#please don't judge me for the smut i feel like i need to bathe in holy water

[aestheticaashes]

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(i'm so sorry i know this is like so many asks shjdfgs, you can ignore this entirely if you want haha) (this is mostlycyanide but thats an alt soo)

do not apologize to me dude i am so fucking stoked to have so many asks to answer

i did throw the answers under a readmore though because much like dave and dirk i am incapable of shutting the fuck up

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

Generally I write in Bitter. I set it as my default years and years ago lol, but some things get written in different fonts if I'm feeling funky! Time and Healing in particular is written in Arial.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

I absolutely could and often do if I need a break from the keyboard/monitor. A) No I am not a wizard (unfortunate) and B) it depends on what I have on hand! I like pens for first drafts because I'm not worried about editing.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

I don't really have a ritual, per se? And that in and of itself is probably cursed as hell by virtue of pure What The Fuck. I do like to have some ambient sounds playing and maybe music or a podcast, and I definitely write better when I do have those things, but I don't need them so it's not really a ritual.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Okay, so, see, thing is, I am a smut author at heart. I love writing character studies and heart-rendingly emotional shit and horrifyingly morally reprehensible shit, but mostly I like to write porn. I want you to know this before I say this:

I go feral over the word "easy". In ways I cannot explain but can sort of be understood based on the fact I write a fuckton of smut. Just. "Easy." God.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

If you don't share the WIP it will die a painful death. If you DO share the WIP it will die a painful death. You must find a balance. You gotta share it with the right audience and make sure not to over-share it. This is true because every time I have gotten overzealous and shared too much of a WIP, it never got finished. It's not a superstition if there's empirical evidence.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Dialogue. I've done it before and it usually works out okay - I have this awful habit of getting too far into the characters' head, anyway, so if I don't have to worry about actual dialogue while I write what they're thinking and feeling and what's happening around them, then everything works out swimmingly.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Yes. God, yes. So many pieces of writing have haunted me. My own writing haunts me constantly.

If it lives in my head rent free for longer than 24 hours, and pieces of it crop back up in my head or permanently change how I think about something, that's a piece of writing that haunts me. I read a piece of writing when I was like 11 that contained a phrase that was something to the effect of, "Oh, how sweet. If I had a heart, I would cry." and I have never stopped thinking about it.

I read a fic series (twice) recently that has now permanently added the phrases 'shit-scared' and 'warm for his form' to my vocabulary.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

I honestly own so few physical copies of books that. Like. I'm so used to books belonging to someone else, a friend or the library, that I'm shit-scared to damage them at all. The books I own I try my hardest to keep in perfect condition. I can't bear to write in the margins, or dog-ear pages. I don't read in the bath solely because when I'm in the bath I am trying to become one with the water. I don't judge anyone who does these things, though, because it's just another way to show appreciation for the books :]

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

Slice of cheese. (For like 30 seconds).

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

This could be a post all by itself, don't tempt me. God. Fuck. I am so painfully abnormal about Time and Healing. There is so much going on in this universe that I don't know if I'll get to explore. The tale of Mr. Snyder and his fuckwit self. Little details about how Bro raised Dave that line uncomfortably up with how his dad raised him, and little details Dave remembers that Bro can't that mean so much to him. Fuck. Goddamit. Don't do this to me man I could go on about this for weeks.

(I will make a post about this.)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

' You stare at the doorknob for so long that Bro actually knocks again. "Dave?" You hear him ask, and his voice doesn't sound any different than how you remember it. Toneless, deep, and even that single word has the twinge fo his accent. You pull in as silent a breath as you can. Hold it. Breathe it out slow. Lift your hand and unlock the door, then pull it open. You keep your face carefully blank, suppress the low blood sugar tremors, and lean casually against the door frame, like you didn't flee into here with your tail between your legs to hide three days ago. "Sup?" You ask, without lifting a brow or letting the emotionless mask break at all. '

So. This passage. There has been a form of it in existence since long before Time and Healing became a fuckin' thing. We're talking since like 2014. This passage's original form came from an unfinished fic I started in 2014 called Late Night Bro Time, which was like. A mess of a oneshot (that I never finished) that was supposed to deal with post-SBURB Dave trying to come to terms with Bro being alive again and all the trauma he has around Bro having died.

In the end, though Time and Healing as a whole is based on that oneshot, this is the only thing from the original that sort of made it properly in. In the original it was more Dave agonizing over the idea of talking to Bro and having a hard time convincing himself to let him in. And now, well...

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I started writing when I was pretty young. I couldn't tell you when, exactly, although my first actual memories of writing stories are when I was 8 or 9. I think I mostly started because it was an easier way to get ideas out of my head than walking around telling myself stories and getting stared at like a freak for talking out loud to myself.

In terms of bumps along the way, dear fucking lord have there been bumps. There have been so many bumps. All of the bumps. Between getting a shitty comment here and there or going through a severely fucked-up situation (the pandemic or my first real psychotic episode, for example), there have been times in my life where I just don't write anything at all, or I feel like there's no point in me doing it.

Where am I now? Well, I'm in a place where I'm happy if I don't write, and I'm having fun when I do. I don't feel any pressure to finish shit, which makes it easier to make myself finish shit - but because I don't feel that pressure, I can follow my motivation wherever it wanders to. If I want to hyperfixate on a random idea for four days and bang out 40K on it, then never touch it again, that's fine. And as for where I'm going, I'm hoping that one day I'll reach a point where I literally only do this because it's fun, and not because I care if people give me feedback.

(I am not at that point yet. Please continue giving me feedback. I eat it. It sustains me.)

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Now, see, here's a difficult one. I don't write in one specific place, and since I just quit my job I'm now spending more of my time writing in random places at home.

Lately, though, I write laying in bed. The room is usually comfortably cool, although right now it's hot as balls while my ac works overtime trying to fight the 93 degree weather outside. I've got a body pillow I use as the base for other pillows, and I tend to use stuffies to prop myself up against the wall - right now, I've got a minecraft glowsquid plush doing the hard work of holding up my bigass head. My husband's sprawled out next to me playing games, taking up half the bed while I squeeze into a comfortable little spot on the other side. Next to me there's a 44oz fountain drink I didn't finish, which is about as normal an addition to the scene as the bed itself is. The whole room is messy as hell: clothes on the floor, about half a dozen half-empty water bottles I never threw away, notebooks scattered on every available surface. I'm sweating to death, but here I am answering asks and trying to bang out some words on a couple of wips anyway.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

My dreams don't play a massive role in my writing life. I have used dream material to write from, but I so rarely have dreams I remember in any detail that there's little point trying. The dreams I do remember are usually some manner of sleep paralysis induced night terror, which don't make for great writing. I don't think I've ever written in a dream, but chances are that I have and just have no memory of doing it!

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

You Lovely Fucking People You,

You have no clue how much it means to me that you're reading my stories. I have poured my soul into these things just for the sake of making them but nothing makes me happier than to share them. To know other people enjoy them. Every comment and kudo I get fuels me for days on end, and I probably wouldn't be so obsessed with my own writing if y'all hadn't decided to let me know how much you liked it.

You keep me going and I appreciate you all so much

Love,

Rhys.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I have. So many of these that they all fled my mind the moment I tried to answer. I'll get back to you on this one.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I do draw from time to time, and on occasion I've made music! Generally both of those artistic hobbies are entirely separate from my writing, but some of my best work in both has come from making things for my writing! I made an entire 10-song soundtrack for one of my fics once and it is, to date, the best music I have ever made.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

If you have read my writing, then surely you must, at least a little bit, have an understanding of how much I love the Oxford comma, seeing as I am incapable of shutting the fuck up and letting a sentence stop, and the Oxford comma makes it so simple, so easy, to keep a sentence going long past where it needed to end.

This is both my answer and an example.

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

I Know a stupid amount of useless crime scene investigation techniques, a fuckton about drugs, a weird amount of things about kink, and what it's like to have a full-fledged mental breakdown complete with hysterical crying and laughter (often at the same time).

Convenient, given I write a lot of shit about crimes, drugs, kink, and mental breakdowns.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Ok so I don't read much poetry. But. I do have. An original poem. And it is sappy as hell ok don't look at me just take this except take it before i get the vapors

If love is meant to be forever, Then my forever is with you. And through any kind of weather, That much will still be true. There are no words to impart All of the reasons why You are precious to me. You have all of my heart.

-from "Home", by me.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au Acosf - Chapter 75

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22l22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

Perhaps sensing that Nesta was withdrawn, when they returned to the rest of the Night Court, Azriel brought her into a one-armed embrace. If Nesta - or the others - were surprised they didn’t let it show, not as she burrowed her face against him and let out a wearied sigh against his skin. After all, it had been Azriel who’d found Nesta wandering through Velaris drunk out of her mind and whisked her to Rosehall to keep her safe. Cassian would be forever indebted to his brother for doing what he could not.

‘I will just say goodbye to Eris and Adeline.’

Nesta shuffled through the crowd, her hands clamping over her ears as she went.

‘Fires,’ Cassian stated.

‘Still?’ Azriel asked, not unkindly.

Cassian nodded his head but the need to defend and explain rose in his chest. ‘She’s thinking of that day against Hybern too. About what she saw.’

Feyre gave a look of pity, but Rhys kept his eyes on Nesta who was embracing the lady of the court. Eris glanced their way then a leering grin was shown before he wrapped his arms around both females, squeezing tightly as he pressed them to his chest.

‘Snake,’ Rhys muttered.

Cassian only shrugged with indifference. ‘Nesta’s going home with me. If she wanted Eris, she’d have already picked him.’

‘Cass? Did something happen in those trees?’ Az regarded him curiously. ‘Has he hit his head? Who is this male speaking sense?’

‘The power of females,’ Rhys crooned then he kissed his mate on the side of the head, throwing a wink to Cassian.

Rhys winnowed them to the edge of the cabin while Feyre and Azriel aimed straight for Velaris. The brisk night was a contrast to the heat of the fires in the Autumn Court. The moment they landed, Zasha set off barking, the noise echoing in the emptiness surrounding the cabin.

‘I’d like to speak to Nesta briefly. Alone.’ Rhys raised a brow. ‘Just for a moment, we won’t be long.’

Reluctantly, Cassian entered the house to feed the dog, but Zasha was too excited to bother with food. It was not often that he left Rhys and Nesta alone together. He’d avoid it whenever possible. He had visions of Rhys being hurled back to Windhaven by Nesta’s silver flames. Or Nesta receiving a verbal reprimand for the political significance of aligning herself with Eris at an Autumn Court event and returning to him in a stinking mood.

