#posts that have been swimming in my head until I let them out

[iamthedukeofurl]

One interesting thing that can happen in long running media is that the general cultural background can shift under the work, recontextualizing it as it is being written. I'm specifically thinking of the Order of the Stick, a Dungeons and Dragons themed webcomic that started in 2003 with the titular party of adventurers going through a dungeon.

From left to right, we have Belkar Bitterleaf the halfling ranger, Vaarsuvius the Elf Wizard, Elan the Human Bard, Haley Starshine the Human Rogue, Durkon Thundershield the Dwarf Cleric, and Roy Greenhilt the Human Fighter. The comic takes place in a fantasy setting that knowingly runs off the rules of Dungeons and Dragons third edition. Characters talk about rolls and bonuses and intentionally take levels in various classes. At the start, the comic was a pretty basic gag comic about the D&D rules, basic fantasy/adventure tropes, ect.

In the 20 years the comic has been running, it has updated about 1300 times, not counting bonus strips exclusively made for the printed version, and several print (or PDF) only side and prequel stories. It has also dramatically grown from it's roots, the art has improved while keeping the same general aesthetic, and the gag-a-day comic has become a sweeping fantasy epic. The characters have grown beyond their initial bits (Belkar is a Murderhobo, Elan is stupid, Haley is greedy, ect), and it's genuinely up there as one of my favorite stories. But anyway, let's talk about Vaarsuvius. If you look at the above art, You'll notice that the characters tend to have three types of body shapes: Rectangles for Roy, Belkar, and Elan, feminine curves for Haley, and Robes for Vaarsuvius. This presentation is a pretty consistent signifier of gender and/or somebody wearing robes. Early on, part of Vaarsuvius's running gag became their ambiguous gender. At the time, it was a fairly common joke in fantasy to talk about how Elven men had androgynous or "Girly" appearances, so V was part of that. Instead of a singular pronoun, characters would generally just abbreviate Vaarsuvius's name as "V", and whenever the narrative would have naturally provided some indication of gender one way or another, V would resolve the situation without providing any such indication. For example, an early gag has the characters seeking out a set of modern style bathrooms in the dungeon. When they find them, V says that their "More Efficient elven biology" means they don't have to go yet, so they wait outside while the boys go into the Men's room and Haley waits in the inevitable long line at the women's. When Vaarsuvius reveals that they are married, they use the term "Spouse" to refer to their partner, when we see their children, the children are clearly adopted (V and their partner both have pale skin, their children have darker skin) and refer to Vaarsuvius as "Parent". Vaarsuvius themselves seems to have trouble identifying other people by gender. Characters outside the central cast might refer to Vaarsuvius as "He" or "She", but doing so was always shedding light on that character's perspective, rather than saying anything about Vaarsuvius. The assumption behind the gag is that Vaarsuvius must be either male or female, and the joke is that the narrative/Vaarsuvius themselves keeps finding ways to avoid "Revealing" their gender. Fan wikis and official books list Vaarsuvius's gender as "Ambigious" and on the forum there used to be a regular, multi-part thread dedicated to debatings Vaarsuvius's gender, even after the author declared that it would "never be revealed".

Anyway, going back to the start, it's 2023, and something shifted at some point, both in the comic and in the general cultural background. The jokes about V's gender kind of fell off, not just because the gag got played out, but because the basic assumption behind it simply doesn't work anymore. Everybody knows that Nonbinary people exist. There's no point in the comic where Vaarsuvius switches from being "Ambigiously Gendered" to Nonbinary, in fact, the entire comic reads just fine if you read Vaarsuvius as male or female and just not caring enough to clarify their gender to anybody and at some point other characters just stop thinking about it. But it's interesting to see how a character trait that was once included in even the most basic character descriptions (Varsuvius: Elven Wizard. Arrogant, Intelligent. Ambigiously gendered) just kind of got washed away by a rising tide of cultural nuance towards gender. Also go read OOTS, it's pretty great.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

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

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

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

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

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

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

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

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[pileofboneswrites]

LOVER BOY_headcanons.strangerthings

dating eddie munson headcanons

SUMMARY — relationship eddie headcanons

A/N — i just wanna say a quick thank you to everyone who liked my other eddie headcanons post, i wasn't expecting all the love, but i appreciate it immensely :))

MASTERLIST | BACK

when he likes someone, he thinks he's being really subtle, but he's not

him, a stuttering, nervous wreck; "uh hey, cool shirt"

you, deadpan; "it's your shirt, that you gave me to wear, because you thought i'd look cute in it"

always tries to impress you in silly ways

"wanna see how fast i can run?"

"bet i can jump and hit that sign without running"

"i caught you a squirrel because you said they were cute that one time"

is touch starved

as such, he will always be touching you in some capacity; hand on your knee while in class, hand on your thigh or fingers interlaced with yours while driving, he will sit on you if there's nowhere for him.

when you hug him, kiss him, or cuddle with him he will hold on and refuse to let you go until you're late, like really late, you'd have to leave ten minutes ago late.

is big on pet names when you're alone, but mostly calls you by your last name or a shortened version of your name when in public

he's big on baby, sweetheart, dollface.

angel and prince/princess are reserved for when he's fucked up royally, or you're sad or sleepy.

will touch everything you own

perfume/cologne sitting on your dresser? sprayed himself in the face with it the first time he picked it up, but really liked how it smelled so he puts a spitz on every time you leave him alone in your room. just spent the day at the pool and he needs to shower at yours? he will use your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion and even your deodorant "do you want me to stink? :(". every time he comes in he finds something new to play with. old stuffie under your bed? he's carrying it around/hugging it/holding it until he leaves. trinkets on the top of your bed frame? he'll make them talk to each other when he's bored.

has a hard time sleeping when you're not close

he and sleep have rarely ever been on the same page, so he finds things to do to occupy his time, so when he's in a relationship that usually means he's dragging you along with him; be it going for a swim at 2am at lovers lake, a quick trip to the gas for snacks, or just straight up falling ungracefully through your window and crawling into bed with you to try and grab a couple hours of sleep (while simultaneously scaring the shit out of you because you were already sleeping).

because of the above, he will constantly nap around you while you're hanging out

you're his safe space, he spends most of his time in your presence passed out; laying on his back on the floor with his legs tossed over the side of your bed with his feet tucked under your thigh while you study, arms crossed over his chest while you're head's in his lap as you read out loud to him – he swears he's awake but every so often he lets out a soft snore, sitting on the couch watching a romcom with his head on your shoulder as he struggles to keep his eyes open, literally any time you touch his head/hair he's out like a light.

100% is glued to your side and tells everyone you're his best friend as well as his gf/bf

he goes on errands with you and spends 99% of his free time with you, he drags you along to band practice — which you usually use as an opportunity to feed baked goods to his bandmates (who absolutely adore you for it), when he's working you usually sit around with him passing him tools as he needs them — "uh need 9/16 wrench–" and it's already in your hand like you read his mind.

when you're not around, brags about you to anyone who will listen to him, and carries a picture (that he switches out for newer ones he takes) of you in his wallet that he shows off constantly — "look how cute they are" "my girlfriend/boyfriend is hotter".

writes songs about you

sometimes he'll write them just for himself, or for your ears only recording them on a tape just for you to have a reminder of how much he loves you.

you better believe that wayne loves you for being a good influence on him

you make him eat all breakfast, lunch & dinner — before you he would forget to eat and usually pumped himself full of caffeine only, you get him a reuseable water bottle (which you bribe him to carry it around and actually drink from it) — to his credit he now drinks at least one full bottle, you make him wear sunscreen & a hat on sunny days, waterproof footwear and jacket on rainy/snowy days (he's shocked when he doesn't get sick as often).

at first wayne was wary of you, unsure of whether your intentions were genuine or if you were going to pull one over on eddie — which disappeared the first time he came home from work and saw you too cuddled up on the couch watching one of eddie's favourite movies (it was the way you were staring at him as he shared his favourite parts or something he read about it, or a fact about the filming/production — wayne tells this story at your wedding all teary eyed about his eddie being all grown up and so very obviously loved).

takes photos of you all the time

cutesy date night photos, spicy half-naked photos (or just straight up naked naked), you sleeping, you making an ugly face, you mid-sneeze, you smiling, he has it all caught on film and he loves each and every photo so much.

total softie for you and you alone

you've gotten him to do things he's straight up refused to do for his friends, and even wayne

does literally anything you ask, and even sometimes you don't have to ask, he just does it because he knows it'll make you happy and that's all he strives for, you being happy.

[eddiernunson]

Bikinis, Ice Cream and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev |

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), use of excessive nicknames, no use of y/n, ambiguous ending, smut

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin Color or body shape/type.

Word Count: 6.8k

This is the last chapter so…enjoy! Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delayed posting today! Parenthood is kicking my ass.

Chapter 6

You hesitantly accept his offer, getting up to sober up a little and grab a bathing suit as Eddie comes from behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and resting his chin on one of them as he asks, “Where are you going?”

“Grabbing a bathing suit,” you answer, gulping at his stubble pressed directly against your cheek.

“Don’t think so,” Eddie jerks his head, not giving you a moment to wonder what he meant before you hit the icy cold depths of your pool, hearing Eddie also hit the water as you went under.

“Jesus!” You cry as you hit the surface, wiping your face from the water that got into your eyes. “Warn a girl!”

“We were going into the pool anyway, we got towels, where’s the fun in that?” Eddie asks, starting to swim circles around you.

“You could’ve at least let me take my shorts off, they are already falling off my legs,” you whine, grabbing the pair from below the waters’ surface around your shin to throw on the pool’s edge.

Eddie scoffs, attempting not to leer to your underwear under the water, wondering if the pool’s liquid had made it see through, or what kind you were wearing. It occurs to him he hadn't thought this impromptu swim very well through.

He swims to the edge to take another drink of his beer, offering you one as well when you pout to your beer still sitting by the dwindling fire. “Alright, I bet…” he trails off, his eyes shining mischievously, “I could beat you to the other end of the pool,” Eddie announces, already starting the race.

“Hey, it’s not fair if you’ve already started!” You huff, quickly starting some breast strokes right behind him.

He beats you by mere seconds, grinning at you cheekily when your face lifts from the water. “You got a head start,” you pout, splashing him childishly.

He splashes you right back at twice the force, a tidal wave completely drowning your head. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“Alright, then, one two three go!” You launch yourself off the wall, giggling when Eddie gives the same attitude towards your unfair headstart as you did to his.

Somehow, he manages to get ahead, out of breath as you reach the surface but grinning stupid all the same, proud of his besting you once again. “Cheaters never prosper.”

“Yeah, or you just have better lungs and longer legs, Munson,” you sneer, not letting him be too proud of his second win.

“Better lungs? Prove it. Wanna test it?” He teases, his eyelashes dripping with the chlorine water but not paying any mind how it drips into his eyes.

“By what, by seeing who can hold your breath under water the longest?” you joke, giggling when he nods in all seriousness.

You agree to it, but just as you could’ve predicted, he wins all three tries. He shrugs, saying something about you must’ve been right about his singer’s lungs.

You usually don’t take losing so well, a competitive streak from having three siblings who all succeeded in almost everything they did, but you were getting so much joy from your adventure in the water with him you forgot to be sour.

“You talk a big talk, but I could beat you in math any day, Munson,” you jeer, internally panicking when it doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

“Oh yeah? Well math ain’t gonna help you here, sweetheart.” He lurches forward, initiating a chase that sends a thrill up your spine, immediately turning away and freaking out when you hear his splashes grow closer and closer.

The pool wall ended up being much closer than you had expected, turning around to him nearly colliding with you from the full force of his momentum. He’s breathing heavily, his bare chest after complaining about his shirt dragging him down pale in the blue night lights, two hands right next to your shoulders on the tiles. He licks his lips, a playful grin still on his face yet slowly fades.

Your shirt has also dragged you down, having taken it off and throwing it just a few feet from where your shorts lie. Your underwear does little to hide what it’s meant to, two thin fabrics between you and the wall. You recall when you considered putting on a bathing suit after your shower earlier but thought it would be silly.

Now all of that seems silly.

The music, now faint, still carries on in the background as Eddie nor you move from the spots, the space between your chests seemingly smaller and smaller.

You’ve held back from this tantalizing temptation so many times, you’ve lost track. You don’t have the strength to hold back any more, so you don’t. You finally take a bite of the damn apple, whether or not there’s hell to pay for it.

Your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him in as you finally press your lips to his gorgeous pink ones. Eddie immediately tenses up, going stiff as a rod. Your first instinct is that you’ve obviously made a blunder, misreading all the signs and were waiting for the humiliation to start, for his apologies to bumble out.

When you attempt to let go and apologize profusely, he cuts you off, pinning your back against the pool as his hands work their way up your body, restless and careless until they stay still on your ass, rough and commanding as you feel his boner right on your desperate heat. His lips against yours take complete control, one hand landing on your cheek as he opens his mouth just a little bit more to allow your tongues collide, beers and smores and musk and watermelons and oh fuck he’s a good kisser.

His stubble collides with your cheek and burns in the best way, drinking in every moment as he kisses you slow but desperately, not wanting to waste a single second after burning for it, his lips on yours.

“Do you know what you do to me, you beautiful little tease?” He mutters, rutting himself as if to demonstrate what he meant.

“I have an idea,” you smirk, gasping the smile away as soon as the boner collides again, harder.

“Do you? Do you know that everytime I see you in a new slutty little outfit I get fucking hard? Every small action you make, taking joints out from your fucking bra, licking jam off your hand,” he ruts again swallowing a whimper that leaves your mouth, “the fucking ice cream, fuck, it is torture just being near you.”

Your legs cling onto him, heels digging into his thighs as one hand wedges itself between your panties and your hip, toying with the thin fabric, his hand roughly digging into the doughy skin of your thigh. “Tell me more,” you plead, chasing his full lips as they messily plant kisses all down your neck, teeth scraping against your skin while his nose nuzzles it, taking deep inhales on his trek.

“God, baby, everything about you had me ready to mark you as mine, I just needed you so fucking bad it drove me insane. Did you need me too? I-I fucking know the answer, but I need to hear it, you need me too, right?” He borderline begs, his voice gone from rough and aggressive to needy almost instantaneously.

“I-I need you, Eddie, I really, really need you,” you answer him in full honesty, overwhelmed by the force of vulnerability that rushes through you like a gust of wind.

The only thing that you can call what comes out of him next is a whimper, his brown eyes searching both of yours rapidly as his hand tightens on your bare hip. “Say it again?”

“Say what again?” you frown, your face close enough to his that the only thing that passes through it are the loud gasps in the quiet of the night. Even with the music still playing in the background, it really only feels as its you and him alone in the world.

“Say my name?” He licks his lips right before scattering kisses all along your collarbone, sucking and nibbling weaved with little whimpers, his wet hair brushing against your chin in the meantime.

You smile, not having noticed the subconscious attempt at distancing yourself. Referring to him as Eddie, even in place of Munson, feels too personal, too real. If he’s Eddie, he’s on your level. Attainable.

Something you have told yourself all weekend that he is anything but.

Your mouth opens to give him exactly what he wanted, but you decide against it at the very last second, “Make me,” husking out instead.

The breathy, seductive tone took him aback, his brow scrunching for just a fraction of a second until a change cascades over his face. Half of his open mouth quirks itself upward, and it’s dark out, the sun having said its final goodbyes, but his brown doe eyes darken as he collects himself. “Make you, hmm? S’that my pretty girl asking me to make her moan my name?”

You nod, out of focus but staring up at him through your lashes all the same, arching your back when he takes you by surprise as he gropes the soft skin of your ass.

“You have been a very good girl, I suppose,” he hums, as if still considering your offer, like he wasn’t just begging for it only moments ago.

You could argue against that, but you won’t if he’s offering you this leeway. “Mmhm,” you nod eagerly, your breaths growing shorter and faster biting your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, then be my good girl and say please,” Eddie mutters, landing one hand next to you on the pool tiles.

“Please,” spills out your lips before you even process it, your legs slowly wafering through the water as he remains still, his lips and hand once all over you now a simple tease in comparison to the touch he finally granted you.

“Please?” Eddie mutters, tilting his head in false curiosity. “Please, what, baby?”

“Please, please t-touch me,” it ‘s so simple, so delicate yet so intimate, crossing a boundary the both of you tried so hard to refrain from. “Want you to please make me moan your name with your fingers, Please.”

“See?” Eddie’s hands start again, hand on the tiles slotting itself on your cheek, the other abruptly slotting itself on your heat. “See, I knew you were a good girl.”

Just his touch alone sends a jolt up your system, a hot flash of lightning as your body jolts up weightlessly held up by his support but mostly the water. He watches you, his jaw dropping as his fingers start moving with purpose as the searing pleasure overwhelms and electrifies your nerves, starting to gasp out little mewls for him no more than two minutes after they started their pattern.

You leant in to kiss him but he keeps your forehead glued to his, turning away from your quivering bottom lip when you lean in again. “No, I know, I just wanna watch your pretty fucking face fall apart for me,” he whispers, his eyes raking across your increasingly ruined form. “Jesus your pussy is so fucking wet f’me. Did checking me out really get you this hot n’ bothered, baby?”

Your eyes start to close, fading out as that similar heat starts to build low in your stomach, as slow as his circles on your clit are, the impending orgasm is rushing at you in a record speed.

Your eyes jolt open as he shoves a long digit in as he barks out, “Nuh-uh.” You’re even more weightless as you practically float on his finger, jaw dropped as his actions have completely halted. “Keep those pretty eyes open and on me, got it?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clenching around the digit three knuckles deep.

“Good, good,” Eddie mutters, slowly moving his finger, watching your face carefully. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he bites out, adding a second finger without any warning. You sob through a little moan, the skin of his shoulders dimpling around your nails as they dug into it.

Slowly your moans have gotten louder, the temptation to allow your eyes to flutter closed fizzling at your vision but you push through it, bobbing up and down in the water in sync with his arm, giving your weight completely to him.

Your tongue laps across your bottom lip easily into a bite, still watching his face with his eyes on yours, what was just half a grin now spread into a manic smile. “You’re being so fucking good for me, sweetheart, just like you have all weekend. You take my fingers so well, can’t wait to see how you fucking take my cock.”

A whimper gasps through your lips, spasming around his fingers at his deliciously filthy words. “Fuck–Eddie–p-please–”

“See, making you moan my name wasn’t so hard,” Eddie whispers right as he leans in to capture your lips in his. His thumb starts rotating on your clit, quickly flooding you with an orgasm that you weren’t even aware you were that close to.

Eddie’s lips muffle the cry that otherwise would’ve been heard by the entire neighborhood, a shout of pure ecstasy that has you writhing up against his strong chest.

Your lips let go of his in a gasping breath, your lip trembling your elbows dig into the delicate skin between his ear and shoulder, pulling him closer as you bore into those big brown eyes. They’re as dark as the night sky yet they shine just as bright as the stars.

Smile lines and dimples are present as he stares up at you, his thumb still rotating slowly and fully responsible for the shaking of your poor thighs. His fingers are still in you, nestled and happy as he feels you flutter around them.

“You,” he drawls, slowly moving his fingers, “are radiant,” you can barely focus on the next kiss he seeks from you, your thighs clinging onto his hips, the momentum building even quicker and hotter than before.

“Oh m’god,” you whimper, throwing all your weight on one forearm as you suddenly have to get his fingers out, its too-too fucking much. “Ed–fuck!”

“You can take it,” he mumbles, one arm across your back as he peppers wet sloppy kisses along your collarbone. “Right? You can handle one more little orgasm.”

You buck into his hips as a silent confirmation, the splashing water around your forms loud from all your thrashing.

The kisses along your collarbone have moved south, the sudden scrape of his teeth against the curve of your breast a welcome shock as he starts to peel back the soaked fabric now glued to your skin like latex. “Look at these fuckin’ perfect tits,” Eddie growls, his hand movements turned sloppy as he wraps his tongue around the peaked nipple.

The added sensation clouds your head, bucking against him and practically sobbing into little whines while he perfectly works you like he already knows you.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers, you look so good like this, baby,” the praise lights your body ablaze, clutching onto him tighter.

Oddly enough the thing to send you over the edge again was a long lick up your sternum, an image you’ve seen time and time again on the edge of his guitar. Stars crash into your vision, knocking you senseless as you tug him in for a kiss, more teeth than lips as your legs shake but the giggles bubble out from your chest.

“Just one more?” He smirks, adding, Jesus, a third fucking finger.

“Eddie–” you startle, choking on your own oxygen.

“I really need to repay you,” he mutters, starting back on your jawline.

“Repay me?” You manage out, choking back a near shout when he curls his fingers just so.

He nods, focusing a toxic mix of his tongue and teeth against your racing pulse. “Mmhm. Repay you for every little time you managed to make me rock hard.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry.” he laughs, gnawing down your shoulder line. “I couldn’t repay you for every time, you’d be here for hours. And we both just found out how quick I can make you cum.”

You gulp, barely able to think through any of what he had just told you. “I-huh?”

“Jus’ one more, baby? Jus’ one more after being relentlessly teased by those fucking thighs of yours? Your pretty tits? That chokable neck–baby fuck you really make me fucking crazy–” his voice has somehow gone from commanding back to whining, his voice drowning in pure, needy, wanting.

“You are–” you start, cut off by a kiss he throws in as he becomes restless in his motions, “you are going to be the–” you giggle as he kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip. “Ah–the end of me.”

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you?” He laughs, one hand spread on the back of your neck as his eyes remain on yours. “You love how much my fingers can ruin you.”

“Your–your voice,” you choke out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Your voice does a lot-a lot a lot-of the work.”

He chuckles darkly, curling his fingers against your g-spot impossible harder, an impossible fire somehow hurling through your pussy still submerged in the pool. “I think I know why Hell’s Angels is your favorite album, hmm? It is a very carnal album.”

You giggle, somehow more cognitive. “My number one most played on Spotify.”

Eddie huffs out a chorus of laughter, leaning down to lick a wide fat stripe up your neck. “That is so fucking hot to me.” You shiver, blinded by the roll of ecstasy that just ran through you. “Would you believe I am just as obsessed with you?”

