#ok the beginning of a new fic

[frownyalfred]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) Additional Tags: Requited Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealousy, Jealous Clark Kent, Minor Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Bruce Wayne, Hookups, Casual Sex, or is it????, One Night Stands, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Clark Kent is So Done, No Strings Attached, or ARE there??, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Ships It, no beta we die like jason todd Summary:

Clark struggles with something his Ma might call jealousy after walking in on Bruce and Hal together after a mission. Instead of letting Clark's feelings ruin the Justice League's hard-won team cohesion, Bruce suggests an alternative arrangement: sleep together once, work the tension between them out of their systems, and then go back to normal afterward.

The problem with that plan? It's not just casual, and neither of them can ever go back to normal once it's all said and done.

[alchemicaladarna]

Well...Happy 1 year of QSMP I guess...

There's just no easy way to say anything about everything that's been happening the past few weeks and everything that's happened since yesterday because it's a fucking dumpster fire and I'm just so tired of it all to be honest...

But this post isn't about that.

I still want to celebrate this server's first year anniversary because of how much it means to me personally. I made a post talking about how I initially started watching the qsmp (two days early 💀) but I'll reiterate what I've always said:

That despite all the problems of the server, despite all the damage that has been done, never forget what it has managed to achieve and hopefully continues to achieve in the future, under better conditions.

The QSMP's mission was to unite people from all over the world to play together and be friends despite speaking different languages and having different cultures. It united communities and formed friendships across the globe. Personally, achieving that takes more than just sticking random people in the same room together because it's about making genuine connections that could last a lifetime. And the qsmp achieved that. I'll never stop saying this because despite all its glaring problems, the qsmp is revolutionary for all the good it has managed to do.

Ok, like think about the translations alone. I'm using Bad as an example because he's the only one so far that I've seen do this but, BBH has set up live translations of multiple languages on his screen so non-english speakers can still understand his streams and his vods even if he's not playing on the qsmp. That wouldn't have happened without the QSMP's influence. That's fucking incredible!

Think about all the CC's and admins that became friends after meeting on the server. Former admins like Lumi (Pomme) and Shade (Dapper) still talking to Bad on his chat and watching his stream. That's still really awesome! Not to mention all the amazing collaboration projects with many qsmp members outside minecraft like Ordem Paranormal and Liar Liar, to name a few.

Look, the last three weeks have been extremely difficult on everyone. I myself am tired of the situation and scrolling through the tag, especially after yesterday, just makes me sad tbh. For the first time since these weeks, I felt so despondent and shocked about everything. It got to the point where, after Shade and Lumi announced their departure, I called my mom and broke down sobbing and vented about the whole admin situation. And bless her heart, my mom actually listened and I'm going to share the advice she gave me:

"Let them fix the problem. Let the company do the restructuring they need to do because right now, it sounds like they have a lot of problems to fix. It's going to take a long time before things can go back to any sense of normalcy, so while they do that, focus on yourself for now. If you're so invested in all the problems of this online world, maybe it's time to step back for now. Maybe it's time to focus on the real world."

And well, she's right. I've been so upset about the situation that my mental health wasn't faring well because of it. Yesterday was kind of a wake up call for me I guess?

I've been in this fandom for 10 months now. It's the longest time I've been invested in a community and qsmp has and will always have a special place in my heart. But I think it's time to let go and move on for now. I'll keep my hopes up and hope that the future is bright, and the qsmp will continue because it has so much potential to achieve more greatness, but I'll leave the project to rest and focus on other endeavors for now.

I'll be posting art and checking in on stuff from time to time, and of course, I'll be watching BBH, but it might be time to depart and say, "Thanks for everything, and I'll see you later."

Most people will be ashamed to mention the fandoms they've been a part of when they were younger, but 10 years from now, if anyone ever asks if I was a part of the qsmp fandom, I'll gladly say yes and tell all the good stories I have about it.

I love the community we made here on qsmpblr, and if I trust the QSMP's mission of uniting people, then I trust that, no matter what happens, this community will be here when I return.

Because...Despite everything, it's all about love, right? And no matter what happens, the love is still there, and will always be.

Thank you for the journey <33

[cleverpaws]

WOOOOOO!!!!! THIS IS SO AWFUL AND FUCKED UP AND BAD AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO STOP THEM

[queenangst]

i love writing olruggio hes the funniest bitch alive

[nezuscribe]

𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

full fics:

the arrangement - gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his image. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)

the arrangement, act two - life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.

drabbles: (act one)

gojo never wanted to marry

gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him

watching him train

the moments after you two got married

he sees you not wearing your ring

he interrupts you while you're baking

he leaves and you think he won't be coming back

lovey gojo

when you two first met

he's huge

what he thinks

another moment from your teens

a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)

gojo is hyper-masculine

you see him with another girl

what happens after you see him with another girl

gojo introduces you to shoko

what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family

jealous reader (petty gojo)

your birthday

arguing with him

drabbles (act two)

the news

arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!readers on hot ones

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based partially off of the new hot ones interview with the obx cast. just imagine drew and actress!reader are on opposite teams rather than drew being the question person lol. yall really seemed to like the last interview-fic i did so voila <3

“I’m already sweating.” Madison said, fanning herself as they filed into the studio. Lights and a white backdrop surrounded a table covered with wings, four chairs on each side. They’d already been briefed on how things were going to go, the eight of them divided into two teams and answering questions, their answers deciding whether or not they’d be subjected to one of the very hot wings laid out in front of them.

Drew came up behind y/n, pulling out her chair for her before heading to his own seat opposite her. She smiled at him, soothing her dress down as the rest of the cast sat down. Madelyn, Rudy, and Carlacia took seats on her team whereas Drew sat with Chase, Madison, and JD opposite them.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she looked at the man across from her, his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, my love.” Drew raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ok, are we ready?” One of the producers asked, to which the cast responded with excited (or perhaps anxious) cheers. The camera focused in on Chase, who reached and spun the bottle of hot sauce sitting in front of them, the ultimate decider of which team would go first. It spun for a moment before landing on Madelyn, her teammates erupting with hollers as Chases picked up one of the cards.

“Alright, Mr. Rudy,” Chase smiled cheekily. “Outer Banks has hooked viewers with its countless twists and turns, however, name one storyline you think should’ve never made it out of the writers room.”

Everyone let out some groans and giggles as Rudy began to lose himself in thought… and continued and continued to think.

“Is there a time limit on these?” JD quipped, causing Rudy to roll his eyes, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

“This is off to a great start.” Y/n said, elbowing Rudy lightly.

“Ok, ok!” Rudy said. “I’d say… I wish they didn’t switch to the second treasure so fast. They should’ve stuck at the first treasure longer.”

“That sounds like an answer to me!” Carlacia clapped as the team opposite them picked up their wings with a groan. They each took a bite, chewing for a second before they all reached for the drinks in front of them.

“Shit.” Drew swore as he took a long sip of milk, his cheeks already beginning to flush a bright red.

“Don’t worry there’s more where that came from.” Y/n grinned as Drew shook his head. Y/n reached in front of her, grabbing another one of the question cards.

“Oh, JD,” Y/n read in a sing-song voice, “Outer Banks centers around a group of teenagers, but our cast ranges from 24 to 33 years old. Which of your costars is the least convincing teenager?”

The table erupted into “oohs” as JD surveyed his co-stars, a nervous grin on his face before his gaze landed on Chase.

“I think I have to say Mr Chase Stokes.” JD chuckled.

“Is it because of the beard?” Chase teased as y/n and her team picked up the wings in front of them. With a deep breath, y/n took a bite, her mouth immediately bursting with heat. With a groan, she reached for the ice water in front of her, hoping to soothe the fire in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“No more jokes, baby?” Drew asked as y/n fanned herself off with her hand. Y/n rolled her eyes, tossing the old question card at him. Drew picked the next card, his gaze locking onto the girl in front of him.

“Oh, perfect. Y/n,” Drew began, “part of Outer Banks’ charm is the chemistry between the cast. That being said, who here is the worst scene partner?”

“Oh no!” Y/n groaned, putting her face in her hands as the table broke out in gasps and laughter. She stole a glance at the second wing in front of her, royally coated in fiery hot sauce before thinking of an answer.

“Ok, ok! I’m going to answer, but,” y/n said with an anxious giggle, “you have to let me explain!”

Her co-stars leaned in, each of them with looks of anticipation covering their faces as y/n sat up straighter in her seat.

“My answer is…” y/n paused for dramatic affect, chewing at her bottom lip nervously, “Drew, but—”

Everyone erupted into shrieks and laughter, Drew’s jaw dropping at his girlfriend’s answer. Madelyn covered her mouth, locking eyes with Carlacia before they both turned to y/n.

“No, no, no! You have to let me explain!” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Drew’s hand, his mouth still agape.

“This is going to be good.” Rudy chuckled.

“He’s not a bad scene partner, he is just so different from Rafe and always makes me laugh, so it takes us a million takes to get a scene done!” Y/n clarified, Drew’s shocked expression melting into a small smile.

“See, you’re just such a funny guy and I love you so much that it makes it hard to do scenes with you. It’s a compliment, really, baby.” Y/n finished with a quirk of her eyebrows, her costars swooning as the couple gazed at each other softly.

“Good save, good save.” JD teased as he and his team reached for another hot wing. The game continued for several more rounds, various questions, and, of course, lots of spicy wings, until they finally made it to the finale.

The table was moved out, their seats being arranged in a circle for a cutthroat game of musical chairs that would ultimately determine the winner of the game. Round after round, the numbers dwindled until one chair and two players remained: y/n and Drew.

“No mercy, y/n!” Madelyn shouted from the side as y/n and Drew rounded the chair slowly.

“C’mon Starkey boy!” Chase cheered. Y/n looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting with Drew’s as the music suddenly stopped. Before she knew it, Drew’s arms wrapped around her torso, lifting her off her feet with a shriek. He quickly sat down in the chair, pulling her down with him, and winning the game.

“Sorry baby,” Drew smirked, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek. Y/n groaned playfully, tossing her head back to rest on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them laughed in the chair.

“You’re lucky I love you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, kissing Drew’s jaw.

“Do you? Do you really?” Drew teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of y/n’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. In all her life, y/n would’ve never expected that she in all her competitive nature would be ok with losing a competition, but here she was, happy as ever.

[reilemon]

Powdered Gold

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When you invited Caleb to stay at your place in hopes of rekindling your friendship, you didn’t realize you’d be inviting the feelings you shunned years ago. You both changed, but what you feel for each other hasn’t—and maybe, this time, you’ll be brave enough to reach for it.

♡︎ pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, angst, smut, Caleb calls you pipsqueak (and always will in my fics), Caleb is a virgin, but reader isn't, oral (both of them giving and receiving), creampie as always

♡︎ word count: 10.3k

♡︎ a/n: this is my first time writing Caleb, so pls be nice to me ok??

♡︎ this is not beta read but i'm still giving a shout-out to my bestie ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @/anitalenia

Caleb’s voice echoes from the bathroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. “How many body lotions does one person need?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond immediately. Instead, you smooth the fabric of his shirt between your fingers before placing it on a hanger in your closet. Then you go to the bathroom.

You lean on the doorway, crossing your arms, “You’re not being a very pleasant house guest with comments like that.”

He’s standing in the shower, placing his travel size toiletries in one corner, his back turned to you. “And you’re not bein’ a very nice host for making your guest sleep on the sofa.”

You roll your eyes again.

This was your idea. That’s what you remind yourself as you watch Caleb settle into your space like he’s always belonged there. You were the one who matched your vacation days with his, and invited him to stay here instead of a hotel.

It made sense. You hadn’t seen much of each other since he came back, just a few meetups here and there, a handful of nights at his place. But now, for the first time in what felt like years, neither of you had somewhere else to be.

The sight of him here, snooping around your bathroom after setting down the toiletries you know he’ll use up in a day before inevitably stealing half of yours, warms your heart. When you’re like this - so close to him, grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the bathroom because ‘why are you inspecting every corner, you’re so weird!’  - and when he lets out that impish chuckle as he says ‘but I need to get acquainted with my vacation place.’ - it feels like nothing has changed.

Like there are no threats in the shadows. Like both of you haven’t lost a little light in your eyes.

But you have.   

And now, watching him here, so effortlessly at home in your space, you’re not sure if it’s comforting or bittersweet.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Time quickly passed while helping him unpack and putting away his stuff, and now it’s already dinnertime and you’ve worked up an appetite. You glance, from where you’re sitting on the sofa, at Caleb who’s rolling up his sleeves before opening your fridge. Before he can ask you anything, you stand up and start walking towards the coat rack.

“Since I am such a gracious host,” you begin, earning Caleb’s attention and he turns to you, “I’ve decided to spare you of your cooking duties on your first day – “

“It’s dinnertime.” Caleb intercepts, with a mock offence in his voice.

You ignore him. “We’re going to one of my favorite places to eat.”

He closes the fridge and turns to you, crossing his arms. “That is too vague. Do I need to change and wear something fancy? Is it your treat?”

“Do you want to come or not?”

“Sure!”

You toss him his jacket and when you reach for your purse you remember something. “Oh, wait – I got you something.”

You dig into your purse and pull out a brand-new lip balm, holding it up with a triumphant look. Caleb eyes it, then sighs.

“You’re so thoughtful. Thanks.” His flat tone as he accepts it makes you grin.

“It’s extra moisturizing so I don’t have to keep looking at your dry lips.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Why do you want to keep staring at my lips?”

Heat spreads across your face instantly. You immediately look away, mumbling, “I’m not staring.”

He hums, unscrewing the cap as he tilts his head. “What was that, pipsqueak?”

You exhale sharply, ignoring him. But the moment he swipes the balm across his lips, with orange glow of sunset spilling over his face, you can’t help but steal a glance. And you just know he catches it. But, for once, he doesn’t tease. He just smirks knowingly.

You grab your jacket a little too quickly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t say anything, just follows, still smirking as he tucks the lip balm into his pocket.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

By the time the two of you return to your apartment, you feel sleep already overtaking you. The dinner turned into wandering around some shops, then you had smoothies, then Caleb insisted walking around more to burn off calories. Usually, an evening like that wouldn’t be so tiring if you didn’t spend the whole day cleaning and tidying up, and then picking him up at the train station. And there were these waves of butterflies in your stomach, that would appear whenever you thought of him. It was draining, and frustrating.

But not confusing.

You thought those feelings had disappeared. You really did. But as the years passed and you started a new life here—new city, new people, new experiences—you told yourself you’d moved on. You had to.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you fluff up his pillow after slipping it inside a fresh and clean pillowcase. You already took a shower, stole one of his baggy shirts and paired them with pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. While he’s in the bathroom, you decided to set up the bedding on the sofa, since you’re sure he must be tired as well, even if he’s not showing it. As always.

Though your body feels like velvet, heavy with exhaustion, you still accept Caleb’s suggestion to watch a movie before bed.

"We don’t have to watch it tonight." Caleb lingers in the doorway, eyes flicking over your sleep-heavy expression.

"I’m fine!" You try to sound convincing, but you’re already tugging the duvet over yourself. "I just need to lie down."

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watches you nestle deeper into the cushions, head resting on the pillow meant for him.

"It’s so nice and cozy in here," you murmur, voice already thick with drowsiness. The crisp, freshly washed bedding cocoons you, pulling you under.

He chuckles, stepping closer and tapping your legs, silently telling you to move. "You’re just trying to convince me that this is comfortable for me."

Before you can protest, he takes your legs and settles them over his lap.

Your body stiffens at the contact. This is normal. It should be normal. It’s not the first time he’s had your legs in his lap. You inhale deeply, telling yourself to relax, to stop overthinking. You’re just getting used to his presence again.

Though, suddenly, you don’t feel so sleepy anymore.

The movie plays on the TV, filling the space with voices and background noise. Comfortable silence settles between you both, broken only by occasional remarks—mostly Caleb critiquing the acting. Of course he can’t keep quiet even during a movie. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but the annoyance fades the moment his hands slide under the covers, grazing over your shins.

He glances at you, voice low. "You seem a little tense. Was the walk too exhausting?"

Your breath catches for a second before you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. His fingers press against the tight muscles in your calves, kneading gently.

"Maybe a little." you murmur, your voice softer than intended.

He murmurs a small apology, letting his hands make it up to you. He presses and kneads with just the right amount of pressure, his thumbs digging into spots that unravel you far too easily.

Heat blooms deep inside you, catching you off guard.

He works his way down, his palms smoothing over your ankles, rolling slow circles there before moving to your feet. The added texture of your socks only makes it worse—the friction, the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the way his thumbs press into the soles of your feet, it makes it so much harder to focus on the movie.

You bite your lip, pulse thrumming. A small sound threatens to escape your throat, and you swallow it back before lifting your legs off his lap. You murmur a small “thank you” and curl up on your side, your gaze now glued to the screen.

Caleb teases you, saying you look like you’re about to pass out. And even though you mumble a half-hearted protest, swearing you’re still awake, your eyes flutter closed before the movie is over.

His presence might be the source of your simmering frustration, of all the feelings you’re trying to ignore—but it’s also the most comforting one you’ve ever known.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes open, it’s already morning. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your room. You’re warm, nestled beneath the comforter, a plushie tucked securely in your arms. A sleepy smile tugs at your lips as you nuzzle against it. You don’t remember how you got to bed, but you don’t need to think too hard about it. Caleb must have carried you here last night, just like he always used to, slipping back into old habits as if no time had passed at all.

The scent of something familiar drifts in from the kitchen, rich and savory. He’s up, moving around the kitchen, already making breakfast.

You stretch lazily before dragging yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine. After freshening up and changing into more presentable loungewear, you step into the living room.

"Look who’s awake!" Caleb’s voice greets you the moment you enter. His back is turned as he works at the counter, only glancing over his shoulder briefly before returning to whatever he’s preparing.

You groan, voice still laced with sleep. “I don’t want to hear the usual ‘by the time you got up I already jogged’ and blah blah blah!” Caleb laughs at your mocking tone, shaking his head as he grabs a pair of plates from the cabinet. He starts setting the table, saying something in response, but his words blur in the background when your eyes catch on something unexpected.

