#the freaking kiss in the foyer

[gildengirl]

"Plus, boys who leave kind and courteous notes become men who leave kind and courteous notes. I couldn't help myself: I instantly imagined what it would be like to get a note like that myself someday."

Just you wait, Cammie. Someday, someone will write you plenty of notes. They just won't be from Jimmy.

[the-californicationist]

What would your fave position to be in with the 141, either individually or together... asking for a friend... <3

Mmm. Well. If it were me, personally?

(NSFW/MDNI under cut)

For Gaz, it’s gonna have to be big spoon little spoon. He’d be making us both late for work every morning, turning my hips just right so that he could slip his heavy morning wood inside. He’d start off so soft and gentle, but by the time he was stuffing himself down to the root of his huge cock, I’d wake up, feeling the wetness he’d been busy creating, nearly choking from how full I feel. My body would be rocking back and forth as he had his way with me. And when I chastise him for making me miss the train? Just placating little excuses murmured between kisses — “I’m already workin’, babes. Can’t ya feel your man? Hard at work…”

For Ghost, it’s the cowgirl to lotus to missionary pipeline. He’d start off flat on his back, demanding some face sitting or a sixty-nine situation. Then, he’d stick me right on top, egging me on — “Lemme see those fuckin’ tits bounce, love. Good girl.” Then, he’d get too bothered, unable to hold back, too hungry, too much of a control freak. So he’d sit up, wrapping his legs behind me, moving my hips with his hands and grinding me into a shaking trembling mess. Finally, when I could barely remember my own name, he’d press forward, pinning me on my back, arching over me like a shield, telling me — “Shh, shh. Tha’s alright, love. You don’t need to fuckin’ talk. Suck on my fingers like it’s my prick, yeah? Tha’s it… all the way in, there ya go.”

For Soap, it has to be legs-over-shoulders. That big Scottish cock is curved and I will be taking no notes! None. It’s bent at a cruel angle and perfectly shaped to drag his ruddy head right across my g-spot with every stroke. He’d love to press my thighs to my chest, going deeper or harder, his hands staying busy with my clit or my nipples or my mouth, always finding new buttons to push. He’d especially enjoy ripping mind-breaking orgasms from me, shoving my vibrator against my clit as he fucked me, teasing me with it and saying shit like — “Is she gonnae come again for me, bonnie? I ken there’s one more in her, and I willnae stop until I have it…”

And for my darling captain, John Price, it’s nothing but straight-up, bone-shaking, soul-rattling doggy. After a long hard day of dealing with unimaginable bullshit? I’m on all fours in the fucking foyer, face pressed into the hardwood, pussy spread open like a cheap whore, stuffed full of cock. When he sees me in that tight pair of jeans that he likes a little too much? There I am, shirt raked down below my breasts, back arching as I’m bent over the kitchen counter, his meaty palm wrapped around my neck, bruising my hips with how hard he’s rutting into me from behind. In the middle of the night, his fat prick drooling and heavy, swaying between his huge thighs? He’ll fist my hair in one hand and grope my ass with the other as he breeds me, snarling into my ear, “Filthy fuckin’ slag. Whose cunt is this? Hmm? Nuh-uh. Say my real name…” And he won’t come until I call him Daddy.

But all together? Preferably a perfect seal: Price and Soap fighting to fit inside my pussy, Gaz stuffing himself deep in my ass, and Ghost filling up my throat!

What about you, anon?? Got any favorites?

[scorpioriesling]

Caught in 4k H.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, and Tamlin

Warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, masterbation, mentions of multiple kinks if you squint

Summary: A collection of head cannons where you catch the ACOTAR boys fantasizing / jerking it :) Just for funsies and I hope you like, lol. I also included photos for each! <3

SR’s Note: Honestly I saw this new photo / fan art of Lucien andddd I had to do something with it. The ween was staring at me… I was quite literally caught in 4k. SO, here we are, here’s an idea, I rolled with it. Enjoy, all you freaks (;

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

Would absolutely be jerking off at his desk, in his office. Doors locked, he thinks no one is home.

He would start slow of course, then speed it up, thinking about you — how you looked before you’d left for downtown Velaris this morning, your hair up in that cute ponytail that showed off your pretty face.

Last time he had you at his desk your hair had been in a ponytail. His fist made for a rather sturdy hair tie.

“Ohhh,” he let out a small sigh, thinking of how your body looked as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind, your round little ass reverberating with every snap of his upper thighs against it. He squeezed his cock harder, thinking about the sounds that came with those thrusts-

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his head rolling back as he relaxed back in his chair, pumping his cock faster and faster, the image of your naked body pushing him toward his impending release. The way the desk would creak as his dick reached unimaginable depths inside you, sliding in and out so fucking fast; your body fit perfectly with his.

“Rhys! I’m back!” Your honey-filled, sing-songy voice rang out from the downstairs foyer just before he could release, and he immediately halted his movements. How long had he been doing this? He glanced at the clock — surely you hadn’t been gone that long.

The soft patter of footsteps rang out on the stairs, and he stuffed his still-hard dick back into his formal pants, struggling to tug the zipper up and attempt to conceal his erection. You’d surely notice, and he’d surely be embarrassed.

The door to the office swung open, and sure enough, you stood — bags in hand, ponytail and all. The bright smile on your face faltered when Rhys’ failed attempt at a warm greeting was recognized.

“What’s wrong, sweet heart?” You asked, setting down the paper bags and striding over to his desk. No no no, he thought. You needed to get out of here, at least until he could calm down.

“Nothing, my love.” He smiled, embracing you as you moved to sit on his lap. You shifted slightly, looking at all the papers atop his desk.

“You’ve got a lot of work it seems,” you say. He sighs lightly. “Yes my love,” he responds, kissing your cheek. The feel of you against him stiffens his cock, and he can only pray you don’t notice.

“Mhm,” you hum, shifting on him once more. Rhys’ breath comes out ragged, and you side-eye him with a smirk. “Almost the same amount as when I left earlier,” you point out. A small tinge of pink flushes his cheeks and you chuckle, kissing the tip of his nose before gazing tensely into his eyes.

“What were you doing up here all alone, anyways?” He meets your eye with an equally challenging stare. “Working.” He says coolly. You smile humorlessly, moving to straddle him instead. Instinctively, his hands cup your ass, squeezing hard. He knew what you were doing, but you didn’t care. It worked, and that’s all that mattered.

“I have something… else… you could work on, if you’d like?”

Cassian

He’d trained with you enough by now that he’d gotten used to your… attire. The way your tight leathers clung to your body, every dip and curve of you outlined for everyone to see.

He didn’t care so much now that you’d been together so long, but something about you striding in that morning stirred something in him.

You were laughing in that vivacious way you did, usually with Gwyn and Emerie and Nesta — a lot of times, when he was lucky, with him too.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, floating down the stairwell toward the training ring. His back was to you; but when he turned and caught the sight of you, your legs bare and midriff exposed, his breath faltered a bit.

Sure, he’d seen you completely nude before, but in front of your peers? Your friends? Especially during training… he wasn’t sure how he would handle two hours of this kind of torture. He could already feel the blood rushing to his cock at the sight.

“Y/N this isn’t- You know for training you can’t-“ he fumbled. Gwyn giggled, and you rolled your eyes.

“Cassie, it’s like a hundred degrees in here today. You said we weren’t doing hand to hand anyway; what’s the harm in lighter clothing?” You shrugged. He only stared blankly at you, commanding his eyes not to drift past your collarbone.

His hand jerking his cock later that day was the harm in lighter clothing.

He let out soft breaths, leaned back as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He thought about how that tiny little tank top was stretched thin across your generous chest, how his eyes traced over the outline of your bra when you did your warm ups. Gods… how many times he’d ripped thin little things like those off of you, how many times he’d toyed with you, undoing your lacy bras you’d wear just for him…

He kept pumping, thinking about how your tits bounced when he purposefully assigned the group jumping jacks and high knees exercises, and how painful his cock grew during your session.

He thought back to the times he drilled into you on this very bed, your knuckles white on the headboard as he shoved his cock deep inside of you, your screams of pleasure only encouraging him further.

It was borderline torturous today during cool down yoga, watching you in downward dog, your spine arched, your long legs on display. Under your shorts, he could only imagine the panties you had on — maybe his favorite, the glittery kind he could easily slide down your legs with his teeth.

Usually, this was before he would lick your cunt until you shook beneath him, your slick covering his lips and chin.

Had no one else attended training this morning, he honestly would’ve taken you right there; yanked your mini shorts over that perky little ass and drove himself straight inside of you. “You want to tease me? You know what happens when you play around,” he knows you love it when he spanks you-

“Cassie?”

He stilled, his chest heaving as he opened his eyes. Lo and behold, you were before him again. You hadn’t yet changed out of your training attire, and as your eyes trailed over his form on the bed, taking in what he was doing — you closed the door behind you.

“Baby, I-“ he stammers, and you only smirk at him.

“I suppose the new outfit this morning worked, hm?”

Azriel

It was hard, so painfully hard having a mate as beautiful as Azriel. So hard having a mate so beautiful, but was gone so often on missions that you found yourself at times taking care of your needs on your own.

You couldn’t blame him for it, you were quite lucky. But little did you know, he would need to take care of his own twice as much.

On this occasion, it was a case of… well, miscommunication. He was scheduled to be gone on a mission, and you’d told him you would stay the night with Morrigan instead of being alone in your shared home for the evening.

Of course, that was not what happened.

Azriel finished his mission early. He reported to Rhys, flew back home, and was happy to have a night off with rest and relaxation. He even lit candles in the house, for christ sakes.

He knew you were at Mor’s, and though he missed you so much, he didn’t want to take away from girls night. He’d walked in on one once and… well… let’s just say he’d never do it again.

Azriel was padding around the flat, finishing the last few sips of black coffee from his mug when he passed the sapphire door. His steps faltered, only for a moment, and he tipped his mug back to drain it, still eyeing the opened door.

Curiousity, and years of spy work must have gotten the best of him. He sat his mug on the hallway table, pushing against the usually locked door. This room was off limits to everyone, that was, except you and Azriel.

His breath caught in his throat as he made his way through the room, sitting in the plush chair near the center of it.

“Oh…. my…” he breathed. He leaned forward, his gaze flickering between the various vibrators scattering the ground. He stared, feeling unable to move — that was, other than his dick, which began to twitch beneath his leathers.

He continued to gaze, cataloguing which items weren’t in their holding places. Other than the vibrators, there were clamps missing, and maybe-

His cock fucking throbbed. He sat back in the chair, yanking on the ties and binds to free himself from his pants. Finally, finally getting his dick in his hands, he allowed his mind to wander further.

When were you in here alone? It had to be within the last few days, it didn’t look like this before he left. He slid his scarred fingers over his long shaft, thinking of you in this room, the things you’d done together in here. What you’d likely done alone.

“Mmmm,” he grunted, holding himself tighter. He thought of your tight cunt, how he had to work his thick cock into you every. Single. Time. “Fuck,” he muttered. You always looked so beautiful, a gorgeous, ruined mess for him, all tied up on the bed. Gods, the sounds you’d make, how they’d echo off the walls, through the entire house-

“Fuck baby, so tight for me,” he groaned. He usually wasn’t so vocal, preferring to hear you much more instead, but alone… he wished he could talk your ear off. Tell you to play with yourself, right in front of him so he could watch.

Gods, if he were here, watching you cry out against your vibrator thinking about him… there’s no way he would be able to hold back.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, take it, take all of it-“ he sucks in a breath, his gaze snagging on a pair of lacy underwear discarded by the bed. He quickly snatches them up, remembering how they looked last time you’d had them on.

The soft sound of the front door opening and closing pulls Azriel from his haze, immediately tossing the underwear back under the bed. He shoves his dick inside his leathers, groaning as his pants protest against his size. You weren’t even supposed to be back tonight — maybe the plans with Mor fell through.

Within minutes, he’s closing the door as quietly as he can, sure you won’t suspect a thing. He smiles lightly to himself. Hopefully, if you’re home to stay, you’ll be in the mood to finish what he’d already started.

He’s almost halfway down the hallway, heading for the foyer when a cough sounds from behind him — the other end of the hallway. He turns slowly, and sure enough; his eyes meet yours. Only for a moment though; he can’t help but notice the sheer nightie you’ve managed to slip into, breasts pushed up from your hands clasped behind your back.

“Having fun in there by yourself?” You tease, jerking your chin toward the sapphire door across the hall. Azriel doesn’t move a muscle, his thoughts racing.

“H-how did you know I was in there?” He asks, his tone low. You only giggle, taking a few steps toward him and revealing your hands at once. One held his mug, which he hadn’t noticed wasn’t on the hallway table anymore.

“Seems we’ve both forgotten to put our things away, hmm?” You wink. “I’ve lived with the Spymaster long enough to pick up on a few things, Azzie.”

Lucien

With Lucien, things were always *almost* a little more than “friendly”. Sure, you’d been best friends for centuries now, but over time, you’d both begun to realize there was more to it than just being friends.

“It’s truly not that complicated,” Tamlin explained. “She likes you, you’re clearly in love with her — I don’t see where the problem lies?” But, Lucien still only sighed.

“We’ve been friends so long, I just don’t want anything ruined,” he’d explained. That only made his High Lord friend laugh.

“I think it was ruined, my friend, the moment you let your feelings cloud your judgement. Which was a very, very long time ago.”

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. In your youth, you and Lucien were simply platonic; you’d grown up together, bonded over the horrors you’d both endured and helped each other through, and found comfort in relying on one another.

But over time, that changed. Suddenly, attending Balls and Galas with Lucien sent flutters through your stomach. Going to dinners with him on quiet evenings warmed your heart, and now when he brought you flowers for your table — it felt new, it felt… more.

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest couple Prythian has to offer!”

This would happen often.

One of you, or both, would hastily explain that you’re just best friends. Well, you used to, anyway. Last time the older woman in the market made a comment as such, Lucien just smiled politely and held your hand tighter, continuing on as though nothing happened.

The moment that had tipped it all though… oh boy. You’d been in the kitchen of the manor, baking apple tartlets as autumn was approaching and they were Lucien’s favorite from back home. He had joined you, wanting to learn from someone with such a talent and, honestly he just wanted to spend time with you.

“Okay, next we need flour… Lucie, that’s you,” you whispered the last part, and Lucien snapped out of his daze. His hand dropped from his chin, propping his head up on the counter as he gazed at you from across it.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry,” he stood, searching for and grabbing the bag of flour from behind him. You smiled, taking it from him and measuring out a few cup fulls. He resumed his position, looking to you once more.

You met his gaze, your hand stopping midway between the bowl and bag. “Lucien, I thought you wanted to help me,” you said.

“Right, right, I do,” he moved toward you, pushing up the sleeves of his tan waffle-knit sweater as you dumped in another cup. Your breath caught as his hands appeared on either side of you, the sudden feeling of his toned body pressing against your backside lightly ceasing the air from your lungs. You tried to remind yourself to resume your breathing as normal — the steady rise and fall of your shoulders measured now by his chin resting atop your left one.

“Next… we, have two eggs,” you explained. You take them from the carton, and Lucien chuckles behind you, his body so close you can feel every movement and muscle beneath his clothing.

“Allow me,” he says smoothly, his arms caging you in closer along your sides as his hands rest atop yours. “I think I know how to at least do this part.”

You allow yourself a laugh, but it comes out breathless. He does as such, cracking them into the bowl and setting down the shells.

“Alright, now next is… hey!” You squeal, turning to face him in shock. He laughs, his smile radiant as you look down your nose at the dash of flour smeared on it. You reach for the bag, but you’re too slow — Lucien has both of your wrists held tight in an instant, pinning you to the counter with his hips against yours. Your noses are mere inches apart, and he continues grinning.

“Lucien, this isn’t-“ He doesn’t let you get another word in before he smushes his lips against yours, and you instinctively soften against him. Years, you’d waited years for this — the feel of him against you, his lips touching yours. All of those almosts, all the lingering touches, all of the sleepovers and hugs that went on too long, all those times your hand held his.

Now that he’d had you once, he only wanted more.

Which was why he sat in his favorite spring meadow now, trying to clear his head.

He couldn’t.

He only thought of you.

You, in all your beauty. The way your hair would always fall perfectly around your face. How you felt, your soft lips pressed against his. How your body, he was so careful to protect, felt pressed against him that day. He hated how hard his cock was just thinking of your ass pressed against him.

When he’d caught you off guard and finally kissed you… Gods, you’d look so lovely laid across the counter, wrists held above your head in his grip. He’d worship you and kiss every inch of you if you’d let him. Tartlets be damned; he’s sure you’d taste even better.

He was smiling to himself in the afternoon light when the most beautiful voice made itself heard before him.

“I can only wonder what you’re dreaming about to have such…” You playfully tease, your sentence trailing off. His eyes fly open, and he sits upright, looking at you and trying to find some kind of response.

“No! No, I uh, was just drifting off, just lounging here, against this uh…” he pats the fallen tree trunk behind him.

“…wood?” You finish. He shakes his head slowly, a smile creeping onto his lips. You giggle, dropping to your knees before him and adjusting your skirt around you. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and he blushed.

“Well, tell me what you were thinking, then? Maybe I’ve thought of things similar.”

Eris

It was a beautiful morning — perfect for the horseback ride Eris had planned with you that day. He knew you had a few duties to tend to into the evening, and he wanted to squeeze in a little alone time beforehand if he could. You were more than happy to oblige.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen the leaves this red so soon in the season before,” you pointed out, looking around the autumn grove in wonder. Eris looked too, his focus landing on you once more like it had countless times already that morning. He knew, of course his mate was gorgeous, but… you were truly getting the best of him today.

“Maybe the season is getting longer,” he said absentmindedly, watching how your hips moved forward and back as your horse trotted along. Fuck, if you didn’t have obligations clogging your schedule later today, he’d have you off that horse and sitting on him instead. Gods what he’d give to feel that tight, pulsing cunt throbbing on his awaiting dick-

“Ooh! Eris look! Those are honeycrisp!” You said excitedly. “We have to get some, your mother has been looking everywhere for these.” Eris mentally kicked himself for being such a … guy. He was so happy just to spend time with you right now, and of course his mind was going to sex when his absolute gift of a mate was innocently noticing the apples dangling from the trees, thinking of others while his mind was only thinking of you.

Then again, he only ever seemed to think of you.

“Anything for you, dear.” You flashed him a smile then, and his spirits lifted higher. He led his mare toward the trees, sliding off and tying the reigns as you slowly approached behind him. You were shorter than him, and though you had enough courage for the entire Autumn court, you didn’t mind a gentle helping hand every once in a while. You handed your mate your own reigns, watching as he tied them to a branch as you also made to de-saddle.

His strong hands slid around your waist, firmly placed on either side as he hoisted you from the animal with ease and set you gently on the ground in front of him. You grinned up at him then, your hands still on his shoulders as a sudden rush went through you. You couldn’t help but remember the excitement you’d felt all those years ago when he was but a simple schoolgirl crush to you; that feeling remaining even now that you’re mated to the Autumn heir.

“I love you,” he said then, his one hand cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned into him, his hands roaming over your body as you felt his pants tighten slightly against your stomach. You chuckled, breaking for air before he got too many ideas.