The front door opened and Rhys called through that he was leaving. At least he’d ensured Nesta crossed through the threshold into the cabin. He’d do the same for Feyre.

Nesta found him in the kitchen where she slunk her arms around him to tuck herself against his body. ‘Why him?’

‘Too vague.’

Nesta groaned. ‘Why must I train my magic with him?’

‘Is that what he said?’

‘Well, he asked. But I can’t really say no, can I? Eris will too busy for the foreseeable future. Tonight reminded me of how volatile my magic can be. Eris did his best to train me, but I only know how to jail it – and even then it still can act of its own accord as if it has its own feelings.’

It was a burden he’d never wish for her, though Cassian was not afraid of that terrible magic within his mate. Rhys was the best person to train her magic, he’d always known it. ‘You want me to be there too?’

Nesta moved to Zasha to fuss the dog with both hands. ‘Actually, I think not. I think we need to just hash out our differences without an audience.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘He’s your brother and my sister’s mate. I’d rather try to be civil than constantly avoid interacting with him. He’ll come tomorrow.’

‘That bastard said I had the day off.’

‘He said you would say that and he swears that the day after is your day off entirely.’

Nesta needed a moment alone, so he left her drinking tea at the table with Zasha trying his best to drag his body up into her lap despite the tight space.

He’d showered and washed away all traces of the Autumn Court as well as his paranoia. He could have lost everything through his own insecurities. He had to be better, calmer. Had to trust Nesta. Eris Vanserra as high lord was not the worst thing in the world; he knew the prick well enough now to not be blindsided by him. In the early days of a high lord’s reign, he’d be busy establishing his court, examining laws, passing through new ones or scrubbing old ones. Knowing Eris, all of this was already planned. Cassian did not think for one second that Beron had slipped away quietly in his sleep, but if Nesta knew, he’d keep quiet for her sake rather than risk incriminating her in anything.

She entered the bedroom with a yawn, but her eyes were bright. Water dripped from her hair, running down her skin to the towel wrapped around her body.

‘You promised me that I wouldn’t be sleeping last night,’ she said, coming to lay on the bed. ‘And you rejected my advances.’

Cassian trailed a finger along her collar bone. ‘So, I need to make it up to you.’

He kissed his mate, long and deep. One hand wove in her damp hair, holding her where he wanted her but the other peeled away her towel, tossing it on the other side of the room. Would his breath ever not catch when he saw Nesta naked?

She raised her chest to graze it against his own. No longer did they feel any trepidation around each other’s bodies. Cassian knew Nesta well. Knew when she wanted to go slow and kiss and kiss until their lips were swollen. This was not one of those nights. Nesta’s nails clawed into his shoulders. He could feel her ankles digging into his back where she’d wrapped her legs around him, claiming him.

Cassian flipped them so Nesta was on top. Was there a greater sight than his mate naked on top of him? He reached to touch her breast, unable to resist the bounce of them, but Nesta swatted his hand away. Her body writhed on his, kissing his lips fiercely, her insatiable desire scorching through their bond. Cassian gripped her hips then – showing off slightly – lifted her higher and higher up the bed until her knees pressed into the feather-filled pillows. 

‘I’m sitting on your face.’

‘That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.’

The muscles of her legs were taut where she was lifting her weight from him so he tugged her down and ran his tongue up her core.

‘What if you suffocate?’ She asked breathlessly.

‘I can’t think of a better way to go. Hold onto the headboard.’

For once, Nesta followed his instruction without complaint, her breathing already shallow and noticeably audible. Cassian’s tongue licked lightly then he let out a small noise of contentment, knowing the vibration against her sensitive skin would drive her wild. He needed no more encouragement than seeing her fingers grip the headboard until her knuckles turned white.

He used his thumbs to prise apart her sex, pride rising as he felt the thick wetness already building in anticipation. Nesta Archeon had wanted him tonight.

Cassian’s tongue circled against the fire of her sex, savouring the heat, then gently pushed inside. It was only a brief taste before drawing his tongue away. He’d never tire of the taste of her. Sweet and thick, all he ever wanted. But he wanted to tease her tonight.

His hands gripped her hips, moving her in a steady rhythm as his tongue lapped at the wetness seeping from his mate. Briefly, he teased her entrance again before swirling his tongue back to the apex of her thighs, sucking hard.

He exchanged spiralling his tongue for tender kisses. Nesta shifted her position, as if trying to force him to return his tongue to her. It only made him go slower, to deny the release she was seeking.

Languidly, he trailed his tongue up her centre again, savouring the satisfied moan that it created. It was a siren’s call that he could not help but answer.

‘Cassian,’ she whimpered, voice thin and reedy, coming out like a prayer. ‘Stop teasing.’

***

Thoughts left her entirely as Cassian’s tongue thrust in and out of her core, making her entire body jerk on his face. Every moan that came from her mate sent tremors rippling over her skin. Gone was any teasing. Cassian’s lips kissed every part of her they could reach, the pleasure building inside of her.

She could barely breathe. Her hips moved independently, rocking and grinding against her mate’s face, now that Cassian’s fingers were beneath her, spreading her open to access better with his mouth. A molten heat had settled low in her core, curling tighter with every pulse of his tongue.

His tongue stroked all of the way from the top then down, low enough for Nesta to lurch upwards from the sudden shock of what his tongue had discovered, the direction it had ended up.

‘What are you doing?’ She said, accusation seeping into her tone.

‘Sit down.’

From beneath her, Cassian was grinning with plump, wet lips. He kissed her thigh to soothe her nerves. In the dim light, his eyes appeared completely black and with the wings sprawling out beneath him, Cassian reminded her of a wicked creature from a story. One that had her completely at his mercy and was willing to do anything for her too.

‘Sit.’

Cassian was in no rush. His tongue arced back and forth, tracing Nesta in order to learn every inch of her. It softened over the most sensitive parts then lapped harder at the parts that could take more pressure until Nesta was completely comfortable again.

Any sense of decency had abandoned Nesta as she shamelessly rode his face into oblivion. The endings of her nerves were catching fire, as she sought release. Cassian feasted like a male starved. A hand curved around her ass spreading her wider. Nesta’s jaw went slack. She didn’t even know her own name anymore. Not as Cassian’s tongue and fingers stole all of her sense. This male knew exactly how to please a female.

The final tether snapped. Heat flooded Nesta’s body. Her legs quivered against Cassian’s face so his hands went there at once, holding her while she came on his tongue.

Nesta blinked down at Cassian; words were unreachable. With black hair spilling across the pillow and her thighs still clamped around his face, he managed to grin up at her.

He made a noise of protest when Nesta finally managed to stop straddling him and lay against his chest, breathing heavily. She kissed the scorching skin to express her gratitude because he’d stolen her ability to speak.

At the contact, Cassian wrapped his arms around her and let out a satisfied sigh. It was a testament to his will power that he could lay beside her while she gathered her scrambled senses.

His body demanded its own pleasure, hard and needy pressing against the material of his underwear.

She asked him to stand. He preferred to lay down when he came, but she needed him on his feet for what she had planned.

In her hand, Nesta lightly brushed against the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft then a featherlight touch against the darkened tip. Gentle kisses were painted along the velvet skin working down across his sac then back up. Cassian groaned with relief when Nesta finally sealed her lips around his cock, the underside of her tongue pressing down on the tip.

‘Keep your eyes on me.’

The dominant side of Cassian did something to Nesta. The need to please had her raising her grey eyes to meet his hazel ones, admiring them as she took every inch into her mouth, even as she gagged on his size.

‘Good girl. Take it all.’

Hearing the praise from his lips sent an arrow of heat lancing towards her core. They were in new territory tonight. It was a place she was keen to explore.

Nesta let the tip of her tongue trace along the delicate skin where his shaft met the head before taking it again in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, sucking hard, knowing Cassian liked it that way. She was rewarded with a low moan and him bucking his hips. 

His hips chased every intake, pushing his cock deeper into her throat. With pride, Nesta heard how unsteady Cassian’s breathing was coming from his chest. How the muscles of his stomach tensed each time she swallowed his length. How his pupils dilated when she gagged but still kept him in her mouth.

They were made for each other. The bond had been something Nesta had wanted to run from, hated feeling as if she had been made for a male, but Cassian had been waiting for her all of his life, had been waiting over five hundred years for the female he could call his equal.

A thumb caressed her face as Cassian held her in place to fuck her throat. Nesta didn’t dare look away. She was rewarded with praise, rewarded with the view of her mate towering over her with a body hardened by centuries of training.

Cassian liked her loud. Liked her moaning even when all she could produce was a muffled vibration against his shaft. From the way he screwed up his face at every slurp of her tongue against his rock-hard cock, he was seconds from coming. The ache in her jaw was irrelevant. There was one force driving Nesta onwards – gifting her mate with as much pleasure as she could.

Nesta swallowed down every drop of his seed when he came, proud to do it, glad to taste him on her tongue. His wings had stretched out involuntarily but now they came to cradle her, protecting her.

‘So beautiful,’ Cassian said, leaning forwards to kiss her. ‘All mine.’

‘Lucky you,’ she smirked, catching her breath.

They grinned at each other, both giddy and happy. Cassian settled himself onto the edge of the bed while she headed towards her towel on the floor.

‘Where are you going?’ Cassian grabbed her, a strong hand gripping her wrist and he lay her over his lap. A big, warm hand took a generous squeeze of the softness of her rounded ass then a flattened palm smacked it, the force of it stinging.

‘Round two,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Get on your knees.’

She moved to her knees and Cassian spread them further on the bed to the position he wanted to take her in. Nesta had no time to prepare as Cassian was driving all the way to the hilt, her moan spilling out of her at the feeling of him stretching her. It didn’t matter if he had just come to climax, he was ready immediately.

Cassian hissed with pleasure, dragging himself out, all the way to the tip then burying his cock as deep as it would go inside of her.

On the fourth thrust, Nesta’s knees gave out so she lay prone on the bed, taking Cassian’s punishing rhythm. The press of his weight on top of her, caging her to the bed, sent a thrill racing through her chest. His. She was his. She would let him do whatever he wanted to her in this bedroom. Take her however he wanted. She was his.

His hands pressed either side of her shoulders, his chest slick with sweat against her back, driving home with every thrust. The noises of Cassian plunging in and out would shame Nesta if she wasn’t already so far gone in lust. Their bodies rocked together. She reached for one of Cassian’s hands and he moved to lace his fingers with her own but Nesta didn’t want a sweet moment between lovers now. She wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing it once, setting the pressure she wanted.

