-what do you mean what happened?" Yelena asks. "You tell us what happened. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Kate nods in agreement, her eyes full of concern. You blink rapidly, trying to remember. "I went to the restroom, that's all," you mumble, unsure. You vaguely remember turning around and leaving the group, and after that everything is too hazy to make out.

They fall silent, disbelief all over their features.

"Crap." Peter starts pacing back and forth. "Okay, it's fine. Nothing happened. Everything is good. Everything's great."

"Looks like everything is okay," Yelena scoffs, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

You frown, oblivious to what caused the sudden tension. All of them look shaken up and ready to bolt any second. You look at Kate for some help, but she sits still, staring at the bathroom door, her eyes welling with tears.

"I don't like this, guys," she whispers.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll sleep here together, this room is not haunted at all, so we'll be safe," Peter reassures, stopping his pacing to look Kate in the eye.

You look around, only now realizing it's not the room you've previously been to. This one is a bit smaller, but the bed should be big enough to fit you all. This must be the other room Peter booked, the one across the hall from the haunted one.

You shake your head, getting rid of any lingering traces of sleep, and look at the clock.

2:08.

It's been two hours since your conversation in the haunted room, but it feels like you've been here for days.

Your friends get ready to sleep, occupying the bathroom one by one, and eventually settling on the bed sideways - to fit everyone. Peter wishes everyone good night and turns off the light on the nightstand.

Their breaths even out, chests rising up and down slowly as they succumb to sleep, leaving you to stare at the blinking light of the night vision camera. You sigh, and turn on your side, counting sheep.

Now that everything is asleep you're even more aware of every little creek and tap in the old building. The storm has passed, leaving the grounds a mess of dirt and wood, so you couldn't even blame all of the sounds on that.

Balcony's floorboards creak and your heart falls to your stomach. You sit up and look at the camera, wondering if it picked up any of the sounds.

Then you hear footsteps.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes and shake your head, trying to ward off the inevitable.

Whatever is outside stops just outside the balcony door.

It almost feels like an invitation.

You try to shake off the feeling of being watched, falling back on the bed and burrowing your face into Yelena's back, but it doesn't work. You still feel the looming presence of the outsider, you feel like you can't just leave them there.

Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath, grab the camera, and walk to the balcony door, opening it before you can change your mind.

"Hey stranger," a young woman greets, making you jump up.

"Oh, thank God," you exhale, rubbing your chest. "Hi. I thought you were a ghost," you let out a breathless chuckle.

She laughs along, her nose wrinkling in the cutest way. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I get scared by my own shadow, so staying in a place like this takes at least two years out of my lifespan."

You grin, and allow yourself to relax in her presence, coming closer to rest your weight against the railing, close enough to feel the warmth coming from her body, but not close enough to accidentally touch her. The woman is beautiful, arguably the most beautiful woman you've seen in your entire life and you struggle to form a sentence with her green eyes focused on you.

"I'm Y/n," you blurt out, suddenly feeling the need to let her know your name.

She smiles, nodding at the camera on your hands. "Ghost hunting?" She teases good naturally, gently pushing you with her shoulder.

You snort, "Something like that."

She chuckles, turning to look at the moon. "Any luck with that?"

You groan, bending to rest your forehead against the cold railing. "I think ghosts here like me." You sneak a glance, and find her looking at you with a small smile.

She turns to face you fully. "I can see why."

Your heart stops for a second, you're sure of it.

But before you can say anything in response the camera in your hand beeps loudly, making you jump again.

Way to make a great first impression.

"I- um… I think I need to charge it," you mumble, cursing inwardly.

"Come back when you're done? All of my friends are asleep, and it's too creepy being out here alone." She pouts slightly, fiddling with her fingers.

You nod, and quickly dart back inside, plugging the charger in the nearest outlet, failing to see a shadow of a little girl in the corner.

When you come back the woman is still there, her expression almost serene as she watches the moon.

"Why did you come here if you're so afraid?" You ask, moving to stand close to her.

"Why did you?"

You smile, feeling light for the first time since stepping foot in this hotel. "My friend asked me to."

She hums, and turns to look at you, her fingers so tight around the railing you're afraid it might snap.

"You must be a great friend to go through all that for him."

You blush slightly, and duck your face between your elbows where they rest over the railing. "I honestly didn't believe in any of that, thought it'd be a fun, spooky trip."

"And do you believe now?" She asks, her eyes burning with intensity.

You sigh, recalling everything that happened in the last six hours: the first time you felt something weird right away, in the lobby; the old door, still fresh in your mind, still calling to you to open it; the warmth and the longing, still clinging to your bones; flashing images of what felt like memories. It certainly feels way longer than that.

"I do," you answer simply, noting the way her shoulders drop in relief.

"I do, too," she says, now resting almost all of her weight on the railing. You frown, and make a move to reach out, halting just before you touch her, hesitant to cross a boundary. "Are you okay?

She hums, briefly closing her eyes. "I think I need to lay down."

You gulp. "Of course! I- do you need help?"

She nods, and reaches out to you, her hand trembling. Her touch sends shivers down your spine, both from the fact that it's her, and the fact that her hand is freezing cold. You allow her fingers to wrap around your elbow, feeling none of the warmth you've felt emitting from her mere minutes before. You feel goosebumps litter your skin as hair stands up on the back of your neck. Warning bells go off in your head, and your body starts protesting every step you try to take, but you can't just leave her here, you need to get her back to her room and then you'll be gone.

Your brain doesn't seem to listen.

Your vision blurs as the woman grips you tighter, and you have to take measured breaths in order not to throw up.

You walk beside her, turning left, and realize that the balcony wraps around the hotel. You gulp, feeling dread in your stomach - one more turn and you'll be right in front of the most haunted room.

You look at the redhead, almost falling on the spot when you see her pale face. She looks like she's about to drop dead.

"I should get you a doctor," you whisper, "or Agatha, she'll know what to do." You try to pull away, but her grip turns to steel, her eyes gaining focus as she looks at you.

"Not Agatha… j-just get me to my room, please."

You nod, and swallow your fear, turning left again. You walk past room 208 a bit quicker, and if the woman notices, she doesn't comment, simply leaning into you even more.

When you pass room 206 your feet grow heavier.

When you pass room 204 you feel cold sweat roll down your temples.

When you pass room 202, your body stops moving altogether.

You freeze before room 200, the balcony door somehow different from all the other ones you've passed. You feel immense pressure on your chest, your heart beating so hard and fast it might just break your ribs.

The woman is no longer beside you, she stepped back, her hands now at the small of your back, gently ushering you inside. "Open it," she whispers, her breath ghosting over the back of your neck.

You nod, your eyelids are suddenly too heavy to keep your eyes fully open. You blink slowly, struggling to keep yourself upright. She takes your hand and raises it to the knob. You turn it slowly, and it creaks loudly, the metal scraping after a long time of disuse.

"Now go inside," she breathes once the door is finally open, her lips inches away from your neck. She's molded against your back, so close she might as well be a part of you. You hum, head falling on her shoulder, your hand still on the knob.

"C'mon, silly girl, one more step," she urges quietly, her hands circling your waist. "Don't make me force you."

You nod dumbly, her words making no sense to your muddled brain, but understand her intent. She wants you in her room. You nod again, struggling to remember why you're even here. You remember going to sleep with your friends, but the memory feels too distant now, too gray and murky to make out anything beyond those minutes.

She pushes you forward, and your feet catch on the carpet as you step inside, making you fall on the floor, coughing as the dust rises around you. Your head is a little clearer without her proximity, and once you take a good look at your surroundings, you finally understand why your body reacted that way. You jerk, falling on your ass in haste to get back to the balcony, but the door is already closed, the knob not budging no matter how hard you turn it. There's no window to break, no other escape, but the old wooden door - the one that's been haunting since you first saw it, the one leading to the room you're now in.

The room looks as old as the door. Four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, the dark wood full of splinters, a deep red cloth draped over the mattress, inviting and soft. The walls are bare, cobwebs occupy the corners. The only other piece of furniture is a small table pushed against a wall, pieces of parchment littering it.

"Welcome," the woman breaks the silence. You look at her, frowning at the lack of fatigue in her voice.

Everything starts making sense little by little.

"You weren't actually sick, were you?" You mutter, standing rigid against the balcony door.

A corner of her mouth lifts up in a crooked smile. "I was. It's hard to manifest a physical body outside of this room. Your camera helped-" you gulp, understanding dawning on you, "-and your friends did too. Do you want to know what their fear tastes like?"

You shake your head, eyes blurring with tears, and close your eyes when she comes to stand in front of you, her chest against yours, her lips dangerously close to your own.