“Apples?” You suggested. He nodded, swallowing thickly, but you could see the lust swelling in his irises. Once all your tasks were done today, you were sure you’d be seeing more of this side of him later tonight. “Apples,” he agreed.

The Lady of Autumn was more than thrilled with the discoveries you and Eris had come back with, her gratitude for the both of you evident before she bid the both of you goodbye. Watching you go, even for a few hours felt like torture for Eris. He shook his head, cursing the dirty thoughts racing through his mind — but they wouldn’t stop.

They surely didn’t stop as he sat before the fireplace at sunset, lazily sipping the last remnants of whisky from his glass as he scanned over the court’s weekly newsletter. The words were a blur; he was just passing the time and waiting for you to come home. Waiting to get his hands on you again.

Gods, your lips had tasted so good this morning, so warm against the cool air of the grove. Fuck, that little waist… when he’d had you the other night, bent over on the bed, fucking himself into you relentlessly, his hands gripping your smooth skin-

He wasn’t sure when he set down his glass, or when his paper hit the floor, but his fingers were now gliding over his cock, throbbing with need. His head rolled back, short breaths coming out between his parted lips.

The way your body moved this morning… he let out a soft groan. He thought of you, sitting on his lap, the fire casting a golden glow around you, bouncing up and down on his length. You didnt need any other fire — you emitted light yourself, everything you did, everywhere you went. You were the sun itself.

“Y/N…” he sucked in a breath, yanking on his cock. He thought about the tiny lingerie you’d wear for him, how he could pull it down over your tits and take one of your nipples between his teeth as you rode him harder…

His groans were cut short as a soft, familiar mouth met his, and he slowed his strokes but smiled into the kiss in realization. You pulled back an inch, a few tendrils of your hair tickling his neck and shoulders as you leaned over the couch above him, taking the scene in fully.

“Did you miss me?”

Tamlin

The sharp knock at the door startled him, his gaze drifting from the reports on his desk to the entrance of his study.

“It’s nearly ten thirty, Sir,” Alis peeked her head in. “I’m going to turn in for the night, unless there was anything else you needed.” Tamlin’s eyes widened in realization, and he looked at the wall clock for confirmation. Sure enough, 10:27 p.m. He sighed heavily.

“No, no, I’m quite alright Alis. Tell me, has Y/N turned in already?” He asked. His heart clenched as he tugged on the bond with no response. He’d told you he would be done with these reports hours ago, but, per usual to no avail. He hated disappointing you.

“I haven’t seen her since nine, Sir.” Alis said. He only nodded, and she closed the door quietly. Tamlin rubbed his eyes, shuffling his files into neat stacks and flicking off his table side lamp before heading toward the master bedroom.

Upon entering, his heart dropped even more. Of course you’d gone to bed, why wait up? He’d done this before. Promised to be done with work only to stay awake for hours into the night, not giving you the attention you’d deserved from him.

You. His mate.

His mate that, upon further inspection, must have believed he would finish on time tonight. You’d fallen asleep in a petal-laden lingerie set, barely leaving anything to the imagination. Tamlin’s lips pressed into a thin line — it was one of his favorites. Now he really felt bad.

Not only did he feel bad… he felt horny.

He stepped as quickly and quietly as he could across the hall toward the master bathroom, closing the door and leaning against the sink.

His chest heaved, and he stared at himself in the mirror, his cock growing harder and harder in his pants. He needed a shower, now.

He flipped the water on, allowing the steam to cloud in the bathroom before he cracked open the door to the hallway, just an inch so some of the hot air could filter out. The moonlight illuminated the space enough through the window — he avoided turning on the lights.

It was only after he’d stripped and gotten into the warm water that he’d started fisting his cock.

Images of you played in his mind, some recent, some from the past. The first time you’d made love in the garden — you had daisy petals all through your hair, your back bridging as it arched in pleasure while he ate you out. Gods, you tasted so sweet — sweeter than any honey Tamlin had ever tasted, in his court or beyond it.

His free hand braced against the cool tile of the shower wall, his other running along his thick length faster.

The images burned into his brain of you laid out on his desk — one he’d been spending so much time at lately with his stupid papers — your mouth open, crying out his name as he worked your clit with his fingers.

Your hands felt so good tangled in his hair… he’d missed that so much, he knew it was his own damn fault for not giving you enough of really anything lately.

“Gods Y/N,” he gritted out, his teeth clenched. The warm water ran over the defined muscles of his back, a reminder, but not quite as exact as the feeling of your fingers on him during those nights of the frenzy. That’s when you’d gotten that adorable, flowery little number anyway that you were wearing now — were you asking to be fucked like that, again?

He groaned at the thought, biting his lip in anticipation. The way you’d looked, so peaceful and delicate, your hair laid prettily on your pillow — but he knew.

Every once in a while, you wanted him crazy. You didn’t want nice, gentle, garden love-making. You wanted mating-bond, frenzy-crazed, sex. The kind that had you once drenching the sheets with your cum, squirting from you as your mate pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. The kind that had you shaking as you sat on his face, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue played in your folds.

“FUCK,” Tamlin swore, pumping his dick so hard, feeling his release building, imagining your tongue on him instead, your awaiting mouth and beautiful, round eyes gazing up at him from the floor…

“Looking for somewhere to, finish?” You asked, stepping lightly into the shower behind him. Tamlin stilled, his face flushing at being caught in the act.

“I… sweetheart I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

“You didn’t,” You interjected, crossing your arms beneath your breasts. Tamlin’s cock jerked, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked body. The cute outfit was something, yes, but your body, just you — now that was something he’d prefer over anything.

“…but I wish you would have.” You raised an eye brow at him.

His eyes darkened at your words and he chuckled, looking to the floor and shaking his head slowly.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long-“

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping forward as his gaze met yours. “We haven’t yet done it in the shower.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

[goodeapple]

blue snowflakes (modern hotd, xmas edition ... daddy!aemond x oc)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC) but there's no overt incest in this one, you're welcome, normies

warnings : MDNI. ngl, this one is fluffy and tender as FUCK (too much christmas cheer me thinks). however, unprotected sex, sexual use of the word "daddy", Aemond's usual breeding kink, and way too many bad dad jokes lie ahead.

word count : 6,000+

note : merry christmas and happy holidays to all you lovely people. ty for such an amazing year. here's a little thank you from me to you. xx

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7:10. He finishes up a report that isn't expected until the first, the tap of his fingers anxiously loud on the keyboard. 7:15. He stokes the wood in the fireplace, warming his hands in front of the flames, his leg bouncing with restless energy. 7:28. He drains his whiskey glass and the burn licks down his throat before raging into his belly.

They should be here by now. Aemond does not freak out. That's not who he is- the grip he holds on his emotions never waivers. But as the time ticks and tocks on and he remains alone in his flat, his nerves start to sizzle until they singe. 

At 7:48, a frenzied knock on the door has Aemond moving across the floor in four long strides. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the roads were God awful, took us an hour to get down Main." Ysilla stands shivering as he rips it open. She stomps her Uggs for almost dramatic effect, the ice sticking to the boots melting in the warmth of the hallway. Aemond releases a slow and steady breath, the tight fist of anxiety in his chest loosening. The little thing holding strong to Ysilla's gloved hand is a marshmallow puff of bubblegum pink goosefeather down, her jacket done up to her muff covered ears. 

"Daddy, Daddy!" Dany shrieks, uncaring of the obvious chill that polishes the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose into a cherry red glow. She releases her mother's hand, dashing forward before almost immediately tumbling over her own feet and eating it in the foyer. 

Aemond catches his daughter without blinking, hauling her onto his hip and pressing a strong kiss into her temple. "Hello, my little dragon." A piece of him notches into place and suddenly, his eyes are brighter and his posture less stiff, his head clear and heart beating fonder. His beautiful Daenerys. 

He gestures Ysilla in and she nods her thanks, unravelling her spun scarf from her neck and toeing off her soaked shoes. Her own cheeks are burnt from the cold, her fine, fawn skin accepting the rosiness like an expensive blush. 

"You drove?" He asks his ex, his tone sharper than he wishes but he still means it. It's fucking gnarly outside and she decided tonight of all nights was the one to take a joyride?

Ysilla rolls her eyes, moving down the hall to the front room, speaking to him over her shoulder. "Yes, Aemond, we drove. I know how to do that."

He thought he fucked that attitude out of her a long time ago, but they haven't been together in awhile. Things change. 

"Where the hell is Erryk?" He sets Dany onto her feet, half listening and humming as his daughter rattles off every thought that pops into her head, leaving behind her a trail of winter wear she peels off that is every color of the pastel rainbow. 

Ysilla sniffs, her eyes roaming critically over his decorations. His assistant picked them out, and it's like she can smell it.

"It's Christmas, Aemond, I gave him the week off." 

Aemond doesn't growl but it's quite close. "I don't pay him to take a week off, Ysilla, I pay him to make sure my girls get to where they need to be safely." 

The glare she pins him with is colder than the wind howling outside. Aemond winces. He knows better than to let that shit slip. Ysilla will take a chunk out of him for saying things like that in front of Daenerys. It gives her false hope that Mummy and Daddy are getting back together, Aemond. She'd said. That had fucking stung. That was right after they separated, the echo of her loss (in their bed, in their flat, in his life) still disorienting him. His days blurred into one long line of droll goings until he at last got to see Dany again. 

"What's done is done, Aemond. I apologized for being late. Now drop it." 

She uses her mum tone and it's effective as all hell. Aemond bites his tongue and waves his metaphorical white flag, rubbing at the back of his neck briskly. Ysilla exhales deeply and lets the defensive line of her shoulders drop. She rummages through her bag, a Birkin he bought her for their first anniversary, and pulls out a long white envelope. 

"She wrote a note to Santa that neither you or I are to read, alright? We're supposed to leave it by the fireplace, next to Santa's cookies, and not peek. Right, Dany love?" Ysilla recites, tossing the sealed note onto the kitchen counter. Dany nods, bobblehead like, and smiles her big missmatched grin, baby teeth missing like blacked out windows in a building. Aemond chuckles, nodding seriously when his daughter shoots him a barbed look. 

"Daddy, it's important! We can't forget, okay?!" 

"Of course, Princess, don't fret. Daddy will make sure all goes well." Aemond ducks down to lock gazes with his daughter, wanting to ensure that she knows her feelings are heard. Ysilla laughs, so softly he almost misses it. She claps her hands once and father and daughter's eyes lock onto her intently. 

"Okay my love, are you all set? You have Frostfire and your letter is safe. Your Angelina Ballerina jammies are in your pack and so is blankie. Are we missing anything?" Ysilla picks at nonexistent lint at the cuff of her cashmere sweater, her fingers twitching along the fine fabric. Aemond gets it- this part is the worst, without fail. 

"Mumma, stay." Dany whispers, moving forward to clutch at Ysilla's sleeve with tiny, pleading fingers. His ex sighs and the sound rattles from her throat as it moves past the dense ball of emotion there. 

"Baby girl, come now, I'll see you next week. We'll go to Nana and Grandpa's and ring in the new year together. All of your cousins will be there too. Doesn't that sound like fun?" 

Dany keeps quiet, her chin drooping down to her chest, her midnight sprigs of bouncing curls curtaining her face from her parents. Ysilla settles on her knees, shrinking down in order to keep her daughter's focus. 

"And you're spending Christmas with Daddy. And Auntie Helaena told me she'll be here with you tomorrow. And so will- oh rūs, don't cry, it's okay." She coos, swiping away her daughter's tears with gentle thumbs. 

Aemond swallows thickly, squatting behind Dany and shrugging her out of her Bluey backpack. He bought it for her last month, going against the agreement he'd made with Silla to not buy her any presents so close to the holiday but shit, he couldn't help himself. She's his only baby- and it's not like he's expecting to have another with anyone any time soon. 

Dany sniffles, her voice gentler than a baby bird's chirp. "But but Mummy, you'll be alone." 

Between Ysilla's eyebrows crease and she blinks rapidly, the whites of her eyes illuminating with tears. Aemond wants to reach out, squeeze her hand, her knee, cup her cheek… but he doesn't do any of that. He isn't allowed to anymore. 

"I'll be okay, sweet pea. Mummy promises." Ysilla presses their foreheads together, dusting butterfly kisses all over her girl's face. Within seconds, Dany's weeping turns to giggles, to full belly laughter after Ysilla starts to press obnoxious wet smooches anywhere she can reach. The sunshine smile that bursts over Ysilla's face steals Aemond's breath away. 

"Bye baby."

"Bye baby." Dany parrots back, smothering herself into her mother's neck, her tiny arms lassoing around her tightly. Ysilla squeezes her back just as fiercely, refusing to be the first to break away. Dany finally relents, fists rubbing at her eyes, before shuffling to the couch to sit. Ysilla's legs shake as she stands and Aemond ghosts a hand over the small of her back in a quiet comfort. 

The parents take their cue to give their daughter some space and start to work their way out of the room. 

"You know I don't mind if you stay. Not going to be doing much but lounging around and eating too much sugary shit. You can have your old bedroom back. I'll even clear out a drawer for you." He can be funny when he wants to be, all earlier unpleasantries forgiven and forgotten. Ysilla lets him lift her spirits, her wobbly grin the best Christmas gift he could ask for. 

"The sock drawer was never the issue, Aem… it was the hair care drawer." He snorts as she giggles, tickled pink by her own joke. They reach the front door and he imagines the feeling he gets here is similar to greeting the edge of the plank. 

"Anyways, I have a hot date with a bubble bath and a bottle of Myrish rum- I can't cancel that again." It's not the best excuse, especially because her eyes are still glassy with emotion, but Aemond won't take a mile from his given inch. 

Ysilla turns to face him after throwing one last look down the hall. An eyelash has drifted to freckle her cheekbone, the bat of her lashes no doubt stirring it loose and Aemond doesn't think before he cradles her cheek, his thumb sweeping it away. He drops his hand as quickly as he'd raised it, the warmth flowing from her skin too enticing to trust himself with. 

She hesitates then, for a moment, before tiptoeing up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She braces her palm on the curve of his bicep and she squeezes at the muscle, and he presses into her as close as she'll allow. Her voice is softer than snowfall at his ear. "Merry Christmas, Aemond." 

He turns his head just so, and he brushes his lips at her temple, the same way he'd greeted Dany. His words from before echo like the groaning ghost of Christmas past. His girls. "Merry Christmas, Sill."

He holds the door for her, watching her walk out of his life yet again and definitely doesn't get an eyeful of her ass as she goes.

He shuts and bolts it, and how pathetic is it that he has to dig his nails into the doorframe to stop from chasing after her and giving his best Love, Actually airport reunion kiss in the elevator. He thumps his forehead against the wood. He wonders if he'll stop loving her sometime soon, because three years apart has done fuck all for healing his broken heart and it sucks. Aemond stops feeling sorry for himself long enough to look back into the flat. Dany stands alone at the end of the hallway, Frostfire, her ratty stuffed dragon she's had since birth, clutched by the wing in her fist and swinging by her side. Her giant ice blue eyes pierce through him, and the sad small frown on her lips matches his. God, this never gets any easier.

"Come on, baby girl." His daughter tucks her hand into his as he leads them to the sterling white marble kitchen. 

He makes it good, special he hopes. They press shapes into the sugar cookie dough, and then frost the somewhat recognizable snowflakes once they've baked and cooled. He makes her cocoa, begrudgingly adding more marshmallows after being suckered by her pouting face, but he doesn't truly mind. There's not one memory he has of doing any of this with his dad, and he'll be damned if Daenerys ever thinks for even one moment that he wouldn't want to be anywhere rather than right here, with her. He'd give her a cereal bowl of marshmallows if he didn't know that she'd puke them back up after her sugar rush would fizzle out. 

They crash onto the couch eventually, the sun long since set, the view from this high up making all of the far and distant lights twinkle like gleaming stars. 

They're watching a movie, the one with the bratty kid who gets left behind by his family when they leave for Paris. It makes Aemond's mind hit the snooze button but Dany giggles every time one of the Wet Bandits gets hurt, so he relents and just enjoys having her here with him. 

 A tepid knock at the door is nearly lost to him, a particularly gusty wind shaking the triple pane windows something awful, but it sounds again and Aemond frowns. He's not expecting anyone, certainly not on Christmas Eve. He wraps the throw blanket tighter around Dany as he leaves their nest, and jogs down the hall. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming." He says, loud enough to quiet the knocker from sounding again. He doesn't bother with the peephole, unlatching the deadbolt and pulling the door open with more than a little annoyance. 

Ysilla stands stockstill, doing her best to place first in a snowman lookalike contest, so many white specks of snow littering her dark strands that she nearly matches Aemond's icy coloring. 

"I tried, there's no way I can drive back home in that. Had to leave my car on the street, snow's too thick to get through."

"Jesus, Sill, you're like a fuckin' ice cube." Aemond all but yanks her inside, wincing at the freezing sting of her skin.

"Want me to call you an Uber?" That's the last fucking thing he wants, but he'd move mountains for her, even if it's in the direction opposite of him.

Ysilla shakes her head in the negative, her teeth chattering so hard that the clinking sounds like it hurts. "I tried- nothing's available. Not even with surge pricing, fuck's sake."

Aemond falls silent, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and pressing it into her trembling hands. She gives him an appreciative look and starts to dry her damp hair. 

"Mummy stay?" Tink tink tink, like a bell, Daenerys' voice floats down the hall, her head hanging over the edge of the couch to stare at her parents with a marvelously mischievous smile. 

Ysilla glances up at him, apprehension bright in her lavender eyes. He's still so close, he can smell the jasmine misted over her skin. Their sheets used to be soaked in it, a calling card she'd leave him with anytime she had to travel. He misses her so much, it makes his teeth ache, so who is he to question a Christmas miracle?

"Mummy stay." Aemond declares, stepping behind Ysilla to tug her coat off. He's selfish in his chivalry and he lets his thumbs trail down her arms as he undresses her, and he'd pay good money to know if her shiver is from the cold or his touch. 

Dany jumps to her feet, bouncing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs, "Yay! Mummy stays, Mummy stays!" 

.

Aemond pulls the glass doors shut on the fireplace, watching drowsily as the glowing embers snuff out to a chilly charcoal grey. It's late, close to midnight, time lost somewhere between Elf and The Polar Express. He stands, wincing as his knees crack and pop and goes to sit on the arm of the couch. 

Enjoying the quiet, he gazes upon his girls. Wrapped up in each other, Ysilla and Dany are passed out and have been for at least an hour. After he'd gotten some food in Sill, he'd all but tucked the girls in together, listening to Dany happy chitter until she finally knocked out, sprawled on her mother's chest and nestled into her father's side. 

Not wanting to wake her but knowing her back will thank him for it later, Aemond shakes Ysilla's ankle gently. She stirs, blinking slow and heavy before she spots him, and Aemond has to swallow past the lump in his throat. That look had gotten them into trouble many times before- in the back of a limo on the way to an art gala, on a beach lounger while they holidayed on the Orange Shore, when they first toured this flat and he decided they should christen the kitchen island. Good times. 

Let's put her to bed. He mouths, not ready to break the stillness of the moment. Ysilla nods, flexing her arms around their sleeping child and starts to untangle their legs. 

Aemond rises, hovering over them and tucking his hands into Dany's armpits to lift her into his chest. She's getting too big. She's got to stop growing before Aemond has a mental breakdown over dating and prom dresses while she's still in nursery school. 