A pillowcase. His pillowcase.

It’s hanging on the drying rack by the window, the fabric swaying slightly from the morning breeze. Your brows knit together.

"When did—why did you wash this?" You gesture toward it, confusion clear in your voice. "It was completely clean."

Caleb barely falters. "It was, but I drooled on it last night," he says easily, still arranging the table. "Didn’t want to make too much noise, so I hand-washed it."

You huff a small laugh, tempted to tease him for drooling, but for some reason, you don’t. Maybe he was exhausted. Or maybe your scent bothered him. Your stomach tugs uncomfortably at the thought, but you brush it off before it can settle. Don’t be ridiculous.

Instead, you take a seat across from him, scanning the breakfast spread. He made everything you like in the morning—even bought coffee from one of your favorite coffee shops. The warmth in your chest is immediate, dangerously soft, dangerously familiar.

“You should quit the colonel position,” you look up from the bowls and plates, meeting his gaze properly since you walked in – he’s already watching you, a hint of amusement in his eyes, “A – and be my personal chef.”

Damn it.

Heat creeps up your neck at the stumble in your voice.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle, setting a glass of water in front of you. "I wouldn’t mind that."

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The room is bathed in the dim, flickering light of the television, casting soft shadows across the coffee table cluttered with half-eaten snacks. The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air, warm and familiar, mixing with the faint traces of Caleb’s cologne. He sits comfortably beside you, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his posture relaxed, his focus on the screen in front of him.

You should be watching too. After all, you’re the one who recommended it, but Caleb wanted to wait, saying he’d rather watch it for the first time with you instead of on his own.  And now, here you are, barely paying attention at all.

Your eyes are glued to the phone screen, and every so often, a quiet giggle escapes you, fingers tapping swiftly against the glass as you reply to messages. You don’t notice the way Caleb’s gaze flickers to you from the corner of his eye. You don’t register the barely-there tightening of his jaw as you keep getting distracted, your smile aimed at a screen instead of him.

At first, he says nothing. He lets the minutes pass, lets you have your moment, but with every small laugh, every glance downward, his patience begins to fray at the edges.

Who the hell is so funny?

He shifts beside you, stretching slightly, making himself known, a silent reminder that he’s still here. But you don’t even glance up.

Fine.

The movement is swift—before you can react, Caleb reaches over and snatches your phone out of your hands.

“Caleb!” You protest in disbelief.

He leans back against the sofa, holding your phone just out of reach, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I thought we were watchin’ this together?"

You blink at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity, before a scoff escapes you. "Did you seriously just take my phone?"

He shrugs, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it, like he has every right to.

Your eyes narrow. "That is a violation of privacy."

His smirk widens slightly, thumb hovering just over the screen. "So what were you laughin’ at?"

You sigh in defeat. Time to change the tactic.

You lunge for your phone without hesitation, but he’s faster—his arm lifts easily, keeping it just out of reach, and he leans away, making you chase after it.

"Caleb—!"

The next few seconds is a blur of limbs, the glowing screen of your phone, and breathless laughter.

You scramble onto your knees, grappling at his wrist, stretching upward, trying to reach the device, but he moves effortlessly, dodging you like this is nothing. You nearly lose your balance in the process, your hands bracing against his chest—

Fuck, those muscles are strong.

Caleb chuckles at your failed attempt, his grip on your phone still firm, completely unbothered by your struggling.

You’re not giving up that easily.

With renewed determination, you grab at his wrist again, pushing against him with your full weight, throwing him slightly off balance. Your bodies end up in a tangled mess of limbs as both of you topple on your side onto the cushions. His body is so close, his warmth suddenly everywhere. Your breath catches, but you don’t have time to dwell on it, because you notice a slight flinch when your fingers brush against his ribs.

You blink up at him as realization dawns, slow and sweet and far too tempting.

Caleb’s expression shifts instantly. "Don’t."

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across your lips.

You dig your fingers into his side, and he twists in protest, his muscles flexing as he tries to escape you. His laugher is light and carefree - and it is the most unfairly attractive sound you’ve always loved.

You falter for a second too long.

Caleb doesn’t waste the opportunity. Before you can react, he grips your wrist, and with ridiculous ease, he flips you onto your back. By the time you catch your breath, he’s already caging you in, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

Everything stills for a moment. His breathing is heavier now. Yours is too. The TV hums softly in the background, but neither of you are listening. Your phone has slipped onto the carpet, forgotten. His grip isn’t tight, isn’t restricting, but it keeps you in place. Caleb’s gaze lingers on you, no trace of teasing left in his expression. And something about that - the way he’s looking at you, about the weight of his body pressing against yours, how his chest rises and falls above you—sends a slow, unbearable warmth curling through you.

But then, just as easily as he pinned you down, he lets go. You sit up quickly, forcing a small laugh, brushing off the moment like it was nothing. Caleb leans back against the sofa, running a hand through his hair before reaching down and lazily tossing your phone back to you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop stealin’ your stuff. For now.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the screen, but you hesitate for a second before speaking. “I know it was rude to text during the movie,” you admit, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I was just talking to my friends about tomorrow.”

Caleb doesn’t react at first. He’s stretching out his legs, seemingly unfazed, “Yeah?” his voice is too neutral. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I already made plans to go out with them.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something quickly buried, masked with indifference. He exhales through his nose, nodding, like he’s completely unbothered.

“Cool.”

"I won’t be out late," you say quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “Just a couple of drinks, maybe some dancing. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, eyes flicking back to the screen, but his jaw is tighter now.

You hesitate, studying him for a moment, before offering a small smile. "If it makes you feel better, you can come pick me up.”

That makes him glance at you, his eyes softer now. “Yeah. Alright.” Then he takes the TV remote to pause the movie, and now his full focus is on you. “So, what are you gonna to wear?”

The question makes you flustered, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I don’t know.” You admit quietly. It is the truth, which is why you’ve been texting your friends during the movie. But he hasn’t seen you in anything revealing before—not really. Not outside of tiny glimpses in summers past, when you’d lounge around in shorts and tank tops, never once thinking about how his eyes followed you.

And it shouldn’t be a big deal. It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so unbearably attracted to him.

You spent too much time getting ready this morning. From the cozy loungewear you’d picked out before breakfast, to the outfit you chose for your day out with him, to the subtle refresh of your makeup before settling down for the movie—it had all been intentional. Every choice, every small detail, designed to make you look effortlessly good.

“Why don’t you show me the outfits you had in mind?” He asks, leaning back against the sofa, “Maybe I can help you.”

You force yourself to exhale, keep your tone light. "Fine. But don’t be annoying about it."

Caleb smirks, tilting his head slightly. “No promises.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You disappear into your room, trying to shake off the ridiculous way your body reacted to that simple suggestion. You shouldn’t care. It’s Caleb. He’s seen you barefaced and half-asleep, wrapped in blankets, wearing mismatched pajamas. He’s been around you long enough to know every version of you.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, sleek and form-fitting, hugging the shape of you in a way that suddenly feels too revealing. You refuse to dwell on it.

You smooth your hands over the fabric before stepping out, ignoring the way your pulse picks up the moment you re-enter the living room.

And the moment you do, Caleb stills.

He doesn’t shift, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t offer some offhanded remark the way you expect him to. He just watches, his gaze moving over you. Then, his brows pull together slightly, his head tilting as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

"Hm. I don’t know."

You gasp, almost appalled at the comment. “What do you mean you don’t know?” You’re trying your best to sound normal, and not like your cheeks are burning under his gaze. He looks effortlessly handsome, sprawled across the sofa with his arms draped over the backrest, legs spread in a way that makes him seem both completely at ease and utterly in control of the space around him.

His eyes lift to yours. "Turn around for me."

The request is effortless, spoken with the same ease as everything else he says. But something about it—the quiet authority in his voice, the way his gaze stays locked onto yours, unblinking—makes your skin prickle.

You try to shake off the thought, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Turn around? What, am I on a runway?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Exactly. Indulge me.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You try on another dress, stepping out with a little more confidence this time, expecting at least some approval. But Caleb only exhales, tilting his head slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"Not my favorite."

You huff, retreating into your room once again, determined to find something he can’t find an issue with. But it becomes a pattern. No matter what you put on, Caleb always has something to say.

"That one’s not very practical."

"You’ll be freezing in that."

"It’s fine, I guess."

But you’re not stupid. The pattern is glaringly obvious—the more revealing the dress, the less he seems to like it.

After one final unimpressed hum from him, you let out an exasperated breath. There’s a pile of clothes on your bed and your muscles are aching from the endless zip-twirl-sigh routine. “Okay,” you snap, sharper than intended, “you’re officially no help.”

Caleb smirks, stretching his arms overhead until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. “Just bein’ honest.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your phone on the coffee table. "Whatever. I’ll just ask my friends."

You barely hear whatever excuse he’s offering now, his voice a low murmur in the background as you tap out a message. Then, an idea pops up in your head. You glance up from your screen, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You should go out as well.”

Caleb stops, his gaze flicking to yours, just for a second. Then, he shakes his head, exhaling lightly. “Clubs aren’t really my scene.”

You nod, finishing your message and sending it off before locking your phone. You lean your shoulder against the wall, the cool surface pressing against your heated skin.

"Well, who knows—" your tone is casual, "you might meet a cute girl."

His laugh is hollow. “Doubt that’s happening.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. “You have someone back home?”

The room stills.

You notice Caleb’s jaw shifting just slightly before his frown deepens. It’s not irritation—not exactly.

"I don’t." His voice is steady. Then, his gaze sharpens, latching onto yours, his expression more serious than before. "I would’ve told you, like I promised."

A breath catches in your throat.

"Like we promised."

Caleb’s words linger. I would’ve told you. Like we promised. You stare at him, throat tightening as his gaze sharpens—he’s studying you, dissecting the guilt spreading across your face.

“You never told me,” he says, voice deceptively casual, “if you ever liked someone.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand, but you barely register it. You don’t want to answer this question. You swallow, but your throat feels dry. "We weren’t talking as much." The words come out quieter than you intend, "It didn’t seem relevant."

“Relevant.” He repeats.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as something in your chest tightens. "You can’t deny we grew apart, Caleb." The words claw their way up, bitter and ugly, “And you're the one to talk - as someone who decided to go no-contact for months.” and the second they leave your mouth, you regret them.

You watch his face shift from stunned to something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Before he can speak, you sink onto the sofa beside him, your scarred knee bumping his. “I’m sorry.” you curl your fingers into the fabric of your dress to keep from reaching for him. “I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes soften and a sigh leaves his lips. Then, the faint pressure of his palm settles on your head, the familiar gesture offering comfort. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, voice low.

You lean into his touch, eyes burning. “But I am sorry.”

“I know.” His hand stills, heavy and warm. “So am I.”

The admission is so quiet you almost miss it. You glance up, but he’s already looking away, jaw clenched against whatever else wants to spill out. So am I for leaving. So am I for coming back broken. So am I for loving you like a man who was never meant to fly—reaching for the only light that ever felt like home, even knowing that if I get too close, you’ll be the one who burns.

You don’t press. Instead, you let your shoulder bump his. He exhales, tension seeping out of him as his hand slips down to cradle the nape of your neck. "Come on, pips." His voice is quieter now, lighter. "We should get some sleep."

The argument dissolves, but the ache remains—a bruise you’ll both keep pressing, to remind yourselves it’s real.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Even though it was late, you had insisted on finishing the rest of the movie, clinging to the familiar comfort. You slipped back into the playful banter – you had whined about the pile of clothes still sitting on your bed, blaming him for it. Caleb, ever unbothered, had only smirked and offered to neatly put them away tomorrow.

While he was in the shower, you took the time to make up the sofa, tucking the sheets with more care than necessary. When he stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, skin warm from the heat of the water, you didn’t comment on the familiar citrus scent clinging to him—the scent of your body lotion.

You’d exchanged a quiet goodnight before retreating to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Grabbing the pile of discarded clothes, you stacked them onto the armchair in the corner, ignoring the mess for now. You had planned on wearing your usual pajama tank top, but Caleb had insisted you wear one of his shirts again, claiming it was more comfortable.

You’re here now - lying beneath the comforter, pajama shorts brushing against soft sheets, the soft fabric of his shirt enveloping you, and yet still— you’re completely awake. Your eyes remain wide open, staring into the darkness, as if sleep might find you if you just keep pretending you’re not thinking about him.

You shift beneath the comforter, rolling onto your side, then onto your back, only to flip your pillow to the cooler side and press your cheek against it. The softness offers no relief.

A deep sigh slips past your lips, but the weight in your chest remains.

I should have told him.

You should’ve told him about the men you’ve dated. You should’ve kept your promise. That’s what he did. But you tell yourself, keep comforting yourself, that at some point your lives drifted apart. When time and distance made him feel more like a memory, you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

Except it did. It mattered to Caleb.

He’d said it plainly —I would’ve told you—as if keeping that promise was as simple as breathing. No loopholes. No expiration dates.

Your breath hitches slightly, something twisting in your chest. You roll onto your side again, eyes drifting toward the empty space beside you.

The dull ache in your lower back pulls at your attention, a stiffness lingering in your shoulder. You shift slightly, frowning at the discomfort— a souvenir from last night when you’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He had carried you to bed, made sure you were comfortable. And now, he’s the one out there, sleeping on the same sofa, crammed into a space too small for him.

The guilt creeps back in.

Finally, with a sigh of surrender, you throw off the covers and rise from your bed. You move carefully through the dark, the wooden floor cool beneath your bare feet as you make your way toward the living room.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The apartment is silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and as you reach the doorway, you pause, peering inside. Your eyes take a moment to adjust, but you can already make out the shape of him—Caleb, stretched out on the sofa, one arm draped over his stomach, his breathing steady. For a second, you think he’s asleep -

"Can’t sleep?" His voice is quiet, but in the stillness of the apartment, it still makes you flinch.

You step closer, your gaze meeting his, even in the dark. “You should sleep in my bed tonight.”

There’s silence for a moment. You can’t make out his expression, but you can feel the hesitation in the way he exhales slowly.

Then you hear a soft chuckle. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation mixing with your exhaustion. Of course, he’s being stubborn. Any other night, you might have tried to coax him with teasing, maybe thrown in a snarky remark or the fact that he’d be doing the same thing for you if the roles were reversed.

But it’s late, and you don’t have the patience for an argument you know you’re going to win anyway.

So instead, you move without warning.

With one swift motion, you snatch the duvet right off his body, yanking the pillow from beneath his head before he can even react. A startled breath escapes him, but you don’t wait for a protest.

You’re already retreating toward your bedroom, grumbling under your breath, "I’m trying to be nice here."

Behind you, Caleb exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He doesn’t argue this time, just watches for a moment before finally pushing himself up from the sofa and following.

By the time he steps inside, you’re already back beneath your comforter, curled on your side. The mattress shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, his presence familiar yet suddenly overwhelming.

“Goodnight,” you say, too stiffly.

“Night.” His reply is softer.

You close your eyes, and the fact that he is sleeping in a comfortable bed eases your mind long enough to let you drift off to sleep.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes blink open, the darkness feels denser, heavier. The digital glow of your nightstand clock blinks 3:07 AM. You're not sure if you ever truly slept or if your mind simply hovered somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

The room is silent, save for the distant murmur of the city and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s breathing behind you—deep, even, grounding. You listen for a moment, letting the sound soothe you, lulling your nerves the same way it always used to. From the sound of it, he managed to fall asleep.

Slowly, carefully, you shift onto your other side, moving as if the smallest rustle might wake him. Your body rolls toward him, your eyes adjusting to the dark until his silhouette takes shape in front of you. He’s asleep, facing you. The moonlight spills in through the slit in the curtains, illuminating his face with delicate silver light. His brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, and one cheek is gently squished against the pillow.

Seeing him like this makes you smile, faint and bitter-sweet. He looks like a memory. Like all those nights you used to crawl into his bed after a nightmare, when he’d shift just enough to let you under the covers, barely awake but always aware of you, always there.

But the warmth of that memory fades almost as quickly as it came. Guilt rises like bile, acrid and insistent.

I don’t blame you.

You should have said that. You wish you had. When you apologized earlier, when you sat beside him trying to make up for your comment, you should’ve said that too. Because it’s true. You don’t.

You understand why he disappeared. You understand why he didn’t call, why he let you think he was gone—you know that he did it to protect you.

But the girl who slept with his necklace clutched in her fist for months, who scrubbed explosion residue from her hair until her scalp bled—she blames him. A splinter of her still does, lodged too deep to dig out.

Your eyes sting, but you blink quickly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You focus on the rhythm of his breathing, his lashes that cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the slight sheen on his lips. He is right here.

So close you could reach out and touch him. So close you can feel the warmth coming off his body.

And yet, so impossibly far.

But wasn’t he always?

Hadn’t he always felt just beyond reach, even when you shared the same space, the same roof, the same memories?

You had spent so many years convincing yourself he didn’t see you that way—that his devotion was born out of duty, not desire. That he was bound to you by shared history, not longing. You told yourself that he saw you as something fragile, something to protect—not something to love.

But there were glances. Touches that lingered longer than they should have. But he never crossed the line. Never let himself want aloud.

So you told yourself he didn’t want to. That he couldn’t. That you weren’t something he was allowed to reach for.

And that’s why you found distractions. That’s why you chased comfort in other people. Because if you couldn’t have him, you had to have something.

But now, lying here beside him, in the quiet of your own bed, there are no distractions. No excuses. No distance left to hide behind. And suddenly, you wonder—

What if he wanted more?

What if he was always waiting for me?

You could wake him now. Could trace your fingertips over his eyelids, could say the words that have lived in the marrow of your bones since before you knew their name. I loved you then. I love you now.

But your lips won’t move. Your hand won’t reach out. Instead, all that comes is the memory of the aching regret that followed you around when you grieved him, whispering your sins in the dark - You should have told him. You should have been brave.

But now—he’s alive. He’s here. He’s right beside you.

But nothing is the same.

And even if you let yourself reach for him, even if you handed over every buried feeling and begged him to take it—the world around you hasn’t changed.