‘Fuck.’

Cassian’s body behind Nesta’s, his hand around her throat, the feel of his hair brushing against her shoulder, all of it was right.

‘Harder.’

She didn’t even know if Cassian could go any harder, but she wanted him to. Needed him to.

Roughly, he hauled her up onto her knees again then dragged her hands behind her back until it arched, sticking her chest out. Cassian slowed his thrusts but they were no less demanding. He was on his knees behind her, using her arms as a lever so she could sink down onto his cock.

Lips pressed over the pulse fluttering in her neck. She felt Cassian’s teeth scrape against the skin, the slight pain had her eyes rolling back in her head with an electrifying thrill.

Nesta took the hand that had found her breast and tore it away, guiding it hurriedly to the swollen pink pearl above her entrance and started moving Cassian’s fingers in circular motions, chasing the climax she was desperate to reach again.

When she came with a mewling whine, Cassian pushed her into the mattress, giving one hard thrust then his wings splayed out with his own orgasm.

He stayed buried within her for a while, their heart beats answering each other with a thunderous rhythm. By him, she was completely undone.

The male rolled onto his back, panting. The whorls of black ink shone from the sweat glistening along his torso.

‘You knew exactly what you wanted tonight,’ he said, clutching a hand over his stomach.

Nesta laughed and tugged the blanket around her. ‘You made me wait a few days for it.’

‘I think I’ll keep you,’ he murmured, peeling her sweat-slicked hair from her temples to kiss her delicately.

‘Forever?’

‘Always.’

***

It was an unexpected end to the night. There had been signs in the past that Nesta wanted him to take her a little harder or treat her a little rougher. He’d always been afraid to hurt her so only ever did it when she encouraged it. Females in the past had struggled with his size, but the Mother really had paired them well because Nesta had no trouble at all. Soon, he’d let her touch his wings; he’d teach her how to make him see stars.

They’d both had to shower again – and took each other once more with Nesta’s back pressed against the cold tiles and her legs wrapped around his waist - but smiley and sated they slipped beneath the covers, curling up against each other. A smell of apples wafted from Nesta’s damp hair beside him. They’d allowed Zasha into the room so the dog had bedded down beside Nesta where he was already snoring lightly.

‘Did Eris speak to you about Lucien?’ Nesta made a murmur that he took as a no. ‘He wants Lucien as part of his council.’

‘Of course, he would. Lucien is brilliant.’

That answer took Cassian by surprise. As Elain’s biggest protector, he thought Nesta might not have any warmth for Lucien – yet the male was capable of winning everybody round and looking good while he did it.

‘He serves us well enough.’

‘Yes, he does. Lucien makes many friends. He’s beloved still in Spring. Despite Feyre’s meddling, he’s been able to salvage his reputation there. He’s welcomed in most courts because he’s clever, and quick, and kind. Eris is not a fool, Cassian, Lucien is one of the most valuable males in Prythian.’

‘What about Elain?’

‘What about Elain?’ She echoed, turning to face him. He expected Nesta’s expression to be like a cat bracing itself to hiss or swipe with a claw, but Nesta seemed completely disinterested in the conversation. ‘Elain has had long enough to make an effort with Lucien. He has been nothing but polite and respectful, keeping his distance because she demanded it. I daresay he is more respectful than you ever were to me. Nobody has pushed her or forced her to interact with him. I say tough luck if Lucien’s had enough and wants to go home. He deserves to be happy.’

‘Who is this female in my bed? Where is Nesta Archeron chief defender of Elain?’

Nesta rolled her eyes. ‘It’s high time Elain grew up and had the decency to tell Lucien the truth. She’s a grown woman – the time is ripe to act like one.’ She burrowed closed to him in the blankets, pressing cold fingers against his warm chest. ‘I still have Feyre wittering at me over how unfair it is that I haven’t accepted a bond with you, meanwhile Elain won’t even sit by her mate for a group dinner. Utterly ridiculous.’   

In her razor-sharp truth, Cassian supposed that Nesta was correct. More allowances had always been given to Elain because she took up less space, she was quieter and more pliant to her new way of life. Nesta had always been more of an obstacle who put up resistance. Yet Nesta had always told the truth, she had never shirked away from it unlike her sister who shied from it. Nesta had weathered storms to protect Elain, and it seemed that his mate had had enough of soaking herself to keep another dry.

Rhys arrived early to Illyria the next morning. A blood-red sky encroached on the horizon. Another downpour later that day then. Nesta was still in bed, groaning at Cassian to tell Rhys to go away when he rapped on the front door.

‘It absolutely reeks of sex in this cabin,’ he said by way of greeting when Cassian welcomed him in.

‘Aren’t I lucky?’

‘Celebrating Beron’s life?’ Rhys helped himself to a green apple from the bowl. He tossed it into the air casually then took a bite from it, the juice spraying into the air. ‘She said anything about his death?’

Cassian shook his head. ‘And I’m not asking.’

‘I’d put good money on her knowing something.’

He raised his hands into the air. ‘No comment. If you’re brave enough, you ask her. She’s already grumpy because you woke her up after a late night.’

‘I don’t need to know about your late night. It’s bad enough that I can smell it, Cass.’ Rhys shook his head. 'Tomorrow, you can have off. I promise. High Lord's honour. Az is in Iron Crest for the next two days so then I'll need you to spar with him before he loses his sanity.'

***

A one-on-one morning with Rhysand filled Nesta with no joy at all. They watched Cassian soar across the horizon, saying he had to go to Velaris, neither speaking until he was just a speck in the distance.

Rhysand asked her what sorts of training she’d done with Eris then asked for the odd display of what she could do. She let her silver flames lick over the tips of her fingers like a wisp of fog then she pulsed her power so her entire hands were covered in fire. To demonstrate the control that she’d worked so hard to cultivate, Nesta halted her power like throwing a wet towel over the top.

‘Can you use it to defend yourself?’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

Rhys waged an internal war to not quip something sarcastic and managed to hold himself back, giving Nesta a smile that resembled more of a grimace. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, likely feeling as uncomfortable as she did. Nesta hadn’t even realised that she’d shifted her feet to plant them into a stance that Cassian had taught her until Rhysand had drawled that she looked as if she was about to throw a punch.

What did they have in common besides Cassian and Feyre? Nothing. Rhys had formed his opinion of her before meeting her – and it had never shifted from its position. Nor had hers that he was an arrogant prick who swanned about like he owned the world.

She waited in the garden, feeling the odd spit of rain falling from the grey clouds, until Rhysand returned. He’d brought the fruit bowl into the garden then placed an apple onto the ground.

‘Use your power on that. Just the apple.’

Nesta furrowed her brow but did as he told her to. Eris and she had worked for a long time on building a dam to block the flood of her power. It had become second nature to turn on a tap and little some of it trickle out in the direction she wanted. The apple rotted, the skin turning brown and soft before the flesh caved in on itself leaving only a withered core.

‘Good. You’ve trained well with Eris. Will you do it again?’

As Rhys placed another apple on the ground, she tried to decipher whether his tone had been sarcastic or not. Instinct had her believing it was the former. He folded his arms expectantly until Nesta repeated the parlour trick.

‘This time, I want you to push through my power to rot the apple.’

‘Cassian will be disappointed. They’re his favourite type of apple.’

‘I’ll buy him some more,’ he replied, eyes twinkling, but there was a wariness to his expression. That day in Banhurst, Rhys had gone into her mind to calm her magic. He had seen the endless depths of it, knew what it was capable of.

Magic slithered from him, black and slick, shrouding the third apple like a veil. Nesta met it with her silver flames. It probed and caressed his magic as if searching for a way in. She felt the brush of his own against hers, forcing it back.

‘Keep going,’ he urged, despite the resistance.

The defence came stronger. With each pulse of her magic, Rhys’ pushed his harder trying to suffocate the flames. Nesta’s magic pushed at the walls she had created, determined to find a way out for all of it to wipe Rhysand’s magic off the map. It was difficult to concentrate on sweeping away Rhysand’s magic and to manage her own that was trying to fight its way out of the cage she kept it in.

A sudden flare scorched the ground and a wave of blackness smothered it.

Nesta stepped back panting. ‘Sorry. I have to stop.’

‘Fine.’

Her hand sought the rough feel of the one lonely pine tree in the garden while she re-built her mental walls, coaxing her magic back inside of it like a wild animal. Rhys had been into the house and held out a glass of water for her.

‘You did well, Nesta.’

‘I rotted two apples. I’d hardly call that spectacular.’

‘I am the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history and your magic nearly restrained mine. I’ve had five hundred years to practise. What’s more, you were incredibly controlled. You did well,’ he repeated, pushing the glass of water into her hand to drink.

It had only been a small thing, but already Nesta felt weak and shaky from using her magic against Rhysand’s own.

‘Did you begin to lose control?’

‘Not me, it. It always wants to come out. I can manage it well enough like this, but if I’m upset or angry, it can break out easier.’

Rhys nodded, eyes roving over her. ‘I know the burden of so much magic. It’s not an easy thing to carry. Your magic is part of you – it wants to protect you. When you threw me on my ass in Windhaven, it was your magic responding to a threat.’

‘I stole it. It’s not mine.’

‘It is yours. Trust me, if that magic was not happy residing in you, it would let you know about it. There are stories of fae throughout history who have seized others’ magic to make themselves stronger. It never ends well for them. We have histories of it in the library in Velaris. Feyre said you read everything. You should come soon and explore the books.’

A thought came to her. ‘If one could take another’s magic, could I give mine away?’

‘You do not want your power?’

‘Why would I want this? None should wield the power of death, Rhysand.’ Nesta swallowed. ‘I never wanted any of this. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t stayed with Elain. That I followed Feyre and took your offer of safety as a mortal in Velaris. That Hybern didn’t drag me from my bed. That I hadn’t been so full of anger that I clawed at the Cauldron until it bled.’

A hand touched between her shoulder blades but then he thought better of it. They were not there yet in their budding relationship, but the regret on his face was genuine.

Her vitriol towards him that first day they met was simply a fear of faeries, a fear of what could happen to her and Elain, a fear that Elain’s happy ending with Graysen could be snatched away. All of them had been proved to be true.

‘Let’s go inside. You’re getting rained on.’

 Zasha leapt up at them, tongue lolling from his mouth, in the kitchen.

‘Would you like breakfast?’

‘You can cook? I’m only surprised because Feyre can barely heat up leftovers.’