“It-it’s a high bar,” you admit, peeling your other arm out of its bra strap to completely expose yourself.

“Oh my god you’re fucking adorable,” Eddie hums, nibbling all down your chin, his lips seemingly unable to rest as they roam around you. “Now fucking cum for me so we can get out of this pool and I can finally fuck you.”

Something that’s only been possible under perfect circumstances while bonding with a vibrator occurs, you squirt all over his hand following a sudden heat that boils in your skin and acts like an anchor in your body weighing you down. The weightlessness water usually brings to you has disappeared swiftly, clinging onto him as he peels his fingers from where they sat still nestled as they finished working you through it.

He reciprocates the tight hug you give him, strong arms holding you close to his chest as your legs still spasm and quake.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers encouragingly, gently petting your dampened hair. “C’mere, I’m gonna see if I–” he grunts, the muggy air engulfing you whole as he lifts you up onto the edge of the pool as if you weighed nothing, winking playfully as he lifts himself out.

“Ok, you obviously lift,” you mumble, being tugged by his hands and escorted into the house, leaving only the still lit embers of the pit and the scattered ingredients and clothes behind.

He chuckles, momentarily squeezing you as he wraps his arms and clasps them together in front of your torso. “Please, you weigh nothing.”

He stays like that every step on the cement to your house, playfully nipping at your neck, tickling it with his deep breaths until you reach the threshold of the double doors. Eddie lets go of you, watching your ass for a moment, your hand yanked by his hand in yours as he leans against the island kitchen counter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, tilting your head as he lays a wet one on you.

“U-upstairs–” you sigh as he interrupts you again, magical, only the smell of beer left over but his lips so nice and plump.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles, working his other arm around your torso to single handedly undo the bra clasp. It falls from your chest,Eddie eagerly kneading his hand on your left tit, two fingers playing with the nipple as you sigh into his mouth.

A whimper passes through your lips, gyrating your hips against his needily as you crave more friction despite your greedy cunt still soaked from its three releases. “Well then hurry up,” you huff, starting to play with the band of his boxers. “Can’t wait much longer.”

Your panties are yanked down, landing on the floor with a wet plop. Eddie lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, working his tented fabric against you roughly, watching your jaw drop as he rolls his hips against yours. “Please.”

“I would tell you to be patient but ever since I heard you yesterday I can’t think of anything else, baby,” Eddie sighs as you pull down his boxers, gasping as it bounces against his taut belly.

A sudden urge fills you to have its weight on your tongue, the girth down your neck, to fill your throat, the primal need alerting you as you never knew wanting a cock like this so badly was even possible. By pure instinct you reach out to grab him, basking in the moan he chokes out.

His voice could satiate a hungry belly, if you had one.

His previous confession suddenly sparks, looking up at him curiously as you work your hand along his devious length. “What did you hear yesterday?”

“Baby, your house has some thin fucking walls,” he husks out, watching your eyes go bug wide in the revelation. “I didn’t hear anything but moaning, but if it's any constellation, I hope you were thinking about me, because I sure as shit was thinking about you right outside your bedroom.”

You start to guide his leaky tip toward your mound, biting your lip as you peer up at him with doe eyes. “Please?”

“Were you?”

You sob out of desperation, your forehead landing on his shoulder. “Eddie, please–”

“Patience, slut.” You pause, pouting as you look up at him. “Were you thinkin about me while you greedily came over and over again?”

You nod, biting your lip anxiously as you glance down to his length only mere inches away from your weeping, begging entrance. “You used your tongue on the soft serve like it was–”

“I know I did, baby.” Eddie smirks, watching the shiver roll through you as the head collides with your clit. “So glad you noticed.”

You sigh impatiently, clawing your nails into his shoulder as he continues to tease you. “Eddie, pl–”

Your pathetic begging is turned off as soon as he pushes in, splitting you open as he slowly works his way to the hilt. “Jesus.”

“Eddie,” you moan, the heels of your hands digging into his collarbone. “F-fuck!”

His dark eyes bore into yours, labored breath piercing the air in the otherwise deadly quiet house. “I fuckin’ knew your pussy would be like this.”

“Like what?” You ask, pulling him closer as he did with you.

“Like a fuckin’ drug,” Eddie growls, rolling his hips against yours, the symphony of moans swallowed as he crashes his lips onto yours with an almost angry force.

It begins with a few stings, but the pleasure drowns it out before you even get a chance to revel in it, his cock hitting places you didn’t even know possible.

Your legs cling onto him, lapping kisses and nibbles down his chest hungrily as he works into you with choked out moans, seemingly losing himself in the heat of your pussy.

You slowly bruise your way down his chest, remembering every time you’d ever said how badly you’d wanted to bite him and to mark your territory as yours. All through the night he has called you his girl, but you finally get the chance to claim him. “Mine.”

“Feelin possessive, are we, baby?” He gasps out, curling his fingers through your hair and pulling at your scalp.”Wanting to claim this old man all yours?”

“You’re all fucking mine, Ed,” you claim again, moving to lap at one of his peaked nipples.

“As long as you’re mine,” he gasps back, pulling your head back up to where you can kiss him again.

You nod eagerly, the double meanings of the words seemingly lost on you to what he actually might mean. Regardless, the following kiss is desperate, even more so as his hips continue on their relentless pace.

You whine at the sudden loss, feeling empty and lonely when his body warmth leaves yours for the moment. “Bend over the fucking couch.”

It takes a minute to register, floating on the kitchen counter in a daze.

“Awww, my cock drunk slut,” his voice is sweet, malevolently so as his fingers dig into your hair and pull on your scalp as he leans in against your ear. “I said, bend over the fucking couch.”

You whimper, scrambling to climb down and run shakily to the living room. You’re guided by his hand in your hair again to the arm rest, using his foot to widen your stance. “Arch your back. More. There you go. Now be a good slut and tell me how fucking good it feels to be ripped in half by the rockstar of your dreams.”

Eddie lets go of your scalp to smack your ass, the thwack startling you in the best of ways as he watches it jiggle from the force. “Shove your face into the pillow, there we go.”

No more warning is provided when he pushes himself into you, making what you used to think was hard and fast into slow and pathetic. Eddie’s relentless hips are in their own fucking league. He sirens primal moans from you, your fingers digging into the cushions as he pounds into your pussy relentlessly.

“I just started, and you’ve already gone completely dumb? God I’ve ruined you for every bad fuck you’ve ever had.”

It’s true. Eddie Munson has ruined you in ways you simply could not comprehend, your torso practically flat on the couch as he tightens his grip on your hips. You push your ass against him, somehow communicating how fucking much you need him.

“Bet you’ve dreamed of this, yeah?” He mocks as his grip tightens on your hip. “Well for the last three nights I guess I returned the favour because I have dreamt of nothing but you. What you’d sound like, what you’d look like, god what you’d taste like— you’re in my fucking head.”

Your knees dig into his legs, your toes curled close to your ass as they possibly can be as you feel the impact of his hips start to form an ache against your thighs, your cheeks, fuck–your hole. Regardless of the spreading throb, you squeeze him tighter, silently begging for more. Just when you thought you understood what the term fucked stupid meant, you realize you had no idea as your brain starts to turn into mush.

“You’re taking it so fucking well, princess,” fuck, usually princess is a massive turn off but even you could tell the immediate reaction of you gushing around him. “Likes bein’ called princess, hmm? Give me your arm, then, princess.”

It’s a reflex how your hand raises backwards toward him, limply hanging as high as it can go which is barely a foot over your torso.

“Good, other one, too,” you whine, cut off by a sharp thrust as he grabs your other wrist to hold them both together in one hand. You think you’ve gotten the new position figured out when one hand moves up to your forearm, yanking it harshly so he has his good arm slotted between your elbows and the small of your back. “There we go.”

You’re practically standing on your two feet again, your back arched at an impossible angle as his other hand wraps itself around your neck. “Aah, that's much better. Look up.”

Your eyes flutter up to see a small round accent mirror on the wall directly across from you on the wall directly above a record player, yours and Eddie’s reflection featuring your faces, your hair tussled and eyes dazed. You blink to Eddie’s who’s smirking over your shoulder with hot cheeks and half-mooned eyes. You shyly look way from his possessive hold, having pulsed around him at how fucking gone you both look.

“Look back in the fucking mirror,” he commands, tightening his once lax grip on your neck so he constricts your airway just the littlest bit. “Look how fucking gone you are, you’re just covered in me, hmm?”

All you can do is bite your lip and push back on him, begging for his hips to continue that oh so powerful trek.

The following movement of his hips are barely noticeable, but your reflection gasps, her jaw dropping to the needed friction. “Ed–”

“Keep being my good princess and watch yourself be fucked in the mirror for me, won’t you sweet girl?” You nod, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care to wait for your answer, his hips colliding with your in a harsh slap, officially rendering any left over brain you might have had completely useless.

“Look at your fucking pretty face,” he shudders, starting to sound quite desperate himself. “There’s not a thought behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Every muscle on your face is relaxed, your jaw falling open as if begging for me to shove my cock past those lips of yours, fuck you look so fucking perfect for me, princess.”

Your brain begs you to say something, to tell him how fucking good his cock feels, how he’s splitting you open as he feels impossibly deep as if he were kissing your cervix with every hit, how sex like this was only supposed to exist in softcore porn. How watching yourself get stupider with every hit with his hand wrapped around your neck in a claim of ownership turns you the fuck on, adding fuel to an out of control forest fire.

But your brain has turned into a puddle.

“That’s it, baby, keep bein’ good for me I’m almost done,” he lets go of your neck just to grab a handful of your hair once again. “G’nna fill that fuckin pussy up, s’ that ok?”

You find it in you somewhere to nod yes in direct juxtaposition against the grip on you, vision now fizzling as your eyes slowly fall closed. Whatever you have ever wasted time fantisizing clearly will never live up to the real thing.

Eddie’s words have warped into grunts and half finished sentences, hitting somewhere deliciously deep until his sticky ropes cover your walls up in him, filling you to the brim to make you impossibly, impossibly full.

He works himself through it, whimpering at his own sensitivities when the arm clutching yours sets you free but works itself on your clit once more, jerking you up from where you crumpeled forward onto the couch.

“Just need to feel you squeeze my cock while you cum, princess,” he mutters, sounding utterly destroyed as his voice croaks.

You try to wiggle away from him, feeling so oversensitive it forces its way up your throat in an intense sob. “Too-too much!”

“I know you can take it, princess,” he drawls, darkening his voice in the way he knows you like.

“Ed–”

“Please, jus’ for me?” He asks, his grip on your hip too tight for you to keep crawling forward.

“I-I c–” stars crash in your vision, thrashing as you feel his strong torso directly against your back.

“See?” he mumbles, peeling his arm around your tummy as he maneuvers you and him on your sides, spooning you on the couch, both covered in sweat. Eddie lifts your chin in his grip, shoving his tongue down your throat, the vibration of his humming helping you come back down to earth. “I knew you could do it.”

Somewhere in the kisses he slips himself out, distracting you with his marvelous kissing expertise as his hands find themselves enwrapping yours, fingers intertwined against your sternum fiercely as you get lost in his taste. Eventually you need to catch your breath, gasping as your head lands on the fabric of the sofa roughly, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Eddie gets up, ignoring your calls to stay with you. After some loud rummaging and swearing he returns, shocking you with a yelp as a wet cloth cleans you from the dripping cum out your full pussy. “Sorry. Didn’t want to ruin the nice couch.”

“Think we past ruined long ago,” you comment, peering up at him as he sends you a soft smile.

“Might be true.”

First thing you notice is he’s gotten dressed again, and just like that the spell is broken, and the aftermath of your adventures settle in.

His brown eyes tentatively meet yours, pensive and careful as you slowly sit up on the couch. What now?

He wears no smile on his face, searching yours as he leans in, his pointer finger hooked under your chin as he plants a gentle kiss on your lips that makes you miss the feel of him already. “I’m definitely not tired, would you like to watch a movie with me?”

You nod, eyes still closed as you reel from the whiff of emotions that repeatedly compound through you. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I’d be insulted if you could,” he huffs, planting a sweet kiss on your nose. “Be right back. You want sweatpants or something more akin to those pretty dresses you’ve been flouncing around in?”

“Hmm, happy middle, please,” you ignore his jab, if just for the obvious amusement in his voice.

“Aah, a thong and a necklace coming up,” he jokes, running up the stairs before you could playfully glare at him.

He brings you a matching tank and shorts and a light blanket, setting up Smile for you two to watch as he curled you into his chest. When the movie is over you glance up at him, worried for what exactly came out his mouth next.

We probably should keep it as a one time only event.

You reluctantly agreed, crawling into a too big bed as you already miss his comforting weight right next to you. Sleep never comes, in fact, sleep has stopped texting you back because you have never been more wide awake.

Sweat seeps through the sheets and shines on your forehead as you wrap yourself up in an accidental burrito from all the turning and tossing, your emotions one puddle, thundering and storming into a lake of aroused confusion and clouded judgment as your weekend plays on repeat.

By the time the sky shines a periwinkle blue once again you’ve decided you could not take it for two more seconds, impulsively getting up to run back across the hall.

The door opens to a wildly disheveled head of curls, his hand raised as if he was about to knock. His mouth opens but you don’t give him the chance to tell you Yeah, no, fuck that, because your lips are on his in a flash, arms recklessly thrown around his shoulders and pulling him into your bedroom for some more of his lips, his hands, his hips, his tongue.

Neither of you had enough resolve to decide it would only be a one time thing.

-

Six Months Later

Eddie huffed a few bouts of laughter as you litter kisses all over his neck, refusing to listen to his out of breath protests as you nuzzle into his intoxicating stubble. “Babe, babe! I have to take a shower, I fucking stink!”

You giggle, working your hands up his fishnet shirt layered under the graphic tee. “Mhmm,” you hum, lapping up some rank sweat that has built up at the hinge of his jaw. “Smells amazing.”

“You’re a fucking freak, have I ever told you that?” He laughs, intertwining his fingers through your hair as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

“You’ve mentioned it,” you sigh, gasping against his minty breaths. “Helps having a smoking hot boyfriend, you know?”

“Baby, I really need a shower, I will meet you in the lounge,” he sighs, sounding like he’s about to give up.

“I could join you,” you suggest, pulling him in closer against you.

“As tempting as that is, we both know neither of us are getting any cleaner if that happens,” he sternly holds your face at a distance from his, his eyebrow flickering up pointedly when you attempt to lean in for more. “I promise to fuck you into the mattress, against the couch, and wherever else you might want later, okay, my sweet princess?”

“Fine,” you huff, grinning against his lips at the final sweet kiss he gives you, at the shivers down your spine that have never stopped, that have never shown signs of stopping.

The dressing room door closes behind you as the spray of the water hits the shower floor, a taunt that you are not in the cramped space with him, the one place you crave.

After offering his bandmates your best compliments, you act as a wallflower, watching the moon-eyed fans get their selfies as you played with the guitar pick chained around your wrist. You scrolled through your twitter app, saving photos of your gorgeous boyfriend in quality photos and the litter of hickeys you had spent hours giving him for hours the previous night.

A sudden impossible yet familiar laugh fills the air, your eyes snapping up to your dad’s familiar swoop of brown locks tossed back in a full body chuckle. Your stomach falls into the pits of hell.

You had checked with Eddie before hand that Steve hadn’t gotten any tickets emailed to him to avoid this very particularly sticky situation. You had agreed to keep it quiet until it started getting more serious.

Well…it had turned serious but you knew for a fact your dad wouldn’t be too happy with the coupling.

Your eyes jolt around the room to look for a quick escape, forgetting there’s only one door in, and unless you were going to turn unrealistically stealthy in the next minute, sneaking past him was not an option.

Your hesitation turns out to be your doom, just as you make a choice his brown eyes landed on you, lighting up in surprise.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Sunshine!” He calls out, holding his arms out and reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here? Thought you were staying with your roommate for the week!”

You had specifically told him you were stuck with your roommate who was getting over an ex boyfriend. The ex boyfriend part was right, but you were assisting from afar, with your own boyfriend luring you off the phone.

You hug him back, a wave of guilt washing over you, unable to relax in his familiar arms. “I made it down last minute!” The lie is forced, reminding you of times you knew you were caught but chose to dig deeper rather than climb out.

Sometimes it's just easier that way.

Steve’s brows furrow, crossing his arms just as something occurs to him. “How-how did you even make it down so quickly, I just called you this morning—“

He is interrupted by a familiar set of arms thrown around you from behind, squeezing you tight until you weasel out of them, your nerves on a hotwire.

For a moment that stretches out, lasting forever enough for you to see the V between Steve’s brow deepen, his head tilting ever so slightly, a slight frown downturning his lips.

And the panic that shifts every muscle of Eddie’s face when he sees Steve.

Finally, things set back into motion as puts on a facade of surprise, well not a facade as he’s actually surprised, he certainly knows how to put on a face of delight.

“Steve, my boy!” He collides his chest with his best friend, back pats exchanged as they embrace one another. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Steve shrugs, his hands slotted into his pockets once they separate. “You didn’t answer my email, but Gareth did.”

When you switch your gaze to the drummer, he winks, telling you he has been paying attention to the shit show the entire time.

A few beats in the conversation, Steve starts to wonder if he was making everything up in his head, if he was just imagining your awkward stances and the way you’re standing just an inch too far away from one another.

Because there is no other reason you’d have to lie.

But all the little things keep sticking out to him. Your disheveled hair, in a way that couldn’t be manufactured. A bruise on Eddie’s neck, no bruises, but this one seemed familiar—

Steve’s eyes dart to your smudged lipstick, just barely fixed.

The fidgeting of a bracelet around your wrist, your anxious swaying, Eddie’s nervous rambling.

The way Eddie rushed to hug you like an old friend yet can’t seem it dare keep his eyes on you longer than a second.

”Eddie Munson, tell me you are not hooking up with my daughter.”

-

Oop.

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This is the last chapter hope y’all loved 😭

[heartsforvin]

UNTOUCHABLE

bfb is probably one of my favorite tropes 😣 stream bfb by victoria justice 💋

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, praise, use of pet names, dirty talk, cussing, oral (f receiving), slight choking kink, dom!vinnie, age gap (r’s 19, v’s 22), loss of virginity, slight breeding kink, perv!vinnie, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary: you’re untouchable to vinnie, considering you’re his brothers best friend, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore

a/n: guys i loveee writing perv!vinnie can you tell yet ?? (i can’t help it, i love the idea 🤭)

he needed you. needed you in every and any way he could get you. he felt wrong, though. almost gross, like he shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you.

you are his brothers best friend, he’s known you for years, that’s one of the reasons why he feels a bit disgusted by himself.

just a bit, though.

you’ve been around since his brother entered the sixth grade, so you have basically grown up with this family. having spent many summers, along with just nights in general with the family.

he’s seen you through puberty, and he can’t lie, once you started filling out and growing more, he couldn’t help but spare a few glances once in awhile.

you’ve always thought nothing of it, always thought that was just the big brother instinct in him — to watch over not only reggie while the two of you hung out, but you as well.

you didn’t realize until around sophomore year of high school though, that it was more of just tiny glances and hand touches.

you thought vinnie was attractive, sure. especially when he got a little older. when the tattoos became a regular addition to his body along with the abs.

you’d never let him know that outright though. part of you always thought he was full of himself.

when you noticed he started gaining fame, you thought he was taking it all to his head.

he’d post those thirst traps, and though you did find them hot when you were sixteen, seventeen, you just thought he was full of it now.

vinnie has always been a bit more touchy with you. always finding an excuse to rub up against you or touch your hand.

you’d always just push him off, telling him to back off before reggie saw and got the wrong impression.

that’s the last thing you needed. for your best friend to know you were into his brother.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

“need some help, princess?” you heard his voice and immediately rolled your eyes as you planted your heals back on the ground.

it was a hot summer day, and all you wanted to do was hang out with reggie by the pool.

he had asked you to go grab more plastic cups from the house, to which you agreed.

now here you were, standing on your tip toes as you tried to reach the top shelf.

you felt vinnie’s front press against your back, his breath on your ear as he reached his arm to the shelf with ease.

“thanks.” you reply meekly, already over him for the day.

he flashed you a smile before heading back to the stairs, probably back up to his room to play video games.

you made it back outside quickly, not wanting to take too long for reggie to notice you went missing for minutes on end.

the two of you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet in the water as you drank soda in the cups you had just brought out.

you were talking about college and what classes the two of you were taking when you heard the back door open.

turning around, you saw vinnie walk out in only his swim trunks, tattoos on full display.

rolling your eyes, you turned back to your best friend as the two of you continued talking.

about ten minutes later, reggie had mentioned he needed to use the bathroom and that he’ll be out in a minute.

you nodded and set your cup down next to you, watching as vinnie replaced reggie’s spot as soon as the back door shut.

“that a new suit?” he questioned, making you look down to see which one you were wearing.

it was a light pink string bikini. you saw it at target weeks prior and remembered you needed a new suit for the summer.

vinnie’s eyes raked over your body as you sat next to him. he gave a longer glance at your tits, seeing how nice they fit in your top.

his gaze moved down to your thighs, looking at the plush skin and imagining what it’d be like to get in between them.

he wondered a lot of things about you. he had overheard a conversation you had with reggie once, talking about how experienced the two of you were.

it was nothing odd or uncomfortable for you to talk about with the younger sibling, if anything it was normal.

the two of you knew everything about each other, nothing was too off limits or tmi.

so when vinnie heard you had never had sex with anyone, he smiled to himself, hoping he could be the first person to pleasure you.

“what do you want?” your sharp tone broke him out of his thoughts. “reg’s gonna be back in a minute, can’t have him getting the wrong idea.”

if anything he’d probably expect nothing of it, just his best friend and his brother having a normal conversation.

you were terrified of him having the wrong impression on the two of you though. he’s asked you before if you’ve ever had even the slightest crush on his brother, to which you just laughed.

if he had asked you about three years ago, maybe the answer would be yes, but now? hell no.

the touch on your thigh almost made you spit out your drink. “you don’t want that,” vinnie breathed. “i could personally care less of what my brother thinks im doing with anyone.”