The people who tried to destroy you once are still out there, still watching, still hunting. There are still shadows at your back, and Caleb has always been the one who walks toward them first.

And if you lost him again—really lost him—

You don’t know if you’d survive it.

Because if regret was unbearable before, the devastation of another goodbye—this time after knowing what it’s like to have him— would split you open, would leave you hollow as the day you buried an empty casket.

You don’t realize the tears have started to fall until your vision blurs, until a soft sniffle betrays you. Caleb stirs - he takes a slow inhale, then a deeper one. You still, but it’s too late. His eyes open—drowsy with sleep—but the moment they land on you, on the shimmer on your lashes, they sharpen with clarity.

"What’s wrong?" He whispers softly, concern clear in his voice.

You swipe hastily at your cheeks, the salt sting lingering on your skin. “Nothing,” you lie, offering a trembling smile. “Just a nightmare.”

He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t search your face for more or press for the truth he knows you’re not giving. He just reaches out. His hand finds yours first, then the warmth of his palm presses against your side, gentle as it invites you closer.

You hesitate, just for a moment. But then your body moves on instinct, pulled to him like it always is, like it always has been. He shifts onto his back, making room for you, letting you tuck yourself against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

You let yourself melt into him. Let yourself take comfort in the solid warmth of his body, in the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your cheek. Your tears dry slowly, absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers trace the chain around his neck, finding the pendants, the metal warm from his skin.

And you listen to the heartbeat beneath your ear.

Strong. Steady. Real.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s yours, if you want him.

The fear is still there. The shadows haven’t disappeared. The world is still dangerous, still cruel, still capable of breaking him again.

But here, in the cradle of his arms, with his heartbeat syncing to yours, you finally understand: bravery isn’t the absence of fear.

So, maybe…

If that’s what sits at the end of this—if tears and heartache is what awaits you—then let it be. Let the hurt come. Let it hollow you. At least the emptiness will echo how fiercely you loved him.

You lift your head from the steady rhythm of his chest, propping yourself on your elbow, your face hovering just above his. Your eyes find his in the moonlight—half-lidded, warm, still laced with sleep, but softened by the sight of you. A small, barely-there smile touches his lips, a quiet relief. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, calloused and warm, and you lean into his touch, your lashes fluttering shut. Then you feel the press of his lips against your forehead, featherlight and lingering.

When your eyes open again, he’s still watching you. Your faces are close now, close enough that your breaths mingle, close enough that the brush of your nose against his sends a soft shiver down your spine. You glance down at his lips, drawn to the place you’ve denied yourself for too long.

His fingers still on your cheek.

And when your gaze returns to his, you see it - the look you’ve spent years misreading. The one you chalked up to pity or duty, something you’ve caught glimpses of over the years and turned away from. Something you didn’t recognize at first. Then later, refused to acknowledge out of fear.

But now, there’s no more running.

You shift closer slowly, cautiously, as if giving him time to stop you if this isn’t what he wants. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes dart to your lips, just once, but it’s enough.

In that stillness, you close the distance.

The kiss is soft. His lips are warmer than you imagined, but still a little chapped. He goes utterly still, as if fearing the slightest movement might dissolve this moment. But when you press closer, his hand slides to the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

And when you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” he murmurs.

You smile softly, and press a delicate kiss to his eyelid.

“You’re not dreaming, Caleb.” you whisper.

His lashes flutter open. His gaze searches your face like he’s still trying to understand how this happened. His hand rises to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with aching gentleness. And then he moves. This time, he closes the distance. His mouth moves over yours, his breaths shaky against your skin. There’s no practiced skill, no calculated seduction—just raw, aching want, tempered by the fear of wanting too much.

Your hands slide from his chest to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into the silken, messy hair. He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as his tongue brushes hesitantly against yours. It’s clumsy, earnest, his nose bumping yours, his teeth catching your lip by accident.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but you laugh—a soft, breathless sound—and pull him closer.

“Don’t be.”

You lean into it, guiding him with soft sighs and quiet hums.

His hands hold you tighter now—one on your back, the other slipping down, splayed at your waist like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you now that he’s started.

And when your lips break apart for breath, you don’t pull away. You rest your forehead against his, and you whisper, barely audible, "I don’t want to stop."

He exhales, "Me neither."

Your fingers tremble slightly as they wander from his hair, along the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth before trailing lower. Over the column of his throat, skimming the pulse beneath his skin, before drifting lower—over the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen. You feel the way he shivers beneath your hand, how his muscles tense slightly.

His breath hitches when you tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling there, his gaze locking onto yours.

He doesn’t need you to say it.

Without a word, he sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist as he yanks the shirt over his head. The fabric falls to the floor, and for a moment, you just stare—you’ve seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never yours.

You gently press against his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down, and he does so, collapsing against the pillows. You swing one leg over, your thighs bracketing his hips, but you hover just above him—close enough to feel his heat, yet far enough to let him breathe. You lean down to reclaim his mouth, your hands framing his face. The kiss deepens, and you tilt your head to better taste him, to feel more of him. He gasps into your mouth, one hand slipping to your lower back, the other lowering—slow, unsure—to brush against your bare thigh, the contact making you shiver.

And still, his hand doesn’t wander, doesn’t explore. It lingers like he’s afraid of being told to stop.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your breaths mingling between kisses. Your hand covers his where it rests against your leg, and you guide it higher, to your hip, where your skin is warmer.

You hold his gaze.  “You can touch me, Caleb.” Your voice is soft, “Wherever you want.”

His eyes widen slightly, color blooming high on his cheeks. His fingers flex against your skin, then he speaks, “I don’t… I’ve never—” He swallows hard, and you see the flicker of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at himself, at his own nerves.

“I know,” you whisper, your hand slipping up to cradle his jaw, your lips brushing just beneath his ear. “It’s okay.”

Then, slowly, you lower yourself until your hips meet his, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against you. His head falls back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Heat blooms through your belly at the contact, and your hips rock forward just enough to make him shudder.

His hands clamp down on your hips, holding you still. “Wait—wait.”

You freeze, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he says, eyes snapping open. “Just… let me—” He swallows, his voice dropping to a plea. “Let me do this right.”

You smile, and brush his hair away from his eyes. “There’s no right, Caleb. Just us.”

He exhales, nodding, and then his hips roll upward tentatively, the friction drawing a gasp from both of you. His thumbs press into the soft curve of your hips as they continue to move against him in a slow, rolling rhythm. The thin barrier of fabric between you—his sweatpants, your pajama shorts—only amplifies the heat, the friction of every roll of your hips against his. His breath hitches, his eyes fluttering closed, as you grind down again, your own shorts riding up, the seam catching just right. He curses under his breath, hips jerking up to meet yours, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs.

You want to feel all of him, nothing between. And the way his hands start to roam, still cautious, still learning, tells you he’s thinking the same thing.

You shift slowly, rising from his lap with a final roll of your hips that leaves him gasping, lips parted, brows knit. His hands fall away reluctantly, his eyes flickering with confusion and curiosity. Your hands trail down his chest, over the taut planes of his stomach. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your fingers graze the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Wait.” His hand covers yours, trembling. “You don’t have to—”

You lift his palm to your lips, “I want to.” Your gaze holds his. “Let me show you how much.”

He swallows hard, but nods.

You hook your fingers into the fabric, tugging gently. He lifts his hips, letting you peel the layers away, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally see him, all of him – hard, heavy, straining for you, you feel a fresh heat rise in your chest, in your belly, deeper.

When your eyes meet his again, you find him watching you just as intently—like he’s searching your face for any flicker of doubt. But there’s none. At first, his body tenses—thighs taut beneath your touch, hands clenching the sheets under him. He tries to hold still, tries to be polite, tries to hide the way his hips twitch when your lips press to the sensitive skin just below his navel.

“Breathe.” you whisper against his skin, and you feel it when he does - shoulders softening, jaw loosening, a low groan slipping past his lips as you finally take him into your mouth. You take your time, learning what makes his body melt under your touch. You relish the way his hips stutter when you swirl your tongue, the broken whimper he tries to smother with his fist, the devotion in his voice when he rasps your name.

Gradually, his iron grip on the sheets loosens, one hand resting on the back of your head, and his hips finally start to move to the rhythm you set.

His breath starts to come faster. You feel the change in his body—the way his thighs tense, how his fingers flex and twist in the sheets. “Wait—” His voice is rough. “If you keep going, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You slow, just for a moment, lifting your eyes to his flushed face. You reach for him, one hand sliding up his stomach, calming. “It’s okay,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the sharp cut of his hipbone. “Let me take care of you.”

He groans at that, head turning into the pillow. He doesn’t speak again, but his muscles start to twitch, his legs falling wider, hips stuttering as your mouth picks up the pace. His moans become deeper, more raw, and then your name spills from his lips again.

“I’m—fuck—I’m close—”

You hum in acknowledgment, not letting up, your hands gripping his hips as he shudders beneath you, and then—he falls apart. You taste him on your tongue, feel every desperate pulse of release as his thighs tremble beneath your hands, coming undone in your mouth—helpless and wholly yours.

You don’t pull away. You stay with him through it, coaxing him through the final tremors. You only ease off when he makes the faintest sound of overstimulation, brushing your lips one last time to the hollow of his hip before sitting up.

Caleb is panting, eyes closed, arm thrown over his face.

But when you crawl back up his body, he opens his arms instinctively, pulling you into his chest, where you hear his heart is thundering under your ear. And after a long pause, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you softly, tasting himself on your lips.

His breath is still uneven, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. But he sits up, and for a second his eyes search yours again—asking permission without words. You nod once, and his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt you’re wearing.

He pulls it up slowly, his eyes tracking the reveal of your stomach, the curve of your breast, watching the way your chest rises and falls a little faster under his gaze. His hands tremble, just slightly, and you can see it - that mixture of reverence and disbelief in his eyes. He bends to kiss you again, before his mouth trails down your jaw, your neck, the flutter of your pulse.

He guides you onto your back, and shifts to follow, half-hovering over you. His lips trail kisses along your neck, your breasts. You arch into him, a gasp escaping as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and he hums in response, the vibration rippling through you.

His hands move lower, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajama shorts. He pauses, “Is this okay?”

You nod, your voice failing you, and lift your hips. He slides the shorts down, his knuckles grazing your thighs, his breath hitching when you’re finally bare. For a moment, he just stares. Fading moonlight spills across your body, catching the sheen of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale escapes him as he drags a single finger across the wetness, his touch featherlight.

But before he goes further, before his mouth finds its way to where you’re already pulsing for him, something else catches his eye. The faint scar across your knee. Fading now, but still there. His thumb brushes gently along the uneven line, before he leans forward and presses a kiss to it, the silent apology making your heart flutter.

Then his mouth drifts lower, lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. The first flick of his tongue on your folds is so startlingly gentle you flinch. A soft laugh escapes you, breathless and giddy, goosebumps blooming on your skin.

Caleb stills, lifting his head, brows creased in confusion.

“You’re tickling me,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair in reassurance.

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “Got it,” he murmurs. His mouth presses more firmly, his hands holding your hips as his tongue parts your folds and he groans at the first taste. Your back arches off the bed, a moan slipping out, and it spurs him on. One hand stays braced on your thigh, the other moves to gently trace one fingertip around your entrance, testing. You whisper yes, please, and that’s all it takes. He sinks a finger in, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your face shifts—lips parted, brows gently pulled, the rise and fall of your chest now uneven.

His mouth finds your clit, more confident now. The heat of his tongue, the wet pressure of his lips - it’s clumsy but it’s honest, driven by need and the desire to learn what makes you tremble. Then his finger finds that spot inside you, the one that makes you fist your hand in his hair, the one that makes your toes curl. You whisper yes, yes, yes, and you swear you feel him smile.

His free hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers against your belly.

“Look at me,” he rasps, and you force your eyes open, “Want to see you.”

Your body is starting to unravel beneath him, soft moans spilling from your lips, your thighs trembling.

“Another,” you pant, and he obeys instantly, adding a second finger. His rhythm stutters at first, but you guide him with whispered pleas, your hips rolling against his hand. His tongue flicks faster, his fingers pumping in a deep, steady curl, and you’re suddenly so close to the edge. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, and he growls against you, as if your climax is his own.

And when you fall apart with his name on your lips and your hands tangled with his, Caleb doesn’t stop. He holds you through it, lets you ride it out, his fingers easing only when your thighs start to shake, when your hips twitch with overstimulation. He pulls back, resting his forehead against your inner thigh, his breaths ragged. His erection strains against the sheets, but his focus still on you, always on you, even as his hand trembles where it grips yours.

You pull him up, his body collapsing over yours, and kiss him slow and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips grind reflexively against your thigh, a broken noise escaping him, but he doesn’t push. Just holds you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, your hands cradling his damp hair.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Just breath and skin and the quietness of the morning twilight.

His fingertips trace along the curve of your side, not teasing, just feeling. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

Then he murmurs—soft, regretful, honest:

“I should’ve been your first.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. Still, the way he says it isn’t bitter. There’s no accusation in his voice. Only ache.

You draw back just enough to meet his eyes, your palm resting flat on his chest, right over his heartbeat. “Then be my last.” You whisper.

His breath hitches, eyes widening for a split second. He presses a kiss to your temple, before he meets your eyes again.

“Do you… have anything?” A pause, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Protection?”

You pause for a moment. Then you nod, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

“Left drawer,” you whisper.

He hesitates, his thumb circling your hipbone. “We don’t have to—”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his furrowed brow. “But I want this.”

He shifts to reach for it, but you catch his wrist. “Wait.”

His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowed.

You trace the skin with your thumb, suddenly too sheepish to meet his gaze. “We don’t need it.”

He stills at your tone. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You finally meet his gaze, “If it’s you… I don’t want anything between us.”

He exhales, shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening as his arms wrap around you again.

When your legs shift, parting around his hips, you feel the hard length of him press against your entrance, and it pulls a soft gasp from you both.

Caleb stills. One hand rests by your head, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking softly across your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, threading your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

He exhales slowly, trembling slightly as he reaches between you, lining himself up. The head of him nudges your entrance, already wet and aching for him. You feel the pressure first, a stretch that makes your breath catch. He sinks in just a little—then stops immediately when you tense.

“Too much?” he breathes.

You shake your head, running a hand down his back. “No… keep going.”

Inch by inch, his body presses into yours, your warmth pulling him in, taking him deeper. His jaw clenches, a guttural sound caught in his throat as your walls flutter around him, as your hand curls over his bicep for something. His restraint is palpable, sweat beading at his temples as he presses deeper, his hips rolling in shallow strokes until he’s sheathed fully inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His necklace rests warm against your collarbone, the metal shifting slightly as his chest heaves above yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I will.”

His thrusts start slow, each one sinking deeper than the last, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for permission with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck,” he grits out suddenly, halting his movements with a trembling inhale. His entire body shudders as he lowers his forehead to your shoulder, nose brushing your throat, lips finding your pulse.

“I need a second…” His voice is breathless. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

You cradle his jaw, lifting his face up so you can look at him. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whisper, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Just be here. With me.”

His gaze falters, then finds yours again. He draws back just enough to move again, slow at first, like he’s trying to find a rhythm that won’t break him.

One of his hands tangles with yours, fingers lacing tightly together as he presses it into the pillow above your head. The other slips between your bodies until his thumb finds you, pressing a gentle, slow circle over your clit—and it draws a gasp from you, your thighs tensing around his hips.

“Like that?” His voice is hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathe, hips chasing the movement of his hand. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he leans in to kiss you again—messy now, all teeth and parted mouths. He keeps moving inside you, each thrust dragging along your sweet spots, and the rhythm of his thumb against your clit grows more confident, bolder with every breathless moan you give him. He watches you with blown pupils, flicking between your face and the place where your bodies meet, as if committing every detail of your pleasure to memory.

His forehead drops to yours, the weight of his body pressing deliciously down as his thumb circles faster, more intently, chasing the way your thighs begin to tremble, the way your grip on his hand tightens.

Then his hips shift—just a little, but enough for a sharp discomfort to shoot through you. You suck in a breath through your teeth, a soft, involuntary “ah—” escaping your throat.

He stops immediately. Every muscle in his body locks, his expression flashing from concentration to concern in an instant. “Shit—did I hurt you?” he asks, breath still ragged.

You shake your head quickly, already reaching for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “No, no,” you whisper. “Just... not like that.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heels pressing against the small of his back, gently urging him into a better angle. “Here,” you guide, your voice low and coaxing. “A little lower. Like that.”

He swallows hard, still frozen in place, but the panic softens as he watches you, sees that you still want this. He nods, his throat working with the effort to calm himself.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I promise.”

He exhales on the word promise, and then he moves again. His brows draw together, not in worry now, but in focus, lips brushing your cheek as he resumes the rhythm that had your body unraveling.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he grinds deeper, the angle just there, the friction so exquisite your vision blurs.

“Caleb—” you gasp, voice cracking as the pleasure rises sharp and fast inside you.

“I know, I know.” he rasps. His hips snap harder, deeper, the slap of skin echoing as you spiral closer. “That’s it,” he grits out, his thumb pressing harder. “Let go. Let go for me.”

When your thighs lock around his waist, when your walls clench around him in a sudden, overwhelming spasm, your release rips through you - deep, intense, every nerve alight. Your back arches off the bed, a cry spilling from your lips as you pulse around him, your fingers clawing into the sweat-slick skin of his back.

“Fuck—” His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic. With a shattered groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking as he spills into you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath a ragged pant against your lips.

For a heartbeat, you’re both still, just a tangle of sweat and shared breath, his necklace resting between your breasts, now warm from the heat of your skin. Then he collapses against you, his weight comforting and grounding, his lips brushing your collarbone. His arms curl tightly around you, one hand tracing slow, mindless patterns over your hip, and the other splayed beneath your shoulder. You exhale slowly, your fingers sliding through his damp hair.

You’re not sure how long you lie there like that, tangled and breathless, your hearts gradually slowing from their frantic rhythm. The first sliver of sunlight filters through your curtains, golden and gentle. You tilt your chin to study him, how sunlight looks like powdered gold over his lashes.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, because it’s true, and because you know it’ll fluster him.