"Mumma, Daddy…" She's still asleep, her lashes fanning over her rosy cheeks and hair a moppy mess. Aemond rubs her back and Ysilla trails along next to him, brushing their daughter's curls out of her face. 

"Sleep now, my angel. It's almost Christmas. And when you wake up, Santa will have visited and left you something special."

"And read my letter?"

"And read your letter." Ysilla promises, pressing a lovely kiss to her forehead. She stays behind in the doorway, letting Aemond clear the pink frilly bed of a million stuffed animals before sliding Dany beneath the sheets. He clicks on her firefly nightlight and tucks Frostfire in beside her. 

"Sweet dreams, dōna hāedar." He's not a crier but he feels the salty sting in his nose. She's his one constant, his daughter, his heir. He'll never be more thankful for Ysilla than when she ignored her lawyer's advice and decided to split 50/50 custody. Losing her nearly killed him, if his daughter would've been lost to him too? Aemond's not sure he could've survived. He departs after a few more peaceful moments, clicking her door shut softly behind him. 

He stretches, a pleased groan escaping him as he heads back to the living room. The couch is empty and in a brief moment of dumbstruck panic, he wonders if Ysilla seized her opportunity and left. He knows she's happy to be here with Dany, but he also accepts that she's not happy to be here with him. 

The faucet flipping on in the kitchen snuffs out his dread and he follows the sound like it's a siren song. Ysilla washes their mugs methodically, her too long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He'd given her one of his hoodies to dethaw in, and the emerald tone against her complexion makes him hungry. She finishes, turning the cups upside down on the drying rack before she towels off her hands. The smile she wears when she catches sight of him may be small, but it's genuine. 

"Hey."

Aemond grins, a puppy given attention, his metaphorical tail wagging wildly. "Hey. Sad you missed out on your rum soaked bubble bath?" 

Ysilla snorts, rolling her eyes at him good naturedly. "No, not at all. This was… nice. This was all very nice." She swallows hard, rolling down her sleeves so that they dip past her fingers again. "I enjoyed every second of it." 

"So did I. It was like old times." 

Ysilla grins, leaning her elbows on the counter. The only light in the whole flat is from the Christmas tree, the soft gold gleam painting the room alive with merriment. 

"We practically lived on that couch when Dany was born, you remember?"

Aemond smirks, relishing in the memory. He treads into the kitchen, closing the distance between them as naturally as he can. 

"It was closer to the food. And more spacious than the bedroom. It was an easy choice." 

Ysilla laughs at his recollection, an easy laugh that he always celebrated getting out of her. He hopes Dany will laugh like her, be joyous like her. Aemond doesn't have much of that gene to pass on.  

"You look good, Aemond." She gives him an up/down, and there's not enough light in here to tell if she's blushing. He gives her one back, taking his time on her legs and the curve of her thighs before the rest of her frame is swallowed up by his clothes.

"You do too, Sill."

She huffs, pinning him with a faux annoyed glare. "Are you going to agree with everything I say?" 

"Oh absolutely." Aemond deadpans, leaning in closer before giving her his cheekiest grin. 

Ysilla cranes her head back so she can keep their eyes connected, but she ends up breaking first, staring at something above him with a somewhat startled look. 

"Mistletoe…" She trails off, almost too quiet to catch. Aemond looks above him and sighs. 

"New assistant decorated. She has a thing for the doorman that lets her in here. Maybe she was trying to get lucky." 

He dismisses the hovering green foliage as quick as he'd noticed it but when he looks back to Ysilla, she's still staring. Transfixed, eyes twinkling. 

"Isn't it bad luck? To not…" He wonders if she can't bring herself to voice it aloud. To not kiss? Before tonight, they've barely been in the same room for more than thirty minutes in the last three years. Slipping each other the tongue is most likely a step way past their invisible boundary. 

Aemond steps closer and they're toe to toe. Ysilla's eyes snap to his and the gulp she takes is damn near audible. He wraps a stray curl behind her ear, hand drifting over to cup the soft edge of her cheek. He presses his thumb under her chin, making her raise her lips to nearly brush against his. He stares into her eyes, the drip of the faucet thunderous, and bends down. He kisses her forehead, eyes closed and his nose burrowing into her fringe, committing her floral pheromone to his memory. He stays there, listening to the labored breaths rise and fall in her chest, and soaks in the moment. 

He has to leave because if he doesn't, he'll start something he's not sure Ysilla will be able to stomach in the bright light of day. Like pulling teeth, he steps back, purposefully (shamefully) avoiding her beseeching eyes. He mumbles a goodnight, lips burning and craving another taste as he turns to exit.

He's spun back around by a firm hand twisting him by his sweater. Ysilla yanks him down to her level, his back pressing into the counter, and she slides her lips over his. A puppet on a string for her and her alone, Aemond's arms circle round her waist and he crushes her to him. It's as good as their first- no, better. He knows every spot that makes her sigh, she can find each nerve to set him off. It's as easy as breathing, when they're together and he lets himself enjoy it all.

Ysilla breaks away and she's breathing much harder than she was before. "Now that's a proper kiss." She whispers and he feels her lips perk up in a silly little grin that he doesn't see, because his mouth finds hers again and he loses himself in her.

He lifts her and she goes gracefully into his arms, winding her legs around his waist. He needs to get them somewhere they could go horizontal, wishful thinking and all that. He guides them to the couch, throwing himself down on it and pulling her in as close as space will permit. She settles on his lap, her leggings and his joggers doing nothing to conceal the massive hard-on that spells out her name. 

"And what do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?" Swiss, gouda, cheddar. The line is so cheesy but Aemond feels inspired by the holiday fair. That, and he's been bricked since she put on his clothes. He wants to get her naked as soon as possible and if he can fast track that by way of a stupid joke that's right up her alley, he can live with that. 

She nibbles at his earlobe before slithering her tongue up the shell of his ear. Her lips tickle the cartilage as she whispers and it makes him shiver. "I really want to make a joke about Santa's sack right now." 

"Christ, Ysilla." Aemond groans, letting an exasperated laugh bubble out of his chest. This is so his fault. 

"You know I'm funny." She cradles his face, angling his head to the side so that she can lick and bite at his neck. 

"Maybe. But what I do know for sure… is that you're the most stunning woman I've ever been blessed to see. And you are a magnificent mother to our daughter. And you were a phenomenal partner to me…" Aemond braces himself, a glutton for punishment. "And I fucked that up royally, didn't I?" 

He feels Ysilla frown and she straightens, sliding back to sit on his knees rather than on his dick. "Aemond, you know that's not what happened." 

He hmms noncommittally, mourning the route that they both steered away from. Sex over feelings is usually a no brainer for any man but this is a conversation that he needs to have. And from the way Ysilla's eyes dim down to a sad hue, it's one she needs to have too. 

"We're not together right now because I couldn't, how did you phrase it? 'Get my head out of my ass and straighten out my priorities'? Yeah, you hit the nail on the head there, baby. It was my fault." 

"That wasn't fair to you. I could've tried harder. I was so stressed after Dany was born, I didn't feel like myself. Didn't start feeling like myself again until nearly a year ago." She picks up his hand and she cradles it between both of her own, stroking at the rough rise of his knuckles. 

"If you're feeling like yourself again, does that mean you're seeing someone?" 

Ysilla looks like she wants to hit him and Aemond thinks he should let her. 

"Of course not, why would you even ask that?" 

"You seem happier as of late- or, at least that's what Dany says. Couldn't help but think it might be because of someone new." The thought makes him want to chew glass but he has to ask. He's got to prepare himself for another year of the only girl in his life being a pint-sized princess that demands he plays pony anytime they go to the park. 

"We're separated, Aem. Not divorced." She rolls her eyes and the expression she aims at him spells out duh.

"You're a catch, Sill. Any fucker would be lucky to have you. Plus, it's been three years. I wouldn't be angry if you explored something new." Liar, liar. 

"Yeah, three years where I was focusing on what was best for me and Dany. And that certainly wasn't a new lover." 

Aemond wants to dance a fucking jig in absolute glee but he suppresses it. "So… no one?"

"No one." Ysilla looks at him like she's afraid to ask the next question. "You?"

"There's no one but you. Never has been." The words flow out of him as if they'd lived on the tip of his tongue his whole life. 

She exhales, a long, heavy breath of relief before the most brilliant smile blooms on her mouth. Aemond feels lighter than a fucking feather, his own smile pulling tightly at his lips before they find their way back to one another, licking and lapping into each others' mouths. 

He rolls his hips up, selfish in his desire, and rubs his entire shaft up the hot line of her clothed snatch.

Ysilla tsks, biting his lip and wagging her finger in his face. "Un-uh, wrap it up, big boy."

"Thought you liked it when I go raw." He squeezes her hips, his thumbs tugging at the edge of her waistband. He dips below the elastic, stroking the hot, smooth skin over her hip bones. She rocks forward, a gasp slipping from her mouth as her covered center brushes at his tented cock. "You always came harder when I didn't wear a rubber."

She doesn't deny it, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her mouth. Between kisses, she whispers, "Proof of that is dreaming of sugar plum fairies as we speak." 

Aemond hums around her tongue, pulling away to kiss across her jaw. "Y'know, only children always end up weird." 

Ysilla scoffs, leaning away and raising a fine dark brow at him. 

"I'm kidding." Aemond smiles, brash and bright, pressing an apologetic peck to her chin. 

"No you're not." She groans, widening her thighs as he starts to pull her leggings down. His heart is beating so fast, he can feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His hands worship the skin he bares, stroking her fine, supple softness. He gets her pants past her knees before he loses his patience and decides that's good enough. 

He shoves past his waistband, palming at his stiff shaft before pulling himself free. His cock springs up, weeping head finding her silk covered hole like a dart to a bullseye. His clever fingers hook around the crotch of her panties, pulling them to the side, his knuckles dragging across her wet lips like a ghost of a kiss. He will be eating out at some point tonight, lord willing. 

"You're right, I'm not… I want a boy." He slips the tip inside of her, just enough to get a taste of the warmth of her pussy. 

Their eyes lock and they don't break as Ysilla sinks down onto every rigid inch of his prick. Aemond's jaw drops, stupid to the pleasure of her steaming, slick cunt wrapping around him in such an embrace. It takes her a minute, wincing and whimpering as she goes until finally they're flush, thigh to thigh. 

"That's my girl, takin' it all." Aemond croons, palm finding the back of her neck and thumb stroking just under her hairline. That lights her fire, Ysilla gyrating in smooth figure eights, finding a rhythm that has both of them biting their lips to keep from shouting. 

"Fucckkkk, I missed this." Ysilla pants, head thrown back in absolute ecstasy. She doesn't skip a beat, riding his cock like she'd never left it. "I missed you. You feel so good, holy hell." 

Aemond spreads his knees further apart, letting her spread herself out, reaching deeper in her than before as a result. Ysilla bounces in his lap, the lights on the tree behind her haloing her into something festively angelic. She's some divine dream and Aemond will kill any man who dares to wake him. 

A sharp, high whine brays from Ysilla's throat and Aemond's hand slaps over her mouth roughly. 

"Easy sweetheart, you can't wake Dany up."

Ysilla moves her head back, Aemond's hand slipping away until she ducks forward and swallows two of his fingers. The wet, wiggly muscle of her tongue slides over his digits sloppily, soaking them in her saliva and reminding him exactly how she used to win every fight they would have. She sucks once more, letting him feel the strong flex of her mouth before she pulls off.  

"Then put something in my mouth to shut me up."

He kisses her, long and hard, before retreating and whispering at her swelling lips. "I'm not pulling out of this pussy, Silli girl." 

Ysilla's breath stutters, hips hitching as he shifts just right, her channel fluttering around him in tempo with her heartbeat. 

"Mmmmm, then shove my face into a pillow so I can scream for you."

The way Aemond maneuvers her without pulling out is honestly impressive. Face down, ass up, he manages to rid her of her leggings and knickers, baring all of her silky skin for him to gaze upon. She's got a phenomenal ass, backshots with her used to drive him mad. 

Taking full advantage of their new position, he sets a brutal pace, sliding in harsh and deep, his grip on her hips unyielding. When he pulls out, he lets himself miss the mark, gliding his cock between her puffy folds, his slit slithering up to kiss her clit. 

Ysilla gasps for air, pushing away the pillow she'd been smothering herself with. "That's it, that's it, yeah. Pound my pussy, Daddy." 

It's been a long time since they've played this game but without fail, Aemond's cock jerks in interest and his mouth floods with saliva. He's famished, he's fucking starving, and they only thing that can satiate him is the woman he made a mother. 

"Mmmm, this all for daddy? Makin' a mess on my lap, leavin' a puddle on my couch?" His voice has dropped, the rumble of it pulsing from his chest. His thrusts hit harder, punishing in a way that's similar to a spank on the rear.

"Yes, fuck, I've been wet since I put your hoodie on." Speaking of, she's still wearing it, the Oldtown High logo on the back faded and peeling. Aemond pushes it up to her shoulders until it bunches at the back of her neck. His big hands span the curve of her ribs until he finds himself a handful of her tits and kneads the heavy flesh. 

He can't fuck her like he wants to when their baby is sleeping in the next room, but he gets as close as he can. 

"Your body wants me, love. Couldn't pull out even if I fuckin' wanted to." He strokes at her belly, caressing the place she'd grown their girl. "I think she wants one more." He plants a kiss between her shoulder blades, her skin fucking blistering with heat. 

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" She throws her ass back on him, fucking him in earnest until she can't abuse that spongy spot inside of her any longer. She freezes, muscles trembling and fists clenching, the poor throw pillow being shredded by her teeth, until her body goes lax, and the vice grip around Aemond's cock loosens. 

His balls draw up, the edge of his spine burning in need, and he curses with gritted teeth. "Christ, Sill, tell me to pull out. Tell me baby, make me." She's the only one that gets to see him like this- unraveled at the seams and flying apart, unable to control himself when presented with the object of all of his fantasies.

"Mmmm no, so warm," she slurs, her cheek smushed against the couch cushion. She wiggles back against him, a sinful invitation to grab hold and let go. "Fill me up, Aem. Give me your load, come on." 

"Fuck yesss." He hisses, obeying as commanded, pistoning in and out of her pretty cunt before he's a goner, grunting as he cums deep in her greedy womb. 

He slouches on top of her bonelessly, the aftershocks stinging through his entire lower half, his breaths choppy and uneven until the wave retreats, and the feeling comes back to his toes. He slumps to his side, rolling off of her, yanking up his joggers and tossing a throw over Ysilla's alluring backside. 

His wife props her head up on her hand, staring at him with a sated, sleepy expression. 

"Santa came early this year." 

Aemond doesn't react except to say, "If that's a cum joke, I'm kicking you out." 

She breathes out a laugh, shoving at his shoulder. "No you perv, I meant my Christmas wish. It came true."

Aemond smiles, every bit of him happy to sink into the couch while watching her talk. 

"Care to share?" 

Ysilla blushes, as if she didn't just get creampied. 

"I wished for a really good orgasm, preferably with my baby daddy." She plays footsie with him, looping her ankle around his calf and ushering him closer. "Also, I wished for multiple. As many as he's willing to give me. Just so you know."

He kisses her because he can and because he missed doing so. He lurches forward until she's underneath him, their hands going to the other's shirts and ridding them of the suffocating material. 

"Ho ho ho, baby mama."

.

They both keep their word and don't read the letter, tossing it into the lit fire the next morning before Dany stumbles out and screeches Happy Christmas! to her poor, sleep deprived parents. 

The flames eat the careful, crooked scrawl in seconds but the words seem to have manifested to life as Dany watches her mother and father blush every time they bump into one another. 

Dear Mr. Claus,

I know I wrote you a letter last week but I have changed my mind. Please tell your elves to forget the dolly. What I truly want is for my Mummy and Daddy to be back together. They smile more when they're together, and I do too. This is my one Christmas wish and I will be very very very sad if it does not come true, so please try real hard, okay? Okay. Thanks alot alot. I wish you the best of luck with everything! 

PS: If you happen to have a spare dolly in your bag, I won't say no to it. 

Love, 

Daenerys Aemma Targaryen

.

.

.

rūs . baby

dōna hāedar . sweet girl

[lqveharrington]

Perfect Creation | L.M.

summary: You were created to be Lucifer’s perfect soulmate, so what happens when he founds out about a newer creation that you both happened to make.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Wife!reader

includes: fluff, angst if you squint, mentions of pregnancy, that’s basically it

a/n: i mean, who doesn’t love Lucifer Morningstar???

You and Lucifer fell together. The Heavens banished the both of you to Hell, sent to rule over the sinners and hellborne. You never expected to be sent to the pits of fire, but you had to become the backbone for Lucifer, doing your best to not break down while he did. It hit him harder than you did as he was God’s favorite son and creation. But, you were there to care for him. You were there to listen to his bleeding heart. You were always there because you were solely created to be Lucifer’s perfect partner.

“Love?” Lucifer called out as he appeared in the manor’s foyer, golden wisps fading.

There was a string of curses from your shared bedroom before he heard your voice call out for him in the enlarged hallway. “I’m in here!”

He chuckled before taking quick strides to the bedroom, slowly pushing the door open. He froze when he found you innocently sitting on the bed, legs crossed and smiling wide. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” You blink up at him as he approaches you, letting your hands tangle with his. You gently sway his hands before tugging him close to you. “How was your day?”

“Horrible.” He mumbled in between the crook of your neck, letting you pull him onto the bed big enough to fit the entirety of Pentagram City. “I had to deal with all the paperwork from the other rings, and then I had an overlord meeting to attend when everything handled there had nothing to do with me…”

You run your fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, Luce.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Lucifer sighed as he rested his head on your chest. “How was your day?”

“It was better than yours…” You murmur, a soft smile playing on your lips when you remember what you were doing earlier. “I spent the day making a surprise for you when you came home.”

“Really?” He propped his head on your chest, eyes filled with a lovesick look.

“Mhm, I need to grab it though. I kind of shoved everything in the bathroom when I heard you come home.” You trace your finger on the curvatures of his face. “Do you want it?”

“Of course.” He reluctantly pulled away, whining when your warmth left him. “Can I get a hint at what it is?”

“Nope.” You pop your last syllable, entering the bathroom suite.

From the crack in the door, Lucifer watched golden wisps emit from the bathroom, making him raise a brow at the action. “What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, just cover your eyes.” You shut the lid on the gift box, biting your lip nervously from the contents of the gift. “Promise me you won’t like… Freak out or anything.”

“I promise, honey.” He whispers loud enough for you to hear. Did he have a right to be terrified of what you were going to bring out? If you said not to freak out, of course, he had the right. “You better come out or I’m going in.”

“I’m coming out…” You step out, taking slow strides until you're on the bed, kneeling in front of him.

Lucifer felt the bed dip, making him raise a brow. “Can I open my eyes?”

“Yes.” You brace yourself for the first part of the surprise, laughing when Lucifer tackles you down onto the bed. “Luce!”

“You are so adorable.” He smiled brightly, eyes scanning your onesie. “My love, if this was the surprise, I’m happily surprised.” He tugged the duck hoodie over your head, causing you to laugh again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m not done! I still have one more thing.”

“What is it?” He sat back up on his knees, letting you shove the box in his lap. “What is this?”