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, placing it in his lap. as soon as you did, you heard the back door open again.

“you guys hungry?” you heard reggie call out, to which you moved quicker than ever.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

later on that night, you and reggie got ready to chill and watch a movie. you had decided to spend the night last minute, it was a friday night after all so neither of you had classes in the morning.

as you were walking back to reggie’s room from the bathroom, you could’ve sworn you heard what sounded like moaning that came from the eldest boys’ room.

you stopped in front of his door, wondering if you should bust in and interrupt to make fun of him, or to stay here a minute.

you never really imagined vinnie in that way. not often at least. the thought did cross your mind here and there, but you pushed it back.

you didn’t like him. didn’t like how he gawked at you — looked at you like prey. how he was always touching you in some way.

at the same time though, you kind of did like it. no guy had ever really paid any mind to you, and vinnie does.

maybe it was just the male validation you so desperately craved, or maybe you actually did like vinnie.

as you stood there, you could’ve sworn you heard your name fall out of his mouth, which made your eyes go wide.

you contemplated on what you wanted to do. you could easily go back to reggie’s room and apologize for taking too long. or you could fulfill both yours and vinnie’s fantasies.

with a shaky exhale, you slowly pushed the door open and the sight before you made you instantly wet.

there he was, naked from the chest down, his boxers resting on his ankles, as he jerked himself off with your swimsuit top.

it was disgusting, filthy even, but for some reason you found it so hot in this moment.

you don’t even remember where you had put your suit after the swim earlier. either way, vinnie found it and decided to put it to use.

you just stood there, unable to move as you watched his fist move rapidly with your swimsuit top in hand, watching, listening to the noises he made.

“s-shit princess, yeah just like that.” you heard him say, making you clench around nothing.

when his eyes opened that’s when you gasped, covering your mouth in case it was too loud.

vinnie didn’t even hesitate to try and put on his boxers or even cover himself with a blanket.

“what are you doing in here, sweetheart?” his tone was low, gaze fixated on you and your sleep shirt.

you wore shorts underneath but they were short, so it went unnoticed. when vinnie saw your bare legs, he smiled.

you didn’t answer him, feeling embarrassed for even being in here at all. you felt dirty.

“come here,” vinnie said as he threw your cum-stained swimsuit top on the ground. “come sit on my lap, baby.”

you smiled, a rush of energy and confidence running through you now. you always wondered deep down what it’d be like to be on his lap, in his arms.

he had draped a blanket over his half-hard dick. no doubt it’ll be back to its hard state in a matter of seconds.

you straddled the man’s lap, your hands around his neck while his rested on your ass. your shirt rose up so your shorts were now visible.

“kinda hoped you were only wearin’ panties under this,” he chuckled as he smacked your ass. “would love to see those cute ones, y’know with the strawberries on ‘em?”

you blush, having packed those exact ones for tomorrow morning when you went back to your house to get a change of clothes.

his grip on you tightens, he’s got you where he’s wanted you for months now.

“or,” he starts, moving closer to your ear, kissing right under it softly. “that black thong you have. god, is that hot.”

you can’t believe this is happening. reggie would kill you if he found out vinnie laid a finger on you in this sort of situation.

“vinnie,” you whine as he moves you against his lap, your cunt grinding against his cock. “please.”

he smirks. “please what?” he asks as he leans in, mouths almost touching.

you squirm on him, making vinnie grip you a bit harder to keep you in place. “need you, want you.”

vinnie smiles before he places his lips on yours. the kiss turns hungry fast, hands roaming each others bodies as your tongues meet together.

“switch with me,” he says before lifting you off his lap. you stand on the ground as he does the same. “lay on the bed.”

you do as told, laying on the bed fully clothed while he stays how he is. once your head meets his pillow, vinnie climbs back on the bed and hovers over you.

he kisses your neck, making sure to leave marks even if you protest. he makes his way down to your collarbone and is soon tugging at the collar of your shirt.

your eyes widen as he takes the shirt off of you without even asking. he smirks as he looks up at you. “no bra, huh?” he asks.

you blush, even though you shouldn’t be embarrassed for being comfortable, there’s a part of you that is.

vinnie see’s your eyes shift and brings his hand up to your cheek, caressing it softly. you smile and lean into his touch.

without any warning he’s got his mouth planting kisses all down your chest and to your stomach. you grab his hair and tug at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

when he makes it to your shorts, he looks up at you and asks if he can take them off along with your panties.

you nod but then give him the verbal confirmation, he wastes no time pulling them off you.

“look at you,” his tone is deep, making chills run down your body. “already so wet f’me.” he says, slowly dragging a finger through your folds.

you whimper at the contact, grabbing his hair and tugging as his finger swipes against you.

you watch as he lowers himself on the bed, laying flat against his chest, his face now mere inches from where you need him.

all your nerves are gone, as if you aren’t scared for what’s about to come and how to handle everything.

vinnie smiles up at you before he dives in, sucking on your clit as you tug at the locks of his hair.

“taste so good, pretty,” he moans into you, making you whine in pleasure. “such a good girl for me.”

the praise goes straight to your head as you feel vinnie grip your thighs, holding you in place.

as his tongue continues to suck on your clit, he slides his index finger along your folds before pushing it into you.

a loud moan rips from your throat but vinnie’s quick to clamp a hand over your mouth, shushing you.

“don’t want reggie to get the wrong impression now, do we?” he asks, referring to what you told him earlier.

you shake your head, his hand still covering your mouth. he smiles as he removes the tattooed hand away from you, lifting his head to kiss you softly.

his mouth is on your sensitive pussy once again, with his index finger curling inside you, making you close your legs around him.

vinnie groans as he pushes your legs open again, he continues his actions before he feels the grip on his hair tighten.

“v-vinnie,” you moan softly, feeling a knot in your lower belly tighten. “baby.”

his gaze reaches you, he knows what’s coming and his movements quickened. you tighten your legs around his head, gripping the sheets as you moan profanities.

you try your best to stay as quiet as you can, but it’s no use once you feel yourself release on the man’s face below you.

vinnie smiles as he catches every ounce, lifting up and leaning on his elbows as he looks up at you.

“thanks for the warning, princess.” vinnie chuckles as he pushes himself up to hover over you.

you blush with a slight smile, suddenly feeling nervous now that the real thing might happen.

vinnie gives you a sweet smile, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “what’s wrong?”

the question is genuine, throwing you off since he’s usually not like that with you.

“i’m a virgin,” you say quietly, lowering your head. vinnie lifts your chin with his index finger, kissing you softly.

“i can’t promise you i’ll be gentle, you know how bad ive been wanting this.” he tells you truthfully.

you nod, knowing already that if this were to happen he’d definitely not be the slightest bit of gentle with you.

he gives you a look to ask if you’re ready, you nod but also let out a quiet but audible ‘yes’ to let him know.

he kisses you roughly before pulling back and positioning himself to enter you.

once he does, you gasp at the feeling of having him inside you. he waits a minute for you to adjust before he starts moving.

he grips your hips, thrusting hard into you as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

he smiles. he’s been wanting this for so long now, cant believe he’s finally got you where he wanted you.

“fuck vin, you’re so big.” you moan, watching as vinnie gives you a smirk.

he moves his hand to grab yours, bringing it down to your lower tummy. “you feel that, pretty girl? that’s all me, fillin’ you up so good, yeah?”

you whimper at the feeling of having his cock inside you. you grab his hand and squeeze tightly.

“feel good, huh? like havin’ my cock inside you, baby? feeling me everywhere?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

you nod with a soft moan followed by it, trying your best to not be so loud no matter how good it feels.

the pain subsided and turned to pleasure, making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

as vinnie’s thrusts became quicker, you watched as his hand slid from your hip to your throat in a matter of seconds, applying pressure.

he saw you smile and applied a bit more pressure. “you like that, don’t you?” he asks.

you try to nod the best you can, vinnie leans in to kiss you and you immediately meet him, kissing back with just as much need as he is you.

he watches you pull apart from his lips and start to move your hand down to your clit.

“nuh, uh,” he smacks your hand away. “i’m not done with you yet.”

before you can speak, he’s flipping you over so you’re on top now. you’ve never been in this position so he helps you guide yourself on him.

“yeah, just like that, good girl.” he praises when he feels you clench around him. “fuck you feel amazing.”

you soon catch on and give yourself a rhythm, bouncing on him with ease while vinnie grabs your tits and squeezes them in his palms.

“been wanting to get my hands on these for so long, y’know that, sweet girl?” he tells you as he lowers his mouth to your chest.

he takes your right breast into his mouth and sucks, definitely leaving marks. he gives the left one the same attention after.

“vinnie.” you moan, throwing your head back at the feeling of his mouth on your chest.

he watches you ride him, completely obsessed of the sight in front of him. as much as your swimsuit top was doing wonders for him, actually being inside you is definitely better.

vinnie squeezes your tits once more before gripping your hips again. “god you feel so good sweetheart,” he groans. “wanna fill you up, put a baby in you.”

he doesn’t even register what he says, just spewing words, feeling way too good in the moment.

you however do register what he said. “want it vin,” you whine out.

he smirks, gliding his thumbs against the plush of your thighs. “yeah, you want me to knock you up? have my babies? bet you someone would be very mad if they found out.”

you know who he’s talking about but right now you don’t care. the euphoria completely washes over all the fear from you.

his thrusts become faster and harsher, making you hold onto his shoulders for support. your head dips to rest in the crook of his neck while his hands move to cup your ass.

he bounces you on him, moans erupting from both of you as your highs near.

vinnie’s hand moves from your ass to your clit, rubbing harsh circles. “gonna cum, sweet girl. you’re gonna cum with me, ‘kay?”

you nod, a loud moan slipping from your lips at the pressure of his harsh rubs.

“almost baby, come on,” he urges, you continue your movements, scratching his back as you do. “fuck, sweetheart i’m there.”

before you can confirm that you are too, you’re already spilling out of him as he spills into you. he pushes himself into more, smirking as he does.

“gotta make sure it says in there if you want it to work, right?” he asks, to which you just sleepily nod.

the two of you stay connected for a minute before vinnie decides to pull out of you. you whine at the loss of contact to which he kisses your forehead.

you fall onto his bed with a loud sigh, smiling at the man next to you while he wraps his arms around you.

“do you think he heard?” you ask quietly.

vinnie stays silent for a moment, before saying, “you’re probably gonna have to have a long talk with him. me and you.” he explains.

you sigh, not wanting to deal or even think about the talk you’re gonna have to have with your best friend in the morning.

he sees your frustration and holds you tighter, kissing your cheek. you smile.

you want to ask the question but it’s probably dumb and he’ll probably just laugh, thinking you’re just some naïve kid.

you decide to stay silent, basking in this moment of being in his arms right now.

“goodnight, vinnie.” you say quietly as you nuzzle into his chest.

he smiles, hugging you tighter. “goodnight, princess.” he responds, kissing your head.

you hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you got to feel his touch.

HEYYYYY I LOVED THIS 🤗🤗 sorry if it’s so damn long, i had so much fun writing it !!!

i hope you all liked it as much as I did, pls lmk cus i LOVE yalls feedback (unless you don’t like it, keep that shit to yourself LMAO)

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @violet0182 , @hallecarey1 , @kayleighh , @laylasbunbunny , @louloulemons-blog , @st4rswrld , @kriissy4gov

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them. 

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 

There had to be another reason, surely. 

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?” 

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 

“No you fucking didn’t.” 

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 

You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

-

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

[justporo]

Ok listen, listen to me! Are you listening? I'm sure this was talked about, well I talked about this before, but there's a specific worm in my brain atm:

What if - despite you fancying Astarion and Astarion fancying you (read: manipulating - at least at first...). You DON'T sleep with Astarion - because no, there's just too much other shit going on. You become friends, desperately pining over each other. And you even more so the more you learn and reveal about Astarion: you care for him, you want to help him - desperately.

And the vampire has fallen hard for you but. firstly, you declined and secondly, maybe he's convincing himself you're just not into him that way and thirdly, your friendship is so precious to him, he wouldn't dare risk it.

So you go on: swooning over each other but your priority is sorting out all the messes you're in. And you probably don't even bring up the topic again until...

Well, until all the messes have been dealt with and you both realise that now might be a good time to bring this up again.

Of courrse neither of you want to ruin the friendship you have but now that it's back on the table: you want each other desperately.

And imagine, imagine this is the first time Astarion experiences sex again: he's free now! And this might very well also be the first time in his long life where he had the time to fall in love with someone before sleeping with them. And he can experience his first time with you and how different it is - how wonderful it can be with someone he cares for and has been yearning for.

There's lots of pent up tension, excitement, so many emotions. It's probably a hot mess and at least a little awkward. You're probably both tripping over each other, you can't keep your hands off each other for even the shortest of moments. Limbs get stuck in clothing, you're falling over furniture and laughing all the while. You're both in awe of each other, taking the time to just take each other in, blushing a lot. Astarion compliments you because he can barely believe how incredible you are and you repay him in like - until both your heads are swimming with admiration and adoration for each other.

And it's probably over very quick because let's be honest: it's been more than a while and emotions are somersaulting. Of course it will also be a long night, you both waited a long time for this. It's also only one of many nights that probably follow. Might be you just spend quite an amount of time in your happy bubble - just the two of you. You can just spend some time to get to know each other in this new kind of way - with time and space, and most of all: in peace.

And Astarion and you can start a loving, passionate relationship with a bit less weight on your shoulders - make wonderful memories right from the start.

(This was also fueled by @tripleyeeets recent post about wanting more awkward sex in fanfics and I wholeheartedly agree)

[unangelic-thoughts]

Imagine this: jealous! rafe when you’re ward's personal assistant

[A few notes: 1. Rose doesn't exist in this AU. 2. This is a really rough draft, literally just wrote it and posted it so haven't had a chance to proof read it but I was honestly so desperate that I just had to write somethinggg 3. I hope you can pleasurably indulge in the same way I just did imagining this? :)) <33 love y'all with the same filthy minds as mine)] *spoiler alert* you fuck them both xoxo

you've been spending a lot of time with ward, working from the office and his home since you got the job as his personal assistant nine months ago

he's always made it clear that you're welcome to help yourself with anything in the kitchen or have a dip in the pool

one hot day you decide to take advantage of that and bring your swimsuit to his house

after finishing up on important but boring paperwork, you ask if you can take a dip and ward is more than happy about it

you swim as he sits at the edge of the lounger, talking to you about the new partnership deal he's working on

you notice the way his eyes flick down to your breasts, it makes you feel good, he's a handsome man after all

you plead with him to join you in the water, but he declines despite the evident want in his eyes so you splash him, egging him on

the glass doors swing open and out comes rafe, his arm around a pretty girl's shoulders

he's surprised to see you, especially with so much of skin on show and with his dad right there as if this is a completely normal and professional occurence

but then again, since when has his dad ever cared about professionalism anyway?

he only looks at you once, making a point to not let his eyes wander to you again

you watch as him and his dad make small talk and then him and his girlfriend(?) are gone

unbeknownst to you, rafe heads to his room and peeks at you through his blinds

he watches as you step out of the pool, water dripping down your breasts and thighs, it gets him real hard

that is until ward wraps a towel around you, his fingers caressing your shoulder and all rafe wants to do is yell at him to not touch you

you can feel someone's stare but as you look up to where you think it's coming from, he swiftly steps away and walks up to the girl he brought home, eva, and kisses her fiercely - wanting to block out any thoughts of you

at the company event, a week later, he doesn't fail to notice his dad's hand on your lower back or the way he leans a bit too close to you when you talk

it infuriates him every time you direct that sweet smile of yours towards ward. that should only be for him, no one else and especially not his dad

he corners you later that night as you walk out of the bathroom stall

it takes you by surprise, his broad chest right up against you as he looks down at you

"you should be more careful" he says

"careful?" you frown in confusion

"of my dad. he's not a good man" his hands rest on his hips

you stare up at him with doe eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips "oh really?"

"he's dangerous. a pretty, innocent girl like you shoudn't be getting involved with men like him" rafe looks you up and down, taking in the shortness of your dress

"and what type of men do you think I should be involved with?" you ask, a smirk on your lips

he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't it obvious?'

at that, you laugh and roll your eyes

"you know, people would say that you're the dangerous one" you state honestly

his right hand reaches up to stroke your cheek "not with you. i would protect you from anything bad"

"that's really sweet of you" you say sarcastically

"but i don't need protecting" you shove him and walk past him to join the others outside

unfortunately for rafe, seeing him so jealous of you and his dad only makes you want to provoke him further

so you do what any other innocent girl would do

you get his dad to fuck you on rafe's bed just as he comes home from his late night gym session

ward is ecstatic about it, because 1) he's wanted to shove his cock inside you from the moment he saw you in that tiny bikini and 2) he knows that him and rafe have grown apart and what better way to bond than getting to share the same hole?

you're on all fours, your hands fisting rafe's fresh bed sheets as ward pounds you from behind

rafe walks in and as soon as his gaze lands on the two of you, he drops his gym bag on the floor with a thud

you and ward both turn to look at him, continuing to fuck as if there's been no interruption at all

rafe is absolutely seething with anger "what.the.actual.fuck?" he asks through clenched teeth

"hey son! are you joining in?" ward asks in the same way he would ask him if he wanted to play golf

"a-are you fucking kidding me right now?" his hands are fisted into balls. if this were a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming off his head

"i'm really not. as the saying goes, sharing is caring. what's mine is yours, son" his dad replies with a sweet smile on his lips

rafe's cold gaze turns to you then "and you're okay with this?"

you nod innocently at the same time as ward says "it was her idea in the first place"

rafe stands by his door in shock but you're staring to lose your patience

"rafey, baby, can i please have your cock? please?" you plead just as ward hits your sweet spot and you gasp in pleasure

he fucks you harder as you stare into rafe's blown pupils before involuntarily shutting your eyes, feeling yourself reaching closer to your orgasm

a moment later rafe's ripped all of his clothes off and lays on his back on the bed next to you

you open your eyes when he forcefully grabs your arm so that you're now straddling his lap, causing his dad's cock to slip out of you

you don't get to miss the sensation for long however, because rafe brutally shoves his girthy shaft inside your swollen pussy

your hands go onto his chest to steady yourself, feeling his defined pectorals

ward spits on your ass and slowly buries his dick inside your second hole

it makes you want to scream, but you bite down hard on your lower lip

they thrust into you in unison, you have never felt this full, never felt this kind of bliss

rafe takes your tits in his hands, then brings each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking them with his tongue

you're so close, so so close

tears fall down your face at the overwhelming sensations in your body caused by the two men

rafe notices, looking concerned and asks if you're okay as his hands cup your face

you nod, "just keep fucking me, please. don't stop"

relief washes over his face and he kisses you deeply but softly, a complete contrast to how he's splitting you open

you kiss him back, your tongues dancing together

ward places two digits on your clit, it makes you whimper in rafe's mouth

and as they both frantically slam into you with their hands all over your body, you come completely undone

your body convulses between them and your legs begin to tremble

you're soon overstimulated by it all but they keep going

they thrust in and out, in and out, as you squirm, completely trapped between their two bodies

before you can register any of it, warm cum fills up both of your holes at the same time

they grunt in unison and you ponder at how similar father and son really are

[sillylotrpolls]

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

[love-belle]

modern day romeo and juliet !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their love was the modern day romeo and juliet, with a happy ending.

or 

for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language, alludes to sex, mentions of sex, whatever.

author’s note - hello!! i REALLY hope u all like this one bc it was so fun to write like it was so chuckle worthy so i really hope u enjoy it!! thank u so much for reading, i love u <3 i will try to post once more tonight bc i have 10+ drafts rn with almost 20 requests and i'm trying to do them all one by one, thank u so much for being patient <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe, carlossainz55 and 873,268 others

yourusername got railed and he walked out and came back with cherries and roses for me??? is this true love???

8,628 comments

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username to have someone who would bring me cherries and roses after getting railed :///

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 874,926 others

charles_leclerc the water's getting colder let me in your ocean

8,627 comments

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-> charles_leclerc swim 🌊

-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by paddockgirlies, y/nwolff44, f1wags and 62,628 others

paddock.club charles leclerc and y/n wolff spark dating rumours after they were spotted out on a date, only adding into them as they shared a kiss. leclerc and wolff have been having coy interactions on social media for a while now but they were barely seen interacting outside the paddock. both of them, separately, have been hinting at a relationship for a few weeks now although we had no reason to believe that they were together, until these photos resurfaced. click on the link in our bio for more details about the new potential f1 couple.

3,527 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, francisca.cgomes and 898,724 others

yourusername his swagless looks and cringe fail personality have captivated me

tagged charles_leclerc

11,628 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and 899,724 others

charles_leclerc ma belle looked so pretty today i almost cried

tagged yourusername

12,728 comments

username GOD WHY CAN'T SOMEONE LOVE ME LIKE THIS

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username i see u on street and it's on SIGHT for destroying my carefully curated parasocial relationship

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 798,626 others

yourusername he got jack's approval and that's all that really matters

tagged charles_leclerc susie_wolff

7,816 comments

username HE MET THE FAMILY OFFICIALLY OMG

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username JACK APPROVES WE WON

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[bandgie]

Poor Baby

Idol!Bangchan x sexworker!reader

a/n: a lot of you guys asked for a part two of this post and I will provide!

synopsis: You need to make end meet with your bills. When your boss gives you a huge opportunity to make big money, you hop at it (even if it impacts your dignity). Lucky for you, your favorite customer happens to be coming in that day.

cw: 18+ MDNI, glory holes, PIV, no protection (use it!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy slapping, cursing, cock drunk reader, reader is called Nyx/Chris is called Koala, mentions of Lee Know, cum eating, Chris is more confident this time, Chris is called 'daddy' and he plays into it, brief mentions of sub-space, idk that's it

3.9k words

"I dunno, sounds too risky," you bite your fingernails as you speak. The offer is a good one, triple your hourly and bonus tips. You were on the verge of not being able to make rent, but your boss literally put this opportunity in your lap. Had you been a higher rating girl, you wouldn't have to resort to being a gloryhole.