His nose scrunches, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” You brush the hair from his temple. “Like a pouty Renaissance angel.”

He only chuckles, burying his face against your chest.

You tilt your head to kiss his temple, your voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Come on. Let’s wash up.”

He groans. “Or we could stay like this forever.”

“You’re sweating all over me.” you protest, already nudging at his side.

He lifts his head just enough to squint at you. “You liked it when I was sweating five minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off with a laugh as you both untangle from the bed. The sheets are a mess, still warm with everything that happened, and your thighs ache, making you bite your lip as you stand. You grab a towel and toss one at him too. He catches it, looking far too smug for someone who was blushing just an hour ago.

As you step under the warm spray, Caleb holding your hand for stability, something crosses your mind.

“Hey… did you really drool on the pillow?”

[oraltraditionfiction]

We listen and we don’t judge | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (fluff)

Summary: You and Quinn do the We Listen and We Don't Judge challenge.

WC: 453

Author's Note: Tbh we're not really on tiktok, but we thought this was a cute idea!! This is my first ever fic/blurb/piece of fanfiction so I would love to hear any feedback :-) Enjoy! - 🐇

You set the camera up on the kitchen counter, swiping under your eyes before backing up to Quinn. 

“Ok! Are we ready?” You say, clapping your hands together. Quinn nods, arms slung around you and an indulgent smile on his face. 

“This is the weird habits thing from TikTok, right?”

You nod, laughing, as you lean forward and press play.

“We listen and we don’t judge!” You say as you spread your hands theatrically, Quinn only jumping in halfway through the sentence.

You side eye the man next to you, leaning in close to the camera, “Sometimes,” a conspiratorial whisper, “I cheer for the Bruins when you aren’t home.”

Quinn drops his arms from around you, and turns towards you wide eyed, “Babe, that’s practically treason… they’ll kill you…” you laugh and shove him lightly, a finger in front of your mouth to mime secrecy. 

“Ok your turn!” you push him forward.

“We listen and we don’t judge!” said together.

He chuckles, rubbing his neck, “Sometimes I use your face towel as a hand towel” You whirl towards him in shock, hitting his arm with the back of your hand. 

“Quinn! I have acne because of you!” He dodges your playful hits, laughing at your mock outraged face.

Through giggles you spit out, “Sometimes I dog-ear our book pages because you lost all of our cute bookmarks.” 

“Oh my god, babe, find a receipt or some shit. They don’t have to be cute” Quinn puts his head in his hands, heaving out a dramatic sigh. You laugh, tugging his hands away from his face as he thinks of his next one.

“One time I put your favorite bra in the dryer and it got ruined and instead of telling you I just bought a new one” 

You gasp, actually floored. “You told me that I had probably just missed that tag! I can’t believe you!” 

Faking indignation you turn away from him and say, “Sometimes I don’t wash our fruit before we eat it” 

“You’re going to actually give us brain worms. Oh my god, babe… we could have brain worms right now.” He says hand over his mouth, your laughter ringing out across the kitchen. 

Quinn wraps his arms around you, holding you close, “Sometimes when you aren’t here, I don’t use coasters.” You gasp, turning in his hold. He laughs as you begin gesticulating wildly, 

“Quinn, that is so bad for the wood!” You begin lecturing him, saying that his apartment is much too nice for moisture rings to be on his nice wooden coffee table. He buries his face in your neck, smothering his laughter so he can listen attentively to your voice.

[angelltheninth]

Hi just wanted to say that I love reading your invincible fics !! If your still accepting requests; would it be ok if I request dating hcs on Mark , Eve and Rex please 🙏 (separate if possible) love them so much (reader I’m fine with female or gn ^^)

I love those three too! I will gladly accept your request.

Pairing: Mark Grayson, Eve Wilkins, Rex Sloan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, kissing, flying, power use, flirting, banter, established relationship, superheroes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Dating one of them would be great, but imagine dating all three?!

The best boyfriend you could ask for, will take care of you no matter what you need

More on the shy side when you first begin your relationship and easily flustered

You have to be the one to kiss him first, he doesn't exactly have a lot experience with dating

Always got tongue tied around pretty women and you are no exception even after you begin dating

Uses his powers to impress you, or tries to impress you, but he almost crashes into a building because he was too busy flirting with you to notice it

Happy to be affectionate in public, always holds your hand while you walk together

Stays up late to talk to you, Mark is pretty stubborn when it comes to ending the call first

Listens to your heartbeat from far away because it helps him relax and puts him to sleep easier

His phone is filled with pictures of you in various outfits, some of which you bought on your dates, others that you had in your closet and sent pictures to him

The best kinds of dates are the nightly flights he takes you on, high above the city, somewhere private, there are so many romantic spots to explore around the world

Eve compliments you a lot before and after you begin dating, that and affectionate touching are how she expresses her love the most

When she wants to kiss you and you're on the other side of the room she floats right next to you and plants a quick kiss on your cheek right before moving away

If you want to kiss her back you're gonna have to catch her first, which might prove a bit of challenge but the reward will be worth it

Kisses your hand a lot and enjoys the way it makes you blush, you're like a pretty princess

Doesn't let anything interrupt your cuddling sessions and if there's anything either of you need to grab she will levitate it within arms reach

Loves helping you with your makeup and buying you makeup and various accessories, most of them matching

Not shy about taking showers together when either of you spends the night at the others place

Absolutely melts on the inside when she wakes up and sees that you cooked her favorite food to make her feel better when she had a bad night or a bad mission

Hugs you tight when you sleep next to each other, kissing your forehead before she fully falls asleep

On your anniversaries she always tries to come up with something new and fun for the two of you to do together

Big flirt compared to your previous boyfriends and will use any chance to make you blush

Can be the big spoon or the little spoon, it doesn't make much difference to Rex as long as he gets to hold you in his arms all night long

Enjoys leaving kiss marks and bite marks on you, grinning like a lovesick fool when he sees them on you while you're getting dressed

Kisses you in front of his friends and teammates when ever he gets the chance

When it's your anniversary he makes his own fireworks, maybe slightly less flashy but he wants you to see the effort he put in

Gets slightly jealous when he sees other heroes trying to flirt with you

Often works out in front of you since he knows you enjoy seeing his muscles, and the occasional invitation to get into the shower with him after he's done

Huge fan of sleeping over at your place and leaving his clothes there, but he pretends he does it on accident

Actually he does that specifically to see how you're wearing his clothes more and more, during the day and when you're going to sleep, wearing one of his shirts

Instead of just kissing you he will often instigate a long make out session, he can't keep his hands off a pretty girl like you

[fanged-fanfics]

ok so can i PLEASE request a sequel to the "baby cookie reader says shadow cookie" thing where pure vanilla finds it sweet that y/n is developing an imaginary friend... until y/n hands him a drawing of this "imaginary" friend and sees shadow milk cookie...

☆ A New Pal, Only in Jest — Pure Vanilla & Child!Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Light Angst, Familial || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Part two to this fic!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

"—And you're sure it's normal?" Pure Vanilla asks, tensely holding his cup while Dark Cacao sat across from him. "Yes, Pure Vanilla" Dark Cacao sighed "Children have large imaginations. It's normal for them to see things in the mundane. Dark Choco was once convinced a suit of armor that had never once moved was alive, it's a common occurrence". Pure Vanilla nodded, looking into his glass. His staff watched carefully as he gingerly sipped the liquid to try and calm his nerves. "It's more than that, Dark Cacao. This wasn't some... spirit. It was him. They act like they can see and talk to him"

Dark Cacao looked up, his expression gone from calm to serious "You don't mean-?". "I do" Pure Vanilla confirmed solemnly "They swore they could see him. I- I know he isn't back, but- what if...". Pure Vanilla let out a shuddering sigh, and Dark Cacao tapped his glass as he thought. "I'll contact Elder Faerie. In the meantime, try to keep your mind clear. Your Kingdom needs you". "Yes.. yes, you're right.." Pure Vanilla said softly. "If he does come back, I'll fight with you" Dark Cacao said, leaning forward a bit "Don't face this alone, not when you have those who want to help you"

Pure Vanilla nodded, putting on his usual placating gentle smile "Of course, thank you". Just then, you'd waddled into the room, padding over with a slightly crumbled paper pressed against your side. "Papa! Papa!! C'see!" You called, running up to his side. He glanced to you with a grin "Oh, of course!". He leaned down, tilting his staff as well as he looked over the paper. You held it out proudly, grinning as you looked to him with shiney and hopeful eyes.

Pure Vanilla tried to school his expression, but his smile fell without his control. That same cold chill was back, striking him right in the soul. It was a messily scribbled drawing of you and him, something he'd always treasured. But this time, to your other side, you'd drawn a dark figure. One with mismatched blue eyes, and a wide smile. "Who- who is that..?" Pure Vanilla asked in a shaky voice. "Shadow Cookie!" You proudly declared "My friend!". Dark Cacao leaned over, very gently taking the picture from your hands so he could inspect it.

You began to feel worried as the two shared worried looks. This wasn't anything like the praise and cheers you usually got for your art, and you couldn't understand what was wrong. Dark Cacao suddenly stood "I'll- contact the Faeries. Immediately". "My drawing.." You sadly said, seeing it crumpled in the stoic king's fist. Dark Cacao loosened his hold, beginning to smooth it out as best he could "Ah- forgive me, little one. Here," he said, handing it back to you.

You still had a slight pout, helping to smooth it out as well. Dark Cacao gave hurried goodbyes before he went to leave. Pure Vanilla stood, seeing him out as he placed a hand on your back. "Is... is it bad, papa?" You asked. Pure Vanilla looked down, quickly putting on a smile "Not at all, my darling blue bird. It's wonderful. We were talking about fussy old King business, don't you worry". You felt a little better as he kissed your forehead, moving to walk back to your room "Okay..."

Once inside, you put your drawing down. It still looked pretty good to you, you couldn't piece together why it got the reaction it did. Maybe your new friend would like it! You sat down, grabbing the black and blue crayons as you began working on yet another drawing of them. While you hummed, Pure Vanilla listened on the other side of the door, sighing gently. Worry was practically choking him, but he tried to steady his breathing. This- this was okay. He could- if he just-... he needed that visit as soon as possible.

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, carmenmundt, yourbff, fernandoalo_official and 128,134 others

ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

view all 324 comments

astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

ynuser has posted to their story

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user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

ynuser has posted to their story

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yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

lance_stroll posted to his story

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chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

lance_stroll has posted to his story

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user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, iamrebeccad, fernandoalo_official, yourbff, scottyjames1, and 326,137 others

ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

view all 418 comments

user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

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

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN. T_T canon stuff/medieval health care might not be accurate so ROLLLL with it ok. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon takes you to the dining room, and upon entering, you are met with Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were in the middle of eating lunch. For a split second, you are happy to see them both, but then you remember the horrible news regarding the princess's mother.

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

"My deepest condolences, my princess," you curtsy at Rhaenyra before placing a hand on her shoulder.

She is dejected and her eyes are sullen as she turns to you.

"She was in active labor last I saw her..." you shake your head, finding the words to say, "it is terrible to be without a mother," you turn to your sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as well, "the pain never quite leaves you. My sister and I know it well."

Rhaenyra turns back to her food, "how good to know."

You frown and crouch down beside her, "darling."

Rhaenyra slowly turns back to you, tears now falling from her eyes.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Alicent frowns, quickly feeling her own eyes well up at the display.

The same happens to Daemon. He watches three girls weep and his face hardens as he comes to Rhaenyra's side, "bisa tolī kessa rēbagon, ñuha riña." This too shall pass, my girl.

Rhaenyra turns to her uncle as he grabs her hand, heavy tears stream down her face, "ziry ōdragon." It hurts.

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then he notices Alicent begin to fuss over you. You softly brush her off as you come to stand. Alicent is quick to stand with you, and she is glad to have done so, because you nearly topple back.

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Rhaenyra stares at you as her uncle sits you in the chair across her She watches how Daemon treats you, thinking she's never seen him treat anyone like this before, much less a lady. It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

He brushes your back but only calms after your food is served and he's seen you eat a few bites. He takes a goblet of wine but his eyes remain fixed on you, "better?"

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

Alicent's eyes widen at the sound of the pet name. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes with a huff. It is precisely that sound that makes you realize what you've said. You were used to referring to Alicent and Rhaenyra that, it came so naturally this moment, "I- I mean-"

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw as she shakes her head, "mourning his lost heir."

Both you and your husband's face fall. You turn from the princess to the prince, reaching for his hand. Daemon clutches your hand as his brows constrict, "your brother is dead?"

"Just last night," Rhaenyra absentmindedly stirs her food, "his and my mother's funereal will be held in a few hours."

Your heart hurts for her, "my deepest sympathies for your losses, princess."

There is a thick silence for a moment. You all find it quite hard to eat, but you do so regardless. You force feed yourself through the unpleasant churn in your belly. After a while, you look across the room, finding that it looked everyone was experiencing the same thing. You break the silence, turning to your sister, "perhaps Alicent can accompany you to the temple to pray. It did always help me."

Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, but she does not react.

Your sister looks back at you and you give her a nod of encouragment. Alicent thinks for a moment, "a walk there would be good for you as well."

You smile at the red haired girl.

"My prayers are terrible," Rhaenyra mumbles.

You huff and frown at the thought, "it is impossible. No prayer is terrible, especially not one spoken in earnest."

Rhaenyra remembers how her septa would use you as an example for praying. She sniffles, "would you join us, aunt?"

You perk and immediately nod, "I would love t-"

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

You all turn to him as Daemon turns to you. You slowly shake your head, "if... that is the case, you do not have to come."

Daemon's eyes widen ever so slightly in offense.

"Perhaps you can wa-"

"Kesan daor mītepagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys," I will not lend you my wife, says Daemon to Rhaenyra.

You turn from your husband to his niece. Rhaenyra looks back at you, "he says he will not lend you to me."

Your lips part, giving him a look, "Daemon."

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

A long silence passes.

Rhaenyra stares at her half-empty plate and decides that's as much as she'll ever get to eat in this moment. She pushes her chair back and stands, "I'm quite finished," she looks between the table. Alicent takes a final spoonful before standing as well.

"Raqagon aōha ābrazȳrys, kepa," enjoy your wife, uncle, Rhaenyra says as she walks off. Alicent follows after her, and both girls look at you as you stand to greet them goodbye. Daemon simply looks at his niece.

Rhaenyra, though she always harbored a special affection towards her uncle, could not find it in her to project her ire out on you, for you were nothing but kind to her, and after all, you were her closest friend's older sister. She nods at you as she leaves, "princess."

"Princess," you nod back and do the same for Alicent, "sister. Take care of each other."

Once they are gone, you sit back down and glare at Daemon.

It takes a moment for him to realize it. When he catches your look, his brows contort. You immediately quip, "would it very hard for you to stomach the ambience of the temple for an hour?"

Daemon turns back to his plate. He thinks of the night he came to you at the temple, "just because I came for you does not mean I wish to do the same for Rhaenyra."

You knit your brows deeply, not having a clue on what he's saying, "what?"

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

"You forbid me?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"It is my prerogative where I go, and-" he turns back to you, "where my wife does."

You stare at him for a moment. You feel frustration bubble in your belly, "Daemon."

Anger bubbles in his belly.

You reach for his hand and gaze upon him in confusion, "the child's mother is dead."

He looks at your hand before his away, "I knew her mother longer than she has."

You chuckle in disbelief, pulling your head back. He looks at you, jaw set and eyes glassy. You shake your head slowly, "that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Daemon laughs, hurt by your sentiment.

"Her mother is dead," you shake your head rapidly, "she who taught her everything she kno-"

Daemon stands abruptly, jaw and fists clenched tightly, making you flinch. He stares at you for a long moment and you feel your breath begin to grow heavy. You slowly reach for his hand, half expecting him to rip his arm away. When he does not, you come to a stand, "Dae-"

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

His words stab you like a spear through the chest. Your eyes begin to water, "is that what you think I'm do-"

"Then what?!" he snaps, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

You begin to sob and you take his cheeks, "I'm trying to make you understand what I am thinking, why I want to go with Rhaenyra, because I know what it fee-"

"Do I not mourn?" Daemon swats your hand away from him. He quickly turns away when his tears begin to fall. He does not get to notice how you twitch at his action, nor how instantly your heart begins to race.

He walks off to the door, stopping for a moment, waiting for you to come after him. You do not.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Daemon, too wrapped up in his self-suffering, does not even think to look at you and storms out of the dining room.

By the time the doors slam shut, you are able to bring yourself to go after your husband. You move as quickly as you can, convincing yourself sprinting was worth it if you managed to catch up to Daemon. The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

Daemon, on the other hand, did not have to try to walk as fast as he did. He is walking so fast, if anyone were to crash into him, they would shoot off and hurt themselves.

It doesn't take long for you to lose your breath, and though you didn't want to, your body to forces you to stop. You were so close. You managed to catch a whiff of Daemon's silver hair, but now everything was turning silver... then black. You reach to the side to lean against the wall, but you miscalculate your reach and shift your weight, only to slip and crash roughly onto the ground.

You're so out of breath, no sound comes out of you when you crash. The pain is immense, yet you are rendered mute. Your ribs throb at the impact of colliding against the stone floor. You do not know it, but your nose it bleeding too.

It's a wonder that you did not pass out. Or perhaps it was the gods' will for you to feel fibre of your body strangle itself from how your lungs struggled, as punishment for being unkind to your husband.

You do know know it, but two Gold Cloaks find you on the floor. They are quick to bring you to the maester's ward. You hear them explain to the measter how they found you, and you muster up your remaining energy to say, "Daemon... please."

The two Gold Cloaks understand and leave with the intent of sending your husband to you. They will not manage to find him till much later for he went off on dragonback.

You lie on one of the cots in the maester's ward, staring at the ceiling you've come to know all too well. You know your maester can do little to help you in this moment, but you are grateful for his care nonetheless.

"You mustn't strain yourself in your condition, your grace," the old man says, "you are carrying a child within you."

You tense at his words. Your sit up and straighten your back, rapidly shaking your head, "b-but, maester, how can that be? It cannot be."