“Open it, Luce.” You bite the tip of your nail, watching his reaction closely. You look away when he gasps, opting to look over at the photo of you and him from your wedding day.

Lucifer looked down at the smaller onesie and the pregnancy test before looking back up at you with tears in his eyes, frowning when he caught your sad smile. “My love, look at me.”

You reluctantly look back over, feeling his hand intertwined with yours. “Are you… Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He let out a wet laugh, wiping his eyes. “How could I ever be mad at you? You’re pregnant… Hell, you’re pregnant with our baby!” He pulled you close to him, wiping your own face. “Why would I be mad at something so wonderful?”

“I don’t know.” You smile as tears cascade down your face. “I thought you wouldn’t want—“

“Who said that?” He let out his wings and pulled you into his arms as he spun you around. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant!”

You laugh at his enthusiasm, letting your forehead rest on his. “We’re going to be parents.”

“The best damn parents there are in the whole universe.” He nudged your nose with his, shutting his eyes. “Fuck, I love you more than anything else.”

You press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling him rub circles on your stomach. “I love you too, Lucifer Morningstar.”

Even if you were created to be Lucifer Morningstar’s perfect partner, you and Lucifer were definitely destined to create the universe’s best being since creation, defying those who had cast both of you away.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[ayyy-pee]

can you imagine nanami when you tell him the news that you’re pregnant? he’s happy! of course he’s happy, if not a little shell shocked. he’s quietly discussing the next steps with you as far as making a doctors appointment, getting an ultrasound done to see the little bean and hear it’s heartbeat. all of those things sound great. he plans on being at every single baby related event. mentally he’s marking off his calendar for the first appointment.

but in his mind, he’s absolutely freaking out. nanami doesn’t want to add any stress onto you with his concerns, but he has absolutely no clue how he’s supposed to be a father.

his mind reels at the thought of having this tiny person - a perfect mixture of himself and his love - bundled up in his arms. his heart races when he imagines sleepless nights ahead and midnight bottle making. his breaths quicken when he thinks of all the screaming and crying this little person will make while they turn your lives upside down.

but nanami’s mind also reels at the thought of this tiny person - a perfect mixture of himself and his love - bundled up in his arms, cooing and snuggling closer to his chest. his heart also races when he imagines you, beautiful, belly round with his child, your joint creation. his breaths also quicken when he thinks about quieting their screams and cries, setting the world right again for this little person.

he’s going to be a father.

that same night nanami returns home with two large bags. he sets them down in the foyer by the front door as you emerge from the kitchen.

“hey, baby,” you greet him as he wraps you up in his arms. his hold is tight, not enough to hurt you of course, but enough that you feel secure in his embrace.

“hi, love.” nanami nuzzles his nose into your hair, sighing as though it pained him to be away from you for a couple of hours. and since finding out about the baby, it sort of did hurt him to leave your side.

he kisses your temple as you glance curiously over his shoulder to the two bags. “what’s this?”

you peer up at your husband, the tips of his ears a pretty shade of crimson. you scoot past him, into the corridor and shuffle over to the bags, peeking inside. your brow arches when you see the items on top and nanami simply watches as you shift the contents of the bag around.

eyes wide, you stare at your husband who wears a cute pink blush across his cheeks as he now avoids looking at you. it makes you giggle as you ask, “kento…want to explain why you bought two enormous bags full of…parenting books?”

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Deleted scene from 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' to keep you busy while AO3 is down:

(Sydney & Carmy babysit for Richie, set in between chapters four & five — I wrote it & then decided to scrap it, I don't even know why lol it just wasn't working. & I didn't edit it, so it might have mistakes. But anyway, you guys can have it as a treat.)

Richie runs out the front door, pulling his jacket on. 

“Carmen,” he says, walking up to Carmy and, much to Sydney’s surprise, taking Carmy’s face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to the top of Carmy’s head. “Thank you so much. I owe you, brother.”

“It’s fine,” Carmy mutters. 

“Sydney,” Richie says, pulling away from Carmy to look at her. 

“I don’t need a kiss,” Sydney says quickly, “just a verbal thank you is more than enough.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Richie says. “Carmy explained the situation, right?”

“I told her what you told me,” Carmy says. 

“Because I never miss a weekend with her,” Richie says, “I mean, I have literally never missed a single minute of a weekend with her before, but if I don’t go to the DMV today, it’s like six months till I can get another appointment, and I really need to get my license renewed.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney says, not dwelling too much on the thought of how much Richie has been driving her around with an expired license so far. “We’re happy to look after her.”

“I’ll be back in two hours,” Richie says. “She has her iPod, and all her Barbies. There are Uncrustables in the fridge, or you can cook with whatever’s in there, and she likes watching Unicorn Academy, she can put it on herself.”

“We’ll be fine, cousin. Don’t be late to your appointment,” Carmy says, with a somber expression that looks less like someone taking on babysitting duties, and more like a soldier awaiting command.

Carmy called Syd that morning, saying Richie was freaking out about needing a babysitter. Granted, Carmy was also freaking out about being a babysitter. 

"Nat’s busy, Tina’s busy, everyone’s fucking busy, can you please come with me? I’m not good with kids."

Sydney isn’t particularly good with kids either, but she didn’t tell him that.

She would’ve taken any excuse to see Carmy. Because she’s a masochist. And because the fact that he asked her to come not because it would help trick Richie, but because he wanted her help, made her feel kind of hot in the face. 

When he picked her up, she slid into his passenger’s seat with an almost-practiced ease, and he just sat there looking at her for a minute. 

“Your hair,” he said. 

“Oh,” she said, touching the end of one freshly-done braid, “yeah, microbraids, like I told you.”

“They look nice,” he said, and she blushed, despite the stiffness of the complement. 

He always seems to rehearse his words to her in his head before he says them; they come out practiced and overly formal, and it frustrates her, how measured they seem, though it shouldn’t. 

She’s pretty sure that’s just Carmy’s way. He’s careful with everything, not just compliments. She’s learning that about him. 

She’s been learning other things about him, too. 

Like the fact that he seems to go quiet in crowds, and gravitate toward walls. He flinches if anybody moves toward him too suddenly. Sometimes, not often, but enough to notice, he stutters when he speaks. 

She wants to know everything about him. She wishes his life story was a book she could read, so she could just catch up to where he is now, and understand everything about him. She wants to know the right things to say, to do, how to put him at ease. She wants to know what he’s thinking when he looks at her. 

Now, she watches Carmy walk into Richie’s house, stooping to pet Zanzibar as the puppy runs excitedly up to them, letting out high-pitched barks and tapping his little claws against the tiles of Richie’s entrance foyer. 

In the doorframe of the kitchen across from them, a tiny girl with blonde hair and Richie’s facial features peeks out at them. 

“Hi,” Sydney says, giving her a little wave. 

“Uncle Carmy?” the girl asks. 

Carmy looks up at her, unmistakable anxiety crossing his face. 

“Uh, hi,” he says. “Richie’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“She doesn’t call her dad Richie, does she?” Sydney whispers. 

“She knows who I mean,” Carmy whispers back. 

Eva looks between the two of them.

“Dad said you would make me lunch,” she says. 

Sydney smiles. “We will,” she says, looking at Carmy expectantly. 

He nods seriously, walking ahead into the kitchen and beginning to look through Richie’s cabinets. Sydney follows Eva into the room, watching the little girl take a seat at one of the kitchen chairs, pulling her knees up into her chest and looking at  Sydney with huge eyes she hasn’t totally grown into yet. 

“Are you Uncle Carmy’s girlfriend?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Sydney says, glancing over at Carm. 

He’s holding a box of Mac & Cheese, and holds it up for Eva to see, raising an eyebrow. 

“This good?” he asks. 

“That’s good,” Eva says, crossing her arms and deepening her voice slightly to mock Carmy as she says it. He cracks a smile, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove. 

Michelin starred chef cooking boxed Mac & Cheese in a tee shirt three feet away from Sydney. Her life is a joke. 

“Why are you his girlfriend?” Eva asks. 

Sydney laughs softly, considering this. 

“Well, uh,” she says, with a little shake of her head. Carmy has his back to her, facing the stove, but he’s standing still, like he’s listening. “He’s great at cooking,” Sydney says. “And I really like spending time with him. He’s good company.”

“My dad said Carmy’s never looked this happy before,” Eva says. 

Carmy clears his throat. “I am happy,” he says, though there’s an ironic flatness to it. 

“Because of her?” Eva asks. 

Sydney bites the inside of her cheek. 

But Carmy turns around and looks at Sydney, brow furrowing slightly, eyes soft. 

“Yeah. Because of her,” he says. 

He says it like it’s true. 

Michelin star mac and cheese is about as good as it sounds. Carmy is leaning against Richie’s counter, watching Sydney and Eva eat. Eva’s iPod is set on the table in front of her, playing some Taylor Swift deepcut that Sydney doesn’t recognize. As Sydney swallows her third or fourth spoonful of food, she stands up, turning to Carmy. The heat of the stove has put a slight flush in the tops of his cheeks, and there’s a towel slung over one of his shoulders. 

“You’re not eating?” she asks him. 

The question seems to take him off guard. His eyes flicker to the pot of food, then back to her. 

“No, I made it for you two,” he says.

“There’s plenty, Carm,” Sydney says, grabbing a bowl from Richie’s cabinet and filling it for him from the pot still warming on the stove. When she hands it to him, he just looks at it for a second, before taking a small spoonful and putting it in his mouth, chewing like it’s his first time eating a meal. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Sydney asks him, picking her own bowl back up. 

“It’s alright,” he says, taking another, bigger spoonful. He does that sometimes; it’s one of the things she’s noticed. He eats like he’s starving, or he doesn’t eat at all. It gives her this weird urge to take care of him. To text him in the mornings, and at night, and ask him if he ate that day. To show up at his apartment unannounced with bags of groceries and make him sit down for twenty minutes while she meal preps for him. 

“It’s good, Carm, it’s better than alright,” she says again, tone light, even though she’s willing him to believe her as hard as she can. Trying to get him to take a compliment is like trying to throw a ball through a brick wall. 

He averts his eyes, nodding again. “A little flat, but I guess that’s what you get with boxed mix,” he says, pushing the noodles around with his spoon. 

“Ever make it from scratch?” Sydney asks. “Or is that too pedestrian for a fancy New York Chef?”

“I'm gonna pretend I know what pedestrian means in that context,” he says, meeting her eyes with an amused smile. “I made it from scratch one Thanksgiving, years ago. Had no idea what I was doing. My mother passed out at like 3:00pm, and we were all scrambling in the kitchen trying to get dinner together for her so she’d, you know, see it and be happy with us when she woke up. But Sugar burned the turkey, so Mikey had to spend hours trying to calm her down; she got these crazy panic attacks when she made mistakes. And I made mac and cheese.”

“How old were you?” Sydney asks. 

He seems surprised at the question, and shrugs. “Twelve, I think? Mikey would’ve been seventeen, Sugar would’ve just turned fourteen.”

“You’re the youngest?” 

He nods. 

“That figures,” Sydney says. 

He scoffs. “Why does that figure?”

“I don’t know, just does.”

His bowl is almost empty. Wordlessly, she takes it from his hands, refilling it. 

“So, did your mom like the mac and cheese?” she asks. 

Something in his face darkens. He gives a quick shake of his head. 

“No, she couldn’t get past Nat burning the turkey. We just, uh, took all the food into Mikey’s room and watched The Peanuts until she stopped yelling and fell asleep.”

“Uncle Carmy,” Eva interrupts, getting up from her chair and walking over to where Carmy is standing, looking up at him expectantly.“Daddy said you would play Barbies with me.”

“I will play Barbies with you,” Carmy says, and then, looking over at Sydney: “Syd, would you like to play Barbies?”

There’s a fond, almost relieved smile on his face, like another minute of talking about his family might’ve pushed him off some cliff’s edge that he wasn’t prepared to crawl back over. 

“Obviously I want to play Barbies,” Sydney says, letting Eva lead them into the other room. 

"You're such a liar," Sydney murmurs, as they walk behind Eva.

"I am?" Carmy asks lightly.

"Yeah," Sydney says, "you told me you weren't good with kids."

He smiles, shaking his head ruefully.

"I'm not," he says.

Sydney rolls her eyes.

And they play Barbies, for an hour. Carmy kneeling on carpet, listening attentively as Eva explains which Barbie is which (she has a Taylor Swift box set, it seems, and a Barbie dream home that looks like it cost more than Sydney’s last paycheck). Sydney sits cross legged across from them, watching Carmy delicately hold a Barbie doll in one tattooed hand as Eva brushes out its hair. 

Watching him be a good uncle shouldn't be as fucking attractive as it is. It shouldn't be conjuring up vivid images of Carmy holding sleeping babies and cooking family dinners.

God, Sydney is so fucked.

“Speak Now Taylor Barbie is marrying Jacob from Twilight Barbie,” Eva says. “‘Cept I forgot Jacob at Mommy’s house.”

“I see,” Carmy says. Sydney bites back a smile. 

“Are you ever gonna get married?” Eva asks, looking up at Carmy. 

Sydney’s smile quickly fades. 

Carmy’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Me?” he says. 

“You and Sydney,” Eva says, looking over at Sydney expectantly. 

“Uh, maybe,” Carmy says. He’s looking at Sydney too; an expression she can’t read. “I don’t know. Depends on… lots of things.”

“Like what?” Eva asks. 

Carmy clears his throat. “Like… whether Sydney puts up with me for long enough for me to ask her?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sydney says, smiling exasperatedly, shaking her head at him. “He’s kidding, Eva.”

“So you are getting married?”

“No,” Sydney says, “no, not right now.”

“When?”

She looks at them with expectant, innocent eyes. Sydney can’t help but laugh.  

“Not for a long time,” Carmy says. 

"How long?"

Carmy looks away from Sydney, shaking his head like he doesn't know how to answer.

"I don't know," Sydney says, drawing Eva's attention over to her. "Whenever we decide we want to."

"Don't you want to marry him now?" Eva asks sincerely.

Sydney laughs uncomfortably. When she looks over at Carmy, he's looked back up at her. His brow is furrowed slightly. He should be smiling and laughing. This is funny. Objectively. He's taking it way too seriously.

"Yeah," Sydney says, staring at Carmy, raising a taunting eyebrow at him. "Sure I do. But marriage is really complicated so I think we're probably going to wait and see. Right, Carm?"

"Right," Carmy says, with a stiffness to the word like he's in pain. "Yeah, let's not talk about getting married anymore."

Eva frowns.

"It makes him nervous," Sydney stage-whispers to her.

Eva cheers up at that, smiling and nodding knowingly.

"People get nervous when they love each other," Eva says. "Mommy told me."

Sydney scoffs softly, but when she looks at Carmy he isn't smiling. He's just staring back at her, doing that weird, hyper-focused thing where he gets, like, fixated on her face.

It makes her face feel hot.

It makes her nervous.

Fuck.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

“ twenty–bucks. „

mcu!peter parker x fem!reader.

IN WHICH — you and peter kept your relationship secret from the avengers, and even with their theories, it wasn’t until a mission went south that the news came to light.

WARNINGS (18+) → mentions of blood/wounds, cursing, angst, fluff, hurt reader.

✨masterlist✨.

2k.

Peter had been counting the minutes since you two started dating. It had been twenty months since you joined the Avengers, seventeen months since he realized how hard he’d fallen for you, nine months since you first kissed, and eight and a half months since you started your relationship.

It were though it all happened yesterday. Everything felt like it happened so fast; yet on the other hand, everything felt like it hadn’t even happened at all.

Tony Stark had scolded Peter about the difficulties of dating an Avenger, and what harm that would do to their reputation, how the government would respond, the amount of paperwork the two of you would have to fill out…blah blah blah.

Despite how often their teammates teased them, or encouraged the other to make a move, you two decided to keep your relationship a secret.

Hiding a relationship from the Avengers wouldn’t be too difficult. At least, that’s what you told him. It certainly added some adrenaline to your dynamic; the secret hand holds under the table at meetings, side–eyed conversations across the room, fucking in the storage closet as quietly as possible, the little things.

You made it all worth the risk. That is, until he remembered what the real risk of dating an Avenger really was.

Peter practically flew off the ground with how fast he ran towards you. His ears rang, deafening him from how quiet the world fell around him as he kept himself focused on your limp figure. The glossing breeze over his suit felt numbing, especially as he tripped and slid on his knees til he was finally able to take you in his arms.

“Baby..” He broke the silence, shaky fingers grazed your arm as he rolled your body over. “Babe, we–” Quick to examine you, his eyes fell wide at the large gash in your abdomen. Blood pooled out through your suit from the glass lodged in your stomach, still poking out of your skin. Peter swallowed thickly, trying to keep himself from panic.

The entire world stopped moving.

His entire world stopped moving.

Everything ran cold.

Peter didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know how he could’ve let this happen. One second, you were assigned to keep watch in the abandoned foyer, and the next? Peter left you for what felt like two seconds to kick a grimy dude’s ass or two, and there you were: unconscious and bleeding out.

“Kid? Squirt?” Tony asked through the earpiece intercoms, referring to both Peter and his unconscious girlfriend. As startling as the sudden voice was, Peter needed it to ground him back to the present. “Do you kids copy?”

It took everything in Peter to keep his lip from quivering. He nearly forgot to answer with how clouded his thoughts were. Cradling you carefully in his arms, he adjusted his grip to fumble over the earpiece. “We need a medic!!” Peter exclaimed, taking in as deep of a breath as he could muster, “Y/N’s unresponsive–”

You laid cold in Peter’s shaky grasp, not moving other than the shuttered lifting and easing of your shoulders with your breath. You were still alive, and Peter tried to cling to that as much as he could. He’d lost too many people. He couldn’t bear to lose you, too.

“Don’t freak out. And don’t touch her wound.” Tony sounded extra stern, which was how he typically expressed panic. It felt like a personal jab at Peter, but he knew better than to interpret it so malicely. “Bruce has your location and is on his way now.”

Peter could barely process the sentence, but all that registered was that help was on the way. He pulled the mask off his face before pulling yours off as well. Vision blurry, he could still make out the cuts that managed to scrape your cheeks.

He pressed his lips to your hairline, holding you gently in his arms. Your skin was cold against his touch, and he treated you as delicately as he could. He knew you weren’t dead, but knowing that you got hurt and he could’ve done something to stop it, he blamed himself. And he didn’t know what else to do besides rock you back and forth while the tears spilt from his eyes.

Footsteps approached behind him, but Peter was too focused on counting your breaths to shift his focus onto them. He kept hold of you, only moving his stare from your tattered face when someone shadowed over the two of you.

Natasha met Peter’s stare for a moment before crouching down to examine your injuries. Her lips pressed into a small line, tensing at how much blood you were losing.

“Do you know what happened?” She broke through the silence — At least, what would’ve been silence if not for Peter’s choked sobs.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “She was– She was keeping watch while I.. While I fought off the–”

Rushed footsteps through the rubble of the warehouse cut Peter off as he and Natasha looked over, Bruce and Steve running in.

Peter felt Natasha snake her arms under you, lifting you out of his grasp with ease. He felt himself panic at your absence.

“W–Wait!” He cried, more intensely than he intended.

The three looked at him, curious at his urgency. They watched as he stood up, finally wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t want to, uh- to leave her..”