"It's too sour, I didn't enjoy it at all." She cups your jaw, catching your tears with her thumbs. "Your fear, on the other hand… it's luscious, tangy with a hint of sweetness. Addictive, just like I remember it." She coos when you start shaking, leaning down to inhale your scent, making you squirm. Her nose is in the crook of your neck, her lips scalding hot on your collarbone. "There it is…" she breathes, clutching your hips, and then, "Oh."

You stop breathing altogether, your hands in fists. "What?" You dare to question, opening your eyes to see her green pools full of hunger.

She chuckles, pulling away to study your face. "I smell honey, darling." She licks her lips, her eyes start glowing red. "You're terrified, and still… Such a silly girl you are. Always were."

You close your eyes, embarrassment creeping up on your features, cursing your body for having a reaction to her proximity. "Why am I here?"

She pulls away abruptly, her face twisting in anger. "I was calling for you all night, you were supposed to get here a long time ago. Agatha just wouldn't fucking leave you alone." You slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as she keeps muttering angrily. "That old bitch couldn't keep her nose out of my business, no, she had to stop you, had to keep warning you."

You look up, severely confused. "What are you talking about?"

She chuckles darkly. "You don't remember?" She smirks when you shake your head, half of her face illuminated by the moonlight, the other hidden in the shadow. "Looks like she took pity on you and removed the memory. What a shame, I spent a lot of energy to make you see all of us. But don't you worry, I got it back tenfold from you." She crouches inches away from you and forces you face up, inhaling deeply, tips of her fingers - so, so warm now - digging into the softness of your cheek. "You're making this very hard for me, pet."

You gulp, grabbing onto her hand still cupping your jaw, head swimming. Agatha… removed memories… What is this place?

"Just- just tell me what you want."

She leans down, laughing, the sound so light and angelic it almost makes you smile. "Silly, silly girl. Isn't it obvious? I want you," she whispers right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She pulls away to gauge your reaction, pupils dilating in satisfaction when she sees your wide eyes. "That's right. I've been waiting for more than a century for you. Do you think I'll let you go after that?"

You shake your head, blinking away the tears. Agatha words ring in your head, the painting Peter showed you flashes before your eyes.

"This can't be real. This is all a dream. A nightmare, a stupid nightmare."

Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits as soon as the words leave your lips. She steps back, harshly tugging you up to your feet. You follow her like a mindless puppet, your feet catching on the old carpet as you stumble after her to the other side of the room.

“Look,” she orders, shoving you against the table with unsurprising strength.

You gulp, straightening yourself before looking down at the old piece of parchment laying on the table. Your brows furrow, struggling to make out scribbled words, half of them splattered with something red - you think you can safely assume it is blood. It's a contract of some sort, binding two people.

“What am I looking at?” you ask, feeling stupid.

She molds against your back, her body almost scalding hot, her breath fanning your neck. “Think, pet.”

You shudder, gripping the edge of the table in a vice grip, and think back to what Agatha told you. That fucking portrait.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

She chuckles, lips ghosting over the juncture of your neck. “Yes, you are.”

You nearly whimper at the breathy tone, unconsciously relaxing against her. “I'm not her, I'm not the woman you saved.”

She hums, gently nibbling on your skin. “Yes, you are.”

You take a deep breath, reigning in your unwanted feelings. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” she growls, arms snaking around your waist. She holds you in an ironclad grip, unperturbed by your struggle, and tugs you to the bed before pushing you face first on the dusty bedding. You cough, pushing away from the old fabric to take a breath, your lungs burning.

She sits at the foot of the bed almost regally, her back ramrod straight, her jaw clenched. You scramble away, getting caught up in the layers and falling back on the pillows, her amused smile settling fury in your chest alight.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, eyes darting around the room in search of some sort of weapon. You think back to Kate and the cross on her chest, desperately wishing you had one too.

“There will be time for that,” she drawls, eyes flashing red, her full lips stretching even further, one corner higher than the other in a crooked smirk. “This will be easier if you stop fighting and accept your fate.”

You scoff, high on adrenaline and fear, your chest heaving rapidly. There must be a way to get out of this mess. You look around like a caged animal, searching for a way to escape.

“Calm down.”

“Don't tell me to calm down!” You yell, teeth bared.

She swiftly closes the distance, cupping your cheeks, her face getting dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitches, blood pumping faster, your pulse drumming in your neck. She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes as she savors the smell of your fear and… something else you couldn't admit even to yourself.

“Breathe,” she whispers, slowly opening her eyes, “breathe with me, pet.” Her fingers circle your wrist before tugging it to her chest. The fabric of her shirt is soft to the touch, and you relax slightly, following her breathing, your heart slowing its rhythm. “Good girl,” she purrs, nuzzling into your neck. “Now we'll talk.”

You look away and nod.

She walks back to the table, and you hate how cold you feel without her close to you. She gives you the parchment, and this time you pay it the attention it deserves, with your head a little clearer now after you finally realized there's no escaping her.

“What's your name?” you whisper, looking up from the document in your hands.

She looks at you for a long moment, searching your face for something. “Wanda.” She says simply and sits beside you, falling back against the dusty pillows.

You nod, rolling the name on your tongue. It suits her, you think.

You set your attention back to the contract, unconsciously leaning back into the feeling of her fingers ghosting the small of your back. It's hard to make out most of the centuries old legalese, but you're sure you've seen “soul”, “binding” and “eternal”. It's enough to make you shiver.

“There's no reason for you to be afraid. You chose to trust me all these years ago. I saved you, now it's your turn to save me.”

You gulp, scooting away from her touch, missing the way her brows furrow. “What do I have to do for you to leave me alone?”

“Were you even listening?” she scoffs, pushing closer. “You're mine.” Her eyes glint, swirls of red flickering in the depths of her emerald pools, reminding you of the danger she possesses. “For all eternity. In this lifetime and in the next one, and when there's nothing to this world, but ash, you'll be mine in whatever world comes after.”

You shudder from the intensity, eyes flickering to her mouth just in time to see her tongue dart out to wet her full lips. You gulp, turning away.

You need to get a grip on yourself.

“Why me? Hundreds asked for your help, but you chose me. Why?”

You feel her fingertips graze your jaw, before she cups your face, turning it to face her. “None of them offered what I wanted.”

You blink. “And I did?”

The corner of her mouth quirks up in a smug half-smile. “You did. You've sought me out. You've made me listen.”

“But you… Agatha said-”

“I don't care what that lying old bitch said,” she growls, fury rising in her eyes. “She stole my power and confined me to the grounds, this very room, making me a prisoner. I was her apprentice once, a very long time ago, she even asked me to join her coven, but when it became apparent that I'm much stronger, much more powerful, she got enraged. The others noticed it too. There were whispers of an old tale, one hidden in the pages of Darkhold, about a witch so powerful she had no need for a coven, no need for a spell book or teacher. Agatha didn't want any competition.” She looks at you and you nod slowly in realization. You took Agatha's words at face value, unperturbed by the fact that she seemed to know what regular people couldn't, but now it's all starting to make sense, little by little.

“Scarlet Witch?” You take a guess, searching her eyes for the answer. She nods slowly, rage still shimmering in her eye.

“Agatha wanted power, and when it became apparent I had too much of it I became her target. She had to sacrifice her coven to bind me and banish me of my strength. I was biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, feeding on those poor girls' agony, taking power from the unsuspecting, wringing their minds and souls, all to simply survive.” She looks at you, her expression softening slightly, making her look so young. “And then I heard you.”

You inhale sharply, her fingers running over the expanse of the skin of your inner wrist, thumb settling over your pounding pulse. You gnaw on your bottom lip, knowing damn well your pulse quickened noticeably. “What did I say?” You ask without a second thought, fully accepting your past self.

A corner of her lip quirks up, before she leans and whispers against your ear, “You got on your knees and begged. You promised me your body and soul, your heart and your mind. You knew how to make me listen, knew what attracts me most.”

You swallow, shifting slightly. You freeze when you realize just how wet you are. “And what- what was that?”

She chuckles, cupping your jaw in her soft, warm hands. “A desperate pretty girl, on her knees, ready for me to claim her.” She says against your lips before pulling you in a bruising kiss, her grip on you turning possessive. She tugs you on her lap, her arms tight around you, your hearts beating as one. When she pulls away you chase her lips, whining, your fingers tightening around her waist. “Please…” you murmur, not knowing what you're asking for.

“Please what, pet?” She taunts, pushing you off her lap. “Do you want me to let you go? Want to go back to your friends?”

You shake your head before she finishes her sentence, your head growing heavy, your body trembling. “No.”

She chuckles, curling your hair around her forefinger before pushing it behind your ear, her palm scalding hot on your cheek. “I like it when you're afraid, but I like you like this much more.”