Nesta inhaled. ‘Who do you think cooked all the carcasses she brought home?’ She cracked eggs into a jug, whisking them with a fork until her arm ached then threw in green peppers, onion, and chunks of ham. ‘My speciality is rabbit or wood pigeon - the finest meats Feyre could rustle up from the forest. I hope an omelette will be good enough, high lord.’

Rhys’ mouth opened and closed. Nesta caught him blinking several times until he busied himself with stroking Zasha. She poured half the mixture into a sizzling pan slick with butter.

‘Do not tell Cassian I’m cooking for you.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I will tell Feyre though.’

Nesta snorted. ‘Did she ever tell you about the mystery soup?’

At the shake of his head, Nesta continued. ‘Sometimes we had so little to eat that I’d make mystery soup. It was anything I could find. The last bits of dried meat, bones for stock, tired vegetables that had seen better days. None of it ever tasted nice, but it stopped the ache in our bellies. We’d call it mystery soup and Elain and Feyre would try to guess what could possibly be in it. It was better that they didn’t know. We even had squirrel one year. It caught in one of Feyre’s snares and she planned just to use the fur because it was so skinny, but in it went to the mystery soup.’

She didn’t know him well enough to understand his expression as she set his breakfast in front of him. Nesta turned back to the stove to cook the rest of the mixture for her own meal.

‘I had a sister,’ he said quietly. ‘She was a bit like all three of you; strong-minded, independent, spoilt rotten by my father too. One time, I warned her not to go flying. A storm was coming in and we had to go to the Hewn City with my father later. Seren came back – late – absolutely drenched, she’d hurt her wing too. My father was furious. Not with her. With me. For not stopping her. For letting her go flying.’

Nesta sat opposite him. Perhaps they were more alike than either had ever realised – or wanted to admit. She ate quietly, allowing him to continue. Nesta knew his mother and sister had been killed by Tamlin and his family. Their heads had been sent in a box down a river. The rest of their bodies had been disposed of somewhere else without dignity.

‘I remember being so outraged that he could dare blame me for it. I’d warned Seren not to and she didn’t listen. I was her brother, not her keeper. I think what I am trying to say is,’ he breathed out, setting the fork down, ‘that Feyre has her own mind, just as Seren did. And if I couldn’t prevent my sister from flying in a storm then you could not stop yours from hunting. I’m sorry that we haven’t always seen eye to eye.’

Nesta was too stunned to even speak. Her omelette lay forgotten on the plate while she gripped the fork tightly like Elain had the first time they’d met the three bats when their sister had returned as one of the fae folk.

‘When Feyre returned to the Spring Court, I wasn’t thinking of anything except her. You and Elain needed support and care to manage your new life. You are my mate’s sisters,’ he said, swallowing. ‘And I didn’t do enough to help you. I should have known that your anger came from pain because that was me. When my mother and sister were murdered, I wanted to set the world on fire. And – do not tell him I said this – I should have told Cassian to back off and leave you alone, to give you time to adjust.’

‘We have both been horrid to each other.’

Rhys nodded. ‘But I am far older and wiser and should have known better.’

‘So modest. Do all males do this when you feed them? Should I expect a lamenting monologue from Cassian when I feed him?’

‘Will you feed him?’

Nesta sighed with despair. ‘You and Feyre are perfect for each other. Both such busy bodies. Eat your food, I have a friend to visit in Windhaven.’

‘And you and Cassian both like to boss others around,’ he winked.

‘Yes, well, as long as he understands that I am in charge in this relationship.’

Rhys laughed, the tension between them feeling non-existent for once. ‘Nesta, don’t worry, we all know that.’

[eirenical]

sooo… tell me more about that heiping smut. that sounds relevant to my interests for some reason. (yes, yes i just want to hear more about it bc i love it a lot. SO WHAT. DON'T JUDGE ME.)

(what if i put this one on anon! WHAT IF.)

Why, I can't imagine why a WiP titled "Laire fic heiping smut outtake" would be relevant to your interests! 😁 (And I have a feeling I would have known this one was you, too. CALL IT A HUNCH. XD)

[The WiP Title List, if anyone else would like to ask about one. ^_^]

ANYWAY, about a year ago, @laireshi wrote this AMAZING Heiping fic, Exploration, that had this line in the second paragraph:

It wasn’t as if he was actually expecting an answer, between Yaba’s inability to speak more than one sentence a week—and Xiazi was rather sure Yaba had used up all his words for the month begging in bed last night, and yes, he was very proud of himself for that one—and this having to do with the Zhang family’s Super Secret Stuff.

And that bit between the em-dashes caught me by the fucking THROAT and wouldn't let go. So I asked Laire if she would mind if I took a stab at writing that night before when Xiaoge used up his month's worth of words begging in bed, and her response was basically "YES PLEASE". ;D So I did. 😁

It's a bit under 3300 words now and I have maybe... one more scene to write plus some snuggling? I also have quite a bit more begging to get in for Xiaoge to fill that quota. XD So far most of his begging seems to be some variation of Hei Xiazi's name, but Xiazi doesn't seem to mind. ;D

But basically this has become an exercise of Hei Xiazi trying to figure out exactly how much soft pampering, how much teasing, and how many orgasms he can get away with giving Xiaoge before Xiaoge actually starts begging for real and not just screaming his name. 😏😁 So far we're at... three teases and two orgasms with Xiazi already planning round three?

It'll be a wonder Xiaoge can even WALK by the time the fic takes place. XD

(And yes, I just got distracted rereading the fic for the nth time while I was taking that tally. I really do need to finish this one and post it. MAYBE AFTER GRADING HELL WEEK IS DONE. AS A TREAT. 😁)

In the meantime... snippet behind the cut? Yeah. I think a snippet behind the cut. ^_^

Showers, Hei Xiazi had always thought, were a revelation.  They'd not been common place when he was born, but they'd been installed in the house as soon as they were available.  Xiazi had reveled in them then and continued to do so now.  The pounding of hot water on sore muscles, the buildup of steam opening pores and congested breathing, the speed with which the grime fell from his overworked body… yeah.  Still a revelation.  But sometimes, just sometimes, there was no replacement for a nice long soak in a hot bath.

Especially with the right company.

Xiazi slid his fingers back into Yaba's hair, massaging his scalp as he lathered, then letting his hands drift lower to the tight column of Yaba's neck and shoulders.  Did those muscles ever relax?  Sometimes Xiazi wondered if Yaba even knew the meaning of the word.  Digging his thumbs deeply into the muscles at the base of Yaba's neck, he slowly dragged them upwards to the knobs at the base of his skull.  Steady pressure, deep strokes, coaxing those muscles to unwind, to let go of their knots, to ease the headache that surely must be forming from all that tension.

After barely a minute of those gentle ministrations, Xiazi was rewarded with a subtle, barely-there shiver and a long, low moan.  Moments later, Yaba's head fell back to rest against Xiazi's shoulder, his body quickly following, settling softly into the curve of Xiazi's body.  Exactly what he'd been waiting for.

Xiazi rinsed his hands in the bathwater, then filled the bowl he'd left aside for just this purpose.  Shielding Yaba's eyes with one hand, he lifted the bowl and slowly rinsed the shampoo lather from his hair.  Bowl by bowl, the lather washed away into the tub to mingle with the water, leaving Yaba's hair sleek and soft, his body growing heavier against Xiazi with every bowl full of water that sluiced over his skin.

It wasn't often that Yaba let himself be taken care of like this.  It was weeks, months, sometimes years, after their each reacquaintance before Yaba would let his guard down enough to let Xiazi do this for him—before he could even begin to understand why Xiazi would want to.

After all, you maintained your tools, certainly, but you didn't buy them sweets.  You didn't hold them close while they slept.  You didn't coax and caress them until they agreed to let a day go by when they wouldn't be used.  You didn't show them affection.  And Yaba, Hei Xiazi had long since learned, viewed himself as nothing more than a tool, unless someone taught him otherwise.  And that was the worst thing of all.

But today, when Hei Xiazi had drawn a bath for himself, had teasingly invited Yaba to join him, Yaba had surprised him.  His expression had softened, those too long fingers drifting through Hei Xiazi's hair as their gazes met��one shielded and one guarded, though not so much as it had once been.  He'd left the bathroom, then, puttered around in the hotel room for a while, turning off lights as he moved.  He left only one lamp lit, softly reflected light the only illumination once he was done. 

"Admit it, you just want to get a gander at my gorgeous eyes, don't you?" Hei Xiazi had said, as Yaba returned and slipped the black glasses from his face.

Yaba had shaken his head, a smile so fond crossing his lips that Xiazi's breath caught in his chest like a lovesick teenager's.  Moments later, Yaba was peeling out of his clothes and slipping into the tub, and here they'd been ever since.

[sheloooveswomen]

let me take care of you - lana winters x reader

masterlist

summary: domestic bliss (a massage and a bath).

includes: lana x fem!reader, thoughts are italicized, all in reader's POV.

warnings: semi nsfw but no smut

inspired by Dangerous ASMR's audio on youtube

1,794 words

Y/N POV//

A knock on the door makes me pause on turning the bed down.

"Babe? It's me!"

I look up to see Lana at my bedroom door, "There you are, I missed you!" I wrap my arms around her neck, standing on my tippy toes to give her a quick peck. "You didn't have to knock you know" I chuckle.

She rests her hands on the dip of my waist, "Well I know I don't have to knock, but it just seems rude not to."

"Lana, we've been together for a year and a half. If I wanted you to knock I wouldn't have given you a key!"

I cut her off with a kiss.

I cut her off with a kiss.

"Was that too much?" she asks.

"Unless you were about to say shower, yes."

"Geez make up your mind" she laughs, kissing me again.

We part when breathing becomes a problem, "Okay enough of that, how was your day?" I ask.

"Not the best. Average problems of a working woman. No one wants to listen to me despite my being in charge. The weather was horrible, so we had to relocate a few shoots. I spent an hour arguing with the network about my clothing instead of the matters at hand." she shrugs

"I don't know how you handle them."

"Eh, it's not so bad" she waves her hand to say it's nothing, taking off her blazer.

I stand behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders while she removes her jewelry, "Are you sure you're not just used to the stress at this point? I feel like your gauge is broken. Like a normal person's stressful is your average Tuesday morning."

She furrows her brows as she thinks, "No I—"

"Nope. Nope, sorry I don't think so."

Lana laughs, "Sweetheart—"

I put my hand up, "No you're definitely stressed. I can see it in your eyes."

She rolls those eyes, "Oh please, honey."

"Nuh uh, it's true. Lucky for you, you're dating the worlds foremost expert on stress relief."

She bursts out laughing.