A small, sympathetic smile touched Bruce’s lips as he nodded. “You don’t have to, but we gotta hurry back to the quinjet.” He started, taking steps back the way he came from, “I don’t have the supplies to treat her right now.”

“Has he eaten today?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Bruce replied solemnly, “I’m starting to worry about him, Nat.”

As you began to come to, faint murmurs grasped at your attention.

“He’s barely left this room since we got back yesterday. We’re lucky he’s stretching his legs to go find her some blankets.” You recognized Bruce’s voice instantly, though you kept your eyes shut as your consciousness collected itself. “I’ve never seen him so distraught.”

“Y’know..” Natasha spoke up, “He slept here last night.”

You felt your heart break and skip a beat at her words.

There was a pause. “I–I know. He was asleep beside her when I came in this morning.” Bruce mentioned.

You blinked your eyes open, quick to regret it when you were greeted by an overwhelmingly bright light.

“I can feel it, Banner.” Nat chimed, “They’re smitten.” There was a faint song to her words. “I think I caught him kissing her cheek before he left.”

It warmed your spirit to hear how affectionate Peter had been, but you could barely remember what happened, let alone why he’d be so distraught.

Bruce chuckled quietly, “I’m sure Tony will be thrilled to hear that.”

Once your eyes adjusted, you realized you were in the medical wing. Did you hit your head or something? Slowly, you sat up, freezing when the realization hit you.

Your hand flew to your lower stomach, hissing in pain at the wound by your hip. “Jesus.. Fuck!” You muttered, seething through gritted teeth. The pain was quick to shoot through every nerve in your body.

Before you could lay back down, you met eyes with an all too familiar pair as they entered the doorframe.

Peter lit up when he saw you up, rushing over. “You’re awake!” He beamed, quick to set the blankets down at the foot of the bed before he kissed you. He kissed your lips, then your cheeks a few times, then your nose, before pressing a sickly sweet kiss to your lips once more.

His hands cradled your jaw before he pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands to better support you as you laid back down.

“Baby, don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay?” He started, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Peter–”

“God, you scared me so bad.. I thought–” He cut himself off as he rambled, quick to shut down the dreadful thought. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wake up again–”

“Peter–!”

“I should’ve been more careful.. Fuck, I’m so sorry I let that happen to you–”

You gently cupped his face, “Peter!” You spoke a bit more urgently, which seemed to catch his attention. He simply stared at you while you glanced over his right shoulder about four times.

His face flushed red, turning back to meet Natasha and Bruce’s dumbfounded expressions.

They blinked at one another, each unsure of where to start.

Natasha broke the silence, pressing herself off the wall she was leaning on with a small smirk. “I’m gonna go tell Steve that he owes me twenty–bucks.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but immediately shut it. He watched Bruce glance at the door Natasha walked out and back at Peter, “I’ll, uh.. Give you two some privacy.”

And then there were two.

His hands slid down his face as you contained your laughter, though it was hard not to. Watching your boyfriend’s face turn red was one of your few guilty pleasures.

“You couldn’t have warned me sooner?” Peter asked as he turned to you, muffling his words under the hands that covered his face. You weren’t sure how long you were out, but you knew you missed seeing how cute he was.

You missed seeing him.

You shrugged, “I tried to.” Despite the secret being out, you couldn’t care less. A small laugh spilled from your lips at how embarrassed Peter was, but it was cut off by how painful it was.

Peter sat on the bed beside you, grabbing your hand. “Easy, now.. It’s still pretty fresh.” He hushed, brushing some of your hair out of your face. His affectionate actions made your heart swell.

While the two of you stared at each other, you couldn’t help but see the solemn look that lingered in his eyes.

You brought the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his up to cup his cheek, gentle as you caressed the new purple creases under his eyes. “Peter..” You started, “I’m safe now. This wasn’t your fault either, okay?”

He looked like he was about to protest, but you were quick to him. “It’s not your fault.” You repeated. You hoped by saying it again, it would stick in his head better.

His stare flickered from one eye to the other before he sighed, defeated as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled up at him, pecking his lips once or twice. “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me than some shattered window.”

He laughed quietly, his breath fanning over your lips before he whispered, “God.. I love you.”

“I love you too..” You trailed off as he leaned forward to kiss you again. No matter how long you and Peter had been dating, you never failed to feel butterflies in your stomach when he’d kiss you. It made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet.

“I fucking knew it!” Of course, you weren’t the only two people in the world. You heard someone speak from the doorframe, noticing how Peter immediately added three feet of space between the two of you.

Tony Stark looked between both of you, pointing at your connected handhold on the hospital bed in victory. He had the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen touch his face at the sight of you.

His grin made him look like he’d won the fifth–grade spelling bee. You would’ve never thought that you and Peter’s relationship would make such a grown man so happy.

“I’m going to go tell Steve he owes me twenty–bucks!”

[solitaryearthperson]

They’re okay

Summary: Instead of being greeted by the reader, Daryl is only greeted with silence.

(The reader is 18+ and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black.)

“(Y/N),” Daryl yelled your name, as he came through the door. Shit, he thought, feeling a corner of the crossbow digging into his back. He quickly deposited it onto the floor then closed the door behind him.

Walking into the foyer he looked around and frowned at the silence of the house, not having been used to it in a long time.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled again, waiting to hear the scurry of your feet hurrying to greet him with a hug and a kiss, but was sadly disappointed again.

The hell are they, he wondered, walking into the kitchen. He was about to open a cabinet and fix him a plate of food, when he noticed the mess on top of the counter and stopped, what he saw almost making his heart stop. A cutting board with chopped bell peppers, garlic, and almost finished chopped onions was sitting on the counter and next to it was a knife. He knew his (Y/N), and he knew they were a bit of a neat freak and would never leave a mess like this on the counter, usually scolding him for doing something similar. Taking a small step closer to the counter, he squinted his eyes at the blade of the knife, hoping that what he was seeing wasn't there, that he was mistaken, but he was indeed right. On the knife was blood.

“No,” he muttered to himself, feeling his chest beginning to tighten at the possibility of what that blood meant. They could be alright, he mentally told himself, placing his hand on his chest, rubbing where his heart was, hoping the action would comfort him. There's nothing wrong with them. I just have to find them. Against his control, images of lost lives began flashing through his mind. Carol’s daughter, Sofia, as a walker. Merle as a walker. Beth’s dead body. The images kept appearing behind his eyes like a projector and he could feel the tightening in his chest getting worse with each one.

“(Y/N),” he yelled again. Still no answer. He then thought of someone else, someone who he knew would answer him without hesitation. “Dog!” Surprisingly there was no answer to that either.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he mumbled, hurrying out of the kitchen and going to the front door, picking up his crossbow from the floor. He was slinging it back on his back and ready to open the door, when he heard something that made the tightening in his chest loosen instantly.

“Daryl!”

“(Y/N),” he yelled back, throwing the crossbow back on the floor, before hurrying to where he heard their voice. “(Y/N)! Dog!”

A loud bark answered him back, and he followed the sound, quickening his pace to find them both in the backyard, the backdoor slightly ajar.

“Daryl, hey! When’d you get back,” (Y/N) asked. “Me and Dog didn’t hear you.”

Dog quickly greeted him with a wide smile and wagging tail, jumping on him with glee. Catching him, Daryl scratched the excited dog behind his ears and rubbed down his back, happy to feel its fur beneath his fingers and see the animal happy and healthy.

They’re okay, he told himself, looking at (Y/N). He didn’t see any serious injuries on their body, no limping, and no wincing. Running his eyes down their body, his eyes caught the sight of a bandage wrapped around their right hand, with a little blood seeping through.

“Yer hand,” Daryl nodded towards it.

"Oh," they looked down, noticing their blood through the bandage. "The smell of the onions were so strong that my eyes were starting to water and I accidentally cut my hand."

"Why were ya out here?" He let go of Dog and walked over to them, gently taking their hand in his.

"The smell was so strong," (Y/N) repeated, "I went outside to get away from it."

They're okay, he repeated, feeling a weight being lifted off of his chest. The bloody images of fallen friends and family were no longer appearing to him. The only thing he saw now was his love and his dog both safe and sound.

"Daryl-"

Daryl cut them off pulling them to his body and wrapping his arms tightly around their body, nestling his head into the side of their neck, breathing in their scent.

"Daryl, are you okay?" (Y/N) asked, their voice muffled by his shoulder.

They’re okay. Everybody's alive. Everybody's okay. He breathed in their scent one more time before answering, "I'm fine." His mind at ease once more in the arms of his love.

[misc-obeyme]

the brothers have mysteriously turned into cats and the only cure is a true love's kiss from our dear MC! how would that go??

Oh anon, I may have gotten carried away with this one...

I looooooved this request! I'm totally a cat person, so it was fun to imagine how the boys would be as cats. I really enjoyed writing this, so it did end up kind of long! I will absolutely do the side characters if requested, too. :)

Thank you for the request!

Brothers turn into cats and need a true love's kiss from GN!MC.

Warnings: None! This is all pretty fluffy... in multiple ways loooool

Lucifer

You go into his office to talk to him about something and at first you think the room is empty. But then you see the tip of a fluffy black tail over the top of his desk. You walk around it to find him sitting there - the floofiest black cat you've ever seen. You recognize him from his ruby red eyes and the unamused expression. Even in cat form, his displeasure is evident. Someone is going to be answering for this later.

He will allow you to pick him up, but if anyone else tries it, he will bite and hiss at them. He will make an exception for Diavolo and, to everyone's surprise, Simeon. Everybody else only wishes they could get close enough to touch that luxurious shiny black fur. Doesn't want to leave your lap. Doesn't meow, doesn't purr, only sits quietly with an ominous aura.

You have to figure out how this even happened to begin with before you can fix it. Turns out it was the result of a curse as implemented by the Anti-Lucifer League. It takes some cajoling, but eventually Satan and Belphie tell you where they found the curse. They don't actually know how to break it, but you do a little research of your own and end up finding what you need.

Take him into his office so you can be alone with him. His pride will suffer horribly if you break the curse in front of everyone. You tell him what you're doing before you press your lips to the soft spot between his ears. Instantly returns to his usual form, wrapping his arms around you as he does. True love's kiss, was it, MC? You had better kiss him properly now that he's back to normal.

Mammon

You wake up to find a purring cat curled up on your chest in a little ball, fast asleep. He's pure white and absolutely adorable. You prod him awake and he lifts his head, opening his eyes to look at you. And that's when you know it's Mammon. You can't mistake those bright blue and gold eyes. He blinks at you in confusion before letting out a yowl.

Okay, okay, you have to calm him down! He's freaking out as he was obviously not expecting to wake up as a little cat this morning. His loud meowing summons everyone in the house. He scrambles away from them, perching himself on your shoulder. Won't budge from this spot, meowing softly into your ear the whole time. Starts purring if you pet him, but in a grudging sort of way.

You find a broken potion bottle on the floor in the foyer. You find out later that he won it off of someone in a card game, but dropped it in the dark when he was sneaking back into the house and got it all over himself. With a little help from Solomon, you figure out how to reverse the potion's effect.

He's been hiding under your bed while you were trying to figure out what happened. You coax him out, pick him up, and give his furry little cheek a smooch. When he's himself again, he's so happy and grateful, he flings his arms around you and presses you to his chest. The Great Mammon is back! How'd ya do that, MC? The minute you tell him it needed true love's kiss, he blushes profusely, but he's too happy to let you go.

Leviathan

You head to Levi’s room, prepared to play some video games, but the demon isn't there. You do find a cat with purplish black fur staring with fascination at Henry’s tank. He isn’t pawing at it, just watching with his orange eyes as the fish swims back and forth. At first you don’t recognize him, but then you see he’s sitting inside the ring of his signature headphones. There’s no question that this is Levi.

Meows loudly at you when he realizes you’re there. If you try to take him out of the room, he will squirm out of your arms and hide in his tub. Won’t leave the tub unless you’re the only one there. If any of his brothers come into the room, he’ll hiss at them from inside the tub. You’ll have to shoo everyone away to finally get him to come out. Will allow you to pet him for a bit. Buts his little head into your hand and purrs.

Jumps up onto his desk and paws at a video game case urgently. When you just look at him in confusion, he knocks the case off the desk. You finally get the hint and pick it up. Turns out this is a cursed video game. Starting it up was what turned Levi into a cat to begin with. You’ll have to play the game to figure out what you need to do to save him.

When you finally win the game and the credits start to roll, you find out that true love’s kiss is the only thing that will turn him back to normal. He meows lowly and plaintively. He clearly thinks he’s doomed to stay a cat forever. Press a sweet little kiss to his pink nose and watch him change back. Takes him a minute to realize what happened. Starts blushing like crazy. You saved him, MC! He never doubted you, of course! Please give him a hug, he is very distressed from this experience.

Satan

You’re in the library looking for Satan when you see a cat sitting on a book, tail swishing in irritation. The cat has short blonde fur and when he turns to look at you, bright green eyes. You sigh. If Lucifer finds out that Satan tried to bring home a stray, there will likely be a fight about it. You pick the cat up and it instantly starts purring, settling contentedly in your arms. You look at the book he was sitting on and that’s when it clicks.

You don’t have to search for what happened - this book is clearly the culprit. However, the book does not inform you about what you have to do to change him back. So you take the book and find Solomon because he’s the only one who will probably be able to help that Satan won’t hiss or scratch at. Even then, he only tolerates the sorcerer. Anyone who gets too close gets bitten except for you. You have to spend all your time holding and petting him to keep him distracted.

Terrorizes everyone. Let him go for two seconds and he’s knocking over everything, meowing loudly, and zooming around the room. If he’s anywhere near Lucifer, he will deliberately roll around on him just to get his black clothes full of light cat hair. Will roll over like he wants belly rubs then bite anyone who actually tries to pet him.

Finally you find out that it’s true love’s kiss that can save him. The second you hear it, you grab him and cover his fuzzy face with little kisses. He returns to normal while you’re doing this. Once you stop, he looks at you with wistful eyes. He’s certainly grateful to you for restoring him to normal, MC. But what an amazing experience to be in the form of a cat! He’s actually a little sad that he’s no longer a cat, so you’ll have to cheer him up.

Asmodeus

You’re relaxing in your own room when you are accosted by a fluffy pink ball of fur. There’s a cat now purring and kneading at your belly. He looks absolutely thrilled to be there. You look a little closer and see that somehow he has painted claws. The pink and green combo tip you off to the fact that this cat is actually Asmo. He’s got amazing long pink fur and the cutest little kitty face you could have ever imagined. You can’t help but start baby talking at him about how cute he is. He clearly loves the attention, purring happily and butting his head into your hand.

He’s precious and he knows it. Will absolutely rub himself all over everyone’s legs. Will jump into any lap that presents itself. Continual purring. Wants love and attention from everyone. Rolls over for belly rubs and actually allows his belly to be rubbed. When he’s not demanding everyone’s attention, he’s cleaning his fur carefully. Meticulous about where he goes - refuses to go outside at all. Will meow sadly if you even suggest it. You know he’s afraid he’s going to get his beautiful fur dirty out there.

You have to do a little detective work to figure out what happened. You’re searching Asmo’s room and bathroom for some sign of how he ended up this way, but you find nothing. At some point, Mammon notices that beneath all that thick fur, Asmo is wearing a really fancy collar. It looks more like a necklace… a cursed necklace. Of course. Now you have to do some research to figure out how to break the curse. You recruit all of the brothers to help you. It takes some time but in the end you figure it out together

The instant he hears that it’s true love’s kiss that will save him, Asmo jumps into your lap and looks up at you expectantly. You take a picture of him first just because he’s so cute as a cat. Then you kiss the top of his head. He turns back into his normal self, still sitting on your lap. He drapes his arms on your shoulders and leans in close, a sweet smile on his face. Oh, MC, he’s so overjoyed that your kiss broke the curse! He’s so happy, he just can’t stop himself from kissing you again. And again. And again.

Beelzebub

You hear a clatter in the kitchen, so you go to investigate. There you find a huge orange cat in the pantry surrounded by half open cans of something called broiled deathfish. It’s clear from the way the cans look that this cat cut them open with his claws. You’re in shock for a moment until you take in the purple-pink eyes and what is clearly Beel’s necklace. He looks up at you with fish bits on his whiskers.

You think about picking him up, but you can’t lift him for long. So instead you shoo him out of the kitchen. He just does whatever you tell him to for the most part. But if he even sees food of any kind, he’ll do whatever it takes to get to it. You’re constantly trying to get him off of tables and counters. He gets away with a lot though because he’s so cute. He’s an absolute unit and it’s adorable. Will let anyone pet him. Purrs happily. Gets the need to zoom around rather frequently before starting to look for food again.

You find the source of this problem fast. It’s written all over one of the empty cans of deathfish. Literally. The can explicitly states that anyone who eats it will be turned into a cat. Apparently it was for some kind of promotion that was meant to be temporary, but it didn’t work as intended. Fortunately, the company issued a statement about it, explaining the solution for this exact scenario.

You have to get down on the floor to kiss him properly. He turns back to normal, sitting cross legged in front of you. Reaches out and pulls you into his lap so he can hug you. Thank you, MC. You took such good care of him while he was a cat. And you saved him with true love’s kiss. It means so much to him, he just wants to hold you for a bit. Until his stomach growls again. Make sure you get rid of any remaining problematic deathfish cans.

Belphegor

Nobody has seen Belphie all day so you go looking for him. You don’t find him, but you do find a little black and white cat fast asleep in the laundry pile. You’re confused at first. You know about the no cats rule that Lucifer has in place. You pick up the cat who wakes up enough to look at you sleepily. The way his fur flops into one of his purple and pink eyes and the half asleep expression causes you to realize that you have found Belphie after all.

The most complacent of cats. Snoozing all the time. Will purr if you pet him, even if he's sleeping. Will make little half mewling noises in his sleep while his little paws twitch. Will let anyone pick him up. Doesn't fight, but doesn't cuddle, either. Just flops around like he's completely boneless. Prefers to be near you, though and will protest if anyone tries to take him into a different room from you. And if anyone tries to actively keep him awake, he will get annoyed enough to scratch at them.

You have no idea how this happened. Can't figure out how he turned into a cat for the life of you. You search all over the house in an attempt to figure it out, but nothing presents itself. You'll find out later that Belphie also has no idea what happened. He probably got into something cursed while he was asleep. It will forever remain a mystery. So you simply set about trying all the well known counter curses.

You're sitting on his bed when you finally kiss his little paws and he turns back into himself, half draped across you and blinking a little. He's still partly asleep. What happened, MC? He was having such a weird dream. You explain everything and tell him about true love's kiss being the thing that brought him back to normal. He snuggles into your shoulder. He didn't really care too much about being a cat, since he was asleep most of the time anyway. But he's happy that you saved him. Kisses your cheek before starting to fall asleep again.

masterlist | part 2 with the side characters | Thank you for reading!

[dexlexia]

in the car - gojo x reader

pairing: satoru gojo x reader rating: 18+ summary: ”We'll take it slow.“  ”You're lying.“ tags: virgin!reader, pervert!gojo, he's obsessed with you too, masturbation in car

  ”We'll take it slow.“ 

  ”You're lying.“

Gojo smirked as he leaned in for another kiss. The date had gone smoothly, you questioned if it really happened or was just a dream. Gojo really did wine and dine you. He took you to a nice place in Shibuya, he ordered the nicest white wine available and watched you with a glint in those blue eyes as you enjoyed the food. 