You blush, putting some distance between you two. “What- what happens now?”

“Now you set me free.”

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Two idiots.

THE 2020 SEASON

WINTER BREAK London, England, 2020 

Formula 1 might be on a break, but university isn’t. I’ve been studying non stop and working all my free time to get extra credit so I’d be able to graduate early, right at the end of spring so I’d have the rest of the year more chilled out. 

But being a 21 year old college student, living alone at an apartment at a college campus meant trouble, obviously, and that’s how after long hours of studying at the library, instead of being in my bed catching up on some sleep, I was at a frat house party. 

The music was blaring and I was nursing my third drink of night, but in all honesty completely tired now that the alcohol had relaxed me. 

I was sitting on the couch, watching my friends dance around me. I grab my phone to get some pictures of them when I notice a new notification. 

Lando: what are u up to on a Friday night as a college student? 

Lando and I have been texting non stop since the end of the 2019 season, our friendship solidified. We even hung out a couple of times in between Christmas and new years. And now he has been bugging me that I’ve been working and studying too much. 

Me: I’m at a frat house party 

He instantly replied back. 

Lando: YOURE WHERE DOING WHAT 

Me: I’m at a frat house party 

I smirk to myself as I texted back the same question then before. 

Lando: no way, you’re messing with me 

I open the camera of my phone, scratching my arm out as I smile hazily before snapping a picture and sending it to him. 

Lando: OMG ARE U DRUNK???? 

Me: yessss 

I expected him to make fun of me, but his answer caught me a bit of guard. 

Lando: are u alone? 

Lando: who’s with u? 

Me: my friends are around here somewhere 

There a few minutes of silence from his since and I wonder if our conversation is over. He probably fell asleep. 

My phone buzzes again. 

Lando: how are u going home? 

Me: I’ll walk back to my apartment, why? 

He’s typing and typing and typing. I bite my lip anxiously, wondering what he’s going to say. Is he going to ask me to let him pick me up? Like in those romance books where the guy picks up the girl from a party when she’s drunk? 

Lando: ok 

My face falls momentarily. 

Lando: I’m not in London  

Lando: be careful and text me when you get home safe 

I smile, so he was considering picking me up. 

Melbourne, Australia, 2020 

The world was insane, and I was going insane with it. I was higenyzing my hand every time I touched something. I was in an alert state of the coronavirus. 

“They should have canceled the race.” I say, taking a seat with Lando, Carlos and Caco at the McLaren hospitality. “They are saying there are employees who got infected.”

I squeeze hand sanitizer on my hand, rubbing it. 

“You’re talking about as if it’s some kind of zombie apocalypse.” Lando chuckles, draping his arm casually over the back of my chair “Relax, they wouldn’t keep up the race if it wasn’t safe.” 

Carlos nods “Lando is right.” 

I scoff with a tense smile “Oh, but they would. FIA doesn’t care about it, they care about the money. They always have and always will.” 

The boys are silent for a moment before Caco nods his head. 

“Hamilton and Vettel said something similar during the press conference.” He says “And they’ve been around the same amount of time you have.” 

My phone rings and it’s Sophie calling. I quickly brings it to my ear, listening to what she has to say. My frown only deepens when she says two McLaren employees tested positive for covid and that there are more people around the paddock with symptoms as well. 

I hang up the phone. 

“The teams principals are gathering together to get FIA to cancel the race.” I tell them, watching as both drivers’ faces fall in disappointment “Two McLaren employees tested positive and there are other people around the paddock who are feeling ill as well.”

We gather our things and start to make our way to the McLaren garage, probably the news will get there first if the race is canceled. 

I hang back on the group and Lando slows his steps to walk beside me. 

“Can’t believe we just got back and we’re already going to leave and be without racing.” He groans, a whine voice a bit high pitched.

“It’s better for it to be canceled and you getting the chance to race again when it’s safer, then getting sick and ending up in the hospital.” 

He sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. 

“You’re right. I was just excited to give my all at this new season.” 

I smile “I know, and you will soon.” 

He smiles back at me, nudging me with his shoulder. 

“So, are you gonna be able to graduate this spring?” 

“I am! I mean, I’ve been doing everything possible for it to happen and I think it will.” 

Lando smiles and for a brief moment his fingers brush against mine in a sweet gesture. 

“That’s great. I’ll make sure to be there cheering for you at your graduation.” 

And my heart flutters at his words. 

PANDEMIC  London, England, 2020 

“Did I do it right? Are you listening to me?” I ask into the microphone I bought. 

Lando’s face show up on the screen of my computer, grinning widely. 

“Hiiii! Yes, you did. Now turn on your camera so I can see your face.” 

“How do I do it?” I ask, completely lost as I had never used the app discord before. “Oh, never mind, found it.” 

“Look at you!” Lando beamed “Are those bunny ears on your hoodie?” I chuckle as I put on the hoodie over my head so he can see the bunny ears “You look adorable! Doesn’t she look adorable, chat?” 

I tilt my head to the side, confused.

“Chat? What chat? It’s just the two of us here.” 

Lando laughed “I’m streaming, muppet.” 

“You’re what?!” I screech “Lando! Why didn’t you tell me we’d be live? I’m in my pijamas!” 

He laughs again “You still look adorable and the chat agrees with me.”

I huff, flustered at his words and at the fact that I’m live for god knows how many people while I’m wearing my bunny pajamas. If people didn’t take me serious before, they never will now. 

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do.” He claps his hand, a mischievous smile on his face “You’re going to play LOL with me.” 

“LOL? But I only know how to play the sims.” 

“Yes, you’re going to play LOL. I think it’s the easiest for now.” 

As I download the game and start to follow the tutorial, all while sharing my screen with Lando and him judging me at how I can manage to keep dying on the tutorial, I wonder how in the holy hell he managed to convince me to play online with him. 

Finally, after an eternity, I finish the tutorial and I start to play with him. Lando keeps instructing me because I don’t even know what buttons to press on my keyboard and he keeps screaming that I’m not running fast enough. 

“Oh my God!” I scream “I died! I died!” 

Lando laughs delighted. 

“My screen is black and white! Why is my screen black and white? Is my computer broken? LANDO!” 

That only makes him laugh harder, that infectious laugh of him as I keep yelling questions of what I should do next. 

My dad opens the door to my bedroom, peeking his head inside, looking concerned as he calls out my name. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, walking further into the room “I can hear you screaming from the living room.”

“Yeah, sorry dad. I’m playing online with Lando and I died.” 

My father chuckles, bending down slightly to look at my screen. He smiles at Lando while waving. 

“Hello, Lando. Have you been taking care of yourself while quarantining?” 

Lando smiles back as he nods “Yes, I have. Your daughter also texts me everyday reminding me what I can and can’t do. It’s like she thinks I will die because I’m living on my own.” 

My dad looks amused at me, but he knows I’m right and Lando would have probably set his house or fire by now if I haven’t been instructing him properly on certain things. 

My dad pats my head as he stands up straight again “I will leave you kids to it. Take care, Lando.” 

“Thank you, Jenson! You too!” Lando smiles. “Now, where were we?” 

Later that night, after four hours of online gaming with Lando, I lied in bed scrolling through my social medias. I couldn’t help to read the comments people were making about our live stream together. 

Jenson Button worried about Lando I CANT

OMG y/n checking up on Lando daily to make sure he survives 

So am I the only one who thinks there’s something there? 

She can’t suck on her dads fame anymore bc he’s retired so now she’s going after Norris 

I sigh, closing Twitter and putting my phone on the bedside table. People are mean. 

Spielberg, Austria, 2020 

July and we’re back at Formula 1. The season is being cut short, there won’t be fans attending, but we’re back at racing. 

I finished my finals a week ago, just in time to go back to traveling. My dad gave an hour-long lecture about safety and health before finally letting me board the plane. 

I haven’t seen Lando and Carlos yet, but I have met uncle Seb who is pissed off at Ferrari for firing him over the phone. I could tell for the way he was talking about meetings and stuff he has to do that he’s plotting something and I couldn’t help but smirk at whatever hell fire he will bring down on Mattia Binotto. 

I enter the McLaren garage and I smile underneath my mask as I see Lando talking to his engineer. He turns his head when he hears my footsteps. 

He basically bonces on his feet until he meets me halfway. 

“Hi!” He says loudly “It’s so good to finally see you in person again!” His eyes are wide “Can I hug you? I want to hug you. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want to. I haven’t touched anyone in months and and…” 

I cut him off with a laugh as I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head on his chest. Lando brings his arms around me, squeezing me onto his body. 

“Hi, Lando. I missed your energetic aura.” 

I feel his grin against my shoulder, even with half his face covered in a mask. 

“I missed you.” He says back. 