"Okay I see what you mean," he starts, "but it's only for the weekend. Five hours tops! I'll give you a 20 minute break in the middle of it." Your boss looks at you with expecting eyes. You would take the deal in a heartbeat, but it goes against the only rule you have. "I don't feel safe letting my clients raw dog me. What if they get me sick?"

Your boss shakes his head profusely, "No! Come on Nyx, you know I wouldn't let that happen to any of my girls. They'll take the test to see if they're clean in advance. I get it, it goes against your morals or whatever, but it's big money. Huge! People with names are going to come, literally, and I know you need this more than ever. It's why I came to you first."

You sigh, looking down at the hands in your lap. He's right, and he's a good boss. You have a good job, nice coworkers, and a boss who genuinely looks after you. That's hard to find in this business. After all, you do need the money. Doing this gig for the weekend will help tremendously, and you might even afford to take a few days off.

Finally, you nod. "Yeah I guess you're right. When should I show up?"

It was a lot sooner than you had anticipated. You and the other girls weren't allowed to know who was coming. Like your boss said, they were well-known, so they preferred to keep their identity a secret. That part did make you a little nervous if you're being honest, but you found comfort in knowing that they wouldn't be able to see you.

It would be better this way. Have half your body in a wall, legs open, let the dude use you until he cuts in mere minutes, and get on with the next. Men cum easily, especially when they used women like a fleshlight. Perhaps time will go fast like that, and you could start planning on what you can do on your mini vacation.

So here you were, upper body laid on a small bed chest down with a bar in front for support. Your lower body was out through the hole, legs standing for support. It was slightly uncomfortable, but you could manage. Other women were in different positions all around you, some higher and some lower. Your boss and a few of other workers helped lube you up. You're thankful for that because you know damn well the men coming in would just rail into you.

A few minutes passed before you could hear shuffling, murmurs, the unbuckling of pants. You tensed in anticipation. You were grateful they couldn't see you, but not being able to see them was an entirely different story. You gasped when you felt fingers explore your folds. They were impatient, violating, and too harsh. You bit your lower lip from barking at the man, trying to think of all the cash you'd be swimming in soon.

It's just for the weekend.

-

Chris found himself, once again, in front of your establishment. He had already gone though the club, the secret sunflower door, the code. The only difference was that he was accompanied by none other than the person who told him about this sex club, Lee Know. They both wore disguises, face masks and hats to conceal their face.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this again," Chris groans. Lee Know only smiles and laughs. Minho pats him on the back, "You're the one that agreed. Plus they have something special going on. You'll like it." Chris follows Minho from the main floor of the sex club and into the back. It's the familiar path to where he met you, but way further back.

Christopher would be lying if he wasn't anticipating on meeting you again. It's embarrassing, but he jerks himself off at the thought of you. The way you feel, the way you taste, how patient you were with him. He would rather die than tell Minho about you, he would get teased until the end of days. It's silly to think he'd see you here, but he can't help but hope.

"Something special? Is that why I had to get tested for STD's?" Chris questions. Rather than giving a verbal answer, Minho hums. He didn't have to do that before the session with you, and you let him go raw. Maybe it's only for special event, he thinks.

Chris and Minho approach a booth with a person inside. She wears a plastic smile on her face, hair done perfectly and acrylic nails. "Names please?" Her voice is almost drained out by the moans and slapping sounds coming from the other side. It's just a curtain that covers it, so all sounds can be heard.

A blush quickly finds its way to Chris's face and ears. He's so flustered that Minho has to answer, "Koala and Rino." The lady in the booth seems completely dismissive about what's going on behind the curtain. She looks through a few pages before nodding, "Ah I see you right here. Please enjoy your time, the session ends in about 2 hours."

Lee Know nods in response and grabs Chris by the sleeve the drag him behind the curtain. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He couldn't even comprehend the sight at first. Men were covered in sweat, pants completely down. Cum was stained below where the women were placed. The smell was strong, and it made Chris grimace.

He turned to Minho, expecting the same reaction. Instead, Minho was looking as if he was at heaven's gates. "Isn't it beautiful?" Chris stays quiet rather than answering. Minho walks further in and Christopher trails behind. The women have only their lower body sticking out, some in doggy others in missionary position.

Chan has only seen glory holes in porn, never even considering seeing one in person.

"So here," Minho points at the wall above one of the women, "is the name of the hole. They don't provide pictures, which sucks. If you see a name you like or know, you just basically fuck it. Cum in it, don't come it. Touch it, don't. The main rule is to not reach in the cut out. Keep your hands to what's exposed, or you'll get kicked out. They're pretty strict when it comes to shit like this."

Chris doesn't bother asking how Lee Know knows so much, it's in his name afterall. "I dunno," Chris tentatively looks around the room. Other men seem to have face masks on, but some don't. He can recognize people form TV, the news, even some older politicians. Lee Know sighs, "Bro, they don't care about you. No offense. They're just here to get their dick wet and leave. It's only gay if you make eye contact."

Lee Know's joke lightens the mood, and Chris finds himself laughing alongside him. They did pay a pretty dime to be here for the special event, he might as well enjoy it. The two men go off in their separate ways not long after. It feel weird for Chris to window-shop like this, almost uncomfortable. It's not until he comes across a familiar name that makes his heart skip.

Nyx, he almost sings. You have your ass out at the height of his hips. He takes a few steps closer as if he couldn't believe it's actually you. Chris takes note of your of your swollen clit, the gaping hole, the cum that drips down your thighs. Without thinking, he reaches out his ands to rub your ass. Not sexually, but more in a comforting way. He can tell this takes you by surprise because you jolt.

"Poor baby," he says sympathetically. It's not loud enough for you to hear, but he can't help but want to console you. From the description he read of you before, he thought this was the last place you'd be. His hands stay soft, and he finds himself kneeling. He can feel the wet floor staining his pants, but he doesn't care.

To put on a show, you wiggle your ass for him. You think the man behind you is going to shove himself in, but you feel a hot tongue. You gasp as the sensation. Since you first clock in, no one had eaten you out. You honestly didn't expect anyone to. You're covered in other men's cum, who in their right mind would consider such a thing?

Chris would, in a heartbeat. If it's to soothe you, he would do anything. He feels like he owes you something. Sure he paid you after the last interaction, but it still felt like it wasn't enough. Tasting men's cum isn't pleasant, but hearing your muffled moans though the walls was worth it.

It reminds him of last time, how desperate you sounded with his mouth on you. He wished you could see his face, watching as your mouth twisted in pleasure. Even now, he's still wishing for the same. His mask is pulled down under his chin while he devours you. Your legs struggle to keep you up right, but you stay on your tiptoes.

You can hear him slurping behind you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep you spread. His tongue flicks over your bud and goes back to teasing your entrance. You could feel your arousal seeping out, and that seems to spur him on more. Your hands grip the bar above the bed, and you so desperately want to grip his hair instead.

Despite being here for three hours, you haven't came. You've gotten close to finishing, but men always finished before you did. It left you frustrated, yearning. You pray that the man eating you keeps going until you cum, but you know better than to hope for that. Instead, you try to grind against his face with what little movement you have.

"Shit. You like that baby?" You hear him ask. His voice is vaguely familiar, a twist of a distinct accent you swear you've heard before. You nod though he can't see. "Fuck yes. Don't stop," you moan. Perhaps it wasn't smart to command the client to please you, it's the other way around after all. To your surprise, he keeps going. He has his tongue dip inside your pussy, feeling your smooth walls.

It's so unbelievably sexy of him to eat you out. He must look humiliating; on his knees, sucking out the cum of other men into his mouth, the filthy sounds that leave his throat. He's eating you like he's never had a good meal in his life, like he missed your pussy. His tongue is experienced too, and you can't help but think this is also familiar.

That recognizable knot in your stomach gathers, and you begin shaking. If he pulls away now, you think, I'll quit. You don't even have to tell him you're close, he can feel how you tighten around his tongue. He quickly pulls away and shoves a finger inside before you could complain. It's difficult to eat you out now that his finger is in the way, but he can use his other hand to replace his mouth.

Chris rubs your clit in circles while he pumps you with his other finger. You squeal at the impact, feeling how his hand meets your ass when he goes deep. Your toes curl, eyes roll back to your head, and loudly moan when you cum on his fingers. It's been so long, so long since you've cum from a client. The last time was with that Koala guy, the one with the...accent.

Realization hits you quickly. You don't even have the chance to say anything with how he finger fucks you through your orgasm. "Wait! wait wait wait..." Chris immediately stops when he hears you. He gently removed his hand from you and you almost fall limp. His hands catch your waist and he keeps you up.

"Are you okay?" His voice is full of concern, full of care. Yeah, that can only be one person. You laugh breathlessly, body still quivering from your recent orgasm. "Shit Koala. How long has it been? Like three months?" You imagine he's choked up, unable to answer you. You've had a lot of customers, and it's impossible to remember them all. Koala, however, has left quite the impression on you.

He laughs awkwardly, "Something like that yeah. Uh...how ya been?"

You blow a raspberry and chuckle, "I don't think I'm in a position for a little reunion. You came here to fuck no?" Chris is a little stunned with your words, but agrees. "Yes. Well no. I mean yes, but not like-" he keeps rambling. You take pity on him and decide to take the lead, "No no I get it. You came here to fuck my pussy right?"

Chris feels like his face is on fire. He wish he could deny it, but he can't. He did come here with hopes of seeing you, to feel you again. Sure he could have fucked any girl here, but how could he when he knew you were here. All pretty and prepped for him. "What if I said yes?" he teases. "Would that make you happy?"

It's surprising to hear Koala tease you back, but you're more than happy to oblige. "Hmm...maybe. It's been a while since you've fucked me, might not be as good as before." Chris laughs, hands squeezing your ass, "I think you know you're lying to yourself. Got you cummin' on my tongue in minutes. Imagine what I could do with my cock."

His confidence has you horny. Before, he was pliant and submissive. He's a totally different man now, who knows what happened in three months. It could also be the fact that he can't see you properly, so it gives him some courage to be bold. No matter, you find it beyond attractive.

"All this talking and no fucking," you complain. "Maybe you are rusty."

In all honesty, Chris hasn't really fucked after you. He rarely did in the first place, but he genuinely thinks no one can compete with your cunt. He knows you're joking with him, but it still makes him nervous. Three months is a long time, he might have lack in some aspects now that he's the one taking control.

Still, he's given such a golden opportunity to show you that he can please you. Chris's grip on your ass tightens for a brief second before he grabs ahold of the base of his cock. It's already hard, red from screaming at Chris to put it in. He uses one hand to guide his cock into your abused hole and the other to rub soothing circles on your waist.

You can't help but smile. It doesn't how dirty he can talk or act, he's still a gentleman at heart. The nearly forgotten stretch makes you whimper when he puts his tip in. His cock is hot and can easily slide in with no problem. Despite that, he still take his time. Chris really wants you to feel how you pussy stretches around him, how he can glide against your warm walls.

Your knuckles turn while from gripping the bar so hard. You almost want to scream at him to hurry up and fuck you. Instead, you find yourself whimpering the contact. Your hips move against him to try and slip his dick in. It works a little, feeling his cock roughly an inch deeper. You can hear him moan behind the wall, a breathy higher pitched whine that makes your cunt wetter by the second

"You still sound so pretty," you whisper. You doubt he can hear you from the other men and women fucking, but he does. Little did you know, that he has his ear against the wall. Chris just needs to hear how you sound, what noises you make. He knows he must look so pathetic, and he's grateful that Lee Know is no where in sight.

Finally, he fills you up completely with his girth. Your legs twitch and squeeze together at the intrusion. You can feel the tingles that travel up and down your body from pleasure. Whimpers and moans leave you lips when he starts thrusting. You're thankful for the wall that separates you two. Before, you had tried to remain professional. Now you can be as loud as you please without worrying. Well...that's what you think at least.

The combined feeling of your soft pussy and beautiful moans break Chris's sanity. Both of his hands grip your sides so he could bring you to meet his thrusts. It's so loud and wet, he thinks you two must be the loudest in the room. Chris loves watching as your cunt drools on his cock, leaving strings of arousal on your ass and his thighs.

You're on the verge on tears letting this man fuck you relentlessly. It feels so indescribably amazing, you let your mouth hang open. "Oh fuucckk," Chris hears you groan. Heat and pleasure remain in your lower stomach, slowly building. It's torture with how it feels like too much and not enough all at once.

You find yourself wishing you could use your hand to rub your clit, but the wall prevents that. instead, you try grinding your thighs together tightly for stimulation. It works, but at the cost of choking Koala's dick. He whimpers, almost pained from the sudden tightness. He moves his hands to the inner parts of your thighs and spreads them open in response.

"Gonna break my fuckin' cock," he mumbles, lightly laughing. Chris resumes his thrusts, but he notices the constant moving of your hips. So much so that he even slips out momentarily. He thinks that it's getting too much for you, but the way you're begging for him to shove it back in says otherwise.

"What's the matter baby?" His voice is light. His strokes are softer now, giving you the ability to speak properly. You take a few heavy breaths before answer, "Touch me." You sounds so desperate, so out of your character that Chris almost wants to tease you further.

Almost.

He concludes that you must be getting close, just wanting to extra rubbing to really get off. Chris grants your wish and uses his fingers to rub circles on your clit. Your reaction is immediate, bucking and crying out in gratitude. Chris smiles fondly at how your body replies to his touch. Now he can tease you without feeling guilty.

"What do you saaayy?" He speaks in a sing-songy voice. Had you been fully cognitive, you would've cursed him. You headspace isn't working though, and you find yourself expressing your appreciation quickly. "Thank you daddy. Thank you thank you. I needed it sooo bad."

The pet name throws him off, making him stutter his hips for a split second. Chris deeply blushes at the term, unsure if he hates it or loves it quite yet. "Yeah? You like daddy's big cock in you?" He decides to test it out. Maybe it's because you're beginning to enter the sub-space zone, but you cum unexpectedly on his dick.

Chris feels you twitch around him and convulse. There was no warning, save for how creamy his length had gotten from your excitement. He almost praised you for how beautifully you painted his cock. Chris pulled himself in and out of you slowly to watch the white substance spread.

You couldn't stop moaning, fully crying from the orgasm. You normally had a good gauge on when you could cum and how to prolong it, but Koala had proven to fuck you up in more ways than one. You body shook and hugged his cock practically lovingly. Feeling him slide his dick slowly inside of you only make you wail louder.

Once Chris felt like you had come down enough, he fucked you with intent. He doesn't know how he was able to last this long, but he's chasing his own orgasm now. You can do nothing else but to take it. You groan everything he hits your deep, tip touching your womb. You can feel your cream dripping down your thighs.

This only encourages Chris more to finish. He wants nothing more than to mix your arousals together. Chris throws his head back and groans, letting his dick settle fully inside you when he cums. Hot spurt bursts in your tummy and you moan at the warmth. You usually detest having clients cum in you, the clean up was irritating. Koala, however, is an exception. He's invited to cum where he pleased when it comes to you.

Hearing him though the walls is bliss, and you wish you could see his face. He's probably still wearing that stupid mask, you think.

Chris lets himself give a few more good thrusts before pulling out, leaving you empty. He uses his thumb to spread your pussy lips to look at how your cunt pools his cum out. He hums at the sight, and gives your pussy a slap. You jolt and yelp at the contact, still sensitive.

"Guess I'll take you answer as a yes," he suddenly says.

Rather than leaving, Chris keeps massaging his cum and your own around your lower lips. You sigh contently as you feel him explore your folds. He's not doing it hard enough to give intense pleasure, but enough to feel soothing. It must be a mess down there, but Chris is entranced by the sight.

He so distracted that he didn't hear Lee Know's footsteps coming at the side of him. It's not until Chris feels his presence that he turns. They make eye contact for a moment before Chris straightens up, wiping his wet hands on the wall. The men have a silent exchange of words before Chris withdrawals his hands from you.

Before you can protest, Koala gives you brief reassurance. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You hear his footsteps leave along with another pair of feet. His sudden departure leaves you feeling somewhat cold, but you quickly dismiss the feeling. It's business, nothing personal. It's something you've had to remind yourself for years working this job. This particular instance, though, leaves you more than just your pussy empty.

-

"See you tomorrow," Lee Know mocks Chris's earlier words on the way home. Chris has no choice but to put up with Lee know antics. He keeps rubbing in his face how he got to fuck five different girls while Chris only did one. Not that it really matters to Chris, but he knows that Lee Know is much more aware of his little crush now.

After finishing up his laughter, Lee Know throws an arm over Chris's shoulder. "I'm just teasing you man. But I was right you know. That you would like it." Chris can't help but smile upon seeing his friend's cheesy expression. "Yeah yeah, whatever," he playfully rolls his eyes.

"But really," Lee Know questions, "You'd be down to go again? Just for her?" Chris stops walking for a second to think, eyes up to the sky. The night is clear, stars and moon shining down on them. He doesn't know you well, only that your pussy and his cock belong together. Going to that club often would hurt his wallet over time, but he's starting to think that it may be worth it.

"Yeah, just for her."

a/n: really hope you liked it! feedback is appreciated. I am not planning on making a third part to this imma be honest, but I might write an epilogue if it's highly requested.

update!: third part here

[wandering-winchesters]

Every Embrace

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,218

Summary: How sharing a bed with Dean Winchester started and where it is now.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level Violence, mostly fluff.

Requested: Yes, by Anonymous. “could you plzzzzzz make a fic where dean and Y/N share rooms or beds when on hunts and they aren’t dating but find comfort in cuddling and being near each other, especially dean. can he be the initiator and the sap for physical touch?”

A/N: Requests are open! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, life has been absolutely crazy! Hope to get back to posting regularly soon! <3 as always, please let me know what you think.

Masterlist

The first time we shared a bed was out of necessity. Dean had been driving for 10 hours straight, all of us were exhausted, sore and just tapped out for the day. The Wisconsin motel had come up suddenly, the last one for another hour. Dean had parked the impala and I had volunteered to be the one to go in and get us a room. Upon checking in, they informed me that they only had one room left, with two beds. I accepted and paid for the room, returning to the car. Intending to let Sam and Dean have the beds and I’d stay in the impala. The second I had suggested this to them it was shot down quickly. 

Dean had immediately objected, stating that he’d stay in the impala and I could have his bed. Internally, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I helped them bring the bags in, letting them get settled. Sam quickly fell asleep on his bed, his clothes a rumpled mess. Exhaustion evident by the deep sleep he had been swallowed up by. Dean had hopped in the shower, mumbling something about needing to wash off the rock salt from hunting ghosts earlier in the day. I changed into comfier clothes, grabbing a pillow off of Deans bed and the blanket that I keep in my duffle at all times and quietly closed the motel door behind me. 

I opened the back door to the impala and tossed my pillow in, spreading the blanket down over the seat before I had climbed in and shut the door behind me. I laid down, wrapped myself tight with the blanket I had brought and settled in as best I could in the cramped back seat. I had almost fallen asleep, when the door by my feet was yanked open. I yelled, fully prepared to kill whatever had decided to disturb my rest. I quickly backed off once I realized it was Dean. 

He asked what I was doing and why I was in the impala when I was supposed to take the bed. I explained that I knew he was sore and I wanted him to have the bed. He refused. After a couple minutes of arguing, he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me towards the open door. Mumbling that we could share the bed, he wasn’t about to allow me to sleep in the car. I tried to put up a fight, but he silenced me with a look. An exhausted, pleading look. I caved, and followed him inside. He had silently crawled into the bed, his back to the middle. I had carefully settled in next to him, mirroring his position, our backs had been to one another. That was until a nightmare had woken me up, a gasp had left my lungs and I had sat straight up. Dean had immediately noticed and his hand grabbed onto my own. He pulled me down against him, silently embraced me and lulled me back to sleep. 

-

The second time was out of fear, Dean terrified to let me out of his reach for more than a second. We had unknowingly stumbled upon a hoard of demons, only making it out thanks to Sam and Deans quick thinking. I had frozen in place, fear overwhelmed my senses which allowed one of the demons to throw me head first down a set of stairs. I had blacked out, a concussion another injury to add to my long list of hunting ailments. I had awoken to Dean shaking my shoulders, his face swimming before my eyes like the image seen inside of a kaleidoscope. His words had been silent and they had fallen on deaf ears, a temporary loss of hearing plagued my senses, only to return a short time later. He had pulled me into his arms, cradled me close against him and rushed me out to the impala. His grasp on me firm, but gentle. Once we returned safely to the motel, he ignored my every protest and cleaned me up to his satisfaction. 

The cut on my forehead and my splitting headache the only proof of the internal injury that was my concussion. He shushed me as he applied the bandage to my forehead, his eyes scanned my own for any hint of pain that he had not addressed. Once he was satisfied, he helped me down off the counter. A heavy silence had fallen between us, I was exhausted and simply didn’t have the energy for the argument that I was sure was going to follow. It didn’t however, he simply hugged me. His arms tight around my waist, his chin rested against the crown of my head. His breathing was escalated, sharp and had the edge of panic. I hugged him back, allowing his touch to calm me. I only let go when he pulled away, I had believed that was the last of it for the night. 

I bid him goodnight and began to head for the motel door. He stopped me with his words, insisting that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go sleep in a room by myself, the concussion reason enough for me to stay in there with him and Sam. I had hesitated, not wanting an argument, but also afraid of getting to used to the comfort that sharing a bed with him provided. We still hadn’t spoken about the first time it had happened, the way that we had woken up in the others arms. Once we had both woken up, we were quick to roll apart, making excuses for our unconscious behavior. 

The pleading look on Dean’s face was enough to convince me to stay that night. So for the second time, we climbed into the same bed. I faced the outside of the bed, my back to Dean’s. Yet this time, it didn’t last more than thirty seconds. He had immediately pulled me back against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. His chest pressed to my back, his chin cradled my the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. I couldn’t tell which one of us needed it more in that moment, his touch eased my pain. Little did I know, I eased his pain too. His was mental, mine was physical. We had both fallen asleep embracing the other, lulled into peaceful dreams by the other person. 