You knew what Gojo wanted, after almost ten dates you had yet to have sex. Gojo knew you were a virgin and he wanted to take pride in being your first time. But you wanted to make sure he was worthy to do so.

In all honesty, you weren't a prude or anything. You were just so busy that you never took the time to lose your virginity. But now as an adult, men like Gojo want the prize of being your first time. And if he was going to, he'd have to work for it. 

He had just driven you home and was walking with you to the door. His hand just above your ass, as you walked he leaned down to press his nose against your neck. He could feel the tightness in his pants. He couldn't help it! His thoughts had been polluted by you, he was obsessed with you.

He wanted to be the only person you ever had sex with. Call him a possessive bastard but he wanted nothing more than to live that dream. He'd do anything to make it happen, even play along with your little cat and mouse. He'd get his way eventually. 

  ”I'm not lying.“ He said as he kissed your hand before he pressed it to his face, ”I would be a great lover, c'mon. I want to know what my beauty feels like.“ 

You looked away and at your door for a moment, “you're such a fuck boy, Gojo.” You remarked, you had never really been showered this much by affection and love. But you weren't going to let yourself be fooled easily. 

You heard stories about Gojo, the white haired sex devil. Some were rumors, others were true and you couldn't tell them apart. He was a horny bastard who wanted nothing more than to fuck you. 

  “No I'm not, I'm a true romantic.” He responded as he leaned in to kiss you. Both hands on your shoulder as he passionately made out with you. You moaned into the kiss. 

You soon pulled away and looked up at him, ”Not tonight, Satoru. You have a good night now.“ Then pecked him on the cheek before you went inside leaving him outside alone. 

When the door closed in his face, he let out a pained groan. He adored you, was obsessed with you, but he wasn't too sure how much longer he could take without getting a sweet taste of your cunt. It was driving him mad!

He was painfully erect in his slacks as he hobbled back to his car to drive home. Every few steps he had to adjust his hard-on in his pants to make walking easier. But thoughts of you swirled in his mind. 

You looked divine in that outfit, he wished he could've torn it off of you and fucked you in the foyer of your home. Or maybe you'd be able to make it to the couch. There was a lot that Gojo had in mind with you. 

He wondered what noises you'd make as he entered his car. His cock painfully hard as he tried to get comfortable enough to drive home. He'd have to be semi-careful; he didn't want to bruise you during your first time.

But if you made the noises that he was envisioning then he'd really have to control himself. He knew that eventually you'd come into your own as a freak in the bedroom. Gojo would be more than happy to teach you all about how to give good head and how to orgasm every time he stuck his cock in you.

He knew you'd be a good girl for him, while you were assertive outside of the bedroom, he bet that you were a perfect little lamb between the sheets. You'd let him make you feel good, every orgasm was a reward for being a good girl. 

But Gojo wasn't getting comfortable enough to drive him. He ended up undoing his belt and taking his cock out of his pants. He spit in his hand and started to stroke his length quickly. 

He had to be fast.

  ”Fuck.“ The blue-eyed man huffed under his breath, he had to get some kind of friction on his cock or else he'd explode. He was thankful you lived in a quiet neighborhood. 

He looked to your house and saw a light on upstairs, he started to imagine what you looked like without all those clothes on. Your beautiful body, he knew you'd be beautiful. With a gorgeous cunt to match. 

He thought about diving in for the first time, the euphoria that would come with it as he watched your face contort as you lost your virginity. The thoughts made his heart race, oh how he wanted to be your first. And possibly your only partner, you'd only have eyes for his cock.

No one else. 

He was possessive like that, he wanted to know that only he'd ever have sex with you. No other man would stick his filthy cock inside of you. You'd be Gojo's perfect girl, he wouldn't want any other woman either. He'd just want your sweet, sweet pussy over, and over again. 

He grabbed his cock tighter as he thrusted up into his hand, he wanted you so badly. It was driving his crazy, he didn't know how much longer he could live like this..

He was a man without water, he was driven mad by the allure of your pussy. He wanted to get drunk off of it, he wanted it seated on his cock, on his face, every single way he could get a hold of it!

He groaned, his face felt warm as he feverishly stroked his length. He was driven to madness by this, so much so he was masturbating in his car like a pervert. His cock twitched in his palm as he continued to stroke it. 

He bit back a moan as he leaned back a little in his driver's seat. He continued to pleasure himself as he felt the orgasm approach. He really was down bad for you, he wanted you so badly. He wanted nothing more than to feel your bare body against him.

He knew he'd make you feel so good. He'd make you orgasm so many times, he had done it to so many women. He wanted to ruin your virginity and make you obsessed with him as he was you. 

He grit his teeth as he continued to thrust up into his hand, even spitting more into his palm to get an easier thrust. He stomach clenched at the feeling that he'd be orgasming soon. 

A groan slipped out from his lips as he felt the rush of pleasure through his body. He panted wildly in his warm car as he felt himself on the edge of pleasure. It was a great feeling, but not as great as being able to plow his cock into you.  

  ”Fuck, fuck!“ He groaned to himself as his movements were fast. He bit back a louder groan as his entire body went stiff as he came around his hand. Cum gushed out everywhere including his hand, slacks and even the steering wheel. 

He panted, ”Holy shit.” He relaxed against the seat as he grabbed napkins from the cup holder to wipe down everything. He knew he'd have a sticky hand the entire drive home. 

His head still felt in a rush as he tried to clean himself up. Eventually he got as clean as he could and put his cock back into his pants. It was tender as he tucked it back in. 

  ”Soon.“ He promised himself. Then his phone rang. He grabbed it and he looked at the text, it was from you. 

  'You know, Gojo.' It read, 'If you're going to be so desperate, then just come in and I can make you feel better than whatever you're doing out there' and it was signed off with a heart. 

Gojo's blue eyes went wide as he looked at the text message. His cheeks grew warmer but he didn't want to miss the opportunity so he got out of the car and raced to your home. His heart was hammering in his chest. 

He was finally getting what he wanted. He ws going to fuck your sweet pussy, and all it took was to be a pathetic pervert jerking off in his car. And if that was all it took to go down on you then he'd be more than happy to take it.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Eris x Reader | Warming You

type: fluff warning(s): non-sexual nudity word count: 1,5k words summary: after returning from the Winter Court, Eris helps you warm up again

- all rights reserved -

Eris’ heart is rapidly beating in his chest. He is pacing in his study, his gaze straying to the window behind his desk, frost spiderwebbed across it. It is cold, a very cold autumn day, but not nearly as cold as it gets in the Winter Court. The Winter Court, the coldest place in all of Prythian and the place where you currently are. The place you should have left hours ago, but you haven’t returned. Still haven’t come home to your mate. To say he is nervous would be an understatement. His heartbeat increases, his palms turning clammy from the sweat that comes with the rising fear. Where the hell are you?

Eris does not want to over-react, does not want to freak out, but when it comes to his mate, to his High Lady, that alarm bells start ringing much earlier than any other time. He is a nervous wreck whenever you are gone for too long, because, even though he still feels you through the bond, danger is lurking around every corner, just getting read to strike. It is this uncertainty, this unpredictability about what could maybe happen when you go on a mission for him, that makes him lose his mind. Eris nervously taps his index finger against his thigh, inhaling a deep breath. His hand comes up, he brushes it through his hair, removing the leather strap, and untangles his silken strands. Then he brushes his hand through his hair once again and releases a low groan of frustration. He is only going to wait a little longer and then he will leave…leave for the Winter Court, or he might flip. 

Eris walks up to the window, his hands braced on the cold window sill. The wind is howling outside, blowing leaves in all the colours of autumn around in the air and scattering them across the floor. He can hardly make out the colours and shades of orange, red and yellow because the sun has nearly fully set and darkness and night start to fall over the land. It is becoming night not only in the Autumn Court — in every court by now. And being outside, a this time, in the Winter Court is lethal. You are dressed well, but your body not made for the low temperature. Eris does not let himself think further about that, he closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhales a breath and slowly blinks his eyes open again. He squints, his gaze narrowing in on movement in the distance. 

Luckily it is then that the gates on the east side of the estate start to open and once glimpse at the figure staggering into the court yard is enough to calm his heart a little. He swiftly turns on his heels, dashing out of his study, heading for the foyer to wait for you there. Almost like winnowing he runs to the big entrance doors, hoping to arrive there before you.

You are shuddering, your fingers numb from the biting cold, when you push open the big oak doors and stumble inside. Eris is already there to catch you, having rushed down the hallway and the broad staircase to get to you in time. “My darling,” he says, his own rapid heartbeat matching yours. His strong arms sling around your middle and he pulls you to him, the warmth his skin radiates making the slightest bit of cold already disappear from your body. Eris holds you close to his body, idly stroking your back and your side. He leans in, his cheek pressing against the side of your head. “I was worried,” he breathes into your hair. You curl your own arms tighter around him, holding him tightly and letting his warmth seep into you. “I am sorry, I got hold up. Then it started to get dark, a snow storm started  and the journey took longer than expected.”

Eris gives you a tight squeeze and breathes in deeply, drawing in your scent. “Don’t apologise. It is all good now.” He kisses the side of your head, leaning back the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of your face. “Shall we take a bath, my darling?”

You incline your head a little, your chin brushing Eris’ chest. A small smile appears on his lips, simultaneously on yours and in the next moment his arm moves under your knees and he picks you up, carefully carrying you upstairs to the large bathroom. It is all brown marble, even the bathtub in the middle of the room which is magically already filled with water. A few candles are burning, otherwise the room is dim. Eris has prepared this for you. 

He places your down on the floor, turning you so you face him again and he can start to undress you. Eris skillfully makes work of the button of your jacket, helping you slip out of it. Your thick sweater, the warm trousers as well as shoes and socks follow. The High Lord of Autumn takes his time helping you get rid of your undergarments and neatly folds everything on a stool next to the sink. You are still cold, shivering a little but the bathroom is warm, is heated. 

Standing nude in front of him for probably the 500 time, he still looks at you like he sees you for the very first time. Eris is ogling your body in a sensual way, there is nothing unpleasant or uncomfortable about it. No male has ever made you feel as seen and respected as Eris does. His gaze leaves warmth in every place it touches and a bright smile spreads over his face. “Even shaking like a leave in the wind you are the most breathtaking female I have ever seen.” The High Lord pulls his lower lip between his teeth, opening his own shirt. He strips out of his clothes and then extends his hand to you. You take it and he brings your body close to his, kissing you softly when your lips finally connect, your chest pressed against his. His solid body is warm, the fine dusting of red hair tingling your skin the tiniest bit. You revel into the kiss, in the feel of his body against yours. 

Eris leads you to the bath, carefully getting in first and helping you step over the edge. The hot liquid feels like balm to your soul and a soft moan slips through lips which has Eris’ blood rushing to one specific body part. He groans a little when he sits down, helping you down as well and lets you fit in between his legs, your back against his chest. You perfectly fit, leaning onto him, the bubbles surrounding you. The scent of honey, cinnamon and forest surrounds and you let your eye lids fall close, relishing in the warmth that slowly seeps into every fiber of your body. Eris’ fingers dance over your arms, idly stroking up and down, barely even touching you, but it feels incredibly. You sigh audibly, your hand falling to Eris’ thigh, you draw small circles to his skin. 

“How was your day, my love?” you whisper into the silence of the room. Blinking your eyes open, you watch the shadows of the flames dance on the wall opposite of you. “Very calm,” Eris answers and you know he is lying. Since becoming a High Lord he hasn’t had one single calm day. There is always a lot to do. 

“And now an honest answer?” you softly pinch the skin on his inner thigh and a little yelp leaves him. “You cruel thing.” Eris chuckles a little and you feel him shift behind you. He kisses your head and then sinks into the water again. “It was quite stressful. I had many talks with lords, they were alright, but you know how this males are.”

You give his knee a gentle squeeze and turn your head a little so you can look up at him. “I am sorry to hear this,” you say and add, “did they take you serious this time or to I have to punch someone really hard?”

Eris chest rumbles with laughter, brushing against your back. “My lovely and violent mate.” He grins brightly and lets his hand travel to yours, holding it firmly in his. “It was really alright and they also took me serious. We had interesting talks, it was just exhausting. I didn’t really have a break.” Eris lifts your arm, bringing your hand to his mouth and he kisses your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “How was the Winter Court?”

You tell him about the talks you had with Viviane and Kallias, about the trades and treaties you talked about and also about the situation in Prythian.” Eris listens to every word you say, bound to your lips. He loves when you do diplomacy, loves listening to you when you talk about. 

Using his magic Eris warms the water from time to time so you can stay in as long as you want, finally enjoying some peaceful rest and calm after a very exhausting day. 

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

tags: @sunshinebingo@tarataraaaa@brekkershadowsinger@azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa@cosmic-whispers @mali22@elsie-bells@imma-too-many-fandoms@kuraikei@ginnyweasley06@bubnix@powerfulpantera @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[mothdruid]

The Physics of Love - Part Three

series masterlist | part one | part two | part four

pairing.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader (nickname Nova)

word count.

3.2k

warnings.

this content is meant for those who are 18 and older, fluff, kissing, alcohol consumption, lots of science talk in this part

authors note.

ahhhhhh!!! they kissed!!! fianlly!! i was smilling like a silly goose the entire time i was writing this chapter. it made me so freaking happy. also, Cranbrook is a real place and you totally check it out if you're ever in that area of Michigan! also no, this story is not based in Michigan, i just needed to think of a cool museum i like to go to.

starboy: I’m at the front of the Institute.

A smile grew on your face as you drew closer to the Institute. Bob had texted you only a few minutes ago. No matter how many times you had been here, Cranbrook never ceased to amaze you. Whether it be the seasonal display, the new mineral added to the collection, or even the ice age display they had, it was all fun and captivating.

You slipped your phone into your coat pocket, making your way to the front of the building. There wasn’t many people around, seeming how it was the middle of the day during the week. The two of you had decided to skip out on one of your tutoring session this week to make it work. Between Bob’s grad experiments and your full time schedule, it was hard to find time.

You had suggested doing it during the weekend, but Bob explained that he didn’t want many people around. It left you confused, curious as to why he didn’t want others around. There were only two things that you had thought of. One, he has social anxiety, and two, he disliked kids. And maybe even a third possibility of kids just plain out making him nervous. No matter what the reason, it didn’t bother you.

All morning you couldn’t stop daydreaming about your date today, which both of you were hesitant to call it that. Excitement was bubbling in you, the promising thought of being able to captivate him. Being able to explain all of the minerals to him, breaking down all of the make ups off them, what element made them appear a certain color, all of the things you loved about mineralogy. But some of that excitement was wrapped around the idea of him explaining the stars to you.

As you were coming around the almost barren fountain you saw him. You put a hand up high, waving to get his attention. He was wearing a denim jacket, burnt orange beanie covering most of his hair, a soft gray sweater underneath the jacket, and all of it complimented with black jeans and basic vans. It was all so him that your heart started to flutter. He smiled and gave you a small wave back.

“Hey,” he said once you got a little closer.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” you pushed your hands into the pockets of your long wool blended coat.

“Oh no, not at all,” Bob shook his head no.

The both of you sat there for a second, smiling a little awkwardly. Bob eventually broke the silence.

“Ready to check it out?” He asked, nodding up towards the front doors.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile.

The two of you headed up the small bit of stairs to the front doors. Bob quickly made his way up the steps, opening the door for you when he got to them. After thanking him, you both stepped inside the foyer. Bob held the next door open for you, his hand gracing the small of your back. A heat crept into your cheeks, nervousness pooling in your stomach. Even though you were excited, you could barely believe this was happening.

Bob went to the counter, talking with the employee behind the desk. You waited for him only a few steps away, just looking around. It wasn’t anything new, but you still loved the presence this place had. When you looked back over at Bob he making small talk with the employee, accepting one of the maps of the institute before heading back over to you. He adjusted his glasses a little before flashing the map.

“I got this just in case,” Bob smiled at you.

“Do you think we really need that?” You asked as the two of you headed across the lobby like area to a small set of stairs.

“Probably not, but it never hurts.”

The two of you stepped up the stairs, headed to the first section of the museum. Your favorite section. The mineral gallery.

Glass cases adorned every wall with more glass cases jutting out to create sections. Glimmers of light bounced off the minerals already. There were a few benches placed around in the clear areas. Two specimens were placed in the center walk way. The first specimen that was out in the open was a massive fossil, one that was still embedded into the rock it was found in. The second specimen was an enormous rock, half of it broken to display the clusters of amethyst crystals inside.

Bob felt a flutter in his chest when he watched your eyes light up, lips turning upward. You immediately headed down the center walk way, rounding the corner of a glass case into a small section. Bob took his time getting over to you, making sure to look at a few of the cases on his way over. He knew all of the minerals existed, but seeing them all in person was still astounding. All the colors and different types of crystalline structures they came in. Even though he was a space nerd, this always made him appreciate the earth a little more.

“What did you find?”

Bob turned away from the intriguing silvery gray mineral to see you peering around the corner of a glass case. It made his heart warm seeing you so comfortable. He was always so used to seeing you in a school setting. This was a nice change of pace, something he could get used to.

“I was looking at this,” he beckoned you over with a nod of his head.

You took a look at the mineral he was pointing at. A smile grew on your face as you took a few steps towards him.

“Muscovite,” you said while looking at him, “it a really weak mineral, flakes off in layers.”

“It looks pretty,” Bob looked back at it, taking in the layered effect of the mineral.

“Wanna hear something crazy?”

“Hmm?” Bob looked at you, ready for the fact you were about to tell him.

“Muscovite is used in a lot of make ups, especially the shimmery ones. They bust it up into a fine powder and boom, shiny glittery like substance.”

“Minerals are everywhere in our lives, even when you don’t think about it,” Bob looked at you we a small smile.

“Science is everywhere,” you replied.

“The essence of life is science,” Bob added.

The two of you continued your exploration around the mineral gallery. Bob learned about your favorite mineral, and you urged him to pick a favorite mineral. The both of you took pictures of each other with your mineral, setting them as your contact pictures. Bob couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much. There was just this infectious passion that flowed through you about every mineral. Even when you told him that ‘gold was overrated’, it felt only half-hearted like you didn’t want to actually say it.

All of it made Bob’s heart flutter and do back flips. He had met people who were passionate about science, but you were a lot cuter than most of them. The way your eyes lit up when you looked at one you loved. How sometimes a look of focus would consume your face while looking at one. It made him feel warm and fuzzy.

Once you two had looked over every mineral, you moved to the next section of the institute. It was now time for Bob to explain everything to you. Well, almost. The first section was meteorites and space rocks. Bob could tell you weren’t as excited about these minerals as the previous. But it was different.

“I mean, obviously space is going to make neat things. It just seems more exciting when it’s from earth,” you explained.

“How so?”

The two of you were standing close, shoulders almost touching as you two looked down at the collection of meteorites in a glass case. It took almost everything inside of Bob to not brush his shoulder against yours. Little did he know, you were hoping he would.