"What?" I try to suppress my own laughter, "It's true!"

"Sure, honey."

"I'm certified."

She takes her earrings out, staring at me incredulously through the mirror.

"How bout I let you be the judge of that? Just sit down..." I walk her to the bed, "and let me relax you. Ju—" she tries to get up, "—just sit down!"

"Sweetheart I'm really not stressed" she chuckles.

"Damnit, stop being so difficult woman!" I laugh.

"Fine" she sits on the edge of the bed.

"There. Thank you. Now... I'm going to take off your shirt."

A smirk forms as I unbutton her blouse.

"It's G rated I swear!" 

She stares blankly.

"Okay PG" I shrug.

She raises a perfectly shaped brow.

"Hard PG"

Lana laughs as lays her blouse on the bed.

"Good... thank you." I go to grab some lotion, "Now let me use my hands to give you a stress relieving back massage." I turn her to lay on her stomach and unclip her bra.

"This is getting less PG, my love."

I straddle her hips giggling, "Yeah"

"Not that I mind" she moves her hair to the side so I have better access to her neck and shoulders.

"Good. Now prepare for an amazing- well maybe not amazing, but at least like pretty good which is way better than nothing so... a massage... oouuu" I slowly glide my fingers up and down her back.

"Mmm that feels good" she sighs.

"I can feel the tension in your upper back. I'm gonna have to work all these nasty knots out for you."

"Probably from being hunched over my desk, writing all the time"

"Is this good or do you need a little more pressure?"

"Little more please, honey"

"Okay... like this?"

"Oouuu yeah" she moans out.

I can't help but grin, "Just relax baby. Let me melt away all of your tension. You work too hard you know—"

"I don't—"

"You do! You happen to be the hardest working person I know, and you should be proud. But you know you can take a break sometimes. The world isn't gonna explode if you do... well a 98% chance, give or take." I laugh.

We go quiet for a moment. I switch between massaging her neck and connecting her freckles with my fingertips.

Lana's breath hitches when I place a soft kiss on the center of her back, "That doesn't feel like a massage"

"Oh, no. Kissing is a completely legitimate massage technique." I assure her.

"They taught you this in your relaxation training?"

"Shhh" I kiss the nape of her neck and lower my voice, "I told you I'm the foremost relaxation expert, so don't question me. Just..." I try not to laugh, "go with it."

She lets out a cross between a content sigh and moan as I alternate between massaging and kissing.

"Don't you feel better already?"

"Mhm"

"That's what I thought. More touching, less stressing. Perfect."

"Just like you" she mumbles.

I scoff.

"Perfect doesn't mean you don't have imperfections- you know what I mean. Just an all around amazing goddamn human being. Smart, kind, funny, hard working—"

"Well you're all that and too hardworking" I laugh.

"Well you are absolutely breathtakingly sexy."

I scrunch my nose, “So we’re just saying things now”

She opens an eye to peak at me over her shoulder, "Why do you always make a face when I say that?" she smiles.

"I'm still getting used to the whole compliment thing"

"Jokes on you. I think you're at your sexiest when you're making a stupid face."

"Oh ha ha." I say sarcastically. 

She rolls onto her back and I somehow end up beneath her. My hands find her thighs as she fully takes off her bra, "I have been waiting to take that evil contraption off all day."

"By all means, burn it if you must!" I grin looking up at her.

She takes my hands in hers, kissing my knuckles, "I missed you all day. Thank you for that" she bends to kiss me, "I love you."

"I love you more" I whisper back.

Her eyes light up when she takes off my night shirt and sees I'm wearing nothing underneath, "Well then... you turn over, I want to release some of your tension."

"How kind of you" I smile as I close my eyes.

"There we go, just work our way down. Ease out every bit of stress you've been carrying around." she mocks a soothing voice, taking some lotion into her hand. "Are you enjoying yourself, my love?"

"Mhmmm"

I hear the smile in her voice, "You needed this, too, it seems."

"Yeah" I sigh.

"It's okay to need people, you know? You don't have to do everything yourself. Admitting that you need help sometimes isn't just healthy, it's brave."

"Did Kit say that?"

Lana laughs, "He did. Still, if someone cares about you then they'll wanna help. But don't- don't let them give you a topless back massage, okay?"

"No promises."

She bites my shoulder lightly, earning a laugh from me, "This is just for me" she soothes the bite with a soft kiss, "especially if they add in the kissing technique."

"I wouldn't want anyone else, my love."

"I'm glad" she adds more pressure to my upper back.

"Mmmmmm that's nice"

She chuckles lowly.

"But when you're done I'm taking care of you for the night" I remind her.

"You don't have to, sweetheart"

"I want to."

"You're very sweet daring but—"

"Pleaaaase?"

She sighs, "Fine!"

I roll onto my back so she's now sitting in my lap, "Great! Oouuu, I'm gonna pamper the fuck out of you!"

"I don't think that's PG, darling, but I like the sound of that."

"It doesn't have to be literal but whatever it takes... I'm a giver.” I start to kiss along her neck, "Sooo, I'm gonna go draw you a bath—"

"I still have work to do—"

I take hold of her hips, "Nope. Work can wait till later. What you need are bubbles, candles, a nice drink, some music... me..." we laugh, "there's room right?" I whisper, kissing just behind her ear.

She inhales sharply, putting her arms around my shoulders, "I don't mind if it's a bit of a tight fit... not if you don't."

I laugh in her neck, "As long as you don't mind my feet in your face."

She scoffs, "I do mind and that's not what I meant! This is supposed to be romantic you jerk." she glares at me, "Deep breath in" we inhale "and out, ahhhh so romantic... and slippery."

I tickle her sides till she falls onto the bed, "I'll go run the water" I peck her nose and head towards the bathroom.

"I'll get drinks"

I meet her in the kitchen after I start the water, "Now why don't you follow me. I can get you out of the rest of those entirely pointless clothes, so you can slip into a nice warm tub."

She smile, "No bathing suit?"

I smirk, "Nope, we're ditching the PG rating."

She sets the drinks on the ledge by the tub, unzipping and pulling down her skirt. I know she's been topless this whole time and we've been together for almost two years, but her in the altogether? I'm just as overwhelmed as I was the first time I saw her.

"Are you gonna get undressed or just watch me?" she says without looking at me.

"I—" Keep eye contact. Don't look down. Don't— I looked down and I am never looking away.

She grins as she unties my sweatpants, "I thought you were gonna take care of me, darling?"

I let out a nervous laugh, "I intend to"

"Get to it then"

I somehow find the strength to light a few candles, turn off the lights, and settle in the tub behind her.

"No feet in my face?" Lana smiles as she leans her back against my chest.

"I didn't think you'd be into that"

She laughs, "Of course not. But I am in my element right now."

"A bath?"

"Between your legs" she grins.

"Lana!" I laugh.

"I can't help it, you're rubbing off on me."

"Maybe after the bath" I smirk.

"See! There you go now!"

"Well I said I'd take care of you"

"I'll hold you to that" she takes both my hands.

"I'll hold you to me later"

She laughs as I kiss her neck, "I like the sound of that"

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

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Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059​ @shit-i-love-clowns

[liljungie]

Young Blood | Mafia AU

▸Pairing : Jimin ↮ Reader ↮ Taehyung.

▸ ！warnings！= agnst × SMUT (kinda)

▸Word count: 5k

▸ Part Four : ❝ Ties that bind pt.2 ❞

Part One| Part Two | Part Three

▸Masterlist

A/N : you have no idea how much I appreciate you guys. I'm so thankful for each and everyone who takes the time to read this specific story your support leaves me speechless I hope I never disappoint you.

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You sigh as you put away the phone you turn to look at your daughter, she was still eating so you decided to go make her bed and tidy up around. You and jimin decided to meet up tomorrow morning he said taehyung assigned him a job he has to take care of today so your runaway plan had to be postponeded, if you were honest you felt like jimin was hesitating..yes he was the one who proposed the idea but you feel like he's starting to back out of it not that he said anything on the phone. But you can tell.

You loved him for so long and there was no one out there who knows him better than you do. You walk back downstairs to see taehyung sitting on the chair beside Luna's one arm was around her and the other was softly tracing her cheek. He had a small smile on his face as he talks to her. It was coherent to you. You weren't sure if you wanted to reveal yourself or not so you stayed where you are watching them from afar. Taehyung giggles as Luna embraces him and he tells her he loves her so much.

Seeing them like that tugged on your heart strings. Although taehyung was an asshole...he was still her dad. Did you really have the heart to rip her away from him? What's going to happen to him without Luna around? To him his world revolves around her, he's fighting his father to keep her safe. From what vivian told you. you think you can just up and leave with her like that...that easily? Yes Jimin loves Luna but no one can replace Taehyung. After all Blood is thicker than water...

You sigh as you make your way to the kitchen, you needed to bathe Luna before nighttime so she doesn't get sick like last summer, when taehyung saw you he stood up. You can tell he was hesitant to speak to you you ignore him tho as you picked Luna up "come on bath time" you say walking away with her in your arms. then he cleared his throat "I need to speak to you...please" you turned and looked at him and he held this look in his eyes you knew it was urgent so you nodded "I'll be in my office" he smiles briefly you can see how his eyes landed on the marks on your neck his face fell then he walked past you. He seemed so upset.

You furrow your eyebrows questioning his behavior mentally but taehyung is taehyung and you'll never figure him out. So you didn't think much about it. Probably another argument match. You placed Luna in the tub and filled it with warm water and bubbles "can I play for longer?" She asks with puppy eyes after awhile you sigh "not right now baby, dad wants to talk to me okay?" She pouts and looks away gathering her toys and putting them away as you rinse her hair with water before turning off the faucets grabbing her towel and wrapping her up with it while she was standing in the tub then you picked her up swiftly you sing along to a rhyme she was singing.

Finally she was dressed, hair brushed. you placed her on the couch and laid a blanket on her "I'll be right back so you can help me cook lunch okay?" You kiss her forehead as she nods. You walk away. nervousness take over you as your feet take you towards his office. You knock on the oak door and wait for him to let you in. You hear a faint 'come in'. You push the door open then close it behind you. not stepping further into the office incase he acts up. You can still runaway before he grabs you. Better safe than sorry you thought.

He looks up at you as you stand still your back pressed against the door. He sighs and lays back into his chair "please sit..." he sighs  "I'm comfortable like this.." he runs his temple "_____ please! Sit..." you roll your eyes and take a seat on a chair that was close to the door. Just incase. You weren't gonna deny it. You feared taehyung. Especially after last night.

He sighs "first of all I want to apologize for yesterday...I never meant to hurt you" your ears perked up at his words...did taehyung just apologize? No you were definitely dreaming. "It's just...I'm going through a lot right now...it's too much on me...for the first time ever I feel...beaten by my burdens" taehyung says as you stare at him.

Never in all those years you were married he ever sat down and vented his burdens with you. "I called vivian last night and she told me that you knew about my father wanting to take Luna in for training" you gulp as you nod your head. he nods "I want you to know that I'm filing a restraining order against him...my own father" he scoffs looking away from you biting his lip.

"it's so...weird...this is the first time I stood up for myself...it took me years to be able to do that and I did it in a court infront of a judge and everything" he laughs but you knew it was one of those sad laughs. "my father was so strict with me and so firm...he didn't feel like a father to be honest...he was a mentor...a teacher but in the worst way possible..instead of telling me to get up and fix my mistakes he used to beat me up for getting them wrong...he kept saying that 'a real man is never wrong and never makes mistakes'" he laughs again rolling his eyes.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line when you hear him take a deep breath. "...then you came" he smiles looks at you briefly before he looks away "I still remember the feeling I got when I saw you walk through the entrance behind him...you looked so pretty but you were so sad and scared...you mirrored me in every way except my family was alive and present...I never understood you when you wished your parents were still alive because I wanted mine dead...and I know you did too..my father was tough on both of us"

"The only good thing your father did was take me in after my family was slaughtered right infront of my eyes...without him I would have been god knows where" you wipe away your tears. Flashes of that incident play in your head.

Taehyung took careful steps than sat on the same couch you were sat on."I'm really glad he did that" he softly smiles holding your gaze. "after you started living with us I became happier..." you look up at him shocked "but you hated me.." you tell him shaking your head "no I never could...I tried...but no- I- I was jealous" he says avoiding your eyes "jealous?" You ask confused.

"You were good at everything...my father praised you countless times and I just wished he praised me once...even now I still think he prefers you over me" you shake your head "taehyung you're his son...I could never replace you" you say softly "besides I'm not sure I appreciate him wanting to take my daughter away from me"

"I won't ever let him" taehyung turns to you "that I can promise you" he smiles at you reassuringly you look away from him. "_____ I'm so sorry" he whispers enough for you to hear he inches closer to you. You freeze not knowing how to act. You feel him move your hair away from your neck. He traces your neck softly you wince from the pain but you don't move away. Liking the feeling of him being close.

"I'm a monster..." he whispers your eyes look into his and you can see the tears form in his eyes as he tries to hold them in "I don't deserve you...I don't deserve Luna...I'm just like him!" His head hangs low a he covers his face, your heart aches...no...taehyung wasn't like his father at all...you knew deep down he wasn't...you just didn't know how to handle him.You lift up his chin "You're not" you reassure him your voice is so tender and soft on his ears.

He feels the floor beneath him crumple and shake. He places his hand on your cheek softly as his finger graze your bottom lip and without a warning his lips were locked with yours.

You melt into the kiss letting your body take over your conscious. You kiss him back then he pulls you closer. His hands tug on your thighs then he lifts you up placing you on his lap as he sucks and bites on your lip. "Oh how much I've craved this.." he gronas pulling you closer. "What kind of a wife are you huh? Leaving your husband with blue balls for years" he taunts playfully you giggle. He flips you over so now you were laying on the couch and he was on top of you smirking "I want nothing more than to devour you now" he whispers against your skin. He leaves a trail of kisses on your neck and after every peck he says sorry. Your body was on fire. Maybe because you haven't had this type of contact in years. "Please taehyung" you beg. his knee was pressing against your burning core. You grind against it out of frustration not handling the heat. "Hmmm? What can I do for you princess?" He kisses the top of your head as he devilishly moves his knee up and down on your entrance. Teasing you.

"God fuck...fuck me please" you whimper. He laughs above you knowing that you were near the edge. He captures your lips again helping you get through your orgasm as it rips out of you.

════════════════════════

By the time you and taehyung finish showering it was late in the afternoon. You tiptoe to the living room to see Luna right where you left her. She was sound asleep cuddled up with a pillow. You sigh in relief that she didn't wake up to any sounds you and taehyung were making. You feel arms wrap around your torso and you lean back against taehyung as he glances over your shoulder to look at Luna briefly. "This is really nice" he closes his eyes feeling in content as he holds you close to him and sway from side to side with you in his arms.

His hair was still wet and it was dripping on your shoulder. You hated to ruin the mood but your mind couldn't stop racing. Although you weren't with Jimin...why did it feel like you were cheating on him?

"Taehyung?" You ask he hums a yes you sigh "there's something you should know" you hesitate to speak but it was now or never. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?-" you cut him off giggling slightly "no no- everything is okay...for now. but I umm need to tell you this" he pulls away from you turning you to face him. "Then what's up?" He smiles.

"Me and jimin were in a relationship...while I was apart of the mafia" he smiles bitterly "I sensed something between you two but I never said anything..." "yeah well that night when I came to your office and we um first did it...it was out of spite"at that he pulled his arms away from you "I shouldnt'v I know... but me and jimin fought pretty bad that night and I just couldn't take it" taehyung seems to be shocked by all of this new information.

He looked hurt."So...you never meant for anything to happen between us?" he asks "No-but I don't regret it either...Luna means the world to me" you tell him "do you love me _____?" He asks and that's when your world seemed like it stopped. Truth is. Jimin consumed every part of you that left no place for anyone else. Until Luna came and took a half of your heart but the rest was all for Jimin.

You not answering taehyung's question was an answer it self. Taehyung knew. He knew all along. But that small crush on you turned into much bigger and he couldn't help it from the moment he saw you walk through the mansion door. He fell in love.... he couldn't stop it from growing either.

You think back to how it all started. You stood behind Mr.kim sniffling. As his son and wife made their way towards you "______ this is my son, Taehyung" you shyly look up at him and you notice his small boxy smile he secretly offered before he turned cold. Afraid of being seen smiling by his father. It weirded you out.

Then his mother took you in her arms mumbling comforting words and rambled on and on about how you won't ever be alone. The lies. Even though you became apart of their family. All you felt was loneliness. taehyung changed through the years. He wasn't as welcoming as he used to be so that's when you turned to Jimin and all you ever knew was him. He'd make fun of how you were adopted by a mafia gang leader and how cliche it was. That only made you love him more. That he didn't give you special treatment nut still made you feel special... you couldn't really explain it but it made your heart skip. So much of your time was spent with jimin. You both went through a lot together that taehyung won't ever be compared.

And when you grew up you two became partners which only led you to be more closer to him. And more connected. Eventually your childish crush turned into real feelings. And here you are. Still in love with someone you didn't end up with.

"Taehyung I'm sorry-" you began to say he cuts you off "do you still love him?" your head hangs low "-i don't know" you lie. Were you really going to confess your love for another man infront of your man? And the cherry on top of all this mess is you have a child with someone who you don't love.

Taehyung isn't blood related to you. But the circumstances you were in for some years made him feel like a brother to you. You cringe when you remember the things you just did with him. But you're not going to lead taehyung on like that...not anymore. Nor did you want to cheat on him.

He scoffs walking away from you but he walks back and faces you "then why did you agree to marrying me?" You sigh. There was no going back. Besides you knew he'll ask questions "because Luna would be protected..I couldn't protect her on my own I won't be able to" you say slowly. To say you felt like a bitch was an understatement.

"I can't believe this...I just...wow" he laughs while shaking his head. His face expression is undesirable "we just had sex...and you didn't think of telling me earlier than that?" You wince and look away from him "you could have pushed me off or walked out of my office but you stayed...you begged me to-" "I know!" You cut him off not bearing to hear the end of that sentence"I know that!"

"Which is why I'm confused-" you sigh "you're unpredictable...I can't figure you out..do you think I didn't want this to work? I wanted it to. for Luna's sake but I can't when you don't put any effort" you argue taehyung only stares at you "I do put effort-" he argues back "I meant with me...you never been affectionate towards me until now" he rolls his eyes "that is bullshit and you know it...I tried to. Multiple times on multiple occasions and you always pushed me away" he says pacing infront of you as he tells you "you were drunk taehyung...you know what happened last time we had sex drunk!"

"Yes you gave birth to my child..I get it- quit blaming me for it- it took the two of us!" He says louder and you flinch. You stay quiet. Defeated "I can't do this...I won't do this! I already have enough at stake" he scoffs "sort yourself out ______ because you don't know what you want and I refuse to be dragged down along with you...someone of us need to put their head on their shoulders or my father any second could bust through our home right now and take our child from us then we run like headless chickens"

Taehyung walks away slipping on his coat "I won't stop you if you choose Jimin...but my daughter stays with me do you understand?" He says over his shoulder before opening the front door then shutting it after him. Leaving you speechless and confused.

You sigh. Sliding against the wall. Your fingers brush through your hair as you slightly tug on. All that thinking all those thoughts were driving you crazy. Should you stay with a man who is the father of your child? Or should you go after another who isn't even chasing you? But you knew you couldn't be selfish while making a decision. Having a daughter made your choice a lot more difficult.

It's either your happiness or Luna's future.

[Tell me if you're enjoying this au so far so I keep updating it:)]

[reddeadrevival]

His Queen ( Micah x F!Reader - NSFT)

(Red Heart means High Fluff and Purple Heart means High Smut

Continuation of that dance post I did a while back; I see this as a few days after that previous part. Can be read alone.

In third person since the first one was. No “Y/N” but the reader is Female/I use female pronouns.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff but also SMUT, Oral (female receiving), Unprotected Sex, Slight Impregnation kink

People who wanted to be tagged: @lil-bi-bulbasaur for the “soft Micah” post (this is that post there’s just also a lot of smut too ^^”)

She had just finished up her chores for the day when two arms wrapped around her waist. They pulled her back against a chest as Micah put his head on her shoulder. She couldn't help the small giggle that left her lips. 

"It seems you're finally free," He kissed her neck. "to join me on a little trip." 

"A trip, huh?" she asked with a smirk. Her hand went over his as she enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms. He hummed.

"Quick ride up to Valentine, nice bath," he said before nuzzling his face in her hair. "Room for the night," he added with a lower tone.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He chuckled, sending a vibration against her back. 

…

Micah couldn't keep his hands to himself on the trip to Valentine. She quickly realized why he'd insisted on her sitting in front of him as opposed to behind him like she'd normally ride. His lips seem to never leave her neck for the entire ride. Trailing kisses and nipping at her skin. 

They arrive and he helps her down off Baylock, hands on her hips, giving her a small squeeze as he sets her on the ground. He pays for a room and bath. The hotel owner directs them down the hall to the bath room, and gives them a not so subtle judging look when Micah heads down the hall after her. Micah shoots him a glare and he quickly minds his own business. 

She gives him a look when he steps into the room behind her, closing the door, and he grins. 

"Big enough for two," is all he says with a wink. He restrains himself from tearing her clothes off and instead enjoys watching her slowly strip. She turns to see him still fully clothed and puts a hand on her hip. 

"You need help there, cowboy?"

"As a matter a fact, I do," he said making her roll her eyes. She started to unbutton his shirt as he enjoyed the view of her. His hands trailed down her hips, fingers tickling her skin lightly. She gets to his belt and he lets out a grunt as she tugs his belt free. "Careful there, darlin'," he said with a chuckle. She gave him a playful glare to which he cupped her chin gently. 

"You gonna kiss me or just stare at me?" she teased. He grinned and quickly brought his lips to meet hers. Thinking she was taking too long, he began to help her disrobe himself. He nipped at her bottom lip as he lifted her and her legs went around his waist instinctively. Micah chuckled against her lips. 

"Down girl," he playfully scolded making her smile. 

He stepped into the bath carefully, and slowly sat, with her in his lap. She shifted so she was sitting against his chest, between his legs, and let her head rest back against his shoulder. His arms were snug around her. She let out a content sigh and closed her eyes. 

They sat there in silence for a while. Micah let his guard drop for once and just enjoyed the feeling of the woman in his arms. He let his mind wander, instead of his hands. If tonight went the way he wanted, he was going to prove to her he could be romantic and that, while he probably didn't deserve someone as great as her, he was gonna be the best he could for her.

After a few minutes he grabbed the bar of soap and began to run it over her skin. She hummed happily and a warm feeling bloomed in his chest at the sound. He of course couldn't help his body's reaction when his hands moved over her breasts. It seemed neither could she. He felt her nipples harden under his palms and couldn't help but smirk. She could feel him poke against her back and if her face wasn't already flushed from the heat of the water it would be hard to hide it. Micah had to remind himself that tonight was about her. 

A few more minutes later their bath was over. They reluctantly got dressed; Micah clearly having trouble getting comfortable in his jeans. They couldn't get to their room quick enough, both feeling giddy and excited. The door is quickly locked and clothes thrown about the room. She kissed him first, grabbing his face gently, as she pushed herself against him. He let out a groan and pulled her tight against him. His hands find her ass and lift her up, her legs once again going around his waist. He sits on the bed and lets them fall back. She lets out a small squeak and the two laugh quietly. He feels her reach down and take a hold of him, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. 

"Tonight's about you darlin'," he said as he stopped her. “I told you I’d treat you like a queen, didn’t I?” His hands gripped her thighs and pulled her up so she sat on his chest. She looks down at him in confusion but he only smirked. He pulled her up further until she was pretty much sitting on his face, holding her thighs down when she tried to lift herself. Hearing the loud gasp escape her throat made him groan against her. His tongue got to work, licking and sucking wherever he could. One of her hands gripped his hair while the other grabbed onto the headboard of the bed. He was like a starving man who'd finally been given a morsel of food. From the noises he was making below her it was hard to tell who was enjoying this more. She couldn't help rocking her hips against his face and he didn't seem to mind as his lips latched onto her clit. Flicking his tongue and sucking on that little bundle. He felt her body start to shake. She was close. His grip on her thighs tightened, knowing she was going to try and lift herself off of his face. He wouldn't have that. As her climax hit and her hips jerked he groaned and stuck his tongue as deep as he could to taste her. She let out a few squeaks as he continued, overstimulating her in the best way possible. He finally let her up but not before giving her a big slow lick, ending with a flick of the tongue on her clit.

She rolled off to lay beside him as she tried to catch her breath. His mustache was glistening as he licked his lips. Grabbing his nearby shirt he wiped his face, not caring in the moment. He moved over her and started kissing along her breasts. Soft, light kisses all over, his tongue only coming out to tease her nipples briefly. She whined and he saw her squeeze her legs together. With a slight chuckle he spread them. Running his hands along the inside of her thighs slowly. 

"Fuck me," she gasped out.

"Of course, my queen," he teased with a wink. He slid himself along her wet folds a few times before lining up. The sound she made as he pushed in was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He went slow. As much as he wanted to pound into her until she was seeing stars and screaming his name, he held himself back. Slowly rolling his hips as his lips peppered kisses along her neck. He found her sweet spot rather quickly and easily left a beautiful mark against the skin. 

"Faster, please," she pleaded. He picked up the pace and started to rock his hips. His lips made their way to hers and he swallowed her moans. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands stroked her outer thighs before getting a good grip, holding them to him. He nuzzled his face against her neck as her hands gripped his hair. His hips were moving in just the right way to hit that sweet spot in her every time. "Oh god- Mic-ah!" 

"Come on, darlin' just let go for me, come on, baby," he purred in her ear. Her walls seemed to clamp down on him and he picked up his speed just enough to bring himself closer to his finish. 

"Inside!" she cried. "Please, cum inside me."

"You really want my baby in ya, don't ya?" he said with a chuckle that sent a shiver through her body. "Whatever my queen desires. I'll fill you until you can't hold anymore." He placed a kiss against her ear. She began to cry out as her orgasm hit.

"Don't stop!" she cried as she unknowingly pulled his hair a little too roughly. That alone sent a spark through him and pushed him over the edge. His release hit him and he groaned against her neck as he pumped through it. Her legs tightened around him, not letting him pull out even if he wanted to. He didn't. With a final thrust he pushed himself as deep as he could go. They stayed like that, catching their breaths.

His shoulders shook slightly and she slid her hands from his hair to his back. She felt something wet hit her neck and kissed the side of his head. "Micah?" He shook his head against her neck. "Is something wrong?" she asked. He shook his head again, lifting it just enough to press a kiss to her ear.

"Not at all darlin'," he told her. "Everything's perfect… yer perfect." He pressed a kiss to her cheek before pecking her lips. She could see the tears in his eyes. "I ain't sad … I don't know why…" he couldn't explain it. To put what he was feeling, so strongly, into comprehensive words was something he couldn't do. "Don't… don't tell anyone…" For the first time since meeting him, he looked vulnerable. 

"I wouldn't dare," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his nose. A smile tugged at his lips and he swooped down to kiss hers.

So soft then smut then lil soft. Hope you liked it. I know no one asked for it… ^_^"

Yes it is my headcanon that he cries after/during sex. It’s not that bad a thing, it just means the feelings were so intense your body needed someway to “let it out”.

(Master List)

[chrysolina]

Unprepared

Ask - Can you please write a chris evans imagine when the condom breaks, and the reader ends up pregnant. And she’s not happy while chris is over the moon about it. And they kinda get into an argument - anon

Thanks for the great ask anon, I’m so sorry I changed it up a little bit still, here it is!! Hope you enjoy ((:

Summary - You had always been so careful when having sex with Chris, the prospect of being a mom always scared you lifeless. So how will everything turn out when you forget to use contraception and fall pregnant with Chris’ baby?

Word count - 3k ish (flashbacks are in italics)

Warnings - SMUT at the beginning (again +18 readers pls), crying, anxiety mentioned, bad childhood mentioned, floof, heartwarming shiit (:

M A S T E R L I S T

A quiet and deep slumber had set around the neighbourhood that was settled deep in one of the boroughs of Boston. You didn't care to know about this tranquility outside as you slept peacefully in the strong arms of your boyfriend of four years, Chris Evans.

Face resting beside his chest and his arms warming you like a human blanket, nothing could wake you from your sleep - not even Chris could wake you from your dreamful slumber.

That, however, was just what he wanted to do. He took a quick glance at your alarm clock and sighed in defeat. Being awake at 3:45am with a raging boner from a hot and heavy dream he had wasn't ideal for Chris, nor was the fact that the subject of his dreams was attached to him like a magnet to a fridge.

Chris had to do something about this, his balls were screaming with release and needed to be freed from his boxers now. He thought good and hard about his decision, he could get up to go to the toilet to find his release but you were right there before him in one of his shirts, your pussy tantalisingly close to his boner and with nothing else on underneath - how could he deny himself of some earth shattering sex with the hottest woman around?

'Fuck it.' Chris decided on what to do and began to slowly rub his straining erection up and down the inside of your thigh.

Much to Chris' delight, your brows furrowed ever so slightly and you mewled at the friction on your leg. Truth, you were also having an increasingly hot and heavy dream with your one and only. You thought this was a joke; Chris rubbing his erection up against you as you two hugged and waited for a cab outside a restaurant in Boston was just ridiculous but when your eyes fluttered open to find his hips grinding on your own - you knew this was real.

"Chris.." you mumbled out with a slight moan when his erection touched your heat. "What are you doin—mmfh" lips were on suddenly yours, silencing you in a flash. You caved in and pulled him closer to you, his erection nestled under your dripping pussy. Without much thought, the covers were pulled away and Chris lazily rolled you on top of him, shimmied his boxers off in the process; allowing his heavy, pulsation dick to spring up and hit your lower stomach with a smack.

"This," Chris smirked devilishly and positioned his tip at your lips, his length tearing you open inch by inch.

———

You didn't know where this had all come from. Maybe you had eaten something bad at work? Or maybe you had a stomach bug after eating all those spring rolls from the Chinese the other night, yes that must've been it.

In your mind, there was no reason you should be throwing up the contents of your stomach every several hours..or become more fatigued than usual or be more hormonal than usual.

Before you could think of anything else, you locked the bathroom door and rummaged feverishly through the neat baskets in the cabinet behind the door.

Cumbersomely, you picked the pregnancy test box from its place and hatched it open, the contents of the box falling with a loud clatter on to the floor. In fear of waking Chris - who was just the other side of the door - you quickly picked up the contents and read through it.

"Three minutes..three minutes, got it." You mumbled to yourself, took to the toilet and began to pee on the plastic stick of doom.

You begged to whatever divine being in the skies you weren't pregnant, the thought of introducing up possible parental worries to your mix of a bad childhood, anxiety and tendency to fear the worst only made your stomach drop in terror.

You just did what you had to do, put the cap back on the stick, set the timer and left it on the sink basin.

Instead of pacing around the bathroom like most soon-to-be mothers would do, you just sat silent on the rim of your marble bath thinking rationally about the outcome.

So what if you were pregnant?

Would Chris be happy with the news?

Of course he would, he wouldn't have stopped in the Babies-R-Us section of Toys-R-Us to look at those cute baby grows last week for no good reason. Nor would he have fussed and cooed over your nephew as much as he did.

"Hey babe! Come have a look at these!" Chris caught your attention from the breastfeeding pump section and dragged you over to the baby clothes section. "Aren't they adorable?" He mused dreamily at the tiny pink frilly dresses, baby-grows and other accessories, an arm winding its way around your shoulder and pulled you into him.

"They are, yes but my brother had a boy, Chris. A boy. And besides," you rolled your eyes at the pout on his plush pink lips. "He's got loads of clothes." You laughed and pushed the trolley back to the various priced pumps, the sizes, different contraptions and names were starting to freak you out a little.

"Well what happens if one day, we could be buying some pink frilly dresses for our own little princess.." Chris mused again, this time more purposeful as he drew soft circles into your hips with his large warm hands. Like a switch, your back straightened tensely and made your mind do a double take.

"How about it Y/N?" Chris hummed into the crook of your neck as he kissed and sucked the area tentatively, hands still drawing circles on your hips - much to your displeasure.

"I would like it yes," You huffed with a slight sharpness. Chris' head rose from your neck and you could feel the smile radiate off him without looking. You didn't want to break that beautiful smile but god were you scared of parenthood.

"But I'm not quite ready yet Chris." You released yourself from his hold and went on with the baby-based shopping list for your little nephew, picking up the best sounding and looking pump and placing it in the trolley.

A unruly ringing noise sounded from your phone and broke you from your silent trance. You were rapidly quick to turn it off and then rushed straight to the sink to find out the answer on the stick.

'Breathe Y/N! Breathe! You have to breathe!’ You thought frantically to yourself as your eyelids slammed shut and you inched towards the stick, hands out in trepidation and fear.

It was at that moment that you knew that all your prayers, wishes and pleads had gone unanswered and that your life was going to change very drastically. Nobody prepared you for the moment your eyes peeled open and you saw the answer stating you dead back in the eyes, nobody told you the feeling of dread you'd feel once you saw those words displayed like a hazard sign.

It was undeniable. You were indeed three to four weeks pregnant with yours and Chris' child.

•=•=•=•=•=•=•

For what could've been hours, minutes or seconds, you sat at the base of yours and Chris' bed with the positive pregnancy stick in hand. Much to your relief, Chris wasn't in the room when you opened the door with tears rolling down your cold red cheeks.

He had gone out to get the two of you some breakfast and coffee and would be back in ten, so said his note that sat on the semi-made bed. That was twelve minutes ago, according to the time on your phone but like his ways, Chris was still on time and the sound of his car rumbling back into the driveway broke your trance on nothing particular.

The front door slamming shut, Dodger's gleefull bark and the sound of feet padding back up the stairs became more enhanced to your senses. Everything was dialled to ten and you hated it.

The bedroom door then creaked open - to your shock - and in slipped a lazy looking Chris dressed in black  joggers and a beautifully tight cream white long sleeved t-shirt, his hair tussled here and there most probably due to his baseball cap he ditched downstairs.

You weren't meant to stare at him so blankly but judging by the worried look on his face once he saw you, you knew you'd probably lost your colour whilst you were waiting for him with the worrisome thoughts channeling through your brain.

"Y/N, talk to me. You're not looking too well, are you alright?" Suddenly Chris began to lightly shake your frame and broke you out of your deep trance, your eyes focusing immediately on his worried blue eyes right before you.

"I'm—I'm fine Chris. I—I just wanted to let you kn-" before you could almost tell him the news, Chris' eyes rolled down to the stick that sat limply in your hands and took immediate notice over it.

"Hey what's this?" Chris interjected and licked the stick from your hands quickly. It didn't take him more than a second or two to read the answer on the tiny screen and before you could register it, Chris had stood up and had his back to you and was cradling the stick like a newborn.

"Chris I—" You tried to backtrack on what was most probably going through his head by standing and reaching out to him, the most you could do was pull on his t-shirt feebly.

Without hesitation, Chris spun around and embraced you in a bone clenching hug that lifted you a few inches off the floor and choked you for air.

"You're...actually?" Chris mumbled after he put you down and stared you down with a face splitting smile that could beat any other soon-to-be father's smile out there.

You smiled pathetically, shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head with a grimace - how were you going to tell Chris? What were you going to tell him?

'Oh yeah I don't want your baby since I have a freakish fear of becoming a mom - no, that wouldn't go down well' you thought to yourself and watched Chris back away from you and fist bump the air in joy. As if he had heard your thoughts Chris stopped his celebrations immediately and turned back around to look at you, perplexed as to why you weren't as happy as he was.

"You are happy about this? Aren't you Y/N/N?" Chris inquired in such a false manner your blood boiled at his tone. Why would he be using such a tone on you? You didn't know why but he sounded selfish and unresponsive to your anxious disposition. "Tell me you are, please."

"I can't lie and say I really am, Chris." You shrugged off his stare with a straightforwardness you didn't think you'd have at such a time.

Like fire to oil, his eyebrows furrowed quicker than you could imagine and his hold on your forearms suddenly became loose as he backed away from you.

You didn't understand, what was Chris doing? One minute he was making you furious, the next weepy and guilty. You just couldn't stick it.

"And why not? Didn't you say you wanted a baby?" Chris snapped with a bitterness similar to your own on the inside. He was getting defensive, you could tell by the tight disposition of crosse arms and his clenched jaw - and judging by the tone of his voice, he wasn't going to be up for a heart-to-heart discussion right about now.

"Yes I did Chris but I'm just really—" your bottom lip trembled with a quiver you knew was soon to bring back tears. You couldn't keep looking at Chris, instead you took to looking at this inanimate object on the floor and allowed your arms to wrap around your torso protectively - a comforting habit learnt through time.

"You're just really what? If you're gonna start pegging blames on me then just fucking don't. Sure we had sex one night a while back without protection but I assumes you were on the pill so.." Chris mumbled the last part of his speech more to himself as he rubbed his beard in frustration, to what you couldn't understand.

He was getting so feisty all of a sudden, you just couldn't understand it; it didn't help anything at all and only made you feel more ashamed of your fears by the second.

"Why are you acting like this Chris?" Your voice broke out in a strangled heartbroken sob, your eyes clenched shut in an attempt to stop the tears, ever-so slightly.

Chris' heart broke at the sight of you before him, ghostly pale, a shaking and sobbing mess covered only by one of his large sweaters that reached about midway down your thigh.

If it wasn't for his ego, Chris would've just scooped you up into his arms there and then and kissed the tears and fears out of you. His ego, however, chose a different route. "Acting like what Y/N?" You have no clue how long I have waited for a family of my own! A happy family just like everyone else has, just for me!" Chris partially yelled at you as the tears of his own woes stung the corners of his eyes and burned them without second thought.

"I get that Chris! I'm just—I—I—I'm so so scared being a mom!" You similarly yelled at Chris but your yell was more heartbroken and honest than his was defensive and protective of his own wishes.

As if on cue, the anger within Chris bubbled down to a mere blip at the sight and belief that you were scared; he knew all about your anxiety and crappy childhood with crappy parents and he hated himself even more for not realising earlier.

Slowly, Chris reached out to you and made contact with a tender touch, a touch you only caved into and crashed into his arms without hesitation. The sobs just wouldn't stop coming out for a good while as you stood there in Chris' tender embrace, your tears stained and wet his shirt carelessly.

After a solid two or three minutes of having a good cry, your tears turned to sniffles and you poked your head up to look at your boyfriend with a small smile. 

"What's the matter baby?" Chris cooed and rubbed your cheeks with both hands in an attempt to warm them up. "What are you scared of?" Chris inquired again, this time more gentle than the last as he lightly kissed your forehead in an attempt to coax the worries out. 

"I'm just..scared I'll be a really bad mom, that's all." You huffed in a defeated and guilty tone.

It was all true, as much as you really wanted to be a mom to your own bundle of joy, you never had any real standard to prepare you for a possible motherhood role - your own mom passing away when you were twelve hours old and your not-so motherly aunt taking and  your brother in from that point on.

"Really?" Chris' eyebrows flew up in surprise to your confession. "Considering how motherly you naturally are with children, I wouldn't say you'd need to be scared at all baby." Chris smiled at your embarrassingly flushed cheeks and kissed them as if they were pieces of fresh gold.

"You think?" You mumbled into his chest out of sheer embarrassment. You never let anyone catch on to your maternal ways or dreams, you thought you had been successfully that department but apparently, not so much.

Chris just laughed and agreed positively and wondered how you could be so scared of something you were so good at.

Even though Chris had never told you, he always seemed to catch your lingering gazes on passing pregnant women, baby clothes or babies in strollers walking down the street whilst you were with him. He never told you either that he somehow knew you were pining for a family either, but you didn't need to know that right now - so he thought.

“No honey, I know you’ll be the best mom ever.” Chris told you sincerely, his lips then meeting yours in a passionate yet tender kiss that could make you easily see stars. The two of you stayed in each other’s arms for what seemed like an eternity, Chris’ hands slowly working down your frame to the lowest part of your stomach and rubbed the soon-to-be domed area with a touch that only radiated love.

Only when air became absolutely necessary did you and Chris break away from each other and gazed into each other’s eyes, your hands finding their way on top of Chris at the bottom of your stomach and cupped them tenderly.

“I know I haven’t done anything romantic for this and I will make it up to you..” Chris began to ramble and took to looking away from your inquisitive stare on him. “But first, I need to know something...Y/N, will you marry me?” Chris smiled nervously down to you and watched your face shrink from its smile to a shocked smile.

“Are you sure—you you want me?” You blubbered out bewilderedly and stared at Chris like he was insane. “This isn’t because of the baby—is it?” Your voice quivered at the thought that he was just marrying you for convenience sake.

“No, no god no!” Chris stammered with a tone that you couldn’t understand. “Y/N, we’ve got nine months to be selfish with each other and do as we please before it’s the three of us. And..and as bad as it sounds, I wanna be so selfish and have you all to myself for these nine months.”

“And what about after the baby?” You teased and tickled his hairy jaw with your index finger.

“I’ll still want you to myself.” Chris smirked at your teasing tone and hooked his arms around your back and pulled you into him. “Sure the timing isn’t right but Y/N, you gotta understand I’m not doing this for the baby; I’m doing this for us.” Chris looked you dead in the eye as he spoke

“You’ve always been the one, the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with - children or no children. So what’d you say?” He smirked at you as if he already knew your answer and he was right, he did know your answer.

“A million times, yes.”

Tags - @patzammit