He offers you a solemn look, "your father, Lord Hand, has made us monitor you-"

"He does not finish inside me," you quip and frantically motion, "he- he... he spills on my skin. How then can I be with child?"

The maester is taken aback by your confession. He does not give himself away though and calmly explains, "it is still possible for... the seed take root from premature ejaculation."

You are floored by this information. You shake your head in disagreement, "but— he will not believe me."

"He does not have to. It does not ch-"

"He will do everything to villainize me. He will accuse me of infidelity."

He frowns, "I can explain it to-"

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

He pulls his head back, "your grace..." he brings your hands slowly off him, "you can only hide such a thing for so long."

You shake your head and bring yourself to stand, "it is a worry for another time."

"Wait- you cannot leave-"

"I cannot miss the queen's funeral."

The maester does his best to prevent you from leaving. He calmly tries to lead you back to bed and explain that no one would fault you for being unable to attend. You are persistent however and managed to get out of the room. Two other maesters come and try to reel you back in, and it is the same time your wards come running in.

News of you fainting had spread like wildfire, and both their faces were marked with avid worry. "Princess!" they call in unison.

"Make them release me!" you wail in exhaustion as you fight off the maesters.

"She cannot go," your maester says, "she is far too weak."

"Unhand her this instant!" Erryk barks, ready to forcefully shove the old men away from you.

The maesters pull away in shock and confusion as Erryk imposes upon them. Arryk is the one to keep you upright, and he is horrified by the state you are in. You lean into his armour, lulled by his hard steel as you sigh in exhaustion.

"You would subdue her in such a state?" Arryk snaps.

"She is hysterical," the maester says, "she is not strong enough to-"

"Aye, but she's strong enough to fight off 3 grown men?" Arryk grits his teeth as he keeps you upright, "have you not given her medication?"

He sighs, "there is no medication fo-"

"Then what business has she here?" Erryk raises his brows, "you'd keep her to rot?"

The man scoffs, "I am offended, ser, that you think you know better than I when it comes to the health of the princess."

"I do know better," Erryk snaps, "you will not treat her like a prisoner if she asks to leave again."

"Ha!" the maester snaps, "fine! I'm sure the days you've spent gutting men has made you learned in the ways to heal them, ser."

With that, the maesters leave and you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. You sigh as Erryk turns to you, seeing the hardness of his face soften in real time. You frown, "you should not have done that."

"My duty?" he narrows his eyes, "they had you surrounded like a criminal."

Arryk nods, "I fear they might have bruised you."

You sigh, fighting back tears. You steel yourself away and shake your head, "I should prepare for the funeral."

You do just that and Erryk and Arryk escort you to the funeral. You immediately spot Daemon, but he was stood beside his brother and niece, so you did not think it proper to interlope. You find Alicent standing just a few paces from Rhaenyra and debate to join her, but then you see the Lord Hand farther behind her, and you feel the need to cry.

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

Your father is quick to recognize your distress once you come to him, and quickly takes you under his arm. It is so instinctive, the Cargyll twins are shocked by it. They were supposed to keep close watch on you, but they decided to give you and your father privacy.

Otto had long decided physical affections were no use to you, and yet in this moment, he pulls you into him, securing one arm your shoulders. You press your cheek into his chest as you steal a glance at the king. Viserys stands before two lifeless bodies, and the sight mirrored that of the day your mother died.

You wrap your arms around your father.

He sighs, eyes throwing daggers at the Rogue fucking prince, "did he take the news badly?"

You shake your head, "I have not told him."

Otto sighs again, agitated and disappointed. His face is crestfallen as calls out your name, "what happened then?"

"I am terrified."

Your father tenses and clenches his jaw. He strokes your hair, doing his best to ignore the awful sounds you were making. "The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

After the funeral, once Otto made sure you are taken care off, he goes to his other daughter and asks about the princess. Alicent is quick to explain to him that Rhaenyra is so much like you when your mother died, "I have not seen Rhaenyra in such a state."

Otto offers Alicent a soft smile, placing a hand on her cheek, "you are ever empathetic, daughter, to both the princess and your sister."

"Sister did not look well at the funeral either. I should check up on her."

"That won't be necessary," her father raises a hand, "I've seen to her already. She needs only to rest now."

Alicent slowly nods.

"You ought to offer some empathy to the king however."

The girl tenses at the thought.

"Unlike your princesses, the king does not have people to go to at this time. Even now, he's secluded himself in his chambers. It would be good of you to go to him from time to time, if only to express how you keep him in your prayers."

Alicent tries to make sense of it. She clenches her jaw, "wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to do this, father?"

He chuckles lowly, "how much sadder would he be if a widower offer another widower his bitter prayers?"

She stills at the thought and understands. Or so she thinks.

Otto smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, "it might be best if you keep private your visits to him. You need not explain your concern to Rhaenyra to further distress her."

She nods in understanding. In truth, she does not understand the true intentions of her father, and will not until it is far too late.

As this was happening, you were trying to get ahold of Daemon. You could not for he was quick to leave the funeral right after it concluded. He had seen you crying to your father and wanted to wash his eyes with alcohol, unwanting to behold such a gruesome sight. It stung far too much that you sought comfort in that cunt face. Why didn't you cry to him instead?

Daemon washes alcohol down his throat instead with members of his City Watch at his favorite brothel. Mysaria is there to keep him company and though her touch and words are gentle, he cannot find solace in them like he once did.

The two guards who had found you on the floor earlier today hear about the gathering and go to the prince to tell him what had happened to you.

"Your grace."

Daemon sulks as he stares at a cup of wine. Mysaria, who was stood behind his chair, looks at the men then to the silver haired man, "my prince. These men want to speak to you."

"Wha-what for?" he snaps through a hiccup.

"Your wife, my prince," one says.

Mysaria stiffens, lips parting. She was not a stranger to Daemon's foul moods and prided herself in easily defusing them. It changed when he married the Hightower girl. Though it was evident most of his frustrations stemmed from you, you were too much of a touchy subject, which is why she says, "I do not think he wants to talk about her."

"A whore should not meddle with concerns she cannot understand."

Mysaria scoffs, thinking about how Daemon fucked her once and called out his bride's name. When she brought it up after, he screamed, telling her he doesn't pay her to ask questions. She steps back and crosses her arms, "be my guest then."

One of the two guards lean forward in an attempt to gain the attention of the distracted man, "prince Daemon. We wished to report something regarding your wife."

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

The two are taken aback. Mysaria steps back a few paces.

"N-no, your grace. But she-"

"Then do not FUCKING mention her to me!" Daemon snaps, jolting from his seat. His scream was loud enough to cause the noise to cease. He grabs his cup and downs his drink in one go. He then pushes past the two guards and begins to monologue.

"The gods give as the gods take," he says, voice horse and eyes misty. "Try as they may, I am not so easily replaced."

The room is solemn as they look upon the prince. He is clearly distraught and wholly drunk.

He stares at his cup, "wine does not taste sweeter with tears. Tonight, we drink to the Heir For A Day..." he burps, "perhaps he would have liked wine."

Back in the keep, as Alicent leaves her father's quarters, you go to them, which is why you cross paths. She is concerned by how you lean into ser Cargyll's arm as you walk, and immediately comes to your side, "sister?"

"Alicent," you smile, immediately perking up.

"Lady Hightower," the knight greets her.

"It's ser Erryk," you playfully whisper with a smile.

Alicent turns to you and offershim as soft smile, "ser Erryk."

"You spoke to father, surely," you take her hand, making her look back at you, "is his mood grim?"

She shakes her head, "no. He is... relatively placid, I think."

"Good," you break away from Erryk. He assures you are firmly planted on your feet before releasing you, "I can talk to him then."

"Shouldn't you rather be resting?" she asks in concern.

"It is urgent. I-" you shake your head, "I cannot delay any further."

Alicent realizes then that your hair was fully undone and slightly messy now. You were also in your thick velvet robe, and it only causes her further concern. "I know I am not Gwayne, but if there is anything you wish to speak of," she squeezes your hands, "I am hear to lend an ear."

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

She chuckles rather sadly, "we help but worry always for those we love."

Erryk heart pinches at the solemn exchange of the two sisters. He is glad to know that at least one more person in your family loved you with gentleness. He makes mental note to encourage you to write to your brother.

When Alicent leaves, you take a breath before knocking on the Hand's door.

"Enter."

You walk in and find your father busy at his desk.

"Father."

Otto looks up at you, immediately coming to stand, "what's wrong?"

You close the door behind him, catching Erryk's encouraging gaze. He nods before you shut the door. You turn to you father, finding he was already walking towards you.

He takes your hand, inspecting you. He speaks your name carefully, and it softens your frigid demeanor, "what has happened?"

You smile sadly, "I cannot sleep."

He sighs, partially relieved it is nothing so severe. He walks towards the door, "I will have one of the maids send you warm milk and honey."

"There is something I must tell you," you say, making him stop.

He turns back you, antsy over your serious tone, "if it is regarding Daemon. Do not worry. I have designs to keep him on a leash."

You release his hand and turn to your feet.

His expression hardens. He knows whatever you have to say is grave because you can no longer look at him. He steps forward and takes your cheeks, "daughter."

You look up at him, face stained with tears.

"Go to bed," he wipes your cheeks, "you'll muster the nerve to tell your husband the news soon en-"

"He does not finish inside me, father."

"..."

"I've-" you choke on your breath, "I've spoken about it to the maesters and he's explained it is possible for the seed to take root from premature ejaculation but-"

"Have you strayed?" Otto tightens his hold a fraction.

You are aghast by his statement and rapidly shake your head, "father, I wou-"

"Then there is nothing to fear," he cuts you off, brows tensing, "your child will be born with silver hair and violet eyes, and-"

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

"Enough," he snaps, shaking you slightly.

You chest begins to tighten.

Otto notices and brushes your hair out of your face. He recites the common prayer you used to pray with your mother, "Seven, hear me. Father, strengthen me. Mother, protect me. Warrior, d—"

"Defend me," you sigh, joining in, "Smith, mend me."

"Mend my daughter," Otto mumbles softly.

"Maiden, beautify me," you say together, "Crone, enlighten me. Stranger, guide me."

Otto nods and strokes your hair, "now breathe."

It takes a few deep breaths, but you are calm now. He leads you to the door and opens it. "Oh, good," he says, once spotting your ward, "you're not entirely useless."

Erryk walks over to you, ignoring your father completely as he takes you by the arm.

"Take her to bed and have some warm milk and honey served to her."

"Yes, my lord," he says, though not sparing the lord a glance.

You, however, do, looking back with a soft smile, "good night, father."

He is about to reply, but then comes a servant boy, holding a plate of crackers and cheese, who freezes at the sight of the crowded entry. He thinks he's made a mistake, so he turns to leave, but Otto raises a hand and beckons the boy over, "come."

The boy walks past you, mumble a soft, "milady."

You smile and nod, "good evening."

Erryk eyes him suspiciously as he enters the room but refocuses on walking you back.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

"Prince Daemon at the brothel, milord," the boy says, rolling back and forth on his heels.

The Lord Hand's face twists in contempt. He pulls his desk open and procures a cold coin.

The boy gleefully takes it and begins to explain the events that take place.

[pushingdaisies1]

ok so i'm new to your blog so i'm not 100% sure how you usually do requests but I would kill for a fic where the reader gets an injury (not life threatening) patched up by another character. Dae-ho came to my mind first tbh but you could literally do whoever. i'm not sure if you do multiple characters in one post or not so take this request however you like!

"Dont look at me with those eyes" . . . ♡

. ⟣ㅤㅤ˳ㅤㅤ︵︵ㅤ ୨ ୧ ㅤ︵︵ㅤㅤˑㅤㅤ⟢ ,

-> PAIRING: Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388) x Reader! -> SUMMARY: Falling into these games was like a hard-hitting reminder of your status on the food chain. Always the one to sell yourself out and break yourself completely to help loved ones make it up to the top. You were the lowest of the low, a runt. A runt with a big and burning heart. But meeting Dae-ho was like a soft blanket being wrapped around you. In your first interaction alone, even though you were playing with your lives, he was like a beacon of strangely placed hope. Soon becoming acquainted with the "quickly assembled" team Mr. Player 456 (Seong Gihun) had formed, you had found quick allies with the group of men and Jun-hee. After the third game, you had taken a pretty bad blow to your leg from another scattering player. Dae-ho notices, and knows that he can't let a partner limp back without lending a helping hand. That made you like him so much, he was a helpful, hopeful fool. It made your teeth grind against other teeth as you watched him care for you so carefully. You were almost like glass in his hands. -> WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence (mingle was brutal), Not entirely proof read.., Descriptions and talks of injured/dislocated ankle, I use y/n like once LOL, I kinda fudged the "rules" of the second game don't mind that heh, I don't know how to treat wounds so it WILL be incorrect!, angst(?), Dae-ho being a cutie patootie!! -> AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh first ever request, I love this idea, and tysm for sending one in! Dae-ho became a quick favorite of mine, especially after the fourth episode. He's so sweet and the most gentle character in the show. I love his vulnerability and warmth as an ex-marine and clear victim of toxic masculinity in his life. He's genuinely a top favorite of mine. I do apologize if this is a tad bit too long for anybody's tastes. I had a lot of fun with this request as you can see heh. I'll be using him (Dae-ho) for this one, but yes for reference next time ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗I don't mind doing multiple characters in one request <3!! Don’t be afraid to send in other characters , enjoy.. ^_^

. ─── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─── ' . The fact that you had survived past the first and second games was shocking. You hadn't expected to see players littered down with bullets when playing a game calling back to your younger days. One by one it was like watching chickens be plucked from the coop. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you tried your hardest to stay as still as possible. Thank the heavens you didn't end up in front of the so-called "rap legend" who was pushing people left and right. In your held-back panic, you had found a point of focus. A specific player amongst the herd had more so shouted for people to stand behind others taller than them.

Stay crouched down behind the back of another and the doll shouldn't recognise your movement. As hurried steps padded against the sandy ground, you found yourself lined up behind a taller man. His hair was pulled up halfway, with a tiny ponytail atop his head. If you weren't in a life-or-death scenario you would've had a nice quick chuckle about it. His stature was easy to hide behind in the hurried chaos. As others were being shot down among the organized crowd, your feet had almost lost footing. Your stance had faltered after someone directly behind you had gotten shot by one of the sniper perks. You felt your legs begin to tremble as your back was littered with the victim's blood.

You were so close to ruining this somewhat assorted line when you felt a hand clasp your wrist. Shockingly you didn't jerk out of line, it was in actuality a steadying grip. In quick succession, he'd murmur to you, a stranger behind him. "I got you, just keep l-looking ahead." Even though his voice was trembling he still sounded like a courageous hero to you. So quickly you were able to steady your legs, and before you could hesitate anymore it was time to move. Reaching across the finish line was like a breath of fresh air. Pretty much getting all the air knocked back into your lungs. You couldn't have fallen harder against the ground after you had thrown yourself over. Locking eyes with the young man that was standing beside you. He was almost cracking a carefree smile as he soon realized that he'd too made it out alive.

Seeing you on the ground he immediately offered you a hand. If this was all in a different context, you would've been feeling more butterflies in your chest than you already had. But you had almost died just a couple seconds ago. You were grateful for his steady hands, so you hopped at the opportunity to have him pull you up on your feet.

In hindsight, you probably looked like a nut job as specks of sand littered the jacket you and every other player adorned. His grip was firm as he excitedly shook your hand. "You were a tough one out there! I'm glad to see you make it." He said with a beaming smile. The announcements drowned out your thoughts as players' numbers were being called out with their eliminations.

Your eyes were a lot more shaky as you nodded your head in response and recognition. "It's in all thanks to you. You practically saved my life. I am forever in your debt.." Words trailing off as you didn't know his name, at all. He probably had the name of an action hero or a true trailblazer. Was luck finally on your side? Did you make a friend in this horrifying ordeal?

Everything was buzzing all around between the two of you. The doll Young-hee repeats the same two phrases over and over again. As your surroundings became pure noise, you found comfort in focusing on his face and its features. His grip on your hand with firm, giving you one final good squeeze as your hands fell to your own respective sides. "Kang, Kang Dae-ho." He had this almost palpable warmth. It made you feel all mushy on the inside for unknown reasons. You'd let out a sigh of almost relief as your lip quivered. "Thank you for saving my life, Kang Dae-ho." Your eyes grew glazed over with unshed tears. No regular person has ever been this close to death. A completely and utterly helpful stranger just saved you. Your chest was pounding with emotion but there was no time for that. The timer was quicking ticking down and both of your attentions were collectively drawn to the scene in front of you.

The "freeze" man from before and a woman both tried to carry over an injured player. The triumphant moment was killed as people erupted into cheers, and the injured soul was shot for the final time in the head. The first game came and went. The prize money was introduced and soon the stakes were raised. Voting amongst the players was almost coming too close to starting a fight. Some people wanted to leave off the bat.

After witnessing the carnage and violence being displayed in only the first game out of six. So many lives were lost, and the prize money shined like a golden nugget. It was like the largest golden ticket out of tremendous piles of debt. Which you were suffering with.

So even with protests and bated breaths, your fist firmly pressed down onto the 'O' button. You wore it like a badge of shame on your chest. A reminder of your shameless greed, judgemental stares burned into the back of your head. When people dispersed and went to different areas around the room, you were somber. You felt shameful as you contemplated your decision.

It was so close to a tie. Your vote could've done so much. But your debt wouldn't have been fixed. You would still have creditors hounding after you for your money. You were screwed either way. The jacket was large enough for you to be able to burry yourself inside of it , in both shame and fatigue.

You were shocked that they were handing out containers of food. With how sightly sickening the first game was. But ya' know, have to keep the prized pigs well-fed to continue on. You slunk back as you immediately dug into the food you were given. You weren't focusing on taste or texture. It tasted like home, so you didn't hesitate to scarf it down in quick succession. Your eyes looked in front of you, examining the walls and the layers of beds. Players either sat by themselves eating what they had , or were already starting to make connections with other poor unfortunate souls. Something caught your eye as you were people-watching. A group of game participants, who had voted the same as you did were walking over to the previous player. You could remember the desperation that clung to his voice. Especially when other players were brushing off his words during the voting. You saw that same familiar face who also risked his life to save yours. It was the most commotion in the room. Leaving your tin and your half-drunken water bottle on your mattress, you scooted off and gently found your footing. You placed one shoe in front of the other as you watched players dispersing away, the sounds coming from them not pleasant ones. What could've been said to make that many people storm off with such unpleasant looks on their faces?