He detangles himself from he hug, but keep his hands on my shoulders. He analyzes my face. 

“You really do look good with bangs.” 

I chuckle, running my hands over the bangs I cut on my hair after a moment of reflection and desperation when I couldn’t leave the house. 

“Thank you. It was a moment of… insanity, but at least it looks good.” 

He laughs “Oh I know. You texted me like fifteen times saying you did something horrible and it was just bangs.” 

I shake my head “Hey, to be fair you called me at two in the morning to ask me how to kill a wasp and I had to wake up my dad to ask him.” 

Lando's eyes widened in mock sadness. 

“Hey, your dad loves me! I’m sure he was very very delighted to be woken up in the middle of the night to give out instructions on how to kill a wasp.” 

I snort out a laugh. 

Later that weekend, after the race was finished, I watched as Lando parked his car in p3. It was the first podium of his Formula 1 career. He had been screaming on the radio during the last five laps and I was grinning like an idiot behind my mask. 

He got out of the car, helmet still on as he ran to the team, letting them hug him and clap his back. The whole McLaren garage was in a frenzy of celebration. 

I’m waiting for him by the parc fermé, to guide him to the podium and then to the press conference room where they interview the winner, second and third place of the race. 

Lando takes off his helmet and balaclava and I see his whole face for the first time this year. He has a huge smile on his face as he runs to where I am. 

“My first podium!” He yells 

I smile “Congratulations, Lando. It was beautiful to watch.” 

He wraps his arms around me, jumping around and making me jump with him as I laugh. 

“My first podium! Oh fuck! I’m gonna get a trophy!” 

I giggle, letting him jump around with me “Yes, you are, Lando, you’re getting a trophy!” 

He then stop jumping and just gazed into my eyes, the smile never dropping out of his face. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re the one here and not Sophie.” 

My heart leaps on my chest. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” 

Silverstone, England, 2020 

It was the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend, there were going to be two weekends of races here. My dad had decided to come along since this is his home race and he wants to relive some of the memories. 

I walk inside the McLaren hospitality with my dad who is babbling about my graduation to one of the mechanics that have been working here since his driving days. 

I hear someone yell my name and I know that voice very well. I turn around and there is Lando, no mask on his face, grinning widely. 

“Hey.” I smile back, walking to where he’s sitting 

He stands up fast and lifts his hands up, holding a beautiful bouquet of pink flowers. 

I gasp in surprise. 

“I couldn’t go to your graduation because the attendance was limited, but I couldn’t let it pass by.” He hands me the flowers before enveloping me in a hug “Congratulations, love. I’m very proud of you.” 

For some reason his words and sweet gestures make tears gather in my eyes. It’s probably because I was expecting my graduation to be a big even, full of people who I love and cherish and that didn’t happen because of the pandemic. 

“Thank you, Lan. This means a lot to me.” 

He squeezes me before letting me go. He wipes some of the tears that leaked out to my eyes. 

“I know this is a special moment and you wanted it to be a big celebration. We’ll go out to celebrate once things get better, alright? My treat.” 

I smile, hugging the flowers to my chest. 

“You’re the best, Lan.” 

He winked at me. 

“Only the best for my best girl.” 

My dad stood to the side, watching the scene with a smile on his face. I didn’t know that now, but he took pictures of all of that happening. 

Krasnodar Krai, Russia, 2020 

Carlos broke the news to the team two weeks ago during our weekly zoom calls. Lando had shut himself out the moment his best friend on the grid said he’s leaving McLaren to go to Ferrari. 

He hasn’t been answering my texts or sending me TikToks. He even declined my calls and I was growing not only worried, but annoyed as well. 

I knock on his hotel door late at night. My flight had landed an hour ago, I got to the hotel, showered and now here I am knocking on his door. 

Lando opens the door, his curly hair disheveled and he’s only in sweatpants. 

“You’re not room service.” He says 

I glare at him. 

“You’ve been ignoring me.” I accuse him, hands on my waist. 

“I uh… I’ve been busy…” he stretches the back of his neck “a lot of work.” 

“We work together, I know you haven’t been busy.” I glare even harder now “Stop lying to me.” 

He stepped to the side and let me inside his room. I walk past him, going to the middle of the room as I stand there with my arms crossed. Lando sits on the bed and looks at me. 

“What’s going on with you?” I ask 

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” He answered too quickly. 

“Lando… you’ve been ignoring me ever since Carlos told us that he’s leaving for Ferrari.” 

He grows quiet and looks away from me. 

I sigh. “Lando, just because he’s switching teams it does not mean he won’t be your friend anymore. It will be a bit different because you won’t be together all the time like the past two years, but he’s not gonna forget about you.” 

He nods. “I know. Carlos already told me all that.” 

“Then why have you been ignoring me?” I ask confused. I thought he was isolating because he was sad that Carlos is leaving, but if he’s already on good terms with it, than what’s wrong. 

“Because I’m preparing myself from when you leave me as well.” Lando says, he doesn’t look at me, his eyes trained on the carpet floor. 

“Wha- What?” I ask completely dumbfounded “What do you mean when I leave you as well?” 

He runs a hand through his hair “You’re an intern at the communication department and- and you just graduated from uni. I know you will leave me at the end of the year as well. You’ll move on to much bigger and better things. I’m just… trying to soften the blow of being without you.” 

There’s a moment of silence as I process his words. He still won’t look at me and I’m too stunned to speak anything. He’s sad because he doesn’t want to be without me. 

Finally, I snap out of it. 

“Oh Lando.” I whisper softly, kneeling in front of him and peering up at him. “Lando, no.” 

He shakes his head “I know, ok? I’m not dumb…” 

I cup his face in my hands to get him to stop talking. He looks at me in surprise and I can see the broken look in his eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Please, don’t lie to me.” He whispered brokenly “Just rip the bandaid already.” 

“I’m not lying.” I say, catching a stray tear from his eye with my thumb and wiping it away. “McLaren hired me to be their junior PR manager. You would have known that if you haven’t been declining my calls, you muppet.” 

He widens his eyes. 

“You’re not leaving?” 

I shake my head “No. You’re stuck with me.” 

Lando breaths out a laugh, resting his forehead against mine as he closes his eyes. 

“Oh, thank god. I’m not ready to say goodbye.” 

I smile, enjoying our close proximity. 

“You don’t have to say goodbye. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Good… good.” He mumbled. “I don’t want you to leave my side.” 

We stay like that for a few moments longer, before he helps me stand up from the floor. Lando pats the bed and I soon join him. We lay on opposite sides, he covers us up and we stay in silence, enjoining each other's company as we fall asleep. Right now we don’t need to say anything, everything is understood in the comfortable silence that hugs us. 

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2020

It was yet once again the last race of the season. 

Lando had a great finish in p5, and although he had a happy smile on his face we took team pictures and toasted, I could see he was sad. This was Carlos's last race as Lando’s teammate. And I could see Carlos was a bit sad as well. 

The team principals had gathered together and rented out a club in the city so the party would be just the Formula 1 team and drivers. We had been traveling together all year in the middle of the chaos of the pandemic, so we were all kind of in the same boat, if someone was sick, the odds of everyone else also being sick were extremely high. 

I watched from a far as Lewis celebrated his seventh championship. I chuckled as he, Valtteri and Toto started a shot competition between the three of them. Sebastian was chanting chug chug chug and waving his hands around. 

I feel the familiar presence of Lando standing beside me as he nurses his drink. 

“How was your second year as a Formula 1 employee?” He asks me. 

I smile against the rim of my glass. Just one year ago he had asked me the same question, at the rooftop of the VIP lounge at the paddock, hours before the last race of the season began. 

“It was weird. My last year as an intern, next year I will have to reinvent myself to be on top of my game.”

“You’re already on the top of your game.” He nudges my shoulder with his arm. 

“Yeah, but I still haven’t proved myself here.” I point out. 

Lando frowns, turning his body around to look at me. I’m leaning against the wall and now he’s looming over me. 

“Have you been getting hate online?” 

I give him a weak smile. 

“Let’s not talk about this right now. Tonight is about celebrating.”

He’s still frowning and opens his mouth to protest when I cut him off. 

“How was your second year as Formula 1 driver?”

He chuckles, probably recalling the same memory from last year. He rests his forearm on the wall right beside my head. 

“It was good and weird. I got my first podium ever. I also lost my first teammate…” Lando smiles a bit. “And I got you to be here with me one more year.”

I smile, raising my glass. 

“Here’s to another year of Norris and Button traveling around the world together.”

Lando grins, clinking his glass against mine. 

“Together.” He repeats. 