-

I can’t tell you when the third time turned to the fourth, the fourth to the fifth ,or the fifth to the sixth. It was a natural progression, as easy as breathing. A fresh breath of air on a foggy morning, easy and clear. Refreshing. The situations varied, but one thing never changed. Dean was always the one to initiate the physical contact. 

We no longer looked for multiple rooms at motels, the bed in the bunker that I had claimed began to go unused. Our need for the other person became so great that we could no longer ignore it. It was platonic, comforting and necessary for survival. The unknown ache that had settled over my should was slowly being eased. The need for another person, physical touch and emotional comfort had finally been fulfilled in a way that I never saw coming. If you had told me years ago when I stumbled upon the Winchester brothers that I would seek comfort in the eldest, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. However, now that I am here, shrouded in the safety that was Dean, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The darkness of the room normally would have been anxiety causing, the nightlight that remained plugged in to the outlet of my room in the bunker is no longer necessary. 

I no longer fear that monsters that might be lurking on the edge of the darkness, I no longer fear the darkness within my own head. All of these have been driven far away from my every thought, all of that due to the man who’s arms I am wrapped in at this very moment. It had changed from the inability to sleep when we shared a bed, due to anxiety over waking him up or the fear of letting him in, to the inability to sleep without him next to me. I craved his touch and that scared me more than I thought physically possible.

“Whatcha reading, Y/N?” Dean asks, his bare feet silent as he enters the room. I glance up from the book I was scanning, my eyes darting over the low hanging sweatpants adorning his hips, his bare chest and shoulders only covered by the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel before locking with his own. I hum, considering my next words carefully. While I had been sitting with this book for the last hour, I had not been reading. I had been thinking, over analyzing every time we had shared a bed or grown closer over the last few months. The emotional connection that I had with the green eyed Winchester standing in front of me, something I never could have predicted.  “I, Uh-couldn’t really tell you,” I laugh, snapping the book shut and setting it on the table next to me. “Was thinking more than reading I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and try to brush off the look that he is giving me. One eyebrow raised, his lip caught between his teeth in the way that I know means he is debating on whether to tease me or let it go. He chooses the latter, remaining silent, but sitting down next to me on the couch. He nods and hands me a beer, that he had already taken the cap off of. Another thing that he had started doing for me, without my asking. It was little things like this that had caused me to question exactly what was going on between us, the silent things that he had started doing for me. 

“What had you so lost in thought?” He asks, his hand pulling my legs across his lap. He rubs his fingers gently into the muscle of my calf, working out a knot that I didn’t know was there until his firm touch brushed against it. I shrug again, taking a sip of my beer in order to delay my response a bit longer. He had been so touchy recently, not that I minded. It was there, a need for physical affection, I had buried it long ago. Yet the second his body brushed my own, it was roaring like a lion. Needy and vocal, rearing to be released from the internal cage I had locked it in so long ago. 

“You.” I mutter, the word leaving my mouth before I can even think to stop it. A flush washes over my face, my cheeks turning red. I can feel deans eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I am paying close attention to a slight imperfection in the glass of the beer bottle. 

“What about me?” He asks, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I hesitate, wondering if I really want to vocalize my next thought. 

“About how you’ve been so affectionate recently, I don’t mind it at all. I love it. But it confuses me, we haven’t talked about it. And I just, it leaves me to wonder, you know?” I say, the last words leaving my mouth an almost silent whisper. 

“Wonder what, sweetheart?” He asks, his tone flirtatious and cocky. It’s only then that I look up and I’m greeted by a grin plastered across his lips. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying my hesitation and embarrassment. I smack his arm playfully, my eyebrows tugging together in a look that tells him to knock it off. 

“Okay, okay.” He says, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Wonder, what Y/N?” He asks again, his tone returning to seriousness. 

“What does this mean De?” I sigh, resting my head against my hand and staring back at him. He turns to face me, his hands resting on each of my thighs. I can see that he’s choosing his next words carefully which causes anxiety to bubble up within me. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone needs physical touch. It’s part of being human.” He says and my heart falls. The hope that had been building within me for something more with him quickly crumbles. 

“Or, if you wanted it to mean more than just friendly affection, that would be okay too.” My eyes snap back to his once more, confusion flashing over my features. He smiles softly at me, his eyes searching my own for an answer. My voice is lost to me, so I nod. The only response necessary to communicate how I felt at that moment. 

Even though we hadn’t labeled the things we both felt for the other, it was no longer a concern at that moment. Every embrace was enough to keep the other going. For now, being wrapped up in his arms and listening to his soft snores every night would be all that I need. Maybe one day that could change and we could delve deeper into the feelings that we shared. But for now, sharing a bed would be enough. 

tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Hi! I was wondering if you take request for Astarion and co.? The reader gets an aura migraine (worst kind of migraine in my opinion). But because of her/their past being a mercenary/hunter/warrior (whichever one), the reader doesn’t tell or even realize it until it’s too late. Just some angst and then love and care from Astarion.

I love your writing! So please take all the time you need to write this if you want to.

HIHI I'M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR SO LONG!!!!!!! I've been very tired as of late from all the schoolwork and I swear it's almost like I don't have any down time. Writing through this slog has been difficult as well and I don't like forcing/rushing things. Still, I managed to finish this, hope you like it!

Summary: You collapse right in front of Astarion due to a particularly bad aura migraine episode. Panic and emotional constipation ensues

Your head is splitting. Again.

Inhaling sharply, you let out a slow breath, willing the pain away so that you can focus on the task at hand. Black spots creep in on the edges of your vision but you blink them away, you can’t falter now. You swing your blade, slicing through another of Orin’s assassins before ducking as a dagger stabs the spot your head was at just moments ago.

Even with spotty vision, your battle instincts are enough to help you survive the fight, but you don’t emerge from the fight unscathed. One of the assassins manages to sneak up on you and gets a hit in, tearing open your shoulder.

“Y/N!”

You hiss in pain, whirling around to cleave the assassin in half with your blade. Your injured arm shakes from the exertion, fresh blood streaming from the wound with each motion. The throbbing pain doesn’t help your migraine in the slightest and you nearly keel over.

“My dear, you look terrible.” Astarion catches you just before you hit the floor, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” You grab onto him to steady yourself, blinking as your vision begins to swim and push yourself upright, flashing him a grin. “See? Perfectly fine!”

And then the world spins before fading to black.

Bright light fills your vision as you open your eyes, causing you to throw your arm up to block out the light, only for white hot pain to shoot through said arm.

Right. You had injured your arm.

Groaning, you rub your eyes with the other arm and tenderly push yourself upright, letting out a croaky yelp when your injured arm buckles beneath you. Closing your eyes, you breathe out slowly, releasing your annoyance at the current situation.

“How are you feeling?” A familiar deep voice sounds.

“Fine.” Your reply comes out harsher than you intended and you internally cringe when Halsin noticeably pauses, taken aback by your tone.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly. “How long was I out for?”

“Sufficiently long to make everyone worry.” He hands you a flask of water. “Drink up.”

You down the flask almost immediately, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat and let out a contented sigh. The throbbing in your head has dulled to a quiet hum, but it will remain for a few more days, if past experience is anything to go by.

"Thank you." You hand the now empty flask back to Halsin.

"If you're feeling well enough, you should go and talk to the others. Some of them were particularly worried when you fainted on them." Halsin gives you a sly smirk. "Especially a certain vampire."

You raise an eyebrow and Halsin laughs, "he was the most worried. I had to chase him out of the tent just so I could tend to you."

"He was that worried," you murmur to yourself, frowning slightly. You hadn't meant to do that, well not like you had meant to faint in the first place but knowing just how much of an impact your little 'accident' had on Astarion made you feel bad.

"Watch yourself out there, you were lucky you only collapsed after all the enemies were defeated," Halsin chides as he rebandages your wound and hands you a healing potion. "Try to tell someone when you're not feeling well, alright?"

You laugh, waving him off, "I'll try, no promises though."

The moment you exit the room, the others rush over to check up on you, save for a pale elf who sends a scowl your way before disappearing into his own room, his door left ajar. You reassure the others, quickly making your way past the conversations and slip away with Halsin's help, ducking into a familiar room.

"Hey." You attempt to make conversation but a scowl remains firmly on his face, his gaze buried in the book he's holding. Sighing, you make your way to the bed and nestle into the remaining space, feeling his cooling skin press against your burning one.

"I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You're sorry? That's it? You're not going to explain why I suddenly had your unconscious body in my arms, why you had the audacity to tell me you were 'perfectly fine' before collapsing, why you —" He stops to take a breath he doesn't need, feeling every emotion rush to the surface and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He's mad, mad at you for not telling him anything, mad at himself for not noticing earlier, mad at himself for not being able to express his concern in a normal manner.

"Star…"

"You can't just say sorry and expect everything to be ok! Sorry fixes nothing!" He yells, wanting nothing more than for you to yell back at him so that he can release the emotions he doesn't know how to deal with in the only way he knows how but you remain quiet, head hung low, and that frustrates him even more.

"You're right. Sorry fixes nothing. I…" You let out a deep sigh, lifting your gaze to meet his. You can see the tear streaks that have formed, the fear in his eyes, the anxiety and it steals your breath away.

"Halsin wasn't kidding. You really are extremely worried for me." You can't help but give a small chuckle despite it all, a quiet smile making its way onto your face.

"Of course I'm worried!" Astarion snaps.

"Thank you for being worried." You slip your hand into his. "No one's ever been this worried about me before."

"Have you fainted in someone's arms before?" He huffs, annoyed, but he has simmered down.

"Well…not quite. I always went on quests alone, fought alone, but the times I wasn't alone…let's just say things didn't go so well for me." You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. "You all…you…are the first people I don't mind calling friends."

He clicks his tongue and looks away, but you can see the red on the tips of his ears. Your own cheeks are burning from the confession, your heart thundering like never before and you want nothing more than to bury your face into your knees.

"Why aren't you angry at me?" He mumbles after a while, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"Is there a reason I should be?" You murmur, running your thumb along his skin. His grip on you tightens and he bites his lip, shifting anxiously.

"There are many." The words leave his lips in a whisper and he wishes he could take them back when he sees the way your face falls.

"I can't think of any. I can, however, think of reasons for you to be angry at me." You shake your head. "I should have told you about my migraines earlier instead of having you find out like that, I should have done more than a simple 'sorry', I should have thought about you instead of just keeping to myself."

"You were just doing what you knew was safe. I'm no better."

"But you chose to open up to me. You spilled your deepest darkest secrets and yet I kept mine from you because I didn't want to look weak. I should have returned the favour, but I didn't." All your regrets come spilling forth, its flow stemmed only by the feeling of soft lips against your own.

He kisses you gently at first, and then it deepens, becoming more urgent as he conveys his feelings to you the only way he knows how.

"You're strong. You're the strongest person I know. You've been through so much, and yet you refuse to let any of it stop you. You've been dealing with your migraine by yourself for so long, putting up with the pain by yourself, nothing about that is weak in the slightest." He presses his forehead against yours, pulling you into his embrace. "Let me share in your burden as you share in mine."

"It's only fair, I suppose." Your lips curve into a grin. Letting out a quiet breath, you entangle your fingers in his curls, feeling him lean into the touch. "Promise?"

"Promise," he murmurs back, soaking in the moment. There's only you and him, bodies pressed against each other, embracing like it's the last time you'll ever see each other, washing away the throbbing in your head and the ache in his heart.

He closes his eyes, relishing in the warmth of your body tightly pressed against him, breathing in your scent that speaks of love, comfort, safety, feeling the rhythmic strokes of your fingers through his hair, and wants for nothing else. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he smiles, genuinely, and saves this moment in his memory.

"Get well soon, my love."

[mountsmase]

a/n: hello 🫶🏻 this is the long awaited part 2 of Missed You! I’ve had the concept for this sat in my drafts for ages but I finally got around to writing it and it feels like it took forever but it’s finally here 🤭 I feel like my writing has changed loads since I posted the first part and I really hope you enjoy this fic! Feedback is always appreciated 💛 (this can also be read as a stand alone x)

word count: 4.5k

genre: smut (+ a teeny bit of fluff)

———————

Missed This - MM7

(Missed You Part II)

“Still just us” Mason smiles as he follows you through to the kitchen/living area, finding the villa still empty like he hoped it would be.

You hop up onto the counter, dangling your legs over the side and watching as he gets a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, taking a few sips before coming over to you.

“Thank you” you take the glass from him when he offers it, drinking the rest of the water before placing it to the side and spreading your legs for him when he moves to stand between them.

You’re currently on holiday with his family, staying in a villa big enough to accommodate all of you and you’re having the best time, but after a busy couple of weeks leading up to the trip, Mason has been craving some quality time with you. He organised for you to have a little date night and after an evening at the beach, swimming and watching the sun set, you’re glad to find his family are still out for the evening, allowing for a little more time alone with him.

His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to the edge of the counter and you instinctively wrap your legs around his torso, leaning into him when he presses his lips against yours softly before dipping his head into your neck.

You relax into him when his warm lips brush over your skin, tilting your head to the side to allow him more access and he hums against you when you bring a hand to the back of his head, nails scratching over his scalp the way he loves.

“Mase” You sigh, feeling him suck over your most sensitive spot, nipping at the delicate skin before soothing over the sting with his tongue, “Please”

He pulls back slightly, raising a hand to brush your flowy shirt away from your shoulder before resuming his kisses, his path now unobstructed as he trails his lips down your throat and over your collar bone.

“What do you need bubba?” He murmurs, already knowing the answer but needing to here you say it.

“Y-you, please”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “How about you head upstairs and start a shower? I’ll just pop the left overs into the fridge and I’ll be right behind you”

“Okay” you answer, voice barely above a whisper and he leaves a lingering kiss to your cheek before letting you hop down from the counter. He taps your bum, sending you a wink as you walk past him and towards the stairs.

Excited butterflies swarm in your tummy when you step into the bedroom, throwing your little bag towards the bed haphazardly as you kick your flip flops off before heading into the bathroom.

It’s not long until Mason is joining you, having only just removed your over shirt and shorts when you see him walk into the en-suite, closing the door behind himself and flicking the lock just in case before moving towards you.

His arms wrap around your waist as he steps up behind you, fingers brushing over your soft skin as you lean back into his body with a sigh. You drop your head back against his shoulder, tilting it slightly so that you can look up at him. Your eyes flicker from his freckles that you adore so much to the reddened patch of skin on the bridge of his nose before meeting his gaze.

His eyes are dark, swirling with an emotion that you don’t quite have enough time to make out because he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, breaking you out of your little trace.

He keeps the kiss soft, just a simple brush of his lips over your own and then he’s pulling away again, scattering a couple of kisses against your jaw before nodding his head towards the mirror and you straighten up, facing forward when he speaks.

“Can’t believe I’ve had to watch you walk around in these pretty little bikinis all week and not be able to do anything about it” he tells you, lips right next to your ear, “you’ve made it so hard not to just pull you in here and fuck you senseless”

His gruff voice and dirty words have your thoughts spiralling. You’ve not had much time to be intimate together recently, just the occasional quickie here and there with busy schedules wearing you both out on the lead up to this holiday, and thinking back to the last couple of days, you’re impressed you’ve made it this far without giving into your temptations.

With all of his lingering gazes and those teasing touches when no one’s paying attention. The way he’s been driving you crazy without even trying, wearing nothing but swim shorts for the best part of the day with his sun kissed body brushing against yours whenever he’s close to you. The way he kissed you back at the beach and the silent promises of what’s to come next.

The feel of his fingertips moving against your waist snaps you from your brief train of thoughts, goosebumps erupting over your skin as he brushes them down your sides until he finds the thin material of your bikini.

“Do you have any idea,” his dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, “what you do to me when you wear this?”

He toys with the knots that hold your bottoms together, the flimsy material threatening to fall apart under his touch and you swallow nervously, that all too familiar look in his eyes telling you exactly what kind of mood he’s in.

“I don’t think I do,” You definitely do “Why don’t you show me?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at your innocent act, but your facade soon falters when he takes a hold of your hips, pulling you one step back so that your body is flush with his. The closeness has you feeling more of him, his crotch now pressed against your lower back and you can feel his length straining through the material of his shorts.

You try your luck, wiggling your hips back against him and his eyes flutter closed, losing his composure for a moment before he quickly regains it and tightens his grip on your waist, halting your movements.

“Stand still” he murmurs, your tummy flip flopping at the tone of his voice and you have to stop yourself from repeating your actions, switching your focus to his hands that are still sat on your hips.

“As much as I love when you wear this, I’d prefer it off” he motions to the black fabric that’s still covering your body and you lift your arms, reaching to untie the knots but he’s quick in stopping you, moving your hands back to your sides and sending you a pointed look.

He tuts, “I thought I said stand still”

“Sorry”

“No you’re not” he fights back a smile, watching through the mirror as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Keep them there”

You shiver when he grazes his fingertips back up the sides of your body, your eyes following his every move as he finds the strings of your bikini top and you feel it loosening when he pulls them undone. It drops to the floor, leaving your top half bare and you want to protest against the fact that he’s still fully clothed, but you think better of it, a quiet gasp escaping your lips when he slides a hand around your body.

He cups his palm over your boob, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and he smirks to himself when he feels the nub hardening under his touch, his other hand coming up to the neglected side and mirroring his actions.

You can tell that he’s not rushing, taking his time to love on you the way he pleases, and for a while, you let him. Relaxing into his touch as he continues teasing and pinching over your nipples, tracing patterns into the sensitive skin around them until you grow impatient and begin squirming against him in a silent plea for more.

His hands drift back down your waist, a certain warmth spreading through you as he unties the first of the bows on your bottoms, the second one coming undone soon after as he discards the material to the growing pile of clothes by your feet.

His eyes burn as they rake along your body, taking you in through the reflection, and your skin grows hot under his intense gaze, leaning back into his warmth when his arms circle your waist. He takes in every inch of you, every curve, every tan line, all of your little freckles and moles. To him, you’re perfect.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your shoulder “my gorgeous girl”

Your entire body lights up from his words, cheeks burning as he presses a few more kisses to your shoulder and steps away. You miss his touch immediately, pouting at him as he turns and starts the shower, making sure the temperature is right before coming back to you.

“Get in” his words are short, the instruction simple as he nods to the shower and you follow his request, stepping under the stream of water and watching through the glass as he quickly rids himself of his own clothes before stepping in behind you.

His lips are on yours instantly, swallowing your gasp as he backs you up against the cold tiled wall, one of his hands finds your hip whilst the other gravitates up to cup your cheek, holding you to him as you melt into the kiss.

He works his lips against yours, humming into the kiss when you reach up and thread your fingers into his hair, tugging on the short locks when he coaxes his tongue between your lips and brushes it against yours.

His kisses are intoxicating, robbing the oxygen from your lungs with every drag of his tongue over yours, overcoming your senses until all you know is him. He tastes sweet, like the strawberries that you shared earlier, and you find yourself trying to pull him even closer, one of your hands sliding up his tattooed arm and gripping his shoulder as the other continues to pull and tug at his hair.

His lips never falter as he nudges his knee against your own, your thighs separating automatically and you moan into the kiss when he presses his leg between yours. His warm thigh presses against your core, tingles shooting down your spine and you can’t stop the way your hips buck from the friction.

“Easy baby, I’ve got you” he coos, tightening his grip on your hip and helping to calm your actions, rocking you against his thigh at a steadier pace, “That’s it”

His hot lips leave yours, trailing kisses over your jaw and you tilt your head back, giving him more access when they wander down your throat, nipping and sucking over your damp skin. He ducks his head further, kissing down your chest and leaving a small love bite just above your nipple before taking the hardened nub between his lips.

Your back arches as you grind helplessly against his thigh, pleasure tingling through your entire body when your clit brushes against the firm muscle and the series of moans and whimpers that slip past your lips have his cock jumping against your hip.

When he suddenly steps away you let out a groan in protest, disliking the lack of contact, but your frustration is short lived when his hands wander to your waist to gently turn you around, the stream of water now hitting your chest as he faces you away from him.

With one squeeze of your hips, he has you leaning into him, your back flush to his chest as he slides his hands around to your front. They work over your chest, his warm palms cupping over your boobs as he pinches and tugs at your nipples before moving south, the gentle caress of his fingers over your tummy causing you to tense up in anticipation of his next actions.

“Relax for me Angel, going to make you feel so good I promise” he murmurs right next to your ear, his fingers brushing lazily over your mound until he feels you sink back into him.

“Good girl” his voice is raspy, the praise sending tingles straight to where you need him as his hand dips lower.

His fingers tease through your wet folds, your breath catching in your throat as he coats them in your juices before circling over your sensitive nub.

“So wet for me baby” he coos, “Been waiting for this all week, huh?”

You can only nod as he lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and fore finger, resting his chin against your shoulder so that he can gaze down at where his hand disappears between your thighs.

“Mase” You moan, his length twitching in response to the drawn out sound that slips past your lips when he eventually dips a finger between your warm folds, burying it to the knuckle before starting to fuck you slowly.

“God, Y/N, you’re so fucking tight” he teases, inserting another digit and you sigh deeply when he curls them again your walls, “Can’t wait to be inside of you baby”

“Yes Mase - fuck - keep going, please” you pant, your body melting back into his when he attaches his thumb to your clit, brushing over it in quick circles that match the pace of his fingers.

Your knees go weak but he’s quick in bringing his free arm up to steady you, wrapping it around your waist securely and when you clutch onto it he’s not even bothered by the slight sting of pain caused by your nails digging into his skin.

He’s unrelenting, alternating between pulsing his fingers inside of you and curling them to brush against that spot that has you has you seeing stars, his thumb never stopping as he works you towards your release.

“M-Mason” you choke out, head falling back against his shoulder and your eyes flutter closed as your moans become more and more desperate. When he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, he knows you’re getting close to your high.

“Are you gonna cum for me, bubba?”