You approached the men with skittish hands and determination in your mind. Alliances and teaming up with players may be the utmost needed in these games. Making friendly with someone whos played these children's games before could give you and others the boost needed to survive. Player 390 sounded determined as well. Especially talking up his friend as a previous player. Or... were they friends? The man just seemed like a friendly soul.

As Dae-ho was addressing the men with profound respect and camaraderie, you sort of appeared beside him. "I'm sorry to interrupt but..." Dae-hos eyes expanded when seeing you, his hand meeting your back in a rather firm pat. "Ah! , Have you come to join our team as well?" Your cheeks grew warm as suddenly you were on the spot. But admittedly that was your fault. "I-I- I heard the commotion over here, are you looking for one more person?" Your voice was small and meek. '456' looked at you, his eyes cold with glimpses of warmth in those pupils. To the looks of it, it appeared like he was trying to give you room to speak. "No matter the game, having allies is always good to have. You seem like a group of good men... I don't want to die so soon. Please, your consideration would mean the most."

'001' cracked a small smile. "I don't have a problem with it." His voice was smooth ... almost hollow. You didn't focus on demeanor, only happy to see such graciousness. '456' bit back a sigh, his face a little less solemn after watching the scene in front of him between Dae-ho and player '390.' Both their sleeve rolled up, showing off their similar Marine tattoos. Before he could get a word in, you spoke up once again. "I voted to continue on because of you. You surely have enough wisdom to carry the players participating. My vote wasn't one out of malice. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place-" He put a hand out to stop you from talking anymore. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I have no problem with you joining us, you seem to be a good kid." You took his words and ran with it. Dae-ho couldn't help but chime in. "I ran into them in the first game! They are as courageous as an ex-marine like myself." Your eyes expanded in utter confusion, no? "I'm flattered but-" '390' cut you off with a broad smile. "It's settled then, we are a full team! It is nice to meet you." The conversation was pulled away once so quickly a fight broke out. Player '001' stepped in to stop the fight once player 390 and Dae-ho stood back. You felt even safer grouping up with the four as you watched the older man quiet up the so-called 'Thanos' and his friend. Maybe you would leave the next game with your head still on your shoulders. In the dead of night, Dae-ho made sure to remind you about what the next game most likely would be. You tried to be the most quiet you could be as you made your way out of your bunk.

Why was he being so nice to you? You didn't expect to find somebody with such a welcoming atmosphere in the surroundings you were.. momentarily stuck in until the next vote. Sleep came and went, the first game haunting your mind. You may have been only able to get one to two hours of sleep at most. Trying to be as positive as you could be for this new day. Dalgona shouldn't be so bad.

When the second game was officially revealed your mind took a sharp turn to "I'm screwed." But still, your team stuck together. It couldn't be Dalgona if they were having players pair together in teams. Still though, with a previous player in the team mix, everything should go off smoothly.

Since he has seen this all before one way or another. The trust was already palpable amongst each other, you make this game your bitch. Player '222' was a happily added addition. You couldn't help but immediately clamor at having her join. The clock was already down to one minute. There was little time to spare to find one more person to finish up your group. She looked to be very capable, and it was immoral to leave a pregnant woman with no team. Soon the game was explained, as well as the inclusion of minigames in between.

You were one of the last teams. So you all took the time to watch every person's strategies and techniques. Especially the teams who actually.. made it out alive.

Victory at all costs! , player '390' had you all say as you joined hands atop of one another. Finally, you were brought up to have your ankles latched together. Since you were one of the last teams competing, there was no audience. But fewer distractions meant more focus for minigames that needed ample attention. Right beside player '222' you made sure to help her when she was losing her footing. Her eyes always glanced back to you when along with the others you'd ask if she was okay. Especially having a mighty hand at ddakji! With barely any time your team made it out alive. Once again the moment was killed by the sound of gunfire. Watching as the guards lay bullets into the team you were expecting to see finish alongside. You all were just glad you made it out alive. Coming back into the main room, the energy in the room was bubbling for conflict. You and your fellow teammates fell back to the side, introducing yourselves and getting closer to one another. When the vote was incoming you knew you weren't going to pick the option you had picked yesterday. But, if you were stuck playing one more game with these people, you felt your odds were better than before. As the masked guards came in to congratulate the players on the game, voting started up soon after. The piggy bank was a still painful reminder of what was at stake. All the money that equaled people's lives. Something in your gut was telling you that the vote wasn't going to end in your group's favor. But still, you walked up to the box, your hand pressing firmly on the 'X' button. Your hand quickly yanked off the patch on your chest to trade it out. You felt like some of the guilt lifted off your shoulders. The money was at least enough to pay off a good chunk of your debts. Getting out of here would mean you could find a way to spend your money smarter while your heart was still beating.

Filling into the 'X' side of the room, you saw that the 'O' vote count only went up and up. It made you feel almost queasy seeing the blue side of the room get larger and larger.

You stood right beside Dae-ho as your hands lingered towards his. His pinkie wrapped gently around yours, almost like a comforting gesture.

Maybe it was out of pity you had no clue on your mind. The bunched-up group waited with bated breath to see if maybe the vote would change in favor. Your face showed your shock and hurt, similar to the others on your side. One more game meant more bodies to be left astray. The air was palpable with hurt as the guards pulled back, announcing that a third game would be happening soon. Even though Jung-bae was a part of the major vote, you all still tried to stay positive. Especially on Young-Ils intervention as Gi-hun lamented about the ferociousness of the potential third game. Lights out soon came, the piggy bank in the middle giving the dark and depressing room a warm glow.

Your team had made a fort amongst the empty beds of the fallen players. You found some sort of peace as you and Dae-oh slept side by side in that compact space under the bed. Having a warm body next to you was nice in these trying times.

Morning came quicker than you had expected. Young-Il was already awake as you all arose from sleep. Like clockwork, the guards came in and escorted all the players to the next game. Some were more excited than others, you were currently just trying to keep your head steady. The pleasant conversation was killed once you all got higher up the long and winding staircases. After taking all that time you were finally brought to the third game. The doors in front of you opened as the guards filled out into the room. This new room was large and almost too grand. Its walls were a warm pale yellow with grand designs. You had all pretty much walked inside a large music box. In the middle of there stood tall a carousel. The PA system introduced the game, Mingle. Jung-bae had familiarity with the game, describing it as a game to pass the time on school trips. The team began to talk about potential strategy and game specifics. "What if it is smaller than five? Like three ... or four?" Dae-ho croaked out in response. You'd turn to him with a focused look in your eye. "We should be able to split off evenly if it's three." Everyone in recognition as Young-Il spoke up. "No matter what happens don't panic. Let's stay calm." "We'll all make it out together, here." On queue, his hand fell out in front of everyone huddled up. One by one all your hands fell atop of each other. The last one to finish up this was Gi-hun, and soon came the "One - Two - Three."

Quickly everyone was ushered onto the platform, and then the game would officially begin. The lights in the room would become harsher and more dramatic as the music started up, and soon would the spinning platform. As the PA system explained beforehand, numbers started to be called out. Ten was easy as you and another familiar group consisting of the older woman, her son, and the two other girls rushed into a room. Relief took over your bones and your bunch had made it in a room just in time. Horrified screams and shouts for mercy could be heard just outside the door. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest cavity as the locks rhythmically unlocked. Soon all players were now back atop the platform. The slow spinning motion of the large circle was almost sickening; when your eyes focused on the littered blood. But feeling Dae-hos hand firmly hold your shoulder, you snapped back into reality. The whirring motions abruptly stopped, causing you to barely lose your balance. The familiar monotone female voice of the PA system clicked to life, "Four." Immediately the lights started to flash, and your head jerked around to look at your other teammates. Counting heads, you all wouldn't have fit into one room of course. Without getting gunned down by the eventual guards. Gi-hun tried to say something but Young-Il already was grabbing your hand, shouting for two more people. Jung-bae already took the initiative as he pulled Jun-hee and guided the others into a vacant room. A scuffle happened amid the panicking players. You and Young-il had found two other players able to fill the room. But another man tried to push in, inevitably shoving you out of the room. Young-il looked like he was able to do something but in the scuffle, your leg met the man's chest. It was a swift kick with a pop ringing in your ears. With seconds to spare, Young-Il dragged you into the room and slammed the door shut. His eyes looked to you showing some semblance of pity. Even with the mortified voices outside and gun fodder, he looked towards you. "Are you alright?" You nodded as you readjusted your back pressed up against the wall. "Yeah, I'm okay ... he wasn't letting up." Trying to crack a joke clearly didn't work for the mood in the room. The two other players stayed silent, lips trembling with fear as a nightmare happened beyond the door. Young-Il gave you a glimpse of the smile before offering you a hand. "Here, that didn't sound pretty." He replied calmly as he helped you keep steady on your better leg. Soon everyone was let out of their respective rooms once again. The counter on the wall is now down to "168." On the other side of the room, you and Young-Il excited. Even as much as you tried to resist his help your leg was stinging like hell. The distant voices of Jung-bae and Dae-ho could be heard. "Brother Young-Il, Y/n!" Along with your other fellow teammates. Young-Il flashed his teeth in a smile as he called back. "Gi-hun!" You two rushed back together, you slightly lagging behind him. But he didn't seem to take any mind to it. In fact, trying to make sure you didn't damage your injured leg any more than it already was. You were met with the sight of your relieved friends. Jung-bae was immediately joyously welcoming the two of you back. "I was worried, I'm glad you two made it back." Gi-hun addressed the two of you. Young-Il had the biggest charismatic grin on his face.

"I'm a social guy, so I'm pretty good at these kinds of games." You chuckled alongside Jung-bae as the air around you all settled. This calm was weird but it was welcomed by you. "I just kinda held on tight and hoped I wouldn't get trampled along the way, seems like it works." Jung-bae nodded firmly as he patted your back, the wind leaving your lungs. "It sure did! I knew you two would make it out in one piece, I did." Dae-hos eyes wandered to your limp. He frowned at the sight of you holding back simmering pain. It all kinda just mixed into the worry already present on his face. But the joke Young-Il made definitely eased up tension. "Ohh... In her tummy?" It was a perfectly timed response to even get Gi-hun to let out some tension with a laugh. You felt well about this entire ordeal, seeing the warmth in everyone's faces. The next round was about to begin. Dae-ho turned his attention to you, pointing down to your leg. "Eh? - what happened with you?" His eyes showed genuine worry. He didn't want to lose you... maybe. "I'm fine, I just got caught up in the crowd when me and Young-Il were trying to find others." You tried to wave off his concerns, but he would place a reassuring hand on your arm, gently squeezing the bicep. "Your leg looks pretty torn up, on second thought don't look down. The sight before him was a bone prodding at the skin of your ankle. This wasn't good, you needed to be able to run! His breathing was panicked as his eyes darted around. "I-please be careful, it doesn't look so good. L-let me help you relieve pressure on it, hop." His arm extended for you to hold onto it. You gritted your teeth as you linked your arm with his. One foot, two foot repeated in your head as every remaining player returned to the platform. The numbers continued to be announced. Three, Six, and then Two. You didn't expect yourself to survive the last one. But a girl... You had seen her before hanging out with the guy who called himself Thanos. She had practically thrown you into a room. As the door clicked shut you finally could relax your one leg against the wall. She didn't really say much to you. "Thank you... thank you." You repeated, and your head nodded also repeatedly. "We saved each other, so thank - you." She replied.

Her tone was brief and almost bitter but who wouldn't be after witnessing what they had witnessed. Finally, it was all over, this game of doom. The walk down the stairs was brutal on your ankle. Your mind was so focused on the burning pain that you could only listen to somewhat of what Dae-ho was saying ... for ... moral support?

Quickly he swooped his arm back under yours. As players filled into the room , this was a moment of rest. Jung-bae was already counting the heads of players. So at the moment it was best to lay low and wait at the side lines. Perfect for Dae-ho to help you. Bringing you off to the main steps of the beds , he ushered you to sit.

“Okay! Thank you mother hen…” , you’d joke as you sat yourself up straight. Clearly the joke didn’t land as Dae-ho looked at you sternly. Slowly you extended your ankle out to him as he kneeled down in front of your , with an awkward chuckle in between. Immediately assessing your leg you couldn’t help but butt in as you heard him wincing. “What-“

Your eyes expanded seeing what Dae-ho was seeing. Comically you held a hand over your mouth as you gagged. Dae-ho immediately once again tried to calm your nerves. “I can fix it. If I remember correctly.. here.” His hands reached to unzip the zipper of your own jacket to your “tracksuit.” Your hands and his hands collided but by the way he was gesturing to your sleeve , you got what he was putting down.

Your teeth gnawed down on your sleeve. You pulled your eyes away immediately from the sight of your busted ankle. Dae-ho had his hands firmly set around specific points of your ankle. “Breathe in.. and three , two-“ Your ankle sounded off with a loud pop. You felt like you had gotten air brought back into your lungs. A pleased smile grew on his face. His eyes were so kind as he watched you be filled with pain relief. Rolling your ankle to keep it set. You saw him gripping at his shirt sleeve. “Dae-ho.. what are you doing?” You could not get another word as he ripped his sleeve off.

Accidentally you’d gasp as he quickly wrapped the fabric around your relocated ankle. “This should help ease your pain.” You were left speechless , which left him chuckling at your dumbfound-ness. “How did you know how to do that?” You asked him curiously. I mean he was an ex-marine , not just anyone knew how to set an ankle , even a marine. He shrugged his shoulders with a clueless nature. “I’ve had a bone injured one too many times. We also learned it when needing to help tend to fellow injured marines on the spot.” You gave him a look of recognition as you kept that in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you realized your ankle was still in his gentle grip.

“You’re too kind to me Dae-ho.” You humbly remarked as you once again glanced away. What he responded with was… shocking? Well it’s not like he had let out a bomb of truth on you. But just by the way he responded to you made you feel the biggest of emotions. “We’re friends by now , and maybe I like taking care of you.”

Okay , was he flirting with you? No that was impolite to think. Your mind raced as you were only able to utter out a measly , “I appreciate you.” His head would triumphantly nod. “I appreciate you too , my friend!” In quick succession , you were already being called over by Gi-hun. Him and Young-Il were standing in a sort of corner of space behind empty bunks.

Dae-ho quickly stood up , offering you a hand. “We’re needed.” He’d surmised with an unmistakable grin on his face. Maybe he was feeling butterflies just like you. Repositioning your body , you began to sit up as your hand clasped with his. “We most definitely are.” You remarked in response. Odds be damned , Dae-ho was too good for you.

[catherinnn]

Ok, I have a cute/silly fic request:

Can I get a story where everyone in Hellfire club knows that the reader and Eddie have feelings for each other, so they each come up their own plans to get them together (whether or not Erica is included in this I'll leave up to you). It seems as though each of their plans fail, until they see reader and Eddie out on a date together. They all get so excited that they were successful that the reader and Eddie don't have the heart to tell them they've actually been dating for a while and wanted to wait before telling them. So they just let them believe it was all them.

The Plan Totally Worked!

a/n: Thank you for requesting again babe, i hope you enjoy this! I'm catching up with requests now that have more free time, so if anyone has any, please feel free to write me!

words: 1k

masterlist

“Guess who?” you felt two hands cover your eyes as you were at your locker. 

Behind you stands Eddie smirking with a confused Dustin by his side. They were discussing which Lord of the Rings book is their favorite and why, when Eddie ran up to you as soon as he saw you, forgetting all about their topic. 

“It’s easy to guess when you’re the one wearing a billion rings” you tease him. He moves his hands as you turn around.

“I forgot you were so smart” he says, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Hey boys” you greet them.

“Hi sweetheart, you look very pretty today” Eddie gives you the cutest grin. 

“Hi” Dustin greets you, still pondering about the change of demeanor Eddie suddenly had when he saw you. 

“Yeah, obviously he likes her,” Lucas says. “you actually never noticed how flirty and playful he gets when he sees her?”  

“Yeah, I mean they do flirt constantly. But they’re still just friends, aren’t they?” Dustin thinks.

“Yeah, I think so” Mike agrees.

“Do you think she likes him too?” Dustin asks.

“She wouldn’t flirt back as much as she does if she didn’t. I say she does” Lucas says as if he’s a relationship expert, which makes Mike roll his eyes.

“Why do we even care?” he asks.

“They’re our friends, and obviously they are too chicken to make a move! We have to help them!” Dustin says, feeling very motivated.

They begin brainstorming a series of plans to get the two of you together.

Like the secret date: 

Dustin invited you to meet him at an ice cream shop, he said the rest of the group were coming as well. He also asked you to dress up nice which sounded very random. 

Funny enough, none of the guys could make it, only Eddie, who was just as confused as you. Either way, you ordered your ice creams and sat at a table together. 

The three boys were watching from the other side of the window of the place, giving each other high fives since the plan seemed to work. That’s when they see Steve and Robin also entering the ice cream shop and joining you two, ruining your ‘date’. 

What the boys didn’t know is that since Dustin had told you they were all coming, you also took the liberty to invite Steve and Robin, thinking that you’ll have a nice afternoon all together. 

Since that didn’t seem to work, they had to move to plan B:

“Wayne’s birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” Dustin asks Eddie in the middle of lunch.

“Yeah, it is. How did you know?” 

“I just remembered you mentioned it… Do you know what to get him?” Dustin acts.

“Like a gift? I was thinking maybe a new hat or another mug” Eddie shrugs.

“Oh come on, that is so bad!” Dustin says and Eddie frowns. “You could do something more meaningful, like bake him a cake!” 

When Dustin says that you choke on your drink. “Sorry, I just imagined Eddie baking” you say laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t know what caused the impression that I could ever bake a cake for someone, but it is far from the reality” Eddie tells Dustin.

“Well, why don’t you help him? You like baking, don’t you?” Dustin asks you.

“Yeah, sometimes” you say.

“That’s perfect! And it’s a much better gift!” Dustin sells it.

“It would be a nicer gift than just another hat” you agree.

“You’ll help me? Because I’m lost if I have to do it alone” Eddie asks you.

“Of course I’ll help, I’ll come over to your after school” you say and Eddie nods.

Dustin thinks this is it, there is no way that this didn’t work. He can imagine you telling Eddie how to do everything and then helping him because he’s just not doing it right. Maybe Eddie gets playful and starts teasing you, putting flour on your face and then a battle starts where you end up all messy. Maybe the giggles stop and you realize you’re very close together and then you can’t hide it anymore and you finally kiss. 

So, just imagine his surprise when the next day, he doesn’t see you two kissing by your locker when he gets to school. Instead, he finds you two chatting as casual as ever.

“So… how did the baking go?” he asks.

“Really good, she bossed me around all afternoon but we ended up with a decent cake. Wayne loved it” Eddie says. 

“Oh, that easy?” Dustin asks, surprised.

“Well, when you have a professional chef helping, it’s easy enough” Eddie teases you.

“Oh shut up, he was surprisingly good too. Maybe it was the motivation he had to then eat the cake” you say. 

“It was amazing” Eddie nods.

“That’s good news” Dustin says, still disappointed. “Hey, I was gonna say… you look really nice today” he tells you.

“Aw, thanks-”

“Doesn’t she look nice, Eddie?” Dustin pushes him.

“Uh, yeah. Well, she always does” he says, confused.

“Dude, leave it alone. If it didn’t happen already after all those tries, it’s not gonna happen” Lucas tells Dustin. The two of them are on their bikes, on their way to Mike’s. “Hey, isn’t that Eddie’s van?” He sees it parked in front of a restaurant. 

“Oh, yeah, it is! Is he in this place? It seems fancy!” 

When they peek in the window they find the two of you cuddled up. You seemed to be chatting and giggling until you kissed. 

“Wow! It worked! The plan totally worked!” Dustin cheers.

“Holy shit man! It totally did!”

If they only knew what was actually happening inside the restaurant:

“Happy anniversary, princess” Eddie smiles at you.

“Happy anniversary, baby. I can’t believe it’s been a year already!” you say pleased.

"So... you two have anything you would like to share?" Dustin asks you on Monday at lunch.

“The best year of my life” he flirts before kissing you, he really gets all mushy and corny when you’re alone. You decided to not be those kinds of couples that make out or cuddle in front of all their friends, avoiding PDA as much as you could to not make anyone uncomfortable.

"Umm... no?" you say, confused.

"We can tell us, we saw you two lovebirds!" Lucas chimes in.

"Saw us where?" Eddie asks, just as confused.

"On your date last Friday!"

"Oh yeah, we had dinner" Eddie smiles.

"My plan totally worked!" Dustin says.

"Hey! I helped too!" Lucas complains.

"What plan?" you two go back to confusion.

"You really never noticed? I set you two up! I noticed how much you like each other over these last few months and took control since you were never gonna!" he explains smugly.

"What do you- Ouch!" Eddie starts but you pinch him so he stops.

"You set us up?! That's why you were acting so weird?" you smile when you realize what he was trying to do.

"You're welcome" Dustin throws himself flowers.

"Well, we owe it to you, kid" Eddie says sarcastically.

"What are you on about? They've been dating for a year!" Gareth burstes his bubble.

"Wait what?!"

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

[Is It Warm?]

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary: A stressed-out man deserves a stress-free encounter.

content warning: another PWP but it actually has plot...I should stop calling these PWPs, an uncomfortable scene at the beginning that involves a form of harassment, 18+ so MDNI, body worship (m receiving), thorough body massages, freeform? pegging, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), cum as lube, creampie

word count: 4.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: This is partially a birthday gift to myself and partially a part of the array of fics I wanted to get out before October was over for like...an all-month birthday celebration? School is getting in my way and October is over today, so.....that plan is soiled. But still! Enjoy this!

Here’s the Part 1 of this story! It’s not necessary to read, but it’ll add a bit of context.

“Did you find it yet?”

“No, it’s still the same thing.”

You pout as Miguel digs further into bottom shelf, baskets rattling against him.

One of the stores you frequented was selling a new round of character-themed merchandise and, of course, they were quick to sell out.

This time around, Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man’s suit would be worn by the different characters adorning the jars, cups, and blankets.

Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man was also on all fours searching for the basket that your friend hid those multiple things in.

You had work in the morning, so you couldn’t camp outside and grab it as soon as the doors opened. You didn’t want to bother Miguel with something so small either.

However, he picked you up from work as a surprise with a bouquet of roses in one hand which led to the current predicament.

He saw how low the shelf was and didn’t want anyone to look under your skirt, so now you’re stuck staring at his ass filling out his jeans.

“Any warmer?” you ask.

“Maybe?” he mumbled, arch in his back deepening.

You fought the urge to rub your leg along the curve lest he bang his head and knock the entire shelf down. Instead, you folded your arms under your chest and shifted in your heels.

Since you ever so delicately brought him to new horizons, he’s been extra sensitive about your hands fondling that entire zone. He hasn’t really asked you to do it again.

It’s ok. He’s an extremely busy man and the last time, he was conked out and in a daze for a while.

Still, you were obsessed with how he looked from behind.

He starts to back up, pulling a woven basket out from behind the others. He places it on the ground. Once it’s opened, it’s as if the colorful world of cute, lovingly drawn characters was brought to you.

You clap your hands in excitement as Miguel stands up and places the basket in the small cart you’ve been pushing.

“The things I do for my girlfriend,” Miguel sighs as he dusts off his knees.

You wait until he stands straight and pull your arms around his neck to plead for a kiss. He pecks them twice and rubs your waist.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you whisper with a smile.

Miguel purses his lips and nods, bashful.

You turn and drag the cart down the aisle, Miguel following behind with his warm hand nearly folded over your hips. You hum and comment about the things that you see, turning to look at him with big eyes when you really wanted something.

He’d give the occasional “You don’t need that,” but then there were the silent head-tilts when you described the use of a product so energetically.

“But baby, we could cuddle under this when we watch our shows! And these,” you pointed to some snail mucin you found, “we have to have this for our spa days.”

“That’s,” Miguel folded his arms, “correct. We need to keep our skin clear. And we need to keep warm.”

Errand days always turned to you to Miguel pulling items down and convincing you to get things that you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.

“What about this?” Miguel takes a bra from the rack, head turned toward the piece but eyes looking over at you.

“It’s cute, but I think I could find a cuter one somewhere else.”

“You’re right. I’ll just rip it off.”

“On second thought, add it to the cart.”

It’s about an hour before you both make it to the line for the register.

You’re trying not to add to the “annoying couple” demographic, but Miguel’s arms are holding onto the cart, enveloping you against his chest. You turn and look up at him and smile, giddy that he joined you on this errand run.

He kisses your head and hums along to the song playing through the store speakers. You lay on his chest and read along the products on the shelves next to you.

A man peeks at you over the shelf, eyes cutting into you before he smirks and walks away.

You shudder like you’re cold and make a disgusted sound before you turn your head.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, guiding you and the cart further in line.

“Creepy guy,” you mumble into his chest.

Miguel frowns and turns, squinting around the store. He was definitely hiding now.

“I’ll handle it,” Miguel grunts.

You stay silent, knowing that once he’s set to do something, he won’t change his mind.

One day he quietly asked you “What use would having a boyfriend with superhuman powers be if I don’t use them to protect you?”

You’ve long stopped telling him to ignore things like this.

Another inch further in line and it’s almost time to pay. The guy lingers again by the entrance of the store. You lean your weight on Miguel, feet tired of your heels and anxious of how the next few minutes could play out.

Trying to understand his motive was nearly impossible: you were clearly with someone else with a large physique, clinging to him like a lifeline. That should have been a huge hint.

When it’s time to place your items on the counter, Miguel shifts his body so you don’t see the stranger. The two of you work chat to the cashier, joking about the many things you’ve bought.

With swift movements, Miguel pays for your items and carries your bag before you can even think to pay. He turns and waits for you to lock your arms through his, a habit grown from his need to be near you.

The entrance was empty, other people scattered throughout the store.

Maybe it was just a strange incident.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind helping me with something?” the guy asks behind you just when you think you’re in the clear.

“She’s good,” Miguel tells him, face stern.

“What, so she can’t answer for herself?”

You ball a fist up around the back of Miguel’s shirt, steadying yourself, “I can answer for myself, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll be out of-“

“I-It’s just that my daughter’s birthday is coming up,” the man holds his hands up frantically. “I have no clue what 10-year-olds like nowadays. I was wondering if you could help me choose something.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. This guy could be lying completely, but the thought of a little girl out there smiling as she ripped the paper off a present tugged at you.

Looking at Miguel, you could tell he was on the same wavelength.

“There is one thing that’s all the craze,” you say.

Back in the store, you were sifting through the aisles again with your attentive boyfriend not too far behind. He was carrying all of your bags in his hands and on his shoulders so you could really make an honest effort to help.

Ten was that turning point where you either really loved imaginary toys or wanted nothing to do with then, perhaps a mix of both.

“She used to love these when she was younger,” the man pulls out a baby doll from the lower shelf.

There’s been about five things he’s mentioned all of which were geared towards a younger audience. He was so insistent that it made you wonder of he’s even talked with his daughter in the past five years.

“I’m not sure she would like this one. What about that?” you point to a popular plushie. It’s not the baby doll, but you’re sure his daughter would love it.

“Oh I don’t know…”

This back-and-forth continues for longer than you want it to. You could have been wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala while he talked about his day and instead you were stuck here.

“Sir, we really have to go,” Miguel intervenes, “I’m sure whatever you get your daughter, she’ll love it.”

The older man sneers, “You wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

“Excuse me?” your face changes, disturbed.

“Such a beautiful thing on his arm and no ring, no child. He’s slacking up,” he slides a hand down your arm. “My daughter could use someone like you-“

Miguel snatches his hand up from your arm, eyes almost glowing under the bright lights of the store.

“Are you insane?”

“Let go of me!”

The man tries to fight against Miguel but falls short as he keeps his cool. He’s only released when his body flashes in an array of blue and pink squares, knees hitting the ground.

Faster than you can comprehend what’s going on, Miguel drags him out of the door. You follow afterwards, apologetic to the confused employees.

“Do you just like to touch women for fun or is it exclusive to people that try to help you?” you can hear Miguel bark at him.

“I’ll have you reported to the authorities!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try and call the rent-a-cops,” Miguel’s lip never unfurled. He whipped out a phone. “Lyla?”

In a series of events, you watched the man go from Miguel’s grip to the stringy webs of Spider Scarlet.

“I see that this fellow is giving you trouble and sorrow,” Ben’s stunted tone crowded the stranger’s cries. “I’ll remove him quickly, no, swiftly. So that you both can have a wonderful night. Together.”

You can almost see the tension build in Miguel’s temple.

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated,” Miguel grunts. “I would like to move on with my night, please.”

“Of course, Bo- I mean hard-working citizen.”

He grabs the glitching stranger to swing back to HQ, a quiet wave to you before he left.

You laugh, feeling Miguel’s shoulders fall a bit.

“You ok, baby?” he takes your hands in his, bags lining his arms,

You nod your head, “I’ve had worst things happen. Could use some comfort, though.”

He gives a sympathetic smile and rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Small, pesky incidents like this kept popping up.

An occurrence of a clown that stood in the gray parks holding a single balloon but doing nothing else, women with pixie cuts complaining about the prices of clothes, balding men with beer bellies and baseball caps: all of these people from different eras were spread across Nueva York.

While you’ve been going into work, keeping your schedule relatively normal, Miguel has been in and out.

It wasn’t a rare sight to come home to his empty penthouse, only the city lights and a talkative Lyla to keep you company.

Sometimes, you were woken up by his arms sliding around your middle and a kiss to the back of your neck, but by the time you woke up, he was gone again.

The life of a superhero’s girlfriend was a bit isolating, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not the shocked look on Miguel’s face as he enters the living room one evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking at the dimly lit lights and taking in the smell of something sweet in the air.

Music is playing from the speakers and Miguel is noticing how smooth the skin of your legs look from in between your silk gown. Taking advantage of his focus, you bend and remove the cloth from the table behind you.

“Ta-da!”

You stand there with your hands out, shaking them. It takes a lot to not jump like a star in excitement.

Miguel looks from you to the table.

“What is it?”

“What does it look like?”

“I meant, what is it for, honey.”

You lean on the massage table with your hip and hold your fingers up to count off, “Well, it’s for you. To relax. To unwind. To let me try out the skills I learned from that class my coworker gifted to me.”

Within the pause, you twirl four fingers in the air.

Miguel sits near the back on the couch with an exhausted look on his face, “Baby, thank you for the gesture, but I don’t know if-”

“Please! I think you’ll really, really love it. I can massage you right now while you’re not super busy,” you say as Miguel stands again. You bounce over in front of him, puppy-dog eyes on full display. “I only rented it for a few days!”

He looked to the ceiling and sighed, weak to the look on your face.

“Fine.”

“Where is your robe at?” a freshly showered Miguel asks with an eyebrow raised. He still pans up and down your body, like he hasn’t explored it a million times over.

A few steps forward and his gaze is stuck on the way your sheer and short gown molds around your body.

There’s nothing underneath but your perfumed skin.

“That’s the perk of having your girlfriend give you a massage,” you say watching him stare at your chest. You take his chin in your hand and guide his face back to your eyes. “Right?”

“Mm hm.”

You snort and tell him to lay down

“Take your towel off, silly.”

Miguel obeys, white fabric pulled from under him with a blink of an eye. He lays it just above his behind.

“This is going to feel so good. I just know it,” you say, giving his back a light rub.

“Thank you in advance,” Miguel replies. He’s lying with his head on his arms, stress from work evident.

You’re really glad he’s letting you help him indulge in this break.

Grabbing the oil from the end table you pulled over, you pour some right on his back, fingers spreading along the pivots of his neck. You. stand in front of the head of the table and press your thumbs into his nape, earning a stunted noise from him.

A smile grows on your face, “I haven’t even really started, Miguel.” Your thumbs start to circle and he turns his face into the open hole.

“Stiff there. Too many screens to watch,” he says. “It smells good.”

“Give those pretty eyes a rest then,” you tut, adding your other fingers to the ones along his neck in an upwards motion.

Shea butter never fails you.

His neck slowly heats up and you giggle to yourself. One compliment and he turned into mush.

“What about here, hm?” shifting down to the tops of his shoulders. The muscles there pulled as tight as a rope. Adding pressure to them makes Miguel groan.

“’S good.”

“I bet,” you work into a knot, warm hands pushing into his skin. “There’s no telling how long this has been here.”

Miguel silently notes that maybe he should wind himself up more if he could end up like this again: pampered by his pretty girlfriend.

As quiet as he kept his running thoughts, his throat involuntary gave you real-time reviews.

Every slide of your knuckles nearly had him purring and your fingertips warmed him through to his bones.

His shoulders feel like air once you’re moving down his spine.

“I’m going to do something different,” your voice is lower so as to not disturb the atmosphere.

You hike one of your knees up on the edge of the table and climb over him, hovering as you asses his back.

Two hands cover his waist with thumbs almost touching each other on his spine. You let go of some of your weight and press your thumbs up his back.

Miguel’s voice vibrates through the room, an arch in his spine forming.

You repeat the action, earning an even louder response.

Moving to stroking in outwards motions from his spine to the sides, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. Miguel was so relaxed under you.

Though, you wanted to smack yourself for getting excited so early, the effect of his sounds making itself evident with how cold the air felt on your exposed lower half.

Switching to move your hands down his arms to hefty muscle of his shoulder blades, you hoped to distract yourself.

“Se siente tan bien,” Miguel sighed, airy and relieved. “I’ve been climbing a lot more this past week.” (That feels so good.)

The praise went straight to your clit.

“I’m glad, Miggy. I’ll work out some more tightness in your back and move down to your legs. Sound good?” you were trying your best to control your tone.

Miguel starts to answer but a stunted sound comes from his lips instead as you start to knead his back in small places.

Back and forth, you move across his skin, heart thumping in your chest.

By the time you got to his lower back, you awkwardly sat on the towel separating the two of you. You were sure it was dampening, but you hoped Miguel was too far gone to notice.

Your thumbs circle in the dips of his skin, his hips lifting up, making you brace yourself.

“Babe, you’re going to push me off,” you say as Miguel tries to glue his waist to your fingers.

“S-sorry,” hips stutter against the table before he lays down completely.

You pat his side as a form of forgiveness and inch off of the table. The towel over his ass was wrinkled, brown skin peeking from under it.

You grab more oil to start on the back of his thighs, a place that you know could carry his tension. With both of your hands focusing on his right thigh, you add pressure to your palms.

Miguel immediately jerked, grunting through his teeth.

“Woah, there,” you rub his leg softly. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s softly pushing out air as you continue back.

“It’s embarrassing. And rude,” he mumbles after a while.

You move down to his calf, his voice rising as you envelop his skin.

“What is?”

He huffs, turning his head, “I’m hard.”

Switching legs, you try not to show your giddiness.

“Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s a normal reaction.”

“Is it?” he shifts again when you massage the inside of his thigh, so close to the problem area. “The last time I got massaged was before…everything. It was never like this.”

You try to envision a younger, scrawny Miguel laid out on the table before you and giggle.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say in between a quiet grin.

Miguel lifts his head a bit, “I can hear you smiling, amor.”

“Ok, how about this,” you remove the towel and softly cover his behind with your hands. “Can I massage here?”

Miguel looks back at you, eyes darker under these lights.

“Isn’t this a full-body massage?”

You bite your cheek to try and stop your face from lighting up, but it fails.

“Then, continue to relax, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“I prefer Mr. Boyfriend, actually.”

Humming, you push into the plushest parts of him, repeating the motion circle after circle.

You try to ignore his hole peering out every time you knead.

Miguel is breathing deeply, back rising and falling.

Looking down, you can tell that his earlier words were true. Poor thing was barely rutting against the table.

You slide a thumb on his taint, marveling at how he lets out a sharp gasp. The feeling makes him grind harder into the soft material.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Please, what, Mr. Boyfriend? Anything I can do to make your experience better?”

“I want,” you brush your finger over his hole and he groans. “Want more.”

You stop and grab the lone tile, wiping the oil from your hands.

Walking near his face, you lean down and kiss his ear, the skin heated, “This requires more facilities. One momento!”

Luckily for him, the dildo from the last time was already clean.

Coincidentally.

You grab it and some lube from the bedroom and rush back to Miguel who is sprawled out on the table.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say. “Let’s start back.”

With lube on your fingers, you rub a thumb over his hole, pressing until you breach past.

Miguel sighs, “Shock. I missed this.”

That surprises you, “Really?”

“Yes,” he moaned as you reach in further. “You make me feel good. I just didn’t have the time to enjoy it.”

Your heart soars, switching from your thumb to two fingers. The way his hips rise shows a beautiful line in his silhouette. When tell him such, he shudders.

“You always compliment me on the things I couldn’t care less for.”

“There’s beauty in all of you though, Miguel,” your words contrast how you’re digging into him, adding another finger and brushing past the ball of fire.

Miguel tightens his fists, pushing back against your hand, “Put it in me.”

“Do you like it when I praise you?” you ask, ignoring his request.

“You already know the answer. Por favor, bebé.”

He was getting whiny and you remembered that this whole endeavor was supposed to be for him, about him.

You climbed back over him, a palm pressed into his back, “I know, I know. I got you.”

“So needy,” you say as you lube up the pink plastic.

Miguel gears up to respond but you shush him when you glide the tip in.

Your name is on his lips, singing along with the melody of the instrumental playing in the background.

You pull your gown up a little, fur on the trim riding up your skin. You moan with him as you let the dildo go deeper.

From here, you can see the glow of his back, glistening under the candlelight from the oil that drives him crazy on you. The nape of his neck is starting to shine with sweat and his fingers are pressing into his palm so as to not puncture the table.

Continuing your movement, you move your wrist continuously, pushing into him and cupping your breasts to stop them from moving.

You’re drenched and when you slide your heat over his cheeks, the end of the dildo feels amazing against your clit. You hold the end of it close and move your hips along every thrust.

“Keep going,” Miguel says, reveling in the way you were getting off on top of him. “Don’t stop.”

Your hips move faster, hand on your chest moving to his back, nails digging into his skin. Your body leans over him, skin-to-skin separated by your thin gown.

No words can be formed as you listen to Miguel let out satisfied grunts, the sound of him covering and uncovering the dildo aligning with him.

You angle it so that it can slide along your folds before it enters him, keening into his skin every time.

“I love you so much, Miggy,” your nails scratch against him, your body tensing like he was the one pinning you into the table.

Miguel jerks, panting out, “Love you, too. Te amo mucho, ángel.”

You continue, Miguel’s words blending from begs for more to confessions of love.

When he reveals that he’s close, arching into you, you suck a kiss into his back, working your dildo past his prostate.

He groans, cum spreading under him. You pepper kisses across his back.

“Hm,” you got up and switch the dildo for a plug, squeezing a cheek for good luck. “I didn’t finish the massage.”

Miguel turns his body around, careful not to knock you off.

“You’re always up to something.”

He smiled, looking at your ruined gown, oil making it cling to you. He’s still hard, cum smeared across his lower abdomen.

You bring your face to his, kissing his lips while his hands slide up your hips.

“I’m just a little crazy when it comes to you,” you reply, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Miguel moves his chin up, a hand coming to cover your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your nose against his. He laughed at the gesture and rubbed down your back.

“Shall I continue, Mr. Boyfriend?”

“I’m at your command, Ms. Girlfriend.”

You lean up and slowly pull your gown off of you. Miguel watches you, not missing a single moment.

“While I did have ideas of exactly how this massage was going to go,” you reach back and scoop up the milky liquid on his stomach. You take him in your hand and pump once, twice. “I think I’ll end it with a bang.”

When his tip goes past your entrance, his eyes roll back and his hands grab your hips instinctively.

Your head dips past your shoulders as you sit further, the feeling of him familiar but still overwhelming.

Your hips stutter as you try not to let the greedy feeling of chasing your orgasm come back so quickly. To fight it, you place your hands on his pecs.

“Usually, the chest massage is done in the opposite direction,” Miguel hikes his hips up as you try to get back into masseur mode, earning a high moan from you. “B-but you get special privileges today.”

You focus on applying pressure to his collar bones, working over a fading love mark.

Miguel isn’t having it as he holds your hips and snaps up.

“I think I have a more severe problem area,” he says as you push the skin of his chest towards his armpits. He wasn’t even tense there.

“And I’ll get to it-“

“You don’t understand,” Miguel says, locking his arms around you. “It’s serious.”

He thrusts up, delving into you like he was always meant to do so. You grip his shoulders and hold on, mind hazy at the shift.

“The prettiest masseuse in the world,” he breathes out. His eyebrows are scrunching up, ever so expressive. “My private one.”

“Yes,” you sigh, close from before. You’re turning into putty in his arms.

Arousal builds as he continues to work into you. Your mouth parts, unsure as to what was coming from your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’re there,” Miguel moves one hand to grip your shoulder. “‘M ready to pay you.”

You convulse around him, core swimming with his words.

He follows right after, hips attaching to you as he fills you up. The table creaks as he pumps a few more times into your lifted body.

When you both come down, your muscles feel like they’ve been reconstructed. Miguel lifts you off of his length, keeping you in the air for a bit just to watch him drip out of you.

“That’s a pretty steep payment,” you say once you’re lying on his chest.

Miguel snickers, “I’ll help you manage it later.”

“But before that,” you wave a hand in the air making a holographic screen with blue squares appear before you both. “Leave a tip?”

Miguel wipes it away as you cackle.

“You’ve ruined me for all future massages in a normal setting and you want a tip?”

“I’m just kidding,” you kiss his pout away.

“Besides,” you reach down and graze your fingers over him. “This tip is pretty good.”

“Only ‘pretty good’? Do you need another one?”

You put your eyes to the sky, thinking, “Let’s eat dinner and get away from the nearly ruined, rented table first.”

Miguel smiles softly, “Good idea.”

dividers by: @/adornedwithlight @/inklore

a/n: I think I would like to consider this story, Is It Tight?, and Wash Day all in the same universe.

Sorry to the people in my taglist who don’t really rock with pegging. It probably won’t happen again. 😭

taglist: @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhideout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jaykookies @snails-doodles22 @xo-zeze @plantxella @thedevax

@f1-hoff @stressed-cherry @mozzella @appledressing @abbbbbysvt-17

@woahhajime @vicravluv @xodeity @somniasworld @obsessgurlll

@starboygf @undf-stuff @bmoplanet @alexxavicry @ladysimp

[missmarveledsblog]

Dustin's got a sister? ( Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader)

summary : friday where DND nothing would stop that except the discovery of Dustin Hendersons older sister of course which leds to eddie wondering if he was wrong about the whole love at first sight thing being crap .

warnings : fluffy fast burn , mutual pinning , eddie being a simp for sure . picture doesn't represent the reader it was just a fic cover i made

Friday meant one thing to Eddie munson and that was Hellfire night . The club were beginning what he could only describe as his best campaign yet ,the loud roars and cheer or cries filled the basement of Dustin Henderson since the older boys graduated it became the new spot . What Eddie didn't know was that the boys were not the only ones in the house as the music upstairs caused them to halt and look to the owner of said basement in confusion .

 " It's just my sister , ignore her" he shrugged, wanting to continue but the sudden excitement of Lucas and Mike only made the older boy more curious .

" sister since when do you have a sister" Eddie almost challenged. " since my mom and dad you know and then she was born" Dustin's head tilted knowing he'd mentioned her before .

"and She's smoking hot" Lucas blurted out for Mike Wheeler to nod eagerly in agreement.

" How come we've never seen her around?" Gareth asked .

" because she went to a different school and usually she was with her asshole boyfriend but they broke up also she hangs out with Steve and robin, she also busy with college stuff " Dustin looked around the table seeing all their confused faces.

" Wait, I've never seen her when I hang out with them" Eddie looked at the boy .

" that's because she was with her boyfriend ,I literally just said that" he rolled his eyes.

" hey dusty bun you down there .... Oh shit sorry i forgot you had company" all their eyes landed on the woman standing there hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in shorts and tank top .

" hey Y/N" Lucas waved dreamingly . 

" Hey Sinclair," she smiled . 

" Hey wanna join," Mike asked.

" I can't tonight. I got a paper due on Monday, just came down to see if Dustin ate , but now the question expands , "Do you guys want pizza?" she smiled bright towards them, eddie could have sworn he had drool coming out of his mouth .

" yeah totally would eat pizza with you" Jeff chin resting in his hands . " Ok pepperoni would be a safe choice right" she looked, seeing them all nod . " ok i shall call when it's here " she ran up the stairs, cheeks heated suddenly aware of her attire and the eyes of the boys roaming her body . 

" How the hell is that your sister?" gareth asked, totally in awe .

 " Told you , smoking hot" Lucas beamed proudly.

" You asked her to join, why ?" Eddie almost whispered not ready for the answer in fair of his mind short circuiting even more that it was . " because she's the reason that we know how to play" Mike whispered back, sending the group of boys almost into a group of school girls fawning .

 " So you're telling me that the smoking hot goddess of a woman is a nerd like us" .

 " Can you all please stop calling my sister hot?" Dustin grimaced, suddenly regretting offering his basement for the Hellfire club . when the music changed and the familiar riffs flooded his ear drums . 

" Is that?... YOUR HOT SISTER LIKES METAL" Eddie almost roared across the table . 

" Is it too late to quit hellfire?" Dustin groaned.

It seemed the campaign was forgotten about after half an hour of questioning. Dustin Henderson was never more grateful for the pizza man's arrival but when she told them to come up he was almost trampled as his friends tried getting up the stairs .

" holy shit you guys must be hungry , no need to panic i got more than enough " she laughed seeing them pushing each other out of the way . 

" Totally starving" gareth smiled brightly.

" ok well plates are there and help yourself" she pointed to the counter .

" ladies first" Eddie smiled, arm outstretched . 

" Thank you" she moved, grabbing her plate and pizza before heading to the sofa. " I just stuck on halloween if you guys wanna join" she called eyes on the screen not seeing the pushing and shoving happening in the kitchen before eddie smiled victoriously beside her. " I love this movie" he winked . 

" I literally only started it so you all aren't missing much ... wait what about the campaign" her head tilted as they all sighed in content.

" Apparently due to hormones it's over" Dustin grumbled sitting on the other side of her . 

" Shit sorry that was my fault if I'm being too loud I can go to my room" she offered only for a chorus of no's and don't to fill the room . " you're fine, really we can do it another time apparently" Dustin smiled seeing the worry on her face. Before anyone else could say anything the doorbell went off making her run out to see who it was totally forgetting she invited steve and robin over.

" hey if you can find a place to sit" she led the two in.

" Hey guys," the three kids called.

"Hey Harrington man , nice to see you , how come you never mentioned the sweetheart of a sister Dustin had before" Eddie smiled yet glaring at his friend.

" because Dustin told me not to" he shrugged, heading off to the kitchen .

 "Do I embarrass you or something?" She turned to her brother.

" No just you were with that douche before and i didn't want him embarrassing me" he lied easily . 

" That's a good point," Robin nodded .

 " I hated that guy so much" Steve agreed eagerly as he handed Robin her plate as he sat beside Dustin .

 " Ok enough about my ex and let's watch the movie" she huffed, letting her damp nearly dry hair out of the towel . As soon as the lights went out all their attention went to the movie playing well mostly to the movie. Eddie's attention did try to stick to the screen but it often shifted to the girl sitting beside him. wondering how the hell he wasn't a puddle in the chair or if the beating of his heart was audible given how fast it was , was he sweating cause sure as hell felt like it . He watched the light of tv shine on her face, her relaxed state or... shit she grabbed his hand , why was he short circuiting over a girl grabbing his hand . 

" Sorry that part always make me jump" she whispered soft laugh spilling from her pillow plump lips , he could of sworn he saw a blush on her face but wasn't sure giving the limited light .

" if you need to grab it again feel free too" he whispered back smiling so wide showing off his dimples .

" thank you munson" now he was hoping more parts would make her jump . her hand in his throughout the movie it turned out his campaign wasn't the highlight of this Friday after all.

Once the movie ended Dustin hit the lights making them all groan at the sudden intrusive brightness . except the light snores filled out the room making them all turn to see the older henderson and eddie passed out cold her head on his shoulder and his hand holding hers .

 " Awhh that's so cute" Robin cooed, hiding her amusement.

" Damn it, I was gonna ask her out " Gareth growled, making everyone turn to the boy . " I said that out loud huh?" he stood rubbing the back of his neck .

 " Very loud," Steve snorted . "Come on i can drop you guys home" he stretched as the all looked at him wide eyed.

" Seriously "king"Steve Harrington is going to let us be seen with him" Jeff almost gasped out.

" yeah yeah dont cream your pants , come let them sleep" he ushered the gang of still shocked boys out the door. Only for Dustin to slam it shut behind them waking the two .

 "Where is everyone?" she asked, confused.

" yeah i remembered more people being here" Eddie rubbed his eyes . 

" Steve's dropping them home since you two were all cuddled up in sleepland" . 

"Shit i'll go clean up and head out before your mom comes home '' Eddie yawned and stretched ready to head back down to the basement . 

"Just stay, she's not home till Sunday," Dustin yelled, heading down to his own room . 

" If you want to, I mean we can watch another movie," she smiled nervously was he making her uncomfortable or was it something else.

" Yeah i could totally stay, I got some clothes in my van , let me grab them" he beamed with excitement.

" I'm going for a smoke so i'll come out with you" she grabbed her shoes and jacket pulling out the carton of cigarettes and lighter . 

" Lead the way princess" he opened the door letting her walk out first. The night's crisp air hitting them , she stood on the porch as he ran down grabbing the backpack out of his van given his original plan was to sleep at jeff's for the night so wayne could have a night's sleep in his room for once. When he looked back to see she was sitting on what he called the outdoor sofa to rile Dustin up, her eyes looking up at the sky lost in the stars above even then she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen . The slow exhale of smoke and she turned to smile at his approaching figure .

 " You cold, i can give you my jacket" he was already going to take it off pulling out his own cigarettes.

" no it's not too chilly tonight ,it actually a nice night" she mused moving so he could sit beside her.

"So Dustin mentioned you went to a different school. How come" he asked, wanting to know everything and anything about the woman sitting beside him . 

" You don't remember me huh?" she asked, confusing him completely.

" we actually went to the same school til i'd say middle school i changed schools because tommy hagan kinda made my life hell so my mom moved me to a different school since the principle wouldn't do anything about it , i was fat kid with curly ass hair , he called me sparky cause of this'' She shrugged the jacket showing the lightning bolt scar on her arm Making him remember completely who she was.

" shit yeah i remember, i also remember you punching him when he picked on other kids" he mused.

" another reason i had to move schools, the irony of letting myself being their victim and yet seeing ready when i seen them torment someone else " she snorted, tapping the ash of her cigarette . 

" Shit i would've never pictured you and Dustin to be siblings," he chuckled.

" Well back then my parents were still married and I wasn't always Henderson" She pointed out.

" Well that also checks out, still i've always thought that scar was metal , how you get it?" . 

"Wasn't struck by lightning sadly that would of been cooler no i burned it trying to make my own shield" she giggled. "

That's still metal in my books" he chuckled. 

" I guess your right I mean my mom didn't think so in the ER but hey it was good shield think it's still in the garage" throwing the cigarette away , sneaking a quick glance at the most adorable and probably hottest guy she ever met sitting beside her .

" you in college now or ? " he asked .

" yeah just an hour drive away, studying nursing what about you ? " she turned. Her eyes made him completely weak at the knee's .

" apprentice mechanic " she noticed how his smiled didn't quite reach his eyes when he said it .

" well if you ever get hurt on the job call me, I'll come nurse you back to heath " she nudging him playfully there it was a real smile on his pretty face.

" come on we head in or I'll be the nurse when you catch some flu or cold being out here " he stood holding his hand out to help her up .

" wanna was nightmare on elm Street" she asked.

" of course and if you get scared you can hold my hand " he winked as they walked into the house.

" I mean it is scary movie dare I say even terrifying you might get sick of me holding your hand" she teased heading to the other side of the room to grab the tape and a blanket .

" never would I do such a thing " he held his hand over his heart those damn dimples that made her heart skip a beat or the glint of the rings as he held his hand over his heart.

" could you put the movie in , I'll grab the snacks and some drinks " she scurried of the kitchen . Putting the movie on pause before he called to say he was putting some pyjamas on before it got started .

When he came in she had snacks pile on top of each other along with the soda . He could of sworn he caught her checking him out but brushing it off instantly.

" ready" she lifted the blanket up for him to join .

" born ready darling " he hit the lights as the second movie of the night started playing he suddenly felt the,warmth of her palm in his . " just incase I get to scared " she winked now he was one who was grateful for lack of lights cause he was sure he was beet red now.

" better safe the sorry " he whispered his voice almost cracking in the nervous manner of possibly the hottest most beautiful girl he'd met holding his hand ... his goddamned hand . the two say eyes locked on screen itching to look at the person at their side . She inched her way closer as the movie played when jumpscare came on she couldn't help bury her head In his chest . The smell of his cologne and cigarette filled her sense as she felt the vibrations of his laugh as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'll keep you safe princess " she could feel the almost cocky grin in his words feeling her little plan worked .

" thank you eddie my hero " she cooed looking up through her lashes making his gulp audibly leaning up and a peck to his lips, he was sure to die in his spot . A victory smile she kept her head on his chest while his arm was wrapped around her , she could hear the now steady beating of his heart as he gotten comfortable in the new position his hand rubbing up and down her back . Wasn't long til the two got way to comfortable and feel asleep in each others arms to content to even care .