[clairewritesandrambles]

More Than This - Scott Miller

Summary: A late night in the library with Scott results in revelations.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Heavy making out, Scott is a bit of an ass, that's about it tbh

A/N: I'm a little nervous about this one, I'm not gonna lie. This one was born out of a "surprise kiss" prompt from @broadwaybaggins, so if you like it make sure to thank her. Thank you to @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this one over for me. I wrote this over the course of like a week and basically all of it was between the hours of 11pm and 3am, so if this sucks... Uh, sorry.

You were going to kill Scott Miller.

Not only had he chosen to sit at the table next to you, despite the desolation of the library at this time of night, but now all you could hear was the rhythmic smacking of his gum. That habit was one of many that had annoyed you since you two had first met, and fought, in your first class at MIT four years ago.

"Scott!" You snapped, staring at him as his head popped up to look at you. His brow furrowed slightly at you before he realized what was bothering you, a smirk taking over his face. He cracked his gum loudly, his face breaking into a triumphant smile at the sight of the muscle in your jaw jumping in annoyance.

"Were you born annoying or did that come later?" You asked, flipping the page of your notebook aggressively enough to rip it on a few of the top coils.

"Only since I met you," he replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "You bring out the worst in me, what can I say?"

You rolled your eyes at him, eyes drifting back to your notebook as another self-satisfied crack of gum came from his tongue. You had seen the fear in the eyes of the library staff as they left and saw you and Scott staying behind for a late night of studying. You two had become infamous to the building for the fights that occurred over textbooks and private rooms, but you were determined to show that you could survive one night alone with him without resorting to violence. Even if he was making it incredibly difficult.

You shifted in your seat and attempted to refocus on the problem in front of you, but the formulas in your notebook had started to bleed together. You glanced at the clock on your laptop, scowling as it switched to 1:15am. Your body was screaming at you for sleep, but you knew that if you wanted to beat Scott on your upcoming project you'd have to power through.

Glaring at Scott you quickly saved your document before you grabbed your water bottle and walked to the fountain on the other side of the floor. He could be trusted to not steal your things, but could not be trusted enough to not mess with your notes. You had learned that the hard way.

You began walking back to your table, still feeling the physical pull of your body to sleep, coming to a sudden stop when you realized that the resource book you had been using was no longer where you left it.

Instantly your eyes slid over to Scott. Sure enough, there he was leaning back in his chair as he flipped aimlessly through your textbook. You could feel the blood rushing through your body in anger as you slammed your water bottle on the table, making Scott look up at you in mock surprise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You snapped, stalking towards him.

"What's the matter?" He questioned, rising out of his seat as he took the defensive position to your approach.

"Give me the book back, Scott. I just want to beat you on this project and go home." You tried to grab it from his hands, but he was quick to raise it above your head.

"It'll be here tomorrow; you could always just go home now." You scoffed at the suggestion, kissing your pride goodbye as you began jumping to try and reach the book. "I can see the circles under your eyes, I'm doing you a favour."

"Don't patronize me," you said. "This is just another plot to make you feel superior. We both know you've hated me since we met; you don't actually care about anyone other than yourself."

You were surprised when, instead of a sarcastic retort, you were met with a scowl from Scott as he lowered the book, no longer taking joy from teasing you.

"You really think that low of me?" Your stomach dropped slightly at his question, combined with the pink tinge to his cheeks and furrowed brow. Maybe you had been too harsh. "You were the one who started that argument and then never tried any other approach with me afterward."

"Would it have mattered if I did?"

Scott let out a low chuckle as he took a tentative step towards you. "You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb."

He stood so close to you that your chest brushed his with every breath. Your brows knitted together at his words, the meaning coming to you a split second before his gaze dropped to your lips. Then he was kissing you, one of his hands coming to cup your face as he gently moved his lips against yours.

You stayed still for a moment, the sweetness of his movements in such conflict with your perception of Scott that you felt like you were short-circuiting. Before the rational side of your brain could catch up your subconscious body pushes you closer to him, hands knotting in his worn Bruins sweater that you had become so familiar with over the years. You could taste the spearmint of his gum, almost being thankful for his obnoxious chewing for the first time. Being this close to him you could smell the hint of Irish Spring that hid under his usual scent of an evergreen forest that had just experienced rain.

God, even his smell was a contradiction; a mix of frugalness and frivolity.

You deepened the kiss, pulling him closer as you tried to ignore the butterflies emerging in your stomach. Scott backed you up in response, grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table when you hit it. He kissed you with the patience of someone who seemed to think he had all the time in the world to do so, hands running over your body as he pulled you desperately closer.

Finally, he broke the kiss, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time in several minutes, and began kissing down your jaw and neck. "You can be so fucking frustrating," he sighs, sucking at the junction of your collarbone and neck.

The rational side of your brain was yelling at you, desperately trying to get you to remember that this was the same man you had hated for four years. Beneath it, however, was another voice asking if you really had hated him, or if you had simply felt safer telling yourself that you hated him.

You couldn't deny the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your heart had always sped up when he gave you his full attention. The way arguing with him gave you a thrill you had never experienced with anyone else. The fact that your classes together were the highlight of your week.

Yeah, you were so screwed.

But as quick as you realized these feelings, your brain began fighting back against them. This was still Scott, after all. How could you know if he shared your feelings or if this was simply a moment of lust? Was this a secret plot to humiliate you?

"Scott," you breathed, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

"What?" He asked, chest heaving. He was close enough that his breath fanned over your face, his deep blue eyes looking so deeply into yours that you were sure he could see through all your facades.

It was terrifying and confusing.

"I, um," you stumble over your words, having to rip your gaze away from him to calm your body enough to speak. "I should really get back to studying."

You could see his disappointment bleed out of his body at your words, his face falling slightly before he corrected himself. Back to the Scott you were used to: carefully manufactured for no one to see his private moments. The brief moment of vulnerability was enough to make your heart scream at you to pull him back in by his collar, but the whispers of insecurity from your brain stopped you from doing so. You could only hope that you were successfully hiding your inner conflict on your face. Maybe you two really were more similar than you thought.

"Right," he said, stepping back to allow you to slide off the table. "Sorry."

You avoided his eyes as you grabbed your textbook off his table, sitting down in front of your stuff as you tried to refocus. You knew it would be futile, your already exhausted brain running laps around the events of the night, but it was at least a little easier to sift through your thoughts without Scott's expert mouth on you.

You couldn't help yourself from stealing a glance at Scott, back at his own table. He had put his earbuds back in, aggressively typing as he looked at his computer with enough focus that you knew he was not going to look back at you.

You rested your head on your hand as you reopened the textbook, trying desperately to form any coherent thoughts. Your brain was combing through your memories of Scott, untangling all the moments you had been too blinded by your perception of him to see the full picture.

All those times you had insisted on sitting in his favourite study spot on campus, claiming that it was to annoy him. Reflecting on it now, though, you weren't so sure it was to annoy him. After all, you had never thought to spread yourself out enough that it would force him to find a new place. Instead, you had sat there and left the other chairs at the table empty, knowing that Scott would be too stubborn to give in and would take a seat in defiance.

The years of assuming that Scott was looking for a fight when he would approach you, not even considering for a second that he may have simply wanted your attention directed towards him.

As you continued going through the years you felt yourself being pulled into the floor, utterly exhausted by the mental gymnastics of the night.

How could one kiss change so much of what you thought you knew?

Your eyes open slowly, your body fighting to keep them closed despite the sound of Scott calling your name and gently shaking your shoulders. Your arms were folded under your head for some comfort, your body's fight for sleep apparently having finally won. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your computer, reading out that it was nearing 2am.

"Come on, you should get home," he said once you had woken up enough, nodding towards the exit.

You looked toward him to answer but found the words stuck in your throat and settled for a simple nod. He had already packed away his own things, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his old grey MIT hat covering his dark hair.

You closed your laptop, beginning to gather your things as you packed them into your bag. Wordlessly Scott grabbed your textbook, one which had been put to the side for your class, and returned it to the cart marked for your class.

When you didn't hear the expected sound of the exit doors you looked up, seeing Scott shifting his weight as he held his car keys in his hand.

He looked up at you as you gave him a quizzical look and twirled his keys on his finger. "It's the middle of the night. My mom would kill me if she ever thought of leaving you to get home on your own."

You briefly thought of refusing and taking a cab instead, but he was right about the issue of time. At least you weren't the only one who dreaded being in the same car after tonight if Scott's nervous motions were anything to go by.

You thanked him as the two of you walked out of the library, making your way to the parking lot where his black Audi was waiting. Scott held the door open for you as you climbed into his passenger seat, gently shutting the door after you.