“I don’t know. I’ve been on earth my whole life, so seeing the cool minerals it can produce. Things that are so rare. It feels almost impossible that they came from the same place I’ve lived my whole life,” you paused for a moment, “space is so unknown, it’s like obviously something neat would come from it. Space has nebula’s for fuck sake.”

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He looked over at you and smiled, your gaze still focused on the meteorites.

“Yeah, nebula’s are pretty cool,” Bob said.

You broke your gaze for the little black rocks, meeting his eyes. There was this look in his eyes, one full of adoration. Those blue eyes always made your heart melt. They were like beautiful orbs of kyanite, deep but yet light at the same time. A hypnotizing shimmer drawing you in.

The two of you stood there staring at each other for a moment. The world around you starting to fade, both of you only focused on each other. Both of you had been waiting for weeks for a moment like this. Every soft brush of hands while passing an assignment back and forth, late night texts that elicited giggles and smiles, all the early morning coffees he started buying you. You could stay here forever in this moment.

There was a door off to the side, one that led to the constellation room. Without warning the door burst open, two young kids running out. It broke the two of you out of your moment. The kids came running around, coming close behind you two. Bob put his hand around your back, pulling you close to him and keeping the kids from running into you. Two parents followed out the door, trying to catch up to the kids.

One of your hands moved to his chest, steadying yourself against him. The fabric of his sweater was soft against your fingers, almost distracting you from how close you were. All you could do was stare forward, afraid of what might happen if you looked at him. Something soft touched your cheek then moved to touch your jaw slightly. His hand was softer than you imagined. It was guiding you to look at him.

“You okay?”

Your brain went blank, forgetting every word you had ever learned. All you could do was study his face. You had never been this close to him. It felt like you were looking at someone completely new. You were starting to wonder if he could feel the heat in your cheeks or the intense thumping against your rib cage. Eventually you nodded, letting him know you were okay.

A smile pulled at Bob’s lips, eye crinkling a little bit. His thumb brushed over the skin of your cheek lightly. He was assuming that this was all okay, especially if you weren’t pulling away from him. It felt like a good sign at least.

“Do you want to check out the constellation room?”

“Sure,” you said, finally being able to speak. “Are you gonna speak all space like when we get in there?”

Bob chuckled, leaning a little closer to you in the process. There was this boyish grin on his face, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Only if you want me to.”

Your faces were only mere inches away from each other. Someone could simply bump into one of you and the inevitable would happen. The fateful kiss that the both of you were secretly hoping would happen by the end of this date. Was it a date? Neither of you had officially called it that, or at least to each others faces. Mickey had definitely heard Bob gush about you accepting his invite, to which he only called it a date twice.

“I’d be more than happy to hear you talk space to me.”

Bob’s hand loosened from around your body, grabbing your hand instead. He guided you over to the door, opening it for you. But you didn’t let go of his hand, instead turning around and walking in backwards so you could watch him. Bob couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face, nor did he want to. He happily followed you through the short hallway, watching as you remained backwards and walked through the blackout curtains.

The room was almost pitch black. Little projected constellations covered the walls and ceiling. All of them were labeled, tiny projections of their names near them. You had barely any idea of what all of them were. The constellations you had learned during your freshman astronomy class had faded. Only the Big Dipper and Ursa Major stood out to you. But you were more than excited to have Bob tell you about them. After all, he did let you tell him about Muscovite being in makeup.

You tugged at his hand, pulling him a little closer to you. Bob happily stepped closer to you. The two of you had slowly wandered towards the middle of the room. Bob squeezed your hand, his free hand coming up to adjust his glasses lightly. Neither of you could make out the others eye color. All that was there was little glints reflecting in your eyes.

“Which one is your favorite?” You asked.

“Favorite constellation or star?” He replied, earning a barely visible eye roll from you.

“Both,” you said playfully.

Bob paused for a moment, looking around the room for his specific favorites. It wasn’t too hard for him to find them, his trained eyes knowing the exact shape of the constellation and exact brightness of the star. The constellation was the first one he found.

“There,” Bob turned your body the right way to see the constellation.

His chest was practically flush with your back. His left hand grabbed your left shoulder, pointing at the constellation with the other one. Sudden;y you felt hot breath on your neck and ear.

“Do you see it?” He whispered.

It was hard to focus on the constellations with Bob this close. But you found it, with the help of his pointing. You turned your head barely, eyes flicking down to where his lips should be for a second.

“Yeah,” the word almost came out as a whisper.

“It’s called Delphinus,” Bob’s eyes were trained on your face now, “it’s the shape of a dolphin, representing Poseidon’s messenger Delphini.”

“Is your favorite star in that constellation?”

“No,” Bob started to turn your body with his. Once he found it he stopped the two of you. “There.”

You saw the star immediately. It was a bright star, brighter than some of the other projections. The name attached to the constellation it was a part of was Lyra. The dusty old astronomy cogs in your brain started to turn.

“The swan,” the words passed your lips before you could think.

“Yeah, but the star is Vega,” Bob’s hand drifted down from your shoulder to your back, “the fifth brightest star in the sky. A lot of people over look it cause it isn’t the brightest, but it’s two point one times as massive as the sun. The sun just happens to be older. Plus, I like the bluish white light it gives off.”

Even though it was still dark in the room, it felt like Vega had brightened it up since Bob had explained it. You turned to him, who was still impossibly close to you. There were only a few layers of clothing separating your bodies, but nothing separating your lips. His lips were soft as they moved against yours. It wasn’t anything intense, but it was everything you had been hoping for in a first kiss with him.

Little fireworks were going off in your mind. His hand was resting at the small of your back, applying just enough pressure to keep you pressed into him. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, the denim of his jacket and wool from his sweater rubbing your palms. The wire frame of his glasses was bumping into your nose as the kiss continued. Lips melding together, two beings that were destined to be together finally connecting. It was a perfect science.

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Bob whispered while resting his forehead against yours.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lip with a smile.

The rest of the date went just as perfect. It was full of hand holding and giggles, the occasional photo being taken by one of you. Bob happily took a picture of you squaring up with the taxidermied grizzly bear, which became your contact photo. You took one of Bob with his hands up and fake yelling in front of the T-Rex, earning contact photo status as well. You had a hard time deciding on his contact photo, torn between that one and one of him in the black light space room. The goofy one just seemed more him to you.

Neither of you had planned on going to dinner afterwards, but it happened anyways. Since it was last minute it wasn’t anything too nice. A simple bra that was full of people having fun. It helped relieve the small bit of anxiety about it all for the two of you. Bob nursed a draft Blue Moon while you sipped on a draft papaya Cider Boys. You shared a tray of loaded nachos, order of soft pretzels, and plate of deep fried green beans.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you laughed, “you stole a street sign sophomore year?”

“I was really drunk,” Bob replied, “but it wasn’t only me. Without Mickey and Jake it wouldn’t have happened, I don’t think I would have even gone out that night if not for them.”

“Do you still have it?” You asked, then shoveled a heavily covered nacho into your mouth.

“Jake does,” Bob smiled at you before taking a swig of his beer.

“Your friends sound fun,” you held your hand in front of your face, not wanting to flash him the food you were chewing.

“They are,” Bob looked at his beer for a moment, “they are a lot of things, but without them I wouldn’t be here. Here in this very bar with you.”

“Oh really?” A playfully questioning look covered your features while you drank from your cider.

“Really,” Bob adjusted his glasses, “Mickey was the one who encouraged me to, well,” Bob gestured between the two of you and around the table.

Your face lit up, smiling brightly then biting your lip. It was something truly special, hearing that Bob had talked about you with such close friends. Your roommates were the only people that knew of him, but they were your closest friends, so it made sense. Thoughts of meeting his friends and introducing him to yours started to fill your mind. Were Bob’s friends like him? They didn’t sound to be like him. But it made you wonder.

“I’ll have to thank him if I meet him,” you replied.

Bob smiled and nodded, taking a drink of his beer. Him not saying anything worried you a tiny bit. Was what you said too much? Was it assuming something this wasn’t?

Bob noticed your worry immediately, even if it wasn’t that obvious. He set his glass down and reached across the table. The warmth of his hand encapsulated yours. You met his gaze, finding something soft and welcoming in it.

“They are, they’re a lot sometimes,” Bob told you.

“Trust me, mine are too.”

tags:

@wkndwlff

@thedroneranger

@callsign-sprout

@redbarn1995

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

STAR WARS FIC ROULETTE

HELLO LOVELIES,

Okay as promised here is the thank you fic for all of you. First off, thank you to everyone who sent in a request, to everyone who read each fic, who commented, reblogged, and started following me.

I can't say this enough, I love you all sooo much! The overwhelming response I received from this celebration was amazing and absolutely beautiful.

Thank you all for being so amazing.

Special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles for being my amazing sounding board and beta reader.

Also the fic got away from me ending at 2500 plus words.

Love oo,

One More Chance

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt, fear, dancing, arguments, misunderstandings, kissing, not ready for next step, cooking, alcohol, apologies, confessions, second chance, modern au!, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Italics - Flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Howzer couldn’t stop smiling as he busied himself in the kitchen. Truthfully, he never thought he’d get another chance with you, yet here he was making you dinner. He glanced at the clock on the stove, you’d be arriving shortly, and he wasn’t about to mess this up with you. Not again. 

He danced in the kitchen to some of your favourite songs he had playing in the background. He was getting a little carried away, when he heard you knocking on the door. You were earlier than expected, but that didn’t matter. He was just grateful you showed up. 

“Hey” his smile couldn’t possibly reach any wider as he looked at you.

“Hey, can I come in?” You giggled as he stood there watching you.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry” he moved out of the way inviting you in. 

It was just like old times, he felt his heart flutter as he took your coat hanging it up in the foyer closet. He couldn’t believe you were here, he stood there watching as you walked throughout his condo, like you’d done a million times before. 

“You got rid of the couch I hated.” Your eyes focused on the blue couch that was ten times better than the old green one that was duct taped together, stuffing falling out of it; along with the cushions that sunk in, spraining your back on more than one occasion. 

“Yeah, it … it pissed me off every time I looked at it, after we … “

Howzer stood there glaring at you, “What did you say?”

“I said you’re a coward!”

“I.. I’m a coward!” He slammed his hand against his chest, hurting himself more than actually making the point.

“Well aren’t you!” You raised your hands, “You’re afraid of commitment, of change, I mean look at this couch!” You stood from it pointing to it, “This belonged to your parents! There’s nothing left! If you don’t want to get rid of it for sentimental reasons, then fine. Hire an upholster, get them to fix it!”

“Now you’re complaining about the couch?”

“Now! Now! When have I not complained about this?” You waved your hands in front of your face, letting out a breath, “That’s beside the point. The point is you don’t want me to move in!”

“That’s not true!”

“No! You freaked out because I left a toothbrush! A freaking toothbrush! I thought this was supposed to be going somewhere! Isn’t that what you said when we started this!”

Howzer ran his hands through his hair, “I know what I said!”

“Then! What is the problem!”

“I don’t want you here!” He covered his mouth as soon as the words fell out of his mouth. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, as you looked at him, “What?” Your voice trembled as you looked at him. 

“No. That’s not …”

“You don’t want me here?”

“No, of course I do. It’s just … I’m … I’m not ready …”

You shook your head as you wiped your tears, grabbing your bag and jacket, “I can’t talk to you right now.” 

“No, please! Don’t go. Stay.”

“No. Because if I stay I’m going to say something I’ll regret. I need space, excuse me.” You stormed out that night, not looking back. 

It was a few days later when the two of you actually broke up, but it all started on that stupid couch. If he held back his tongue about your toothbrush, if he had been more honest about his feelings and realizing he wasn’t ready. 

“Well anyway …” he walked into the living room, as he saw you sit in your favourite armchair, “Can I get you anything? I have white wine, chilled, your favourite brand.” He offered, happy to have you back here sitting in your chair, after it had been vacant for almost a year and a half. 

A year and a half without you in his arms, without the scent of your shampoo and conditioner on his pillow, without your laughter filling his home. He still saw you on base, and when you did your training runs, after all you were still a part of his squad, but not to have you here. Not to see your slippers at the entrance, the ones you’d change into as you stepped in. Enough was enough, he couldn’t do without you. It took him too long to realize, but now he knew what it was like to be without and he didn’t want to do it again.

You couldn’t help smirk as you looked at him, “That sounds lovely. I’ll pour myself a glass, it smells like you’re cooking something delicious.” 

You stood admiring his outfit, the way his blue teal dress shirt hugged his shoulders and tapered into his waist. Safely tucked into his light grey dress pants that hugged his rear and thighs. The only thought that popped into your head as he walked off, was that those pants were doing God’s work. 

You cleared your throat and shook your head, focusing on the fact you needed to make sure he had changed like he claimed before you let your heart fall back into the quicksand that was Howzer. 

He always had this way of just encompassing your every breath and thought, and if you let your guard down for even a minute, you would fall headlong into that quicksand that was so warm and comforting, but full of traps and danger. 

You allowed yourself to take a breath, before following him to the kitchen; as soon as you saw the white wine sitting in the ice bucket, you couldn’t help but smile at all the effort he was making. 

“You’re really pulling out all the stops huh?” You giggled as you poured a glass. 

“Well, I figured this was my last chance and I didn’t want to mess it up. I want to show you that I have changed. I want you to see that I’m ready for this, for us.”

 You subtly bit your lower lip, before taking a sip as you watched him cook, you didn’t respond to his statement, just letting it sink in as you played the words over in his head. 

“What are you cooking, anyway?” You sidled up to his side as you looked over his shoulder. 

He smirked as he turned around to look at you, “Here, give this a try and tell me what you think?” He held a spoon out to you, with some red liquid.

Your mouth watered as soon as you saw the red liquid, it couldn’t be what you thought. There was no way he’d learn to make chicken cacciatore for you, after all he said the only thing he ever needed to learn to make was chilli; however, as soon as your mouth tasted the tomato, basil, oregano, and pepper, you already knew.

“You… you learned to cook my favourite meal?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like?  Please, give me a little credit.”

“Well, someone's cranky today.” You giggled, as your smile grew wider.

Howzer laughed as he tilted his head at you, “I’m not cranky. I … I just want you to know…” he turned to look at you face on, “how sorry I am for being an idiot, before.”

You leaned in smiling as you looked at him, “I appreciate that, but it wasn’t just you being an idiot. I was being an idiot too.” There was a look of shock on his face, “I should’ve been more understanding and patient with you. I mean this was your first real relationship, and even though things were going slower than I wanted it wasn’t fair of me to push you to make decisions when you weren’t ready.”

There was a soft smile on his lips, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in, “I want this to work this time. I know I screwed up last time. I wasn’t ready for the commitment of what it actually meant for us to be together, and I know I handled the idea of us living together poorly.”

“It wasn’t just you. We both handled the idea of us living together poorly, well it was more like a natural disaster.”

“Okay, fair point,” he  nodded, smirking. “Anyway, I just want to say that I’m ready to commit. I’m ready for anything and everything life is willing to throw at us.”

You let out a sigh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel forced or pushed into something just because I said so. I want you to be able to express what you’re feeling, to be better at opening up to me. Let me know what you’re feeling here…” you placed your hand on his heart, “that’s all I want.”

“I know, cyare. I know. And yes, I’m sure. I’ve been sure, since the moment you walked out that door. I know it seems when we’re together, we never seem to get it right the first time, after all let’s face it, it took us forever to just be friends and then to become something more, and then when I lost you …” he shook his head as he pressed his forehead against your, “But, I need you in my life, cyare. I want you in my life, forever.”

You chuckled as you listened, “You do have a point. We really never got it right the first time, do you remember that night you and I actually had our first heart-to-heart conversation after I joined your unit? We were in that god-forsaken jungle, everyone was asleep, but the two of us, you decided to keep me company, while I sat for the first watch?”

“Well, can you blame me? After all the beautiful and gorgeous new medic was sitting all alone, I had to keep you company. It was my duty as Captain.”

“Ohhh!” You giggled, holding him closer, “Is  that’s what that was! Here, I thought you were being a gentleman and wanting to get to know me, as the new medic.”

“Well there was that too.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “But yeah I remember that night, I also remember how I screwed up the first time we had a real conversation too…

“So what unit were you with before?” He asked, keeping his voice down, doing his best to keep watch with you.

“212th, I was under Commander Cody’s jurisdiction. He was an amazing Commander to work for, I really miss them.”

“Sounds like you were really close, why leave?”

“I wanted to do more. The medic I trained under was still part of the 212th and the lead medic. I wanted to be more on the front lines. Do something more with my skills.”

“I see.” He nodded, smirking, “In other words, you became involved with someone and it erupted like Krakatoa, causing death and destruction in your wake?”

You turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What? Am I wrong?”

“Wow. Just … wow.” Your expression was one of shock and disbelief, “Two seconds. That’s all it took, just two seconds and you already imagine first that I’m some drama queen looking to cause issues within my own unit. And secondly, that I simply can’t draw a line between professional and personal when I have an issue with someone in the same unit. Really?”

“Hey, it’s a natural assumption.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the jungle in front of them. 

“Oh really? Explain to me how that’s a natural assumption?”

“Well, I mean you’re … you know …”

“No. I don’t know. Explain it to me.” You practically bowled out your last sentence as you glared at him, clenching your jaw. It was in that moment Howzer realized when his eyes locked with yours, how big he screwed up. 

You both sit on the couch after dinner, enjoying the feel of the comfy couch, “You know this is a really nice couch.”

He couldn’t help smiling as you revelled in it, “It is. I must’ve sat on at least fifty before I found this one. I wanted to make sure it was a couch you’d be proud of.”

“I am, you did a very nice job.”

As his eyes scan your face, there is one thought that keeps coming back to haunt him. “Cyare, I have to ask, why are you giving me another chance? I mean I really don’t deserve one. I know that better than anyone else.”

You rest your head against the couch as you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, “Do you remember, when we were actually starting to become friends after that disastrous start?”

“Yeah”

“I was frustrated, because I got reamed out by the lead medic on base, when I told her that sometimes I needed to improvise on the field so I brought my own stuff that hadn’t been sanctioned by her.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. She had a huge power trip over controlling everyone. Thank goodness she’s not there anymore. 

“You sat with me, when you found me upset, and got me laughing. You told me that I should keep doing what I need to do, to save lives. Who cares about protocols or sanctions? What matters is the lives we save. The lives I save. Then you told me, as long as she didn’t know, what was the harm? You stood by me, because you knew that what upset me more wasn’t being reamed out, it was the fact that people’s lives could be in danger.”

“I remember” Howzer gently played with your ear, something he loved doing. It was an odd thing, but he really thought your ears were pretty, “I think I also said something along the lines of ‘Do as I say and not as I do. For real, though. You don't want to do what I do. I don't want to do what I do.’ It made you laugh, and in that moment, hearing you laugh, being the one that made you laugh, I realized I wanted to do that for you always.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, “I hated not waking up next to you. I hated not being able to see you as often as I wanted or kiss you when I wanted. I …” tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, “I hated being apart from you. I don’t ever want to be apart from you, ever again.”

Howzer leaned forward, glancing from your eyes to your lips, “I don’t want to be apart from you either,” his other hand came up and gently stroked your cheek, “I love you, cyare. I’m not afraid anymore, I want all of it with you.”