You nod, unable to form other coherent words but when he nips at your earlobe in warning and slows his movements you stutter out, “Y-Yes, please”

With a growl of approval, he leans down, his lips latching back onto your neck and you hit your high when he suctions them over your sweet spot, pleasure shooting through your entire body as he works you through your orgasm until you’re whimpering from the sensitivity.

He removes his fingers from you slowly, soothing them over your folds to collect your wetness before bringing them up to his mouth. You watch him over your shoulder, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red when he hums around them, eyes fluttering closed when he gets a taste of you.

“Taste incredible baby” he murmurs, using the same hand to take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head slightly so that he can kiss you and you moan into his mouth when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He moves you both a little further under the water, arms wrapping tightly around your waist and he sways you softly as he gives you as long as you need to recover from your high.

“Feeling okay, bubs?” He whispers after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, but I need you” You respond, wiggling your hips a little and he chuckles at your impatience.

“But you’ve already got me, Angel” He tells you, and you huff out a sigh, not liking his teasing.

“Need to feel you inside of me, please Mason”

“Needy girl” He tuts, and you’re prepared to start begging him but he doesn’t let you, wasting no more time before nudging you forward once again.

Pressing on your lower back, he prompts you to lean forward, your arms instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall as he nudges your legs apart slightly. His hand finds it’s home on your hip, massaging into your skin as the other wraps around the base of his cock, giving himself a few slow pumps.

“You ready, baby?” He hums, your heart fluttering at the simple question.

You nod, but that’s not enough for him. His hand comes down to leave a single slap to your bum and you jolt forward, teeth digging into your bottom lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape.

“You know I need to hear you say it”

“I’m ready, please Mase” You plead, just wanting to feel him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice as he lines himself up with your entrance, taking the time to brush his head over your clit before moving his hips forwards.

You moan simultaneously as he pushes into you slowly, his length filling you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and the stretch is so sweet.

“Let me know when I can move, baby” he leans over you, scattering kisses over the top of your back whilst he gives you time to adjust to him, which you’re grateful for after a couple weeks of not having him like this, but it’s not long until you’re pushing your hips back against him.

“You can move, Mase” you whisper, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of him behind you and the sight has your heart thudding in your chest.

His wet hair is messy on top of his head, droplets of water falling from the strands and landing on your lower back as he towers over you. He’s still wearing his chain, the thin silver metal that you brought him earlier in the week standing out against his tanned chest. His cheeks are flushed and the bridge of his nose is red, his eyes clouded over as he looks down at where your bodies meet.

A groan rumbles in his throat as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in, repeating that same action as he builds up to a steady rhythm. He keeps his pace slow at first, his hand tightening it’s grip on your hip and you’re sure there will be bruises there in the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he fucks into you.

“Fuck, baby” he grunts, moving his free hand to your other hip, “So fucking tight for me” he pants, every word just making you clench around him tighter.

“N-need more, faster please” you whine, pushing your hips back in time with his.

On any other day you would love this pace, and that’s not to say you don’t right now, but you’re feeling especially needy today, just wanting him to have his way with you and he does not disappoint.

Each of his thrusts are as powerful and unforgiving as the last, your hands sliding against the tiled wall from the force of his hips against yours as sounds of slapping skin echo around the shower, mixing with your moans and cries.

It makes your head spin. The way he fucks you at such an aggressive pace, yet with so much love and intensity. Worshipping every inch of your body with his hands and lips as he pounds into you with no sign of stopping. But you don’t want him to.

He moves a hand from your hip, sliding it up the front of your body before closing it around your throat and tilting your head backwards, pulling you up so that you’re stood with your back to his chest as he gently squeezes.

“Mase. Mason. Fuck, right there” The words barely make it past your lips, cut off by a cry when he gives a deep, hard thrust. “So cl-close already, Mase”

“Yeah Angel? Gonna cum around my cock?” He drawls, slowing his thrusts slightly. He’s dangerously close to his own orgasm, but he wants to hold out a little longer for you, not wanting this to be over quite yet.

“Yes, p-please, need it”

“Gonna turn you around Angel, need to see you when you cum” he tells you, and you nod eagerly.

He’s gentle in pulling out of you, trying to be quick but as careful as he can be as he turns you around to face him again and backs you up against the tiles. His warm palm slides up the back of your thigh, finding the curve of your bum and giving it a squeeze before hooking your leg around his waist.

One of his hands lands on the wall beside your head, steadying himself as he reaches down with the other and he lines himself back up with your entrance, pushing himself in and quickly working back up to a strong pace.

The new position has his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust, and you can feel every ridge of his length as he rocks his hips against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, desperately needing something to hold onto as he works you towards your high, one of his own falling around your waist to hold you against him.

“I love you” he growls, forehead resting against yours, “so fucking much”

“Fuck, I love you too” you sob, your eyes fluttering closed when he moves his hand from the wall and slides it between your bodies, his thumb easily finding your clit and brushing against the sensitive nub.

“Mason…”

“I know baby, I know. Taking me so well” He gasps, lips brushing over your cheek. “Such a fucking good girl for me”

Your mouths meet desperately, his tongue pushing through your already swollen lips as he swallows your cries, his thumb still rubbing light circles over your clit and he can tell by the way you’re fluttering around him that your orgasm is fast approaching.

“Mase, shit” you pant against his lips,

“I’m right there with you” he tells you, his voice low and thick, “Let go for me Angel, I’ve got you”

That’s all you need, his arm tightening around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him as your body goes limp against his. Your orgasm hits you with a cry of his name, his thrusts unrelenting as he chases his own high. It’s intense, your limbs turning to jelly as a wave of pleasure rolls through your entire body and you tremble against him as he works you through it.

He isn’t far behind you, the feeling of your walls hugging around him sending him tumbling towards his own orgasm and he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he hits his high, his hips faltering as he thrusts through it before eventually coming to a complete stop.

He keeps himself buried inside of you for a while, head still nuzzled away in your neck with his arms wrapped tightly around you and you take a few moments to steady your heart beats and catch your breaths, coming down from your highs.

His lips brush over your temple when he eventually starts to pull out of you, soothing you with reassuring whispers when you whimper from the sensitivity and emptiness. He moves you both under the still hot stream of water, pulling you into his body and you collapse into his arms as he massages over your back and any inch of your skin that he can reach.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” He suddenly whispers, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the moment, and when you look up at him his eyes are already locked on yours, cheeks flushed and his brows furrowed, a tell tale sign that he’s concerned about something.

He knows deep down that he has nothing to worry about. You would of stopped him if it was too much and he’s pretty confident in himself that he knows your limits and would never let it get to that point, but he can’t help but want the verbal confirmation from you that he didn’t take it too far. It’s one of the many reasons why you love him. He can be an absolute beast, and you love it when he gets rough with you, but at the end of the day he’s still your Mason. Your soft, loving, wouldn’t hurt a fly Mason who you know is just trying to look out for you.

“Not at all” you reassure him, pushing up on your tiptoes to brush your lips over his and you swear you can see the relief wash over his face, his features relaxing again as he gazes down at you.

You stay in the shower for a little longer, cleaning yourself up and quickly washing your hair - with Mason’s help of course - before climbing out and getting ready for bed.

He helps you slip into one of his t-shirts and a fresh fair of panties, brushing through your hair which you only bother to towel dry before using the loo and climbing into bed. You watch from under the duvet as he pulls on some boxers and grabs your laptop, then slides under the covers next to you. He starts up Netflix, pressing play on a series that you’ve been watching and places the laptop on top of the sheets so that you can both see it before settling down beside you.

You tuck yourself into his side, laying over his half naked body with your head resting against his chest and he wraps his arm around your waist, attempting to pull you even closer to him and you happily melt into his warm embrace.

“Thank you for today” you whisper, tilting your head up to look at him and he meets your gaze with a soft smile.

“Did you like it?” He asks, a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice which you shut down straight away.

“I loved it, it was perfect”

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbly jaw, but he wants more, his palm framing your cheek and pulling you closer so that he can touch his lips to yours. The kiss is softer than the others that you’ve shared throughout the evening, a lazy brush of his lips against your own that has you sinking into him.

“I love you, so much” you whisper when you eventually pull away, leaving one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling down on his chest.

“Love you too, night bubs”

“Night Mase”

His hand slides under the material of the t-shirt you’re wearing, tracing patterns into your soft skin and he feels you grow heavy against him not even two minuets later, falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat and he’s not far behind you, drifting off after one final brush of his lips to your forehead.

———————

a/n; I really hope you enjoyed! 💛 feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 15 - Summer: The Meeting

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette finally have that long-awaited meeting with Furina.

Note: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette swimming with Scylla

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“So, with all the pleasantries out of the way, let’s talk about finally publicizing your marriage.”

You just barely managed to avoid choking your tea when you heard those words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neuvillette stiffen.

The long-awaited meeting—or the “tea party,” as Furina had insisted on calling it—had been going surprisingly well up until this point. Admittedly, your opinion of Furina hadn’t been very high as of late, but she proved to be a gracious, winsome hostess (even though, considering this was Neuvillette’s office, shouldn’t the two of you act as the hosts?) and a witty conversationist who kept things going smoothly. She congratulated you on your marriage, complimented your dress and purse and immediately noticed Neuvillette’s matching brooch. She asked you to show her your wedding ring and declared to be utterly plain (which wasn’t exactly wrong). She even asked after your family. There’s a reason why she’s considered Fontaine’s superstar, you thought in admiration.

As expected, she asked how you and Neuvillette met. You told her the truth: that you had met at a ball and went on several dates together. Of course, you happened to leave out the fact that all those meetings were brief and happened within a month’s span, but who cared about the details, right?

But what really raised her in your esteem was the fact that she actually recalled your great-grandparents’ meeting with her from more than a century ago.

“Ah, yes, I remember them. They asked me to give my blessing for their unborn child, I believe,” she said, tilting her head as though in recollection.

You nodded. As the story passed down in your family goes, your great-grandmother had been a sickly woman, and there were serious worries that she wouldn’t be able to survive the birth. As devotees of the Hydro Archon, your great-grandparents made the decision to travel all the way to the Court of Fontaine from their remote village in hopes of receiving a blessing from her. The arduous journey and wait paid off, and your great-grandmother lived to see her son grow to adulthood.

“It is all thanks to you, Lady Furina,” you said, bowing your head respectfully. “Even now, my family still speaks highly of you and what you’ve done for us.”

“I see. How very gladdening to hear!” Furina’s voice was bright, almost to the extent of sounding fake. For a moment, you thought you saw her smile falter just a little. Did I say something wrong, you worried, but when you looked again, her expression was as smooth and unruffled as ever.

You told yourself, not for the first time, to stop overthinking and reading into every little thing. The meeting was going well. It was supposed to be hour-long and half an hour had already passed. Plus, there were snacks (apparently this meeting coincided with Furina’s morning tea time), which you were secretly thankful for as you had been too nervous to eat much for breakfast that morning.

Yes, everything was going swimmingly, and if luck was on your side, you might not have to see Furina ever again after today. You could spend the rest of this marriage in peace and obscurity. All you had to do was to be so utterly dull and uninteresting that just the thought of you would induce a yawn, which wasn’t exactly a difficult task for you, but…

You should have known that nothing was ever so easy.

Furina looked between the two of you when neither of you spoke. She raised her eyebrows. “Well? Anything to say?”

Neuvillette cleared his throat. He had been twirling the stem of his cup in his hand as Furina spoke mainly with you, occasionally taking a sip from it. He was mostly quiet for the first half of the meeting, but you could feel his readiness to jump in at any moment should you need it. This was that moment.

“Furina, I do believe we’ve already made it clear that we wish to keep our marriage as private as possible.”

“Oh, sure, I can sympathize with wanting privacy. The paparazzi can be absolutely ravenous sometimes. I can only imagine how much more irksome they would be if they catch wind of this story. But still, there is no reason to completely hide it, especially when it’ll be found out anyways. Now, we could do a slow unveiling to a small group of close associates first before announcing it to all Fontainians. For instance—”

As Furina prattled on about all the engagement announcements she had witnessed in her time, you bit into a pink macaron and proceeded to wash it down with more tea. However, the sweet pastry now tasted like sawdust in your mouth. Your stomach was twisted in knots. You and Neuvillette needed to come up with a good excuse to get out of this.

As your mind raced in circles, you suddenly felt a weight on your hand and looked down. Neuvillette’s gloved hand was on top of yours, squeezing it gently. You hadn’t realized it was shaking until now.

Raising your head, you were met with Neuvillette’s violet eyes, silently reassuring you. You felt some of the tension leave your body.

Yes, it will be alright. You were married to the one person in Fontaine who could push back against Furina and get away with it, after all.

“…So, what do you say? Something intimate will suffice, like, say, an exclusively attended ball where only the most elite of Fontaine’s social scene are invited. Oh, I can just picture it now—Neuvillette with an unfamiliar lady on his arm, only to introduce her to everyone as his wife! Ah, I can just imagine the ladies’ reaction when that moment arrives!” Furina chuckled to herself as she scooped a mound of sugar cubes into her tea. “Or perhaps Madame Neuvillette would prefer something more casual, like a ladies’ salon.”

“There will be nothing of the sort. I do not understand why you’re so insistent upon the publicization of my marriage in the first place. It will not affect how I do my job, and I do not believe it is something that is of concern to anyone,” Neuvillette said, an impatient note creeping into his voice.

“Oh, Neuvillette,” Furina shook her head in disappointment, as though scolding a child. “You’re missing the point. The people would be thrilled to hear that their solitary Chief Justice has finally found love after all this time. It would bring you closer to them, for what humanizes a person more than falling in love? Plus, it’ll give everyone the exc—I mean, opportunity to share in your newfound happiness by celebrating it!”

Bringing Neuvillette closer to the people? Was that why Furina kept pestering him to marry? Was he suffering from low popularity ratings or something?

“That sounds rather excessive. Would the people truly care so much about whether or not I am married?”

Furina shook her head again. You found yourself sympathizing with her a little despite everything. “Ugh, I’m not going to argue with you on this. But honestly, you’re not even going to tell the Duke or Clorinde? It’s not as though they’re the gossiping types.”

You were quite sure that Clorinde already had an idea, but who was this Duke?

“No, not even them,” Neuvillette said, but you saw his fingers twitch just once under the table.

“How odd. I’m sure your dear Melusines have all already been informed from the very start, so it isn’t as though you’re keeping it completely secret. Don’t you think that’s unfair to the humans who place their trust in you?”

Neuvillette blinked, as though that had never occurred to him.

Furina took this opportunity to press further. “Neuvillette, don’t tell me you intend to keep your marriage secret forever! Do you plan on never being seen in public with your wife? Did you swear her entire family to secrecy as well? What a dreadful prospect! Have you even considered how she might feel about that? You’re almost like a tyrannical lord from an opera, keeping your wife hidden away from the world in a tall tower.” She looked at you critically. “She does not appear particularly frail or delicate to me. Whatever could be the reason for this?”

“She is not hidden or imprisoned in any way. Madame is free to go wherever she likes. It is only that…” Neuvillette trailed off. You saw the muscles in his jaw working. He must be trying to come up with an acceptable excuse.

You were doing the same. Honestly, you could see where Furina was coming from. If I look at our marriage from an outsider’s point of view…it definitely raises a few questions.

“Oh, there’s no need to say anything more. I know exactly what’s going on here.” Furina leaned forward, and you resisted the urge to squirm in your seat. Had she caught on to the truth?

She pointed her teaspoon at Neuvillette. “You’re too selfish!”

“Huh?” you couldn’t help but exclaim. Neuvillette, selfish? Those two words didn’t belong in the same sentence.

“Selfish may be too harsh of a word. Perhaps…inflexible? Unable to change? Well, putting that aside, I have hoped that being in a romantic relationship might have forced you to change your ways, but I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s difficult to change when you’ve been distanced from humans for so long. But, fear not, I, the Regina of All Waters and All Peoples, shall help you in this endeavour. I’ll save this failing marriage!”

“Failing marriage…?” Neuvillette repeated slowly.

“It’s not failing yet, but in my opinion, it is certainly heading in that direction if nothing changes. I’ve witnessed many a divorce in my day, and I can tell you that many of them are caused by prioritizing one’s desires over one’s spouse. After all, isn’t that what love is about? Sacrificing your own comfort for the one you love? You married this woman because you love her, yes? Surely you’d do anything for her?”

Oh, Archons. She’s cornered Neuvillette in a tough spot. If he said yes, he would not only be lying to his superior, but also opening the door to a whole new set of complications that would be difficult to get through. But if he said no, well…

Either way, it would only raise suspicions.

“I…” Neuvillette was blinking rapidly. You saw him briefly glance at you, saw his fingers clench and unclench around the stem of his cup. Even taking his time to answer this question was enough to be suspect.

You had to step in. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, Lady Furina, but there is no need for you to worry about us. I’m perfectly content with the way things are. Neither of us are the type to enjoy socializing very much, so this arrangement is perfect for me. I have no desire to force him to do things that cause him discomfort.”

Furina stared at you for a moment. You tried your best to hold her gaze and look resolute, but her heterochromatic eyes disconcerted you. It felt as though they were probing you for all your secrets, turning out all of your lies. Or maybe you were falling into them as one was falling into an abyss.

I never lied, you reminded yourself. I’ve only told the truth. It’s not my fault if she doesn’t like it.

Her reaction, however, was completely unexpected.

“You poor thing!” she exclaimed, clutching her hands to her chest. “It’s worse than I expected. I can only imagine how difficult it has been for you! No wonder you two barely seem like a loving couple. Ah, but there is no need to suffer in silence for any longer, for I, the God of Justice, shall serve as your advocate.”

You felt your mouth dropping open in shock. What was she talking about? You took another glance at Neuvillette and saw that he looked as clueless as you felt.

Furina continued, heedless of your confusion. “Born into an impoverished family, overlooked on the marriage market and almost forced into eternal spinsterhood—what an unfortunate life you’ve lived! And just when it seemed that you’ve attained lifelong happiness and freedom by attaining the affections of the most eligible bachelor in Fontaine and having him marry you, you’re stuffed away in his house like an old antique, forced to cater to his whims out of the fear that he’ll cast you aside if you displease him. Oh yes, I understand perfectly now. It’s something out of a classic romance novel. But do not fret, my dear lady, I shall ensure that Neuvillette shapes up and becomes a proper husband who will spoil you as you deserve!”

Impoverished? I suppose a god would have a different standard of wealth, but still… You had heard of other noble families that were forced to sell off their estates and assets and live on the charity of relatives just to pay off their debts. She isn’t entirely wrong about the other stuff, although I wouldn’t describe being a spinster as a “doom.”

“Furina—” Neuvillette began, but she cut him off.

“My dear Iudex, I know that the whole ‘aloof and mysterious’ persona has done wonders for your popularity among women, but that will not do at all in a romantic relationship! You have to be straightforward and overt in your affections. You must prioritize your wife along with your job. Have you showered her with gifts and compliments? Have you told her you love her every single day? The dress and purse are a good start—” you decided to keep silent about the fact that you were the one who had bought those items (though it was with Neuvillette’s money, so in a roundabout way, he did buy them for you)— “But there needs to be more extravagance. And dates! I know very well that you can easily rearrange your schedule to allow for a date every week. And as for physical affection…well, I shall not broach a couple’s privacy, but I believe the research materials I’ve provided you with should supply ample ideas.”

She gave you two a meaningful look. If you were in a more proper state of mind, you might have blushed at what she was suggesting. Instead, you felt like you had just been assailed by a series of tidal waves.

“Ah, perhaps I’m expecting too much from your very first romantic relationship,” Furina nodded, even as you reeled from that revelation. Did that mean Neuvillette had only ever had one-night stands? That seemed terribly unlikely, but you didn’t know much about his love life in the first place. “Oh well, I’ll just have to guide you more firmly. What do you say to weekly meetings regarding this topic?”

“Furina, I understand that you believe you have good intentions, but you haven’t the right to—”

 “As a matter of fact, I think I do. After all, you never would have even thought of marrying this woman if it weren’t for me, right?”

“I…cannot deny that.”

“That’s right. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be moping around all by yourself, never knowing that you could have attained happiness if you simply put yourself forward. Well, I won’t let you ruin it, now that you have it. And you,” Furina turned her attention to you. “You should not be afraid to demand more from Neuvillette. You hold the heart of the Chief Justice in your hands, after all. Have more confidence! He’s too much of a recluse, you know, and hardly spends time with the people, even though they’re so eager to get to know him. Any woman would be eager to show off such a prize of a husband. What’s stopping you? You can’t spend your whole life being a wallflower, you know.”

Wallflower. Now that was a word you heard far too many times throughout your life. The painful memories you tried so hard to lock away came flooding back. Sitting near the wall, waiting in desperation, hoping…

“You truly have gone too far, Furina,” Neuvillette was glaring at her, his jaw clenched. His hand was still gripping yours. “It is one thing to criticize me, but it is another to speak in such a way to Madame.”

Even though Furina was accusing him of being someone he wasn’t, even though he could simply tell her the truth to clear this up, he was determined to defend you and your dignity until the very end.

A rush of guilt, accompanied by shameful relief, welled up inside you. The fabric of your dress scratched at your skin, as though you were wearing a burlap sack instead of a pretty frock. Sweat beaded your back, even though it was cool in the room.

If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be in this situation. If only you had been more prepared, more eloquent, perhaps you could have come up with a satisfying explanation for everything. If you were prettier, more charming—someone who wasn’t you, then Neuvillette wouldn’t be…

My dear child, are you hearing yourself right now? Your old teacher’s voice, chiding but playful, sounded in your head. It felt like a cool, refreshing wind. Take a pause and look at this objectively.   

She was right. You were being irrational. Neuvillette hadn’t been forced to marry you. He chose you of his own accord, knowing full well who you were and what he was getting into, and you accepted his proposal. This marriage was temporary from the start. Reasonably, you shouldn’t be heeding Furina’s words, as they didn’t apply to your marriage.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you felt. It was clear that what Furina was truly looking for was entertainment, despite all of her claims to the contrary about wanting him to find happiness. You and Neuvillette were like puppets on a wooden stage for her to manipulate as she saw fit.