As you sat and looked at his interior, you couldn't help thinking of an incident from a few weeks after you two first met. Scott had just beaten you on a unit test in class, so in retaliation you had parked your car behind his in the parking lot, boxing him in as he tried to get home. You, of course, had feigned innocence and claimed that your car had simply broken down in the position. It wasn't entirely unbelievable, your car had already been beaten up at the time and was now completely undrivable, but you had known from the second Scott's head popped out of his car that he didn't believe it for a second. Looking back on it, maybe you really had more of an active role in the state of your and Scott's relationship than you had previously considered.

Scott got into the driver's seat, tossing his bag into the backseat before starting the car. He fiddled with the heat, scrolling endlessly through his phone in search of a playlist. Every motion of his body was filled with nerves, emphasized by his eyes flitting to you every few seconds.

He finally decided on an old rock song from the 80s, putting his phone down as he sat back in his seat, his hands flexing around the wheel. You were about to say something in an attempt to put him at ease when he spoke first. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you out of nowhere like that," he explains, pausing slightly before continuing, "especially after everything."

"Oh," your heart dropped at his words, the conflicting emotions from earlier resurfacing in your chest. "It's fine."

You opened your mouth to ask him more about it, the confusion of his words mixing with your surfaced feelings to create a bitter taste in your mouth, before deciding against it and instead giving him directions to your place.

Like clockwork, your thoughts began to race again as you ran over his apology in contrast with his actions earlier in the night. The part of you that was still coming to terms with your feelings was eager to believe Scott's words, willing to believe that he could be cruel enough to lead you on without the intent to follow through. Had he simply seen you as a conquest? A challenge to overcome and then once he had proven that he could have you if he wanted, he'd turn around. Was he just horny and you happened to be around? Was that what had caused his whiplash reaction in the night?

But then the part of you that wanted him, the part that was unsatisfied with lonely nights spent studying, would argue. You had successfully ignored any actions from either Scott or yourself that had hinted at possible romantic feelings for four years. Could you really trust your cynical side to make rational decisions when it came to him?

You were thankful for Scott's music filling the car as you both sat in silence, turning over these thoughts in your head and only stopping when providing a new direction for Scott's driving. You snuck glances at him, but his focused gaze on the road didn't give away much to either side of your internal argument.

He finally pulled up to your place, forcing you to call a ceasefire for the war inside your head. You reached for the door, feeling like all you wanted to do was sprint for the safety of your bed, but your fingers refused to pull the handle for escape.

"What was your goal?" You asked, turning to look back at the driver's seat. Scott knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, prompting you to continue. "We've been at each other's throats since we met and you just suddenly kiss me." You watched him open his mouth to respond, but you decided to keep going. "And then you just tell me it shouldn't have happened! You just completely changed everything between us and then expected me to go back to how it was like it was nothing. How did you expect me to react to that?"

The part of you still rooted in your rivalry rejoiced in the guilty look on his face, though that voice that had been warring with you all night felt a pang of sadness at the sight, head dipping to look at your lap in anticipation of his response.

"What did you think would happen?" You continued, deciding to get your thoughts out before you had the chance to lose your confidence. "Did you think I'd be a notch in your bedpost after you've hated me for this long?"

"I've never hated you," he said, turning his body to fully face you now. "What aren't you getting about that? I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"Then what were you trying to do?" You felt like someone was physically squeezing your heart, anxiety pooling in your chest at the potential for both joy or disappointment that could come from his words.

"I thought I made myself clear when I kissed you. You're the one who broke the kiss, that's why I apologized." The grip on your heart relaxed enough to allow a flutter of hope at his words.

"So, if I hadn't stopped kissing you..." You trailed off, unable to meet his earnest gaze. Despite the hope building inside of you at his words, you were determined to not allow yourself the potential disappointment from reading him wrong again. "What would you have done after?"

Scott let out an exasperated sigh next to you, finally making you peek at him. The street lamp outside illuminated his face just enough for you to see the amused smirk on his face. "You really are an idiot."

You tilted your head up further to get a proper look at his face. His expression matched the soft tone of his voice, both in direct contrast to his teasing words. Before your brain had the chance to talk you out of it, you cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to yours.

The dam that had held the butterflies from earlier to a trickle burst open to a flood, your heart celebrating its victory over your brain for the first time in your carefully conducted life. This time, neither you nor Scott were patient. You were both pulling each other closer, fingers threading through his dark hair as your body bumped the console of his car.

Even when you two separated to catch your breath you stayed leaned into each other, his fingers dancing over your lower back. Your fingers curled themselves into his sweater as you pulled him back towards you, relishing the taste of him and the warmth that spread through you as those walls you had built through the years began to fall.

You knew you should be going inside to sleep, but now that you had experienced Scott in earnest, his touch and taste spreading over you with every movement, you couldn't break yourself away. The practicality of a relationship could be figured out later, for now, you just wanted to make up for all the time you had spent too blinded by what you thought you felt to see the potential of him.

[iichfilwypj]

make or not the bracelet! | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 700 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7 - pt 8

“Not a chance” he said once more, tidying up the chaos that was his cabin. She was right on his heels, her lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout. Each time he managed to tidy up a spot, she undid his efforts.

“Please, I'm begging you!” In a few short days, they would be at his house. Meeting your best friend’s mom might not sound like a big deal, but she was terrified. Her solution? Making bracelets as a gift for Sally! “She’s going to love them!”

As he folded a t-shirt again, he responded, “Sure, but what’s the point? We can just buy her some.” He understood the difference when a cushion slammed into his head. He returned the gesture with the folded t-shirt. “Why does it matter so much? She’s literally my mom, we don’t need to bring her anything.”

“But, you know…” her voice trembled, giving her away. Seeing how she raised her hand and nervously bit her nails, he understood everything.

“No way you are nervous” He approached her, gently holding her wrist in his hand. He searched her eyes for a response, but her gaze was fixed on the floor. “It’s just my mom.”

He understood that she was intimidated by meeting new people, but his mom? Oh, his mom would love her! Percy had been talking with Sally about her nonstop for weeks, and he couldn’t recall a single bad thing being mentioned; he couldn't remember having any bad thoughts about her at all. 

He mentally jotted down a reminder to discuss this later, but for now, he wanted to calm her down. “I know how you’re feeling, but I promise she’ll adore you. And I’m not saying this just because she’s my mom; she’s the kindest woman in the world –she literally likes Annabeth, so you can believe me–. You’ll love her, and she’ll love you too, okay?” 

She finally looked up to find his eyes. Her eyebrows were knitted together with concern, and he brushed his finger between them to erase the crease. She smiled at his gesture and nodded. 

He pulled a silly face and vigorously shook his head. “Mhm, no, I need to hear you say it.”

“Okay, Perseus Jackson.” Grabbing a random book from the bed and using it as a fan, she replied to him. “Is that enough, or do I need to send you a formal notice, nice gentleman?”

“That would be perfect, thank you ma’am” He bowed in a way that made laughter impossible to resist. In silence, they sat down, sharing an unspoken agreement that the mess could wait until later. 

The cabin fell silent, and memories from the previous day flooded his mind. Just as he was about to say something, she spoke up.

“But hold on, can we make the bracelet?”

“Nop.”

“How the hell do you tie this shit?” Percy was biting his tongue so intensely that she almost told him to stop. For someone who had refused for hours, he seemed overly invested in the task. 

They were sitting on the beach, and everything felt very relaxing. Well, except for him. He was not relaxing at all. 

“I thought you didn’t want to do this?” she remarked, glancing at her own bracelet. Suddenly, a hand hit her arm, nearly making her drop everything. “Hey!”

“I'm making it because you made me!” she shot him an offended look as he struggled to hide a smile. He really didn’t want to make one, but since his friend did, his fingers would have to suffer a little longer.

Without thinking, she launched herself at him. The force of their movement was too much; the delicate strings tore apart, sending beads and threads scattering across the sand. 

“My bracelet!” Percy shouted as she stood up, slowly backing away. He jumped to his feet and dashed after her, who was already trying to escape. “I’m going to kill you!”

They didn’t care that other campers could hear their laughter, and they didn't mind that their clothes were now covered in sand. The nymphs in the water watched with delight as they fell to the ground, launching into a lively tickle fight that echoed with screams and joy. 

Oh, the gossip in the ocean was only getting better and better.

hi! i don't know, i might delete it and re-write it because i like the idea but not the result. i want to sleep so bad but i have insomnia :( anyways! i have no idea how to put those pretty divider but i did my best! ALSOO tell me what you wanna seeee! some fights, more fluff, comfort, anything! AND I SWAR i'm gonna make them kiss soon :))) love u all <3333

[jymwahuwu]

Last one was great!

Poor arrogant reader soon will be fired from her position as head of the Family for some fabricated case, she is now basically jobless with all her belongings and money arrested and guards are not letting her leave Penacony.

She is such a mess now, so stresssed out with her career ruined she isnt even noticing that she hadnt got her period for several months.

But who will she come for help, who will accept a mess like her at such low point of her life?🤔

Of course our angelic prick will take her in. Reader doesnt have a choice to be honest. She doesnt have money to pay for shelter, food and medical care for her condition anymore?

I also hc Penacony being really expensive place especially in terms of healthcare. And abortions are strictly prohibited.

Well, clean house, homemade meals and some other nightly services could cover those expences. Our arrogant girlie will have to humble herself a bit.

And kid being born out of wedlock? Not on Sunday's watch!

Imagine some time later her former coworkers, heads of other Families or her former subordinates witnessing reader going out for groceries or just going out for a walk with Sunday holding her hand firmly?

She does not seems like arrogant bitch anymore, her belly is swollen, clothes are modest, matching rings at couple's fingers.

so sorry for the long delay in replying!!

I've been meaning to find the time to write this... and thank you for writing it in such detail. super love the content about arrogant reader get humiliated. this is awesome 😽💗💖 sunday brings it all to you but you started it first, right?

part 1

cw: yandere, dub-con, brainwashing, mind control, housewife kink, pregnancy, inappropriate traditional concepts (language about serving husband and family)

Sunday used to always forgive your arrogance and intrigue, but that's the past.

Since you like this trick so much, Sunday brings these back to you. In this dreamy and fallen city, your reputation is completely destroyed in half an hour. (He was at the party, shaking his glass and socializing with the guests.) Some Bloodhound family guards burst into your office and led you away , in full view of everyone and a lot of chatter. They grabbed your hands and dragged you forward. (He stretched his hands into fists, put them to his lips and chuckled.) It was almost a crime of betrayal to Xipe and The Family. Listen to harsh words and sign documents. (The money ejected from the machine flies into the sky. The scale of the clock is turning.)

These days of interrogation have left you exhausted. One day, you open the door to your home with the usual verification, but there is a notice on the door that it has been sealed and frozen. That was locked and confiscated. A cold stab of fear stabbed your back. There is no way to book a hotel room or rent a new house. Your bank account is also blocked.

The final straw is the realization that you haven't had your period in months. Used the last of your credit points to take a pregnancy test. The result is a baby growing inside you. There was no doubt that it was that wing bastard's baby. A baby destined to have a halo and wings.

Your eyes were sore, and tears welled up in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks.

The eyes of birds these days are staring at you from every height, corner, and alley. Your pregnancy test results are sent to Sunday's phone. His glove patted your back gently. He whispers to you, the aura continuing to send out gentle waves, shushing you. You whimpered, pushing him away in annoyance. "Get away, you bastard!"

"I just did to you what you've always wanted to do to me. Don't make a fuss." The rising corners of the oak leader's mouth only added fuel to his raging anger at you. What happened to him? He's really terrible! You point at him and take a few steps back. "Don't fucking touch me! You hypocrite."

He frowned.

"No swearing."

"What the fuck-" Just like last time, a cheerful and harmonious arrangement of notes penetrated your mind. That ethereal and strange light appears before your eyes and captures your thoughts. You obediently followed Sunday to his mansion.

What Sunday offers you comes at a price. He provided for you, after all, didn't he? You can no longer be so arbitrary, arrogant and rude. You need to pray at the dinner table, kiss him on the cheek, and be grateful to Xipe and the nutritious food he provides you. Or have him pinch your cheeks and feed you. Now that you have no job and no money, you should have time to sweep the floor, right? Keeping the house tidy is important. He checked the dust on the vase and scanned the floor. Of course don’t forget to suck his cock and spread your legs at night. He will be very, very careful. (Sex during pregnancy is always slow. You whimper when milk is secreted from your buds.)

And witnessing that humiliation! Yes, in the past, you and he competed in the workplace, and the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knows you hate Sunday. And now other family members can see the changes in you. You held his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers with your belly swollen. Those luxurious clothes of the past have disappeared, replaced by your simple, loose skirts.

[agathaswoman]

Blood or Loyalty

Pairing — Rhaenyra Targaryen x Queensguard Fem!Reader and Alicent Hightower x Kingsguard Fem!Reader's Twin

Word Count — 1,254

Request — Yes or No

Hi how have you been 

I have a story that I think will be interesting if you don’t mind writing it 

so if have watched the latest episode of HOD then you know the twin ser arryk was sent to pretend to be his brother ser errik so he can murder the queen but in the fanfic idea I have the reader has a twin who stayed back in kings landing with the greens because she’s in love with Alicent, but aegon sends the reader’s twin to dragon stone to pretend to be the reader and kill rhaenyra and you can decide how it ends 

Does she die  or does she catch on

Summary — Having to face your twin with your sword pointing at her and vice versa. Will your moral and loyalty for the rightful heir Queen Rhaenya will falter while trying to stop your beloved twin from harming the Queen?

Warnings — violence, anxiety attack, and breaking down

A/N — hi, yes, im back after years of hiatus T_T and im here again because of House of the Dragon omg i just love this series so much and tbh i still haven't watched any episodes on season 2 since im still waiting for it to finish hehe BUT i've seen some clips so i have bit of an idea  about the request. what team are y'all on? im team black since day 1 !!!

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. i do not own any of the characters.

It is currently a slow night for you as you are patrolling the castle grounds, clad in your full armor while clutching the hilt of your sword that you named, ‘Porphura Hexen.’ Whereas ‘Porphura’ means purple, which is associated with “nobility, power, and ambition” while ‘Hexen’ comes from how people make rumors about you practicing witchcraft because of the unexplainable deaths of the men that tried to win your heart, where it's a guarantee that they will meet their demise. It's either they die on battlefields, catch a sickness that does not have a cure, or even how the family of those men slowly lose their riches and connections.

You were looking over the castle's embrasure when you heard unusual heavy footsteps that you hadn't heard ever since Queen Rhaenyra made you her Queensguard. You quickly unsheathed ‘Porphura Hexen’ as you stealthily followed the noise, you immediately quickened your pace when you heard Queen Rhaenyra's soft voice saying your name. You immediately barged into her room, and there, you saw your twin sister clutching her sword tightly and pointing its tip toward the Queen.

“Sestra!” You called your twin in your native language.

Without hesitation, you charged forward with your sword to attack your twin to take her attention off the Queen. She instantly turned your way and blocked your attack.

“What are you doing, sestra?!” You shouted at her trying to put some sense in her head.

“King's order! This is the King's order!” She shouted back at you as she was trying to prevent your sword from getting close to her neck.

“King's order, my arse! Stop this madness now! Are you out of your mind for trying to harm the rightful heir of the Iron Throne?!” You screamed at her as you put your strength on your legs so you could stand your ground and let the Queen run out of the room.

“My Queen! Go! Leave the room!” You said as you pushed your sister's body far from the Queen's way with the help of the force from your legs.

You heard your sister's body crash on a shelf which made the books fall on top of her head. So, you immediately went to your Queen's side and helped her up so she could escape the room along with the servant who got involved in the mess.

“Go, My Queen. I'll handle this,” when Rhaenyra was about to run along with the servant next to her, you reached for her wrist and gave her your dagger, quietly exchanging silent stares, “Take this. Be careful…my Queen.” 

You didn't wait for Rhaenyra's response as you immediately dodged an attack from your twin when she aggressively swung her sword at you.

“Go! Alert the guards!” You felt guilty for trying to order the Queen but it will always be your mission to guarantee the Queen's safety, no matter what.

Once you were sure that the Queen had a safe distance from your twin, you gave all your focus towards her and only deflected her attacks to you.

After a minute of only deflecting your twin's attacks, she cornered you into a corner with her blade's tip pointing at your neck, “Sestra…we should be in this together. You and I, just like the old times. We're born together, aren't we?” she tried to convince you.

“This isn’t just about the King's order…isn't it?” You asked, staring right into her eyes. Ever since the both of you are young gals, she can never hide the way her eyes falter when it is faced with your own piercing eyes.

She avoided your gaze, “It's about the Queen Dowager, ain't it?” She remained silent, only her shaky breaths indicated that your guess was right. “She's only using you, sestra!”

“My affairs with the Queen Dowager aren't and shouldn't be any of your concern,” she raised her voice a little bit when you spoke the truth.

“Not my concern? Have you gone mad?!” You looked at her with anger, not seeing the person in front of you as your twin sister anymore. You scoffed while frowning at her, “Just like the old times, huh? We took an oath! A vow, sestra! We are to fulfill our sacred duty To protect and serve the realm! Where have your honor and morals gone to, huh? They usurped Queen Rhaenyra's throne! The rightful heir!”

You sighed, leaned your head on the wall behind you, “Sestra…” Your twin whispered as she slowly lowered her blade pointing at your neck. 