You closed your eyes and pulled him closer, as he rested his forehead against yours, “I love you too. I mean after all you’re the great ‘Captain Howzer’.” You giggled and teased him, “I’m kidding. I love you, because you’re you. Thank you, for making the effort to change. I promise I’ll make an effort to keep changing as well.”

“You don’t have to change, cyare. Just allow me to love you and stay by your side.”

“Forever” as soon as the word came out of your mouth Howzer pressed his lips to yours and kissed you deeply, passionately, and with a longing that he never even realized he had.

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[misscongeniality18]

Hi! Could you like to write something about reader and Peter where she knows him since forever and growing up they have fallen in love with eachother. Anyway at some point they split and later they meet again (maybe she is an FBI agent too and he asks for her help with Rose?). Then they argue because something dangerous happens so the truth? Thank you so much for your time!

I would absolutely love to! This idea is just *chef's kiss* but I hope you don't mind if I change and add a few things?

Still Falling For You, Part One - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter meets another agent assigned to protect Rose, and to his surprise, it's his high school sweetheart--you. (Starts after Peter spent the night on the couch outside of Farr's office.) Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, (sort of) enemies-to-lovers Warnings ! Angst, fluff, language, violence, no use of y/n Disclaimers ! Everything I know about the FBI is from TV shows, so this might be an unintentional crossover with Criminal Minds? Idk, it just happened Word Count - 1733

" It took us a while Because we were young and unsure With love on the line What if we both would need more But all your flaws and scars are mine Still falling for you " - Still Falling For You, Ellie Goulding

Requests are still open, but please be patient! Thank you!

Masterlist Request Guide Part Two

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After making it through a car chase, managing to stay hidden through the night, and getting Rose safely to the hotel, Farr wanted to add another agent to the detail protecting her—a personal agent in the hotel room while the Secret Service remained in the lobby.

“Think of it as a gaining a partner,” she said. “This agent is coming straight from the head office. She was top of her class and is one of the best criminal profilers on the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. POTUS was close friends with her mother, so she pulled a few strings to get her to come here on special assignment.”

As he considered it, Peter supposed it would be nice to have someone with Rose while he could go back to Night Action. If something were to happen, he would need to be there to answer the phone. Rose memorizing the phone number only proved how much she was freaked out by the situation she was in. He’d stayed on the line and talked to her through the night just to reassure her that everything would be alright.

“Here she is now,” Farr said, looking over Peter’s shoulder and calling out a familiar name, and the sound of it made his skin break out in gooseflesh.

At first, Peter thought it was just a coincidence, another agent having the same name as you. But when you stepped around the corner into the foyer of Farr’s office, Peter was spiraling backwards through time to his high school days, to a time of laughter and holding hands, to sweet kisses in the rain and feverish ones underneath the bleachers. Peter was brought back to a time before his life fell to pieces.

The two of you had grown up next door to one another, quickly becoming best friends. When Peter’s mother died, your own mother offered to help Peter’s father with taking Peter to school and basketball practices, to feed him dinner when he had to work late, to help keep order in their lives. Whenever Peter wasn’t in his own home, he would be at yours, and as you grew older, you and Peter would only grow closer.

It came as no surprise when the two of you had started dating. Your parents had even hoped it would happen. You and Peter had known each other the way no one else did. And through your relationship, you had been each other’s firsts. First kiss, first love, first everything. It was epic, but even epic things can come to an end.

When you both were sixteen, Peter’s father was arrested. The two of you had tried to get his name cleared, but then Pete Sr. died, and the rumors speculated that it was either a car accident or suicide. That had been Peter’s downfall. You had tried to be there for him, but he slowly pulled away from you. He would stay home and have cereal for dinner instead of coming to your house for a home-cooked meal. He would walk to basketball practice instead of getting a ride from you on your way to cheer practice. He would stop answering your phone calls and send you to voicemail. He even stood you up on the night of your senior prom.

Eventually, you’d had enough. You walked up to his front door and rang the bell, but he hadn’t even answered. You knew he was inside. You could see him sitting on the couch.

“Peter,” you had called out. “I know you’re struggling, but you need to talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t.”You thought that might stir him to move, but Peter hadn’t budged.

“Look, Pete, I don’t know if I can continue waiting for you. I don’t—“ You choked on your tears, and a few had managed to escape. “I don’t think we can be together anymore. I’m sorry.”

That was the first thing Peter thought of when he saw you again, the sound of you crying. He’d kept up with how you’d been after graduating high school through your mom’s posts on Facebook. He saw the pictures of your college years, of Spring Break trips and summer vacations that he no doubt would’ve been on if the two of you had stayed together.

When your mother died in an accident during your sophomore year of college, the posts stopped, and Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at your profile or even contact you. He’d felt horrible after how he treated you when his father died, and he didn’t want to add salt to the wound when your mother passed.

Even after ten years, you still managed to look as beautiful as you did back then, only more professional and grown up. Your face had sharper features, but your eyes were still soft and kind, reminding Peter of lazy summer afternoons laying in the sun. Oh, how he had loved looking into your eyes.

And now, he still couldn’t seem to look away.

Peter was surprised to see you, even more so as an FBI agent like him. You’d always had an interest in criminal justice, intending to become a lawyer after completing your undergrad, but Peter never would have guessed that you would turn to psychology and become a profiler. He supposed it might be useful for protecting Rose from the whackjobs who were after her.

“Peter,” you gaped, startled to be seeing him again.

He breathed your name, reminding you of the last time he sighed with your name on his lips, and the thought made you blush. You cleared your throat, your voice tightening. “How are you?”

He stared down at you, and it was frustrating that he was still freakishly tall. At least, compared to your height. “Um, I’m fine. You?”

“Fine.”

Diane Farr looked between the both of you with narrowed eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

You nodded.  “We grew up together.”

“And we dated,” Peter continued, and you shot him a glare. He should not be bringing up your personal history together at the workplace.

Farr raised a brow. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, ma’am. It won’t,” Peter assured, and he looked at you for confirmation.

You nodded. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Why don’t you join Peter to see Rose at the hotel?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded again, trying to keep your words to a minimum, because if you were to speak, you were afraid that you would say a lot more than you intended.

Peter led you outside to the car. You started toward the driver’s side, so used to being the one who drove whenever you were in a car with Peter. However, Peter beat you to it, and you glared at him in frustration. “So you can drive now?”

The banter between you picked up as if you’d never spent any time apart, only with more anger and hostility. “Yes, I can drive.”

As you slid into the passenger seat, you studied him, seeing the change in him from the stubborn teenager to mature and suave adult he’d grown into. You also couldn’t help but notice that he’d bulked up a little, too.

You blinked, returning to your annoyed expression. “At least I don’t have to drive you around anymore.”

“You were the one who offered. You are older than me, so you got your license first.”

You glared at him. “By only four months. Besides, you kept failing, so I had to keep driving.”

“Are we really arguing about this right now?”

“You tell me.”

Peter sighed, a grin spreading across his lips. “Still as obstinate as ever.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“And you still like to have the last word, good to know. I’m still wondering why you never followed through with becoming a lawyer.”

You swiveled your head to face him, your eyes narrowed and frightening. “Who said I didn’t?”

“So you’re a lawyer and an agent?”

“Double major in psychology and criminal justice, and I went to law school, so yes, I’m a lawyer and an agent.”

Peter shifted in his seat, his eyes checking the car’s mirrors every once in a while. He wasn’t sure what to say. You’d done more than he expected, and he couldn’t help but swell with pride over your accomplishments. After all this time, you were still amazing.

“What made you decide to become a profiler?” He asked, glancing in your direction before turning back to the road.

Your chest tightened, and your throat began to ache. “My mom.”

“You mean her accident?”

You clasped your hands together in your lap, head lowered. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“What?”

The car jerked as Peter spun to face you. You grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle as you cried, “Watch it, Peter!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, correcting himself and the vehicle. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “She was killed in a bank robbery. Two unsubs, a classic case of a dominant and submissive. She tried to talk one of them down, but he shot her instead. She talked to the submissive, who would’ve done anything for the dominant’s approval—“

You caught sight of Peter staring at you as he pulled up to the hotel and put the car into park. “I studied the security camera’s footage after I joined the BAU. I won’t go into the technical details to bother you, but my boss wasn’t happy that I was looking into cases without permission. He let it slide though, as long as I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

Peter grinned at you, the same mischievous smile that would make your heart flutter when you were younger. “Still have that rebellious streak, huh?”

You refused to let the blush form on your cheeks, but you still bit your lip in embarrassment.

Peter noticed that little action, and it still drove him crazy. He cleared his throat, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Are you ready to meet Rose?”

You nodded. “What’s she like?”

Peter smiled again, and the butterflies filled you once again. “For as well as I know you, I have a feeling that the two of you would be nothing but twin pains in my ass.”

You quirked your lips in a smirk. “There is nothing I would enjoy more.”

Yeah, I rolled with this idea and didn't want to make it too long, so it's going to need a part two.

[hereforanepilogue]

everything that i say and do (in your eyes is always wrong)

read on ao3

After Vecna, Eddie tried to make himself…not different, but more palatable. It wasn’t even hard - the doctors had shaved his head while he was out, and all his clothes had sunk into the Upside Down with the trailer.

He wasn’t normal - he never would be - but if he tried to quiet down? Wore plainer clothes, and played his music quieter in the van, and didn’t go back to playing with the band (as if their parents would have let him up the driveway, as if he had a guitar to play)? It wasn’t hard. 

It made it easier on Wayne, on the kids. On Steve.

And wasn’t that a surprise? He hadn’t expected to be left in the dirt, after Vecna, if he survived. He just expected the slow withdrawal, as the kids aged out of hanging out with a high school dropout, and as the older group went off to college. But they clung, and people weren’t kind to them, and Eddie being a little less made that a little easier.

Then Steve kissed him, and told him he wanted more, and that one day they would get out of there together. If only Eddie could hold out a little while longer. He watched Robin and Wheeler the Elder go off to college, and the little sheepies got busy with their own campaigns in the secret, under-the-table Hellfire, but Eddie had Wayne and Steve.

Eddie almost forgot why he started acting like he did in the first place.

“You know,” Wayne told him one day - they were even more like ships in the night now, with Wayne still working nights from the new trailer and Eddie shacked up with Steve half the time - “I don’t know what happened in March, but you ain’t been this quiet since you were about this high.” He’d held his hand up in front of his ribs.

Eddie had been twelve when he moved in with Wayne, and he guessed he must look closer to that kid now than he had in years. So he started trying to fix it. He hunted in earnest for a new leather jacket, and a new denim jacket so he could cannibalize his bloodstained old vest, and band shirts to replace his old ones. It was thrilling, honestly, after he stopped mourning for what he’d lost. 

Still, the transformation was a slow one. He still got glares when he showed his face around town, and even when he was with Steve [his knight, his ever-present guardian] they couldn’t be affectionate. And he understood that, obviously. He was always being watched, they had to be extra careful, and he knows it would be worse for Steve, who’s always been golden. A freak can get away with a certain level of freakiness, even when he’s playing at normal.

It comes to a head almost a year after the boathouse.

~~~

“When are we getting out of here?” Eddie moans, draped over the couch. His hair is long enough to tickle the base of his neck annoyingly. Steve is in the other room, cooking - he never liked to use the trailer if they could avoid it. He didn’t want to get in Wayne’s space. 

“Soon, man. When the kids graduate, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I mean -”

“I just. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, you know?” Steve walks into the living room, glancing at the hook in the foyer where Eddie’s new and improved battle vest was hanging. Some of the patches still had blood stains on them.

“You could make it a little easier for them, I guess.”

“What?” Eddie is suddenly, painfully aware of the awkwardness of his pose, his arms twisted to press his hands into the crevice at the back of the couch, feet stuck between the cushions, head hanging over the edge. But he’s frozen.

“I just -” Steve sighs and scrubs his hand down his face, then rests it on his hip. He leans into the doorframe, in a move that Eddie knows is one of his worst plays at being casual. “You’re - you know I - you’re getting weird again, and people are still freaked out by everything that happened.”

“I’m getting weird again?”

“That came out wrong, you know -”

“I’ve always been weird, Steve, what are you talking about?”

“I mean you’re showing it now! I know you want to dress how you want to dress, but it just - maybe it’s not time yet.”

“Should I cut my hair again too?” Eddie scrambles to sit up, and ends up having to slither off of the couch on his belly. He just stands up instead.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, you could grow it out later?” Steve protests. Something is starting to burn in the kitchen, but neither of them move.

“It’s not -” Eddie takes a breath. This is why he never tried hard to talk to people who didn’t come to him, he thinks. He’s never had to explain this before. “I’m not just dressing like this because I like it. I mean I am, but it’s not…it’s not just that.”

“What do you mean, it’s not just because you like it? That doesn’t make any sense. And I’m not saying don’t dress like you want at - at my place, and at home and stuff. Just maybe not when you’re -”

“What, in public? Around the good, God-fearing public of Hawkins who were just out for my blood a year ago? I’m not like you, Steve, that doesn’t work for me.” 

And Eddie has never been good at thinking fast, when it comes to serious things. He’s snappy, sure, he’s never not had a comeback to a bully, or to his friends’ ribbing, but he could never figure out how he felt, and he’s no better at it now. He’s just empty. Faramir on the way to Osgiliath, knowingly doomed.

But he knows he isn’t that, either, because he’s never been destined to win. And Steve still hasn’t said anything. 

“Is that it? You - what - you’re just gonna bait them until they kill you?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie says.

“We can’t leave yet, Eddie.”

“I can’t stay here,” he can feel his brain melting into a stuck record, and he doesn’t know what will happen if he tries to move but he has to try, right? “I want to leave, I don’t want to be here.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.” He feels possessed. “I will say no more yet.”

And he leaves, and Steve doesn’t stop him. He has the forethought to grab his jacket, at least, and when he gets to his car it occurs to him that he left a stack of tapes in Steve’s room last night, but Steve didn’t follow him and he can’t go back, so he pushes them out of his mind and drives away.

One of them was his new copy of The Last in Line and he thinks about having to replace his favorite album twice in one year, and then he’s home and he doesn’t know how he got there.

“Wayne?” he says as he walks into the trailer. Whines, really, his voice has gone all weak, but Wayne hears it (he always does) and sits up on the couch. It’s early for him to be up, earlier than they would usually eat their breakfast/dinner, but Eddie had planned to bring leftover’s from Steve’s.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I - remember when you talked to Ray about transfers?”

“C’mere,” Wayne says, and Eddie lets himself be pulled into Wayne’s space like a magnet. He sits next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and get overwhelmed by the scent of oil and metal that follows him home from the plant. Wayne rests his hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, and he’s twelve again.

“It’d be nice not to have to wash paint off the walls every weekend, right?” Eddie says. He can feel the pause where he might have laughed, if he could’ve landed the tone he wanted.

“What happened?” Wayne says. It’s not the “let’s go, grab your bag” that Eddie is secretly barely-not-hoping for, but Wayne has always known him better than anyone.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” Eddie says. Wayne opens his mouth, so Eddie reassures him. “Nothing happened. I mean, something - I just can’t keep acting like this. I’m not. I tried, I really did, but I can’t make it work.”

“Ah, kid,” Wayne says. It’s the voice Wayne had used when Eddie got sent home in the fourth grade for crouching on a desk and barking at a kid who made fun of him, when Eddie had gone to Wayne’s trailer instead of his parents’. He’d used it when Eddie showed up with his hair buzzed off the first time when he was seven, and he’d used it after the cop that dropped Eddie off after his dad’s last arrest had left, and he’d used it both times Eddie told him he’d flunked.

Eddie leans into it, lets his forehead drop on Wayne’s shoulder.

“I’ll - I’m not just running, okay? I just thought I could hold out, and I can’t. And I don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, you know?”

“S - Harrinton?” Eddie’s mouth twists at the correction, and Wayne taps on his back - once, one finger - when he tenses up. Eddie leans towards him, just a hair, then leans back. 

“Yeah.”

“Did he say that?”

“I mean, I don’t really remember. He - he told me I’m weird again and that I should tone it down.” Wayne rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s back once, then stills again.

“Well, that’s bullshit there, kiddo. I’ve never met a person alive that wasn’t a bit weird, and anyone who says they ain’t is kidding themselves. How’s that song you like go again?”

“‘You’re no dif-’ It’s not the same, though.”

“Look, Ed.” Wayne sighs. “You were never good at hiding how you were different, and that ain’t a bad thing, but it means you’ve gotta find people who’ll stick to you anyway.”

“I know. It’s not his fault, though. That I’m hard to stick to.”

“You ain’t, though,” Wayne says. “You know this kind of thing ain’t easy, even if it’s just your time isn’t matched up to his.”

“I just don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, and I can’t - I can’t stay here. I can’t be like this anymore.”

“So do what you’ve gotta do, and tell them what it is and why. Give them a path to follow you down, if they’re ever ready.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath - he doesn’t know when it got so hard to breathe, but it’s starting to get better. 

“Okay. I. I’ll call tomorrow?” He looks at Wayne’s hand, curled loosely over his uncle’s knee. It’s as close to Wayne’s face as he can get his eyes to go.

“Sounds good, Ed. I’ll start looking into a transfer - nothing permanent, if you change your mind, but I know you’re not like to bring it up if you’re not serious, so just get your end of things worked out and I’ll get mine.” 

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m not easier.” Wayne is quiet for a moment.

“Don’t be sorry, kid. You being miserable isn’t easier.” He taps between Eddie’s shoulders again, then gets up. “I think it’s breakfast time, anyway. Eggs good?” Eddie nods, but Wayne is already on his way to the kitchen.

~~~

The next day he calls around - the guys in the band first, always. Then Steve, before he talks to Robin or Nancy or the kids. The conversations are all short, but he knows it’ll be a couple weeks before Ray can get Wayne set up at his cousin’s plant out of state, so there’s time.

“You know I l- care about you, Eds. Eddie.”

“I know. I don’t wanna not be with you, I just can’t keep living like this. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to leave.”

“I’m just not ready yet. When the kids graduate, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s the problem, Stevie.” Eddie feels - not numb, but distant. Like someone turned a key and his thoughts are flowing in order and he has the words for them, and he has to say them even when it feels like the worst thing he’s ever said. “You’re not even thinking about an after, and all I have is an after. The only thing I have waiting for me in Hawkins is hiding everything about myself until I suffocate.”

“I’m in Hawkins. And the kids,” Steve says. He would sound controlled to anyone else, but as always, Eddie knows his tells, and he’s breaking.

“I love you, but I can’t hide forever. And you might be able to, if you want to, but you shouldn’t have to either. We’re not going far - Wayne’s getting a job in Pittsburgh, I think. Right on the way to Robin’s, if you wanna visit.” Steve gulps, and Eddie gets the abrupt sense that Steve thinks he’s lying. “I - I mean that, really. I’m not gonna promise I’ll wait for you, not forever, but I’m not exactly gonna get over you, you know?”

“You love me?”

“I do, yeah,” Eddie says.

“But you’re leaving.”

“I’m gonna die here, Steve, even if I don’t get burned at the stake. It’s not - I’m not me, anymore, and I can’t keep pretending, and it’s not just how I dress or whatever. I know I’m not normal, but it’s not a choice any more than being a queer is, so I’ll get you my new number, and when - if - you’re ready, I’ll pick up.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

~~~

Two weeks later, the last Munsons in Hawkins pack up and leave.

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