Having to adapt to circumstances beyond your control was one thing, but being made to dance to the whims of someone else, just because they believed they had the right to do so, was infuriating.

You promised him once that you would make sure his life remained as unchanged as possible, and you were more determined than ever to keep it.

And long before that, you had promised yourself that you would never be beholden to anyone, that you would walk your own path, under your own power.

Furina was still speaking. “What a shame, I have hoped that marriage might induce you to change your ways, but alas… do at least think of your poor wife. Do you truly want her to wither away in your house, unable to flourish?”

At the beginning of this meeting, you had been somewhat awed by being in the presence of the Hydro Archon, but now that awe was being replaced by indignance.

“As the wife in question, may I say something?” your words came out sharper than you expected. You straightened up in your seat, making your back ramrod straight and looking directly at Furina. Anger roiled in the pit of your stomach, but you reminded yourself to watch your tongue. Even Neuvillette wouldn’t be able to protect you if you spoke too much out of turn.

“Yes?” Furina nodded towards you, leaning back in her chair. “Go on, what is it?”

“I shall be blunt here, Lady Furina. I have no need for your pity. As Neuvillette has repeated over and over, we are perfectly fine as we are. I think you’re completely overstepping your bounds, and I ask you to stop immediately.”

Furina blinked, the flippant composure she had giving way to shock. “What?” she said at last.

“It is true that if it isn’t for your constant encouragement, Neuvillette and I would never have married. But that will be the extent of your involvement in our relationship. The only people who will make the decisions in our relationship are the two of us. If you don’t like it, then I apologize for any unpleasant feelings we’ve caused, but we shall continue as we are. We won’t entertain any arguments on this matter.”

“Wait,” Furina had been snapped out of her shock and was now leaning forward, looking between the two of you. “Don’t tell me that you honestly intend to keep this marriage a secret forever? What is the point of getting married, then?”

“As the one who pressed for this marriage in the first place, Lady Furina, I’m sure you can wager a guess. Neuvillette has done what you asked, and that should be the end of it. You have no idea how much pressure he has been placed under because of you. And…” you took a breath here. When was the last time you had spoken with such vigor? “…I would much rather a relationship where we are honest with each other about what we want, rather than living a pretense because that’s what’s expected of us.”

You expected punishment to rain down on you swiftly. Furina had been known to have people tried at the opera house for far lesser offences, after all. Would she summon your family to the trial? Would she throw you into the sea instead of sending you to the Fortress of Metropide? How strange, you should be feeling petrified right now, but all such emotions seemed to have wilted away in the face of the burning conviction that filled your heart.

You weren’t, however, expecting Furina to simply stare at you, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Was she plotting something? Despite that, you stared back at her resolutely.

Perhaps some other god was watching over you then, for the clock chimed the hour. The meeting was over.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, and curtsied. “Thank you for the tea and cakes, Lady Furina,” you said politely. “Neuvillette and I shall take our leave now.”

Furina said nothing as you walked towards the door.

I messed up. I messed up. I messed up.

Right now, you were huddled in a corner of the main lobby, sandwiched between bookshelves. A book you randomly picked out laid on your lap. Being surrounded by books always had a therapeutic effect on you, but it wasn’t working today.

The tight, angry knot in your stomach still hadn’t loosened, although it was now accompanied by unease.

You didn’t regret what you said—it needed to be said—but you were worried about the consequences of your sharp tongue on the lives of Neuvillette and your family.

You should have thought over your words more carefully. You should have anticipated this. You should have prepared better so that it would have never come to this. You should have…

I’m sure…I must have embarrassed Neuvillette terribly back there.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he had not followed you out of the office. In fact, it had been nearly half an hour since you left. You surmised that he was probably cleaning up after your outburst. He had said before that part of the reason he picked you to be his wife was because of your similar temperaments—no doubt he was regretting those words now.

A sigh slipped out of you. You didn’t regret what you said, but you would be the first to admit that you had been presumptuous. If you made things between him and Furina awkward, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was having second thoughts about marrying you.

Already, the gears in your mind were whirring, coming up with a backup plan. I hear it can take months for a divorce to be finalized…but since Neuvillette is the Chief Justice, he probably has ways to speed things up. I hope he’ll at least give me time to find a new place to live… It’ll be quite difficult to find somewhere affordable in the city. Maybe I’ll try the Fleuve Cendre after all. Marie says it’s actually not too bad down there, as long as you know the right people and keep your head down. I can ask her to recommend a place for me. It won’t be long until winter, and I barely know anyone in the city anyways, so it should be fine…the only issue is mail…

“Madame.”

A voice broke through your aimless reverie. You looked up and saw Neuvillette’s face, etched with worry. His lips were tightly pressed together, and there was a deep furrow between his brows. He looked visibly relieved when he saw you sitting there with your book.

You elected to get straight to the point. “Will we be divorcing soon?”

“Divorce?” his eyes widened in shock. “No, of course not. What brought this on?”

“I, well…” you squirmed under Neuvillette’s intense gaze. Funny, now you were nervous. “It’s just that…I did make somewhat of a scene back there, and Lady Furina probably hates me now, and…”

Listening to yourself now, you were beginning to realize you had a propensity for jumping to conclusions. You cleared your throat. “…So, anyways, what held you up for so long?”

“Furina and I had a long, serious talk about her words today. I’ve made it clear that she has no control over our marriage. You were entirely right, Madame, and she knows it. It was not her place to control what two individuals in a private relationship ought to do. I suppose that hearing it from someone unfamiliar like you had more of an impact on her than from me.”

“Oh, I see…” you nodded as you mentally re-evaluated your impression of the relationship between Furina and Neuvillette. You had assumed that she was the one always ordering him around, but it seems that there was more of a push-and-pull than you thought.

“I do not believe she will bother us much for the foreseeable future,” Neuvillette reassured you. He looked straight into your eyes. “Worry not, Madame. Our arrangement is to stay married for a year until you obtain your license. I have no intention of reneging on it, nor let anyone interfere with it. We shall remain husband and wife until the time comes.”

“I-I’m relieved to hear that,” you stammered, taken aback by the ardor in his voice. “You were looking so worried just now that I thought something bad might have happened.”

“I was?” Neuvillette sat down next to you, his knee brushing against yours. “Forgive me, I was unaware. It was only that…”

He trailed off as he looked at you, his eyes seemingly probing you for something. “…I’ve never seen you like that before,” he said at last. “You’re always so calm and rational…I did not know that you could become so furious.”

“Did I look that angry?”

“It wasn’t your face, exactly, but I can sense your emotions…” Seeing you look at him questioningly, he cleared his throat. “What I mean is, I could feel the anger radiating from you. Yes, that’s it.”

“I see…” you answered, mentally noting what he said about sensing emotions. A Sumeru girl from the boarding house you lived in before once claimed that she could see auras. Was it something like that? “I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything like that.”

“Nonsense. I have seen much worse in court regularly.” He paused there, before adding, almost shyly, “I must admit, it was enthralling to see another side of you. …And, Madame?”

 “Hmm?”

“Thank you.” a corner of Neuvillette’s mouth lifted slightly. “You’re always so considerate of me, even when I’ve hardly been a good husband to you.”

You furrowed your brow at his words. Had Neuvillette internalized what Furina said, even though they came from a place of ignorance?

As you looked into his apologetic eyes, you thought you were beginning to understand him a little bit more now. He was the sincere, earnest type who took what was said to him to heart.

Any lingering regrets over your outburst have all but dissipated now.

You put your hand on his shoulder. He looked down at it. He always seemed surprised whenever you touched him, but he never moved away or told you off. To be honest, you were surprised at yourself—you generally kept your hands to yourself and preferred that others did the same. But something about Neuvillette made you want to reach out to him, so that you could convey your thoughts to him better.

“There’s no need to thank me,” you told him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We needed to put on a united front, and it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me. And don’t take what Lady Furina said to heart—you’re a wonderful husband, and I’m sure that your future, real, spouse would be the luckiest person in the world.”

“Future spouse?” Neuvillette repeated, his head tilted to the side in confusion. He sounded almost distracted.

“Um…it’s also fine if you don’t want to get married,” you hurriedly corrected yourself. “I just meant that hypothetically, if you were to marry for real, then…well, just forget it! Let’s go shopping now, shall we? It won’t take long. I already know which store to go to.”

You swiftly got up and proceeded to go to the main hall. There weren’t many people there, luckily. You placed your hand on the door handle.

Neuvillette shook his head slightly, as though emerging from a reverie. “Wait, Madame,” he called out after you. “It’s—”

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the torrential downpour just outside.

Due to the unexpected heavy weather, you and Neuvillette decided to go shopping by carriage instead.

It was just as well, you thought at the time. We’ll get less attention this way.

After all that talk about maintaining your privacy, it would be terribly ironic if the two of you went out in public without a care in the world and were discovered now.

Your destination was the largest department store in the Court of Fontaine. It was to your sister Justine what the museum was to you. Whenever she took a trip to the city, it was always her first stop. She even had their catalogs delivered back home for her to pore over with her friends. She would cut out all the shoes she wanted and add them to the collage that was hung up over her bed. In her letters to you, she had not-so-subtly hinted how much she would love a new pair of dancing slippers. Well, her wish was about to be granted.

A smile played on your lips as you imagined her reaction. Though she was the princess of the family, she grew up conscious of the fact that your family wasn’t well off and was just as happy with the homemade and second-hand presents as she was with the new ones. But now you could finally spoil her as she deserved.

You glanced at Neuvillette. He was looking out the window, at the gray streets. He had a faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes. You felt a little bad that he had to stay in the carriage instead being out there in the rain.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the connection between him and rain. At first, you assumed that he was one of those people who liked rainy days, but there seemed to be more to it than that. You were quite sure that he had some power over rain, but you couldn’t picture him as someone who would change the weather for his own sake.

Maybe he chooses especially hot days to make it rain, you mused, but quickly dismissed that thought. There had been scorching hot days without a single drop of precipitation these past few months. Neuvillette, if he did control the rain, seemed to have his own criteria as to which days to let it fall.

You looked out the window as well. The rain had lessened considerably, but it was still falling. The streets were practically canals, and the sky was gray as slate. You saw pedestrians unfortunate to be out without umbrellas huddling under shop awnings, as well as children laughing as they jumped into puddles.

There was a shuffling of cloth next to you. Neuvillette had turned around and was looking towards your window, his face unreadable. You turned your head as well and saw a couple huddled under a colorful umbrella, giggling with each other.

Oh, that reminds me…is what Furina said true? Has he never been in a relationship?

With all that had happened afterwards, you almost forgot that particular bombshell. It seemed inconceivable to you.

Neuvillette was known to keep humans at a distance and only showed a warm-hearted, fatherly side to the Melusines, but throughout all these years, surely there had to have been people who he opened his heart to? He had a severe, imposing aura to him, yes, but anyone could tell just from talking to him briefly that he was a gentle, amiable person, if a bit too stiff.

Plus, he was handsome, wealthy, and respected by all. That was a winning combination in every era. Single people (and doubtless the married ones as well) probably flocked to him in droves whenever he made a rare appearance at a public event. Did not one of them ever catch his eye?

He’s lived a long life, and even now there are still many things we don’t know about him. Having a secret lover or ten wouldn’t be out of the question. He most likely has secrets even Furina doesn’t know about.

But supposing what Furina said was true, then what was the reason for it? The only thing you could come up with was that he simply had no desire for a relationship. Perhaps he swore himself to complete chastity, like the monks and ascetics of old, in an effort to remain impartial.

That seemed rather extreme to you. You were quite sure that at least a few of his fellow judges were married with families of their own, and no one ever accused them of being biased because of that.

But then again, you wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that. Even in the privacy of his own home, he maintained that monk-like way of life. He did not indulge in sumptuous meals, he did not drink or smoke, and even his house, though tastefully furnished, seemed almost spartan compared to the handful of extravagantly decorated mansions belonging to nobles of far lesser rank you had visited before. His long, thick hair and heavy robes seemed to speak otherwise, but they seemed more like a work uniform to him than a reflection of his personal tastes, judging by how many times you saw him grimace or heard him sigh in resignation whenever his hair or robes got stuck between sofa cushions or between his heel and the floor. The only indulgences he partook in, if you could even call them that, were his extensive collection of imported water and gazing out at the sea.

At first, you had assumed that he was putting on an act for you, his wife who was more like a stranger to him, but as the two of you grew accustomed to living with each other, you came to understand that this was truly who he was.

But still, that’s some discipline he has, if he could maintain being single for so long. Is that the difference between the willpower of an immortal being and a normal human? Maybe he thinks romance is an indulgence of some kind as well. I highly doubt he is the kind of person to frequent, um, let’s say, adult establishments, either…you know what, let’s not go there.

Even if you were only thinking it, it was still highly improper, especially since the person in question was right next to you.

So with all that, why did he decide to get married now? He said before that Furina had been bothering him about it, but from what you heard and saw today, this wasn’t the first time she had done so. Did he finally have a change of heart after centuries of (purported) bachelorhood?

No, I shouldn’t be thinking about this, you told yourself firmly. It’s his personal business—I shouldn’t get curious. Especially after all that talk about maintaining personal boundaries.

You turned your head to look at him with a pleasant smile, preparing to make some nice, normal conversation about the weather or work or something like that, but was interrupted by the shouting of children outside.

A boy and a girl, who looked to be siblings, were squeezing their eyes shut as though in prayer and shouting, “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry!”

“Oh, that takes me back,” you said, turning to Neuvillette. “Me and my sister used to recite that nursery rhyme whenever it rained as well when we were little.”

You used to love listening to your parents reading to you about the Hydro Dragon, but as you grew older and became more interested in more serious and concrete history, the fairy tales you once adored became a distant memory.

Neuvillette did not say anything for a minute. He seemed to be lost in thought, but then he blinked and shook his head a little, as though coming out of a trance. “My apologies, Madame, for keeping silent for so long,” he said, turning his attention to you, though you caught his gaze flitting towards the window. “I did not catch what you said just now. May I trouble you to repeat it?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” you assured him, even as you wondered whether or not you should at least open the window. He really did seem to yearn for the rain. “Those children just reminded me of when me and my sister used to believe in the Hydro Dragon.”

“You ‘used to’ believe in the Hydro Dragon?” he raised an eyebrow. “You do not think it exists?”

You thought about it a little. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s an irrefutable fact that dragons exist, so a Hydro Dragon probably did live in Fontaine at one point, if the number of fairytales and folk stories is any indication. The only thing we know for sure is that it can create rain when it cries, but I am curious as to how that came to be. How can we be one-hundred percent sure that they are connected? Everything we know about it comes from the stories as there are no reliable eyewitness accounts. We don’t even have any idea what it looks like. And with the rising sea levels, it’s likely that any relevant evidence or records are long lost. In any case, this Hydro Dragon seems to be a lot more reclusive than its brethren. It’s not like the Dragon of the East in Mondstadt, where it’s considered one of the protectors of the nation, or that dragon in Liyue who fought alongside the Geo Archon in his campaigns and transformed the land wherever it went. It seemed to have simply…existed without doing anything of note.”

It was only after you finished speaking that you realized that you had gone on a rant. “I…I’m sorry,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat.

“There is no need to apologize for speaking about your passions,” the melancholic look in Neuvillette’s eyes was gone as he gazed at you with unconcealed amusement. Seeing that, you simultaneously felt relieved and even more embarrassed. “I have not heard you speak at length about history ever since that day.”

“Haha, well, I don’t want to bore you…” you fidgeted with the strap of your purse. It was funny—you felt a hundred times more self-conscious now than you did back then, when you hardly knew him. Of course, he was the one who had asked for your opinion then, so maybe that was it, but still…shouldn’t it be the other way around? It was easier to open up to someone you were familiar with, wasn’t it?

“There truly is nothing to feel ashamed about. I enjoy hearing you talk. I would love nothing more than to hear you speak about history or whatever you subject you prefer, all day,” his eyes were still dancing with mirth. Was it that amusing for him? “I thought you were mainly interested in Remuria. I didn’t know you had an interest in dragons as well.”

“I used to have a dragon phase when I was younger,” you admitted. “I’d scour all the books for the tiniest morsels of information and compile it all in a notebook, and I’d spend hours copying the drawings in those books. But then my teacher took me on a field trip of sorts to the old ruins outside my town and, well, I suppose you can guess what happened next.”

You still remembered the sense of awe and terrible sadness you felt as your teacher described to you what the ruins (an ancient noble’s villa) would have looked like in its day and pointed out the places where people once worked and relaxed and lived.

You unconsciously smiled as you recalled those innocent times. Sneaking out of the house under the pretext of going to your teacher’s house to explore the ruins, going to the library and borrowing everything you could find on Remuria, daydreaming about how you would earn the favor of the God King and become one of his Harmosts, unsuccessfully trying to convince your parents to take you to the opera house whenever they put on Boethius’ plays… You even took up the piano because Remuria was an empire run by musicians. Back when your imagination ran free and the concept of responsibility was a mere speck in the distance.

The more you learned, the more engrossed you were. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of sadness. How could something so grand, so powerful, so seemingly eternal, be toppled almost overnight because of the actions of a few people? Only scraps of ancient documents, instruments, and crumbled ruins remained of that mighty empire. You had to know more. No, what you truly wanted was to walk in those ruins yourself, to see them with your own eyes to engrave the sight of their remnants into your brain.

It was no exaggeration to say that fateful field trip had irrevocably changed you. Whether or not it was for the better or worse, you couldn’t say.

Before you had your first taste of disappointments in the ballroom, you had a silly dream: that you would have the luck to marry an adventurer or a researcher who would take you to those ruins and give you the opportunity to research and explore them to your heart’s content. Of course, you were aware that one shouldn’t get into a marriage for such a selfish goal, but you were truly willing to fulfill your duties as a wife. It wasn’t the first outlandish dream you had, but at the time, you found it quite reasonable.

You told Neuvillette none of this. It was too intimate, too personal—it felt like opening up your ribs and showing him your beating heart. You didn’t pry into his personal affairs, and he didn’t have the right to know any more than what he needed to about you.

And yet…you had a strange feeling that you would regret this decision.

“So, anyways, do you have any theories?” you asked him, trying to get rid of these lingering doubts. “About the Hydro Dragon, I mean.”

Neuvillette was old, after all. You didn’t know how old he was, but it wasn’t inconceivable that he might have met the dragon at least once. Come to think of it, his past before he became the Chief Justice is as mysterious as the Hydro Dragon…

For a minute, he didn’t answer and instead let his gaze rove over your face. It felt uncomfortably like he was reading your thoughts—or emotions, as you learned today. You felt a belated sense of alarm, but what could you do? How does one conceal emotions on the inside?

“I do not have any, Madame,” he murmured at last. “I am of the same mind as you. The Hydro Dragon is of little interest compared to the joys and tribulations of humans.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s of little interest,” You felt strangely defensive of this poor maligned dragon now. “It’s a dragon, after all. I guess it’s just easier for a human like me to relate to other humans. Wherever this dragon is, I hope it feels better soon, considering how much it’s raining these days.”

Neuvillette opened his mouth, seemingly to say something, but just then the carriage stopped, finally reaching its destination.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve noticed that you haven’t touched your complimentary macarons. Are they not to your liking? I can exchange it for another dessert you prefer. Or perhaps you would rather have a drink? We have sparkling water, coffee, tea, and champagne.”

“Thank you, Miss, but there is no need. I have already eaten recently, and as for drinks, I always bring my own. However, my friend here would like a box of macarons to take home, so if we could trouble you to do so…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette, would you like to peruse our collection of men’s shoes as well? We carry boots, loafers, and heeled shoes, all handmade by the finest shoemakers in Fontaine and beyond. Our new collection of autumn accessories has also just come in, and though we haven’t put them out on sale to the public yet, we’ll be happy to give you an exclusive first look.”

“Thank you for the offer, Miss, but I am not shopping here today for myself. As I’ve told the manager earlier, I am here for the sole purpose of accompanying my friend, who is buying a birthday present for her sister.”

“May I ask the two of you to leave us for now? We’ll ring the bell if we are in need of assistance,” you spoke up, observing the stiffness in Neuvillette’s bearing. You didn’t fault the shop assistants for their eagerness, but it was a bit overwhelming.

The two women turned to you. Was it just your imagination, or did their smiles looked more forced than with Neuvillette? “Yes, Miss, of course,” The shop assistants maintained their polished and professional demeanor, but you could sense the disappointment emanating from them as they left the little waiting room you and Neuvillette had been led to.

“Finally, they’re gone,” you slumped in your chair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neuvillette do the same as the tension left his body. “That was exhausting. Is it like this every time you go shopping?”

“I rarely go shopping, but, yes, I do attract an undue amount of attention whenever I’m out in public.” Neuvillette, looked at you with concern. “I hope you do not find it too overwhelming.”

“It’s fine,” you waved your hand. “I should be worrying about you. They were all focusing on you.”

You had a taste of this “undue amount of attention” as soon as you walked through the doors of the store. Luckily, there weren’t that many shoppers at this time of day. The shop assistants here were well-known for their beauty and demeanor that made them seem unapproachable, but they were the ones who flocked to you as soon as they caught sight of Neuvillette’s tall figure. You overheard several whispered but heated arguments as they fought over who got to assist him. It took him telling them the reason for his visit before they even noticed you, whereupon you became the subject of scrutinizing gazes that flicked between you and Neuvillette. You could practically see the gears turning in the shop assistants’ heads as they tried to guess what kind of relationship you two had. At least you were dressed well for the occasion.

The manager, who had appeared a minute later, was all smiles as she led you to the small sitting room and handed you the store’s catalog. The room afforded a good view of the streets of the Court down below. Looking around at the watercolor paintings on the wall and glittering gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, you thought wryly to yourself that you were at last experiencing the life expected of the Chief Justice’s wife.

You flipped through the catalog to the shoe section and immediately found the shoes—a pair of rose pink dancing slippers, dotted with seed pearls and finished off with little bows on the heels. You saw the price listed next to it and winced. It was five times as much as the rent of the old boarding house.