You looked straight into her eyes, “We were born together, weren't we?” You said as you swiftly plunged your extra dagger into your twin's stomach, “You parted us…you forgot your oath, our vow, sestra.”

You watched her fall on her knees with blood coming out of her mouth and eyes going dull in seconds, “But I still love you, sestra.”

A thud was heard when your twin's body completely fell on the floor, her eyes looking at you with a lone tear streaming down to her cheek and the stone-cold floor.

You fell on your knees as you stared at her cold dead body. You heard multiple footsteps entering the room but you only focused on your twin's form as you slowly closed her lifeless eyes.

You took a deep sigh as you stood up with a grunt whilst picking up your sword. You faced the small council that gathered in the room with only their sleeping garments, “The assassinator of the Queen that was sent by The Greens has been exterminated.” You reported to them.

You swallowed deeply when you felt the urge to sob, but not here. Not in front of them. As the small council kept on discussing the event that happened, Rhaenyra only stared at you. She saw how your hands were quivering while trying to calm them by gripping your sword's hilt.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, and the small council immediately turned silent, “Ser Y/N, you're dismissed. You've done enough for the day.”

You immediately turned your head at the Queen, “But, My Queen. With all due respect, as your Queensguard, it is my dut–”

“I am fully aware of what your duty is, Ser Y/N” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, “As my Queensguard, I need you on your best. So, please, take a rest. At least, just for a while.”

“We will still need you, Ser Y/N,” Rhaenys, Ser Corlys's wife, added.

Ser Alfred approaches you and pats your shoulder, “I'll take care of the things here myself. Now, in the meantime, take a rest.”

You sighed as most of the votes were against you staying around the small council. So, you dismissed yourself and went straight ahead to your room.

As you entered your room, you carefully took off your silver armor on your body and placed it neatly on its storage. You took your bloodied dagger as you sat on the edge of your bed.

The moment you sat on your bed, your twin’s voice rang inside your head, “Sestra, you…a-are always the better between the both of us. K-Keep believing y-yourself…and keep p-protecting the Q-Queen…Rhaenyra. I love you…” Your twin sister breathed her last breath after saying her last words.

You sighed deeply as you stood up and took a damp cloth to clean your dagger. As you are cleaning your sharp dagger, you feel your tears falling onto your hands. Soft sobs rang inside your room as you broke down behind closed doors, missing your twin's presence more than ever.

[chelseeebe]

still into you, part 2

eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?

sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!

18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!

read part 1 here.

‎♡‧₊˚

he’s late.

you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.

and now he’s fucking late.

late or not even coming.

it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.

steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?

but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.

eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.

you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.

eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”

“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.

“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.

“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.

“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.

you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.

you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.

he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.

your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”

eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.

“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.

when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.

he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.

your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.

holy shit, you were happy.

-

the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.

of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.

but he does.

each and every time.

eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.

“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.

you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”

that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.

you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.

“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.

how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.

“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.

“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”

you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.

“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.

“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.

“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.

“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”

you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.

your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.

“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.

you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.

it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.

-

of course steve says yes. useless prick.

“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.

“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”

he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.

“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”

it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.

why would they like you?

“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”

but you weren’t so sure.

-

so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.

you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.

there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.

eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.

everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.

holy shit.

“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.

“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.

“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”

you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.

eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.

when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.

his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.

nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.

the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.

“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.

“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.

“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.

“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.

“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.

your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”

his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”

“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.

“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.

skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.

his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.

“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.

“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”

your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.

eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.

his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.

his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.

“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.

you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.

eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.

“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.

he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.

your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.

“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.

“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.

his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.

pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.

your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.

your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.

his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.

a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.

you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.

“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.

eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.

“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.

you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.

“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.

body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.

“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.

he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.

“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.

“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.

eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.

there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.

you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.

-

nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.

it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.

fuck. you think. this is suffocating.

there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.

even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.

eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.

he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.

hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.

but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.

after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.

one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”

venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.

“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.

“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.

no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.

“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.

“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.

her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.

“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.

you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.

her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”

and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.

you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.

instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.

eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.

“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.

you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?

you don’t mean it. you love him.

“hmm?” not quite looking at you.

“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”

this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”

now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.

“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.

“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.

eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.

“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.

“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.

this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.

“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.

his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.

“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.

eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.

it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.

he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.

“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.

he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.

you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.

you want to go home.

and not eddie’s house.. home.

three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.

wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.

-

eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.

"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.

he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.

you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.

“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.

“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”

“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.

“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.

you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.

“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”

you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.

how could he not get it?

“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”

“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.

“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.

“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.

instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?

she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.

-

eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.

everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.

“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.

“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.

-

when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”

“eddie..”

and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”

his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.

and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.

-

the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.

there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.

and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.

but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.

five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.

your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.

hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.

the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.

emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.

fuck.

a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.

nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.

the only thing you want to do is tell steve.

he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

-

it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.

as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.

“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.

“what?”

“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”

“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.

“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”

he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”

your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.

-

there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.

“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.

“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.

“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.

you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.

your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?

it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.

“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.

your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.

it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.

he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.

the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.

“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.

“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.

steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.

“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.

he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.

there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.

it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.

how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?

-

there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.

it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.

you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.

there’s none of that.

only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.

“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.

your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.

no.

you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.

“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.

“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.

deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.

that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.

“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.

you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.

you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.

“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.

he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.

“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.

his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.

you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.

“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.

your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.

“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.

your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.

“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”

you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.

eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.

his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.

your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.

[francis-writes]

Hiii! can i request what feyd would do if he gets jealous/possessive of his wife/partner? i just have a feeling that he would go absolutely feral. thank you sm! after dune 2 ive been searching her feyd stories everywhere!

READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

A/N: thanks! I had crush on him since i read the book but now fortunately there is much more about him. I am still obsessed with him but for next week I may publish less often because of university and personal stuff

First of all, you're absolutely right. Not that Feyd is self-conscious. He thinks about himself as a perfect partner, a main prize, so he isn't afraid that you would find someone better than him.

But it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like the idea of you being out of his control or someone else seducing you. (He trusts you but there's never enough caution, world is full of dangers; also with his position it is possible that someone could try to take you away just to get a revenge on Feyd)

I already wrote a scenario where somebody flirted with his crush and lemme tell you, nothing changes when Feyd is in established relationship. If anything, he only gets more possesive.

Of course, there are many different possible scenarios. His reaction depends on whether there's actual reason to worry or he just has suspicions, whether somebody flirts with you or just gets to close to you, whether it's a stranger, an acquaintance, a family. Is it a noble, a common person etc. But lets just speak about some possibilities

If you were somewhere in public, perhaps on some official party, and Feyd notices that somebody is flirting with you, he quickly drops whatever he's doing and comes to you. Keeping his calm posture, he joins the conversation and makes sure to emphasize that you're HIS partner and you aren't looking for anybody else. Feyd keeps his arm around your waist, starts talking about how happy you are together (constatly repeating "MY love", "MY spouse", "OUR family" etc). He's not that much into PDA and being soft publicly but he kissess you as hungrily and as long as possible. People on the party feel a bit awkward but the point is made.

If potential rival is going to far with their advances and acts too bold, or if it's a less public situation (for example a common afternoon in Harkonnen's residency) then it's very likely that Feyd would use violence, perhaps treating that person like he treated Rabban in the movie (throwing him on the floor and forcing to lick Feyd's boots), no matter the status of that person (unless it would be Emperor himself... I think). Maybe instead of boot-licking (or in addition to it), he would force them to admit that you're Feyd's and they had no right to mess with his possesions (even if your relationship is pretty healthy, Feyd still treats you as his possesion and he's very territorial)

Or maybe if somebody flirts with you more subtly, there's a possibility that Feyd will fuck you in a near room so everybody knows what happen because 1. He knows how to make you scream 2. It's pretty obvious from your disheveled look later. And this can happen no matter whether the flirt happened on a party (and all the nobles have to wittness this little show) or on a common day (and the only recipient of this show is his rival and maybe some poor servants).

When there's no direct threat to your relationship, he still acts pretty possesive. Feyd likes to know where and how do you spend your day (though he really likes if you spend your time with him and if you're interested, he engages you into his duties and takes to fight trainings). He wants you to inform him about your plans and he may or may not make sure that servants observe you. It isn't spying. It's just curiosity and making sure that you're safe.

Also. If Feyd was going to fight with somebody and that person acted the same way as he did with Paul and Chani ("Who is the little one, a pet perhaps? Will she deserve my special attentions?"), Feyd would be fucking livid (kinda hypocritical but that's what we love him for). That person wouldn’t survive to see the next day. And if he left them alive, it would be only to torture them and teach them how messing with his close ones ends.