Neuvillette, noticing your reaction, leaned over to take a look. “That’s a lovely pair of shoes,” he commented. “The price is quite reasonable as well. Perhaps we can buy another pair for you.”

You decided not to comment on the price part. “For me? No, no, that style doesn’t fit me at all.”

“Then let’s find something else,” Neuvillette scanned the catalog before his gaze landed on another pair of shoes.  “Ah, you would look wonderful in these.”

You looked at where he was pointing, and your breath caught. These shoes were a silvery white color that reminded you of pearls. Except for the long ribbon ties, it lacked the adornments of the other featured shoes. But they had an ephemeral air to them that set them apart, as if they’d disappear if you breathed on them. They looked like something that a water nymph would wear as she danced on the lake.

“You like them. I can tell,” Neuvillette’s voice brushed against your ear. You realized that he had been studying you. “Perhaps we shall leave this store today with gifts for your sister and you.”

You tore your eyes away from the beautiful shoes. “No…no, that’s not necessary. It’s not as though I have anywhere to wear them, or anything to wear them with. They’ll be wasted on me, and they’re so expensive.”

You had already bought all the shoes you needed on the previous shopping trip: a pair of sturdy walking boots, a more stylish pair of button-up boots, and a pair of plain black heels for more formal occasions. You couldn’t even imagine yourself wearing those silver shoes. They seemed more for looking at than actually wearing. Your dancing days were over, and thank the Archons for that.

They were for someone who lived for dances or the stage—someone completely different from you.

Neuvillette regarded you for a moment. “If you insist, Madame,” he said. “But I sincerely believe that they would look beautiful on you.”

Before you could say anything to that, the manager returned. “Have you found anything you like?” she asked.

You showed her what you picked and told her your sister’s shoe size. “Ah, yes, the brand is very popular with fashionable young ladies,” the manager beamed. “I’ll bring them to you right away.”

She returned promptly with a shoebox in her hands. The shoes, nestled in tissue paper, were even more beautiful up close. You could practically hear your sister’s squeals of delight.

“Is there anything else you would like to look at, Miss?” the manager said. “Might I suggest buying a purse or a necklace to go along with those slippers? Young ladies love to accessorize, after all. I can give you a few recommendations.”

You were about to say, “That won’t be necessary.” As a frugal person, you were accustomed to fending off these types of sales tactics, but Neuvillette beat you to the chase.

“What an excellent idea, Miss,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “The young lady in question will be delighted, I’m sure.”

You could have sworn the poised and polished manager blushed. “I…I’ll bring you the catalogs, then,” she said, flustered.

You gave Neuvillette a look as the manager disappeared into the hallway. “Is there something wrong, Madame?” he said, tilting his head in confusion.

“…No, it’s nothing.” Whether or not it was true that Neuvillette had never had a lover, the effect he had on people couldn’t be denied. Was he conscious of it? You peered at him as he sipped his water, closing his eyes as he savored it. He probably doesn’t.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked when he was done. “The prices here are very high. Even if you do have the money to spare, it’s…”

“Price is no object. Birthdays are special for humans. They only come around once a year, and they mark an important milestone in their lives. Such occasions should be celebrated to the fullest extent.”

“You do have a point,” you admitted. Opportunities like these were hard to come by, and if Neuvillette was willing to pay for it all, then it should be fine, right?

The manager returned with the catalogs, and for the next hour or so, you spent it poring over them with Neuvillette. Shop assistants streamed into the room, bringing wares for you to look over. Somehow, in addition to the purse and bag for your sister, you ended up buying three ties and a set of amethyst cufflinks for your father, a lace shawl and fan for your mother, and a pair of emerald earrings for your old housekeeper. Neuvillette also insisted on buying you a frilly parasol after one shop assistant described to him how perfect it was for walking by the water on a sunny day. You could count on one hand how many times you did that in your life.

There were two things you learned from this experience.

One, shop assistants were masters of psychological manipulation.

Two, Neuvillette should never be alone when he went shopping. You feared that if you hadn’t been there, he would have completely taken in by the shop assistants’ sales pitches and bought out half the store.

Once everything was bought (the total cost nearly gave you a heart attack), packaged, and wrapped, it was finally time to go, but not before Neuvillette went around thanking all the staff for their assistance.

“B-By the way, Monsieur Neuvillette,” a young and eager-looking shop assistant piped up as she stepped forward. She looked between the two of you meaningfully. “Our store also sells rings, including engagement rings!”

“Elodie!” her coworkers hissed, pulling her back.

“Thank you for the information, but I have no need for engagement rings,” Neuvillette informed her kindly, even as you tried not to die of embarrassment next to him.

The rain had long since passed when you emerged outside and was immediately assailed by a wall of humidity. The deep puddles on the sidewalk were the only proof that there had been a large thunderstorm earlier. There was already a sheen of sweat on your forehead. Luckily, the carriage was parked nearby.

You leaned back against the cushioned seat as soon as you got in. You somehow felt more exhausted now than you had after the previous shopping spree, even though you were sitting the whole time.

Neuvillette also looked relatively worn out. The heat and humidity probably didn’t help either.

“The shopping took longer than I thought. Do you have to go back to the Palais soon?” you asked.

He checked his pocket watch. “I still have about half an hour of free time left.” He turned an expectant gaze towards you. “Is there anywhere else you would like to go?”

“Not really…” you trailed off as you caught sight of a mother and son holding ice cream cones outside the window. “Oh, wait, there is somewhere I’d like to stop by. It’s just the thing for a hot day like this.”

You told the driver the address of an ice cream parlor that you frequented ever since you were a child. The carriage set off.

Neuvillette was looking worriedly at the pile of boxes teetering on the opposite seat. “Perhaps we have bought too many gifts…” he murmured. “Will you be able to bring them all home with you?”

“I think I’ll be able to fit them in my trunk,” you replied. Probably.

Neuvillette gave you a sideways look. “Perhaps I can help you carry it to the docks tomorrow morning, as your ankle has only just recovered.”

“There’s no need for that,” you rocked your ankle back and forth. There was no longer any twinge of pain when you moved it. “Oh, that reminds me, I’ll be away for the whole day tomorrow, so I won’t be back until the day after.”

“The whole day?” Now he turned to face you. “I didn’t know that the birthday celebration would last so long.”

“My sister’s birthday parties usually go all the way into the evening,” you admitted. “And you know how long it takes to get to my hometown from here, so I’m staying the night there.”

“I see,” Neuvillette nodded slowly, but something seemed to be bothering him.

“Were you planning on taking me somewhere tomorrow?” you asked when he said nothing for a few moments.

“…I have a little bit of spare time after tomorrow’s trials, so I was thinking of taking you on a stroll along a riverbank. There is a beautifully clear river just north of the city, and it would be a good opportunity to use your new parasol. But I suppose we can reschedule it for another day.”

“Mm,” you nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A stretch of silence followed. Seeing Neuvillette’s downcast face, you thought for a moment that he might be sulking. But that was impossible. There was no way that the reserved, aloof Iudex would ever sulk, right?

Neuvillette had been acting strangely throughout this whole outing, but considering what happened earlier today, you couldn’t fault him for it. Even so, that didn’t get rid of the itchy feeling in your chest when you looked at him. Maybe it would have been better if we went home to rest instead of going shopping, you regretted. Hopefully, ice cream would cheer him up a little.

“Neuvillette, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” you asked when the carriage came to a stop in front of the ice cream parlor.

“I do not have one, so please feel free to choose whatever you like,” he answered.

You nodded, and Neuvillette opened the carriage door, about to step out, but you stopped him. “Wait, Neuvillette. Stay in the carriage. I’ll go buy for us. You already paid for everything today, so I want to treat you for a change.”

He looked surprised, but you were already out the door before he could say anything.

Clouds drifted in the ultramarine sky, but they did nothing against the scorching heat.

When you entered the cool ice cream parlor, a new addition on the menu caught your eye—ice cream soda. Apparently, it was a drink that consisted of ice cream floating in a mixture of syrup and carbonated water. That sounds like something Neuvillette would like, you thought to yourself with a thrill of excitement and promptly ordered it along with a double scoop of chocolate caramel ice cream.

A short time later, you returned to the carriage with the frozen treats. Neuvillette sat up when you climbed in. “Is that a beverage, Madame?” he looked quizzically at the glass bottle in your hand.

“It’s an ice cream soda,” you explained. “I’ve never had one before, but it looks delicious, doesn’t it? I heard that it’s one of their best-sellers.”

As you ate your ice cream, you watched him hesitantly sip on his straw. Surprise flashed across his features. “This is indeed delicious,” he commented after a few more sips. “The syrup and ice cream serve as an excellent garnish and balance to the carbonated water. The entire concoction is cold and refreshing, and the sugar provides some much-needed energy for a day like this.” He turned to you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Madame, for introducing me to this wonderful beverage.”

You held back a laugh. Only Neuvillette would call ice cream a “garnish” to soda water. “I’m glad you like it.” Then, you added, “I hope it improves the rest of your day after that horrible start.”

He smiled softly. “I feel as though that meeting had happened years ago.” He reached out his hand to brush it against yours. The skin tingled where he touched it. “All thanks to you.”

“Me? What did I do?” All you did was buy him ice cream. He was the one who provided everything else.

“For being by my side, and for always humoring me,” he said simply, then lowered his gaze a little. “To tell you the truth, Madame, I envy you a little. You’re always looking forward and rarely dwell on the past. You’re driven by rationality rather than emotions. Being with you makes me realize how inadequate I am when it comes to such things.”

He looked at you with a clear, genuine gaze. You found that you couldn’t look him in the eye, so you fixed your eyes on the carriage door behind him instead. Rarely dwelling on the past? Driven by rationality rather than emotions? If only he knew…

“But I like those things about you,” you murmured. You weren’t sure what drove you to say that.

Neuvillette’s eyes slowly widened. “You…you like me?” he sounded astonished.

“Um…I thought it was obvious,” you feel like shoving your ice cream, cone and all, into your mouth. “I wouldn’t do what I did this morning if I didn’t. …And by ‘like,’ I mean the friendship kind of ‘like,’ not the romance kind, so as not to cause any misunderstanding.”

“Is there a difference?” Neuvillette tilted his head.

“Yes,” you nodded vigorously. “It’s as vast as the sea itself.”

He stared at you for a few moments, and then let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Perhaps fate does have its benefits, if it led me to you.”

Now you gaped at him. “For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, you’re awfully good at talking like someone from a romance novel,” you muttered.

You heard a choking sound next to you, and when you turned to him, you saw him wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “You…you remembered that?” he managed.

“It’s certainly a memorable fact.”

“Furina…” he muttered to himself.

“So it’s true then? You’ve never dated anyone? Not even Lady Furina?”

He whipped his head around to look at you. “Why would you think that Furina and I would ever form such a relationship?” He sounded so uncharacteristically vehement that you let out a laugh.

“Well…you both stand at the top of the government, you’ve worked together for centuries, you’re both immortal, you both have a prepossession for blue…” Neuvillette was still looking at you with a look of astonishment, as though you just told him that you were going to run naked through the streets. “I really don’t think it’s such an absurd question, since you’re not interested in humans.”

“How do you know I’m not?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you, then?” you countered.

Neuvillette said nothing, seemingly devoting himself to drinking his ice cream soda. You decided to drop it there.

The carriage rolled along, returning to the Palais Mermonia to drop Neuvillette off. Both of you were silent, but it wasn’t the stiff, awkward silence from before. You were both lost in your thoughts because it was who the two of you were.

You were thinking about what Neuvillette said about fate. It had been a long time since that word had crossed your mind.

When you moved into the Neuvillette’s house, you had considered this a mere temporary detour in the unswerving, pre-determined road that was your life. You had kept that in mind as these months passed by.

But…is that truly set in stone? Could this so-called detour become a new road, to a different future?

What kind of future would that be?

You shouldn’t entertain these thoughts. It was dangerous. It would only lead to inevitable heartbreak once this all came to an end. But…

You sneaked a look at Neuvillette. When his hand brushed against yours earlier, when he held your hand during the meeting—you could feel the smooth edges of his wedding ring pressing into your fingers.

You thought about your ring. Those rings were made for the sole purpose of symbolizing your union. Even after you and Neuvillette went your separate ways, they would remain for the rest of eternity. As a memory, and as a reminder.

The carriage felt stuffy all of a sudden. You pushed down the window a little bit, letting in a cool breeze that brushed against your cheek and ruffled Neuvillette’s hair.

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Taglist: @just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal, @blue-sapphire-ink, @cringeycookies, @cherie-soup, @rilllvri, @anyaeuh

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hi hi! It's been kind of a long week for me lmao but here's the next part! You'll def wanna stick around to the very end of the post; there's a very fun surprise for y'all lol

Also! If you like my writing or want to see a quicker update of this or another series, I've opened commissions (student loans are hitting a lot harder than I expected orz). If you're interested, you can find more information in this post

Even if you don't commission me, I appreciate your likes/comments/reblogs of my work! They keep me going and make me really happy ^_^

Anyway, now for the good stuff. As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

----

Sinking a ship takes skill, intense planning, and strong tails. Or, if you're Robin and seven guppies, it takes incredible, unbridled rage and a worry that could kill a Kraken. A ship that should take half the day to sink only takes the group two hours, their tails bashing against the hull and claws ripping planks to let seawater surge inside. Dustin is particularly brutal, recruiting Lucas and Mike to help him use the same net that caught him and took Steve to drag the ship beneath the waves.

Between tending to Dustin's wounds, lying to the pod about why they're going to be away for a while, and actually tracking the damned thing, it took Robin and the guppies a few days to catch up to the ship. And as they scavenge the drowned wreckage, pushing past broken doors and through holes in the hull, it becomes increasingly clear that they're too late.

"Where could he be?!" Dustin shouts, his gills flaring and bubbles rising in an enraged pattern above him. He takes a spear and jabs it into a water-bloated plank. "If he's not here, that means he escaped, right? So why hasn't he found us yet?"

"Steve could have been taken by another ship," El points out, her head poking from behind a mast. She's gained a dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and is currently using her nails to dig the jewels out and drop them into a seaweed bag.

Robin frowns, swimmingly anxiously in circles. She's not the one that's good with guppies. That's Steve. If she's the fun caretaker that encourages them to play Scuttlefish with sharks, Steve is the one a tail's-length behind dragging them back to the pod before they can get hurt. He's the one who knows how to keep the guppies calm and healthy. Robin is the one who keeps them energetic and chaotic.

"He was definitely here," Will says, swimming out from a cabin on the ship. He stops in front of Robin and holds his hands out, letting her see the dull, blood-stained scales sitting in his palms.

With a shaking hand, Robin takes the scales and turns them over, hoping they're somehow not Steve's. But he's her partner. Robin could recognize him by the flick of his tail alone. So, of course, she knows they're Steve's scales at a glance.

She turns, her tail creating a small current that brushes over the guppies and forces them to look at her. "If he's not on this one," she says, "then we'll just keep sinking ships until we find him."

"Let's start with the other ship," Erica says.

"The other ship?" Robin asks.

Erica nods, pointing in the direction they'd just come from. "A few leagues before we found this one, I saw another one that was sailing in the other direction. Maybe they crossed paths."

For a brief moment, Robin wonders how she missed the other ship. But then she remembers how she's been caught between her own worries and keeping the guppies from spiraling, and she gives herself a break. "Yeah," she says, nodding as she closes her fingers over the scales. The edges cut into her palms but don't draw blood. "Let's go track down that ship. But don't keep something like that from me next time."

The guppies all nod in agreement, and Robin looks at the wreckage around them. She's half-tempted to let the guppies loot the rest of the ship, but she knows they're all aching to find Steve already. So, Robin herds them away from the sunken ship in the direction Erica pointed and hopes Steve can hold on for just a little longer.

----

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

Song Types

There are several song types that merfolk are likely to use in their lifetime. While the human ear cannot distinguish the intricacies of the songs, it can tell the major categories apart.

As newly-born guppies, they know only how to vocalize wordless sounds based on their needs. These sounds are referred to as Guppy Songs. These songs are generally lacking in any real melody or rhythm. They are rough and unskilled, but many caretakers consider them precious.

Pod songs are shared tunes and melodies among the pod to communicate big news. When hearing a pod song from a lone merperson, it will sound incomplete. Pod songs usually require at least one other merperson to support or respond to the initial measures, which creates a complete and satisfying loop.

Individual songs are varied and unique, as the name suggests. They cover a range of emotions that simply can't be communicated through regular speech or bubble patterns (to learn more about bubble patterns, please see Part I: The Basics). Among these songs, the most important to know is the courting song, which can actually be multiple songs using the same opening measures and melodies with slightly different tones.

Now that you know the most basic kind of songs, we can move to harmonizing. Truthfully, a human's ability to harmonize with a merperson is nearly impossible. However, it can be done with an instrument, which can reach ranges the human voice cannot. So, if you don't know how to play one, I'd suggest learning. Harmonizing is a key step in the courtship process, after all.

----

Steve shrieks as Eddie spins him around, the sound high and grating, and clings tighter to Eddie's neck. His tailfin slaps Eddie behind his knee, hard enough to make him falter and slip on the rain-soaked deck. He falls on his ass, Steve safely in his lap, and laughs. The charms in his hair knock against each other, and Steve idly reaches up to brush his finger against one. "What was that for?" Eddie asks, the words slightly breathless.

"You surprised me," Steve says, frowning slightly as raindrops catch in his eyelashes and make them heavy. He holds a hand above his eyes and then does the same for Eddie.

"You just looked so pretty, sweetheart," Eddie says, grinning at Steve like he knows what bubble pattern his fluttering gills would create (flustered and flattered).

He rolls his eyes, looking at the sky and sea in the distance. The ocean is surging, and waves and sea foam collide as the wind picks up force. Dark clouds hang over the sea, and Steve would be concerned if he didn't know the storm would clear up soon. He can tell from the sound of the ocean and the taste in the air: the water isn't angry enough and there isn't enough salt on his lips.

The rain is still going to turn brutal, though, and Steve would prefer they weren't on deck when it happens. He overheard Asher and Jeff talking about the last time Eddie got soaked to the bone and got sick. He's not sure what a "cold" is, but he doesn't want Eddie catching it again.

"Let's go back to the cabin," he says, looking back at Eddie with a light smile. "I want to hear you play that, uh, gee-tare."

"Guitar, Stevie," Eddie corrects, holding Steve tight as he stands. He has an excited smile, something expectant in his eyes that Steve still hasn't figured out.

Steve hums, knowing very well how it's pronounced, but he likes to see the somewhat dopey smile Eddie gets whenever he mispronounces something. He gets the feeling Eddie also knows he's doing it on purpose, but he's not said anything yet.

Eddie carries him down to the captain's cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. "Where do you want to be, sweetheart?" he asks.

After a moment's consideration, Steve gestures to the bed, looking forward to the soft pillows and even softer sheets. When Eddie places him down, he wiggles until his tail is curled comfortably, soaking the sheets beneath him, and looks at Eddie expectantly.

"Any requests?" Eddie asks, clearly amused as he grabs his guitar and hops onto the bed next to Steve. His knee brushes against Steve's tail, drawing Steve's attention briefly to the faint scar that lingers across his scales.

He's been healed for almost a day now, and Steve should probably start bracing himself to say goodbye, but he'd like to remain in denial a little longer. He doesn't want to leave. Even if he knows he'll come right back with Robin and the guppies, Steve doesn't want to be away from Eddie that long. They haven't even confirmed their courtship. Leaving before they do means any merperson with half a brain could see how much of a pearl Eddie is and try to steal him away.

Steve forces the thought away, forces himself to focus on answering Eddie's question, and shakes his head. "Just play something," he says.

Eddie nods and thinks a moment as he tunes the guitar. "Could you hum something?" he asks.

When he looks up at Steve again, there's something oddly intense in his gaze. He looks determined, as though something very important is riding on this moment. Steve isn't sure what it is, exactly, but he knows he doesn't want it to pass him by. Steve nods and starts humming a soft and familiar tune, one he's used a lot more after meeting Eddie.

It must be the right choice, because Eddie practically lights up, a grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listens. After a few seconds, he starts plucking strings on the guitar, adding a gentle accompaniment that makes Steve's humming rock back and forth like the ocean currents.

Usually, Eddie plays fast, his music filling Steve with the same heat and energy as an underwater volcano in the middle of an eruption. But this is slow and sweet like the honey Steve tried a few days ago. It creeps through him, his gills fluttering with each note that Eddie pulls from his guitar. He feels soft and happy, his voice shifting to follow Eddie's lead as inspiration hits him.

They trade the lead back and forth between them, and Steve starts to actually sing at some point. He doesn't know when he opened his mouth and started to vocalize the notes instead of just humming them, a sweet melody forming as his voice resonates with the guitar. It just happens as naturally as swimming. Steve can no longer tell where his voice ends and the guitar begins. They've fallen into sync, strumming and singing together without missing a beat.

Steve leans closer, his heart pounding against his ribs even faster than usual. They're harmonizing. He realizes it suddenly, but it doesn't catch him off-guard. It's just a whisper in the back of his mind, a little nudge that makes him smile and move without thinking beyond the desire to be closer.

The song doesn't end naturally. In fact, Eddie is in the middle of a particularly lovely string of notes when Steve kisses him, still humming low in his throat. Eddie's fingers fumble, a sour note pulling from the guitar, but Steve doesn't care. He's too busy wrapping one hand around the back of Eddie's neck and placing the other on Eddie's chest.

He can feel Eddie's heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and Steve presses closer. He's barely balancing on his tail as Eddie moves the guitar from his lap, pushing it to the side of the bed while he kisses Steve back. Eddie pushes his hand into Steve's hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

Steve's humming happily rises in pitch, and he finally loses his balance, his weight pressing entirely on Eddie and causing him to fall back on the bed. The kiss breaks when Eddie bounces slightly, their foreheads knocking together, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, his free hand trailing to Steve's waist and settling on his back. His fingers brush against the line where scales meet skin, and Steve shudders, his mouth going dry, and he kisses Eddie again before he can say another word.

----

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And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment