#the wall mount just made me feel so safe

[algrenion]

in my disabled slumber, i dream of Wall Mounted Fold-Out Shower Seat With Legs……….

[harrysfolklore]

home hero - charles x reader

gif by @princemick <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Monaco is Charles' home. Growing up, he had watched the Grand Prix from the balconies and rooftops, dreaming of the day he would stand atop the podium. Each year, the pressure mounted as he came so close, only to have victory slip through his fingers.

Today felt different. There was a determined glint in his eye this morning as he kissed you goodbye and headed to the track. You could tell he was ready, more focused than ever before. You had to believe this was his year.

"Are you nervous?" you asked, leaning against the kitchen counter asyou watched him get everything he needed before heading out.

"More than usual," he admitted, flashing you a quick smile,"But I feel good. I have a good feeling about today."

"You’ve got this, Charles. I believe in you," you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you," he hugged you tightly, resting his chin on top of your head.

"You'd still be amazing," you said, looking up at him,"But I'm glad I get to be here with you."

You arrived at the circuit, the familiar roar of engines filling your ears as you made your way to the paddock. You found your usual spot in the Ferrari garage, the team bustling around with last-minute preparations. You exchanged nervous smiles with the crew, all of you hoping for the same outcome.

You watched as Charles went through his pre-race routine, meticulously checking everything himself even though he trusted his team completely. He looked up at you and smiled, his nervous eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

"Hey, come here," he called softly, waving you over.

You walked over, taking his gloved hand in yours. "You’re going to do great, you know that, right?"

"I just," he sighed, "Really want that win, you know? Not just for me, but for my family, my friends, for us," you smiled fondly at his words, "This is my home and everyone believes in me, I don't want to keep letting them down."

"Charles, you've never let anyone down," you squeezed his hand, "You've given everything you have, every time and that's why everyone believes in you. No matter what happens today, you're already a champion in our eyes."

"You're too sweet," he teased with a small smile, pecking your lips quickly, "I need to go. I'll see you after the race."

"Be safe out there," you said, giving him one last lingering kiss.

You watched as he made his way to the car, taking a deep breath before climbing in. The race was about to begin, and the anticipation was palpable. You found your seat in the garage, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding with every lap.

As the race progressed, it was clear that Charles was driving with everything he had. Lap after lap, he maintained his position and defended his lead against the competition.

With only a few laps to go, the tension in the garage was at an all-time high. You could barely breathe, every fiber of your being focused on Charles and the car.

And then, it happened. Charles crossed the finish line and the checkered flag was waved, securing his first win at the Monaco Grand Prix. The garage erupted in cheers, and you felt tears of joy streaming down your face.

He did it. He actually did it.

Before you even knew what was happening, you ran to the pit wall, heart soaring with pride as you watched Charles climb out of the car, his face a mixture of disbelief and pure elation. He waved to the crowd, taking in the moment before making his way over to the barrier, his eyes searching for you.

You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing as you made your way to him. When he finally saw you, his face lit up with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Charles!" you called out, your voice cracking with emotion.

"We did it!" he shouted, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly, his voice full of joy and relief.

"You did it," you corrected, laughing through your tears. "I'm so proud of you!"

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said, pressing his forehead against yours. "Fuck! I can't believe this is real."

You kissed him, a sweet and lingering kiss that held all the words you couldn't say in that moment. When you pulled back, you saw the love and gratitude in his eyes, and it made your heart swell with even more pride.

"Now go stand on top of the podium, you deserve it."

The celebrations were in full swing as it was time for the podium. Charles was greeted with cheers and applause from the team, his family, and the fans who had supported him through thick and thin. The Monegasque flag waving proudly above him.

The national anthem played, and you watched as tears of pride and joy rolled down Charles' cheeks. This was the moment he had dreamed of, the moment he worked so hard for. And now, it was finally here.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Max wanting to have sex on Rocky after the gala is over and before Rocky is put away

The Real Prize - Rocky || MV1

Pre-Gala || The Real Prize || Jealousy || Panties || Captivity || Rocky || Escaping || Thighs || Consequences || A Mile High

The storage containers behind the stage were dimly lit, but the shining moment had and gone for the machines that had made history and now they were being tucked away in the dark. Somehow Max knew where his car was before you could even see it, his sure steps guiding you safely between the rest until his livery appeared.

Max tugged you closer and crushed his lips to yours. “Been needing another taste of you,” he hummed as he drew your dress up higher. “Been wanting to do this all year.”

He guided you onto the body of the race car and you leaned back on the halo as he lifted your legs, settling your heels onto the side pod.

“So beautiful…” he mused as he spread your legs wider. He pushed his trousers down enough to free the erection he had been battling since he stole your panties and watched you bite your lip as he buried himself inside you. “Hmm, fits me perfectly.”

“Me or the car, because I’m getting a little jealous here.” Though you were joking, he took it upon himself to clarify as he fucked you in a way he had only imagined.

“You, schatje, always you,” he promised quietly between the gentle kisses he left along your neck. “This is what you do to me, I can’t think clearly when I see you, so beautiful it hurts. You were made for me, look how perfect we are.”

He pulled back enough to look down and see his cock filling you with each stroke, the sight of your union over the red bull livery was almost enough to tip him over, but he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t come until you did.

“We could go to jail for this,” you whispered as you tried to keep from moaning too loudly. “If we get caught.”

“So we don’t get caught,” he stated, reaching into his pocket and fisting your panties. He ran his thumb over your lips and smirked when they parted for him. “This will keep you quiet.”

The scent and taste drove you wild. You could taste Max’s come on the lace and your body burned to have more from him as you gripped the halo tighter and rocked your hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. Your screams certainly would have given you away if it weren’t for the material Max had stuffed in your mouth, muffling them to muted cries.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he rasped as he tugged at his bow, the clothing suddenly all too constricting and hot. “I just want to stay buried here forever.”

You wiped the sheen of sweat on his forehead, brushing it back into his hair and you tugged the dirty blond strands as your pleasure mounted. One heel slipped and you wrapped your leg around his hip instead, driving him deeper. Your hold on the halo faltered as your pussy clenched and it was only Max’s strength that kept you in place as you rode your orgasm out in his arms.

You gasped a deep breath as the lace was ripped out of your mouth and Max sealed his lips over yours to silence it, his tongue dancing with yours. He held off as long as he could, relishing the feel of your walls coating him in your release before he gave into his.

“Hello, is anyone in there?” A voice came from the dark.

Max moved instantly, placing you on your feet and pulling your dress down before he sorted himself out. He combed a hand through his damp hair and turned to face the security man who heard something inside.

“Oh, sorry Mr Verstappen, I didn’t realise it was you.”

“That’s okay, we were just leaving.” Max’s arm curled around your waist and helped with your unsteady steps, guiding back towards the lights.

“Mr Verstappen, wait, sir,” the man rushed to follow and Max gave him an inpatient look as the speakers returned to life and asked everyone to return to their seats. “You forget this.”

You barely stifled your laugh as he was handed his trophy for a third time that evening.

“There’s one other thing, did you notice the large scratch earlier?” He clicked his torch on and shone it at the side pod. The bull had a jagged cut right through the vinyl and your eyes widened.

“No,” Max said with a squeeze to your hip. “But I wouldn’t worry, they will put a new wrap on before it is displayed.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered as you chewed your lip.

“You know, there’s only one person that can get away with scratching the RB19,” he teased as you left the storage area. “You are lucky I love you, schatje.”

“Technically that is your fault,” you defended.

“Was I wearing stilettos?”

“If you weren’t so sexy in that suit I could have resisted you.”

Max smirked as he looked down at you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he slowly dipped his head down. Your lips parted eagerly for the kiss but his lips merely hovered above yours until you whined. His smirk grew and his eyes saw the truth as he chuckled. “No you couldn’t.”

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Like–they didn’t read to you or let you watch movies and stuff, you mean?” Billy asks with a frown. “Just put the whole things in your head at once?” 

That sounds disorienting, and also kinda mean and lazy on Cadmus’s part. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as it– 

Lynn looks down at Tawky; flips his ear back and forth again and rubs the pad of his thumb across the inside of it. 

Billy . . . frowns, again. 

“No,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, as opposed to actually either of them. “I mean they didn’t tell me stories at all.” 

. . . wow, yeah. Billy is definitely committing fifty-two floors’ worth of arson. 

“Oh, okay,” he says, making a few mental notes for himself about, again, arson. Like, just the whole process and everything. “Well, they suck, then. We’ll just have to get you some different types to try, I guess. Like with the food and all, you know? It’s a library, anyway, it’s not like it costs money to borrow stuff or anything.” 

“It’s just stories,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, not lifting his eyes at all. “They’re not–important. To . . . I don’t need things like that.” 

“Why do you think that?” Billy asks with a frown, though his inner arsonist is already pretty sure it’s Cadmus's fault. Pretty much positive, in fact. 

Pretty definitely positive. 

Lynn shrugs. Rubs the inside of Tawky’s ear. It’s really soft, Billy knows; Tawky’s fur always feels nice to touch. He wonders, actually, how much stuff Lynn even has touched so far. 

He wonders, again, if anybody’s ever hugged him before. 

He really hates the thought that maybe no one has. He really hates . . . 

He just really hates that that’s even a thing that might be a thing at all. 

“Weapons don't need to know stories,” Lynn says. “They just need to do as they're told.” 

. . . in retrospect, arson might be half-assing what Billy should do to Cadmus. 

“This isn't so you can be a weapon,” he reminds Lynn carefully, resisting the urge to clench his fists in his lap. “Remember?” 

“‘This’,” Lynn echoes. He still doesn't look up. 

“I'm taking care of you,” Billy says. 

“Maintaining me,” Lynn says very, very quietly. “Containing me.” 

“I really hate that somebody made you think that's what that means,” Billy says tightly. Lynn ducks his head lower and looks towards the wall. 

He doesn't say anything back. Billy bites his tongue, trying to figure out what he should–do, or say, or . . . 

The truth, obviously, but how to say it's a lot harder. 

“This isn't, like–a containment thing. That's not why I'm taking care of you,” he tries, because it's the best place to start he can think of. The wisdom of Solomon covers a lot of knowledge, but not necessarily always how to apply that knowledge. “Like, we wanna know where you are so we know you're safe, or at least know you've got your phone just in case, and the curfew thing is–like, normal kids get curfews. So people know where they are, and that they're not in trouble or anything. And like–so people know when to get help for them, if they might be in trouble.” 

Lynn doesn't say anything, still. Billy's not sure if that means he's just thinking, or if it means he hasn't said the right thing yet. 

He really hopes it's the thinking thing, but . . . 

“Honestly the other idea was putting you up in Mount Justice,” he admits. “But it doesn't have any windows or anything, and I don't even know if anyone else was gonna be there most of the time, and–”

“Windows?” Lynn . . . frowns, his eyes flicking back to him. 

“Um, yeah,” Billy says. Lynn stares blankly at him for a moment, then slants his eyes towards the apartment windows and–hesitates, a little. 

“. . . you mean there's no sun,” he realizes slowly.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your frustration mounts as you click the permissions again to allow the camera and microphone access. It’s so annoying! It just keeps running you in circles. Great. This is off to a good start. Late for the interview. That’s always the best first impression. 

When at last your firewall stops blocking the call, you flinch at the sight of yourself in the corner. You’re further jarred by the man staring back at you. Your mouth opens and for a moment, you’re frozen. You were so focused on troubleshooting, you forgot about what was waiting on the other end. 

“Oh, hi,” you squeak. “Sorry, I--” you look around, glancing through the clear walls of the library study room. It’s the first time you’ve been to this branch but you didn’t think the clutter of your apartment would make a good backdrop. “I was having issues with my camera.” 

“Quite alright,” he responds with a grin and a lilted accent. He sounds as professional as he looks. 

He wears a grey jacket over a muted teal shirt that lights up his eyes, even over the screen. His short hair is combed back neatly and there’s not a speck of stubble on his jaw. Under the structure of his attire you can tell he’s well-built. 

You resist the urge to look down at yourself. A white blouse. Boring but professional. It gets the job done. Hopefully. 

You force a smile. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he begins through your nervous silence. “I do appreciate your time and I would hate to waste it. So, we can hop right in.” He looks unflinchingly into the camera, “oh, let us not go so far past courtesy. I am James, we’ve been corresponding, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. James.” You gulp. 

He says your name with a keen inclination. “This is rather not the position which requires those cliche questions so I won’t trouble you with asking what animal best reflects your personality.” 

You cough out a humouring chuckle and fold your hands on the desk. 

“Forgive if I should seem to the point. You see, it’s a very practical position. I think it’s best we go over what is expected before we go into the finer details; expenses, relocation, dates--” 

“Mm,” you squeak and put a finger up, “s-sorry, um, I thought we were interviewing but it sound like you’ve made a decision?” 

“Well, yes, I’ve reviewed your CV and your submitted profile and your answers to the questionnaire were acceptable. I didn’t think there was much else to consider,” he intones. You shift and try to hide your surprise. 

“No, of course, that makes sense,” you say. “Thanks, I guess I was confused.” 

“Not to worry. I find that written communication can often lack clarity so I thought it best we have a face-to-face in this circumstance,” he looks down as if he has a book or paper before him. “So, did you have any questions before I proceed?” 

“No, no, really, I'm sure you’ll answer them all.” Your cheeks bloom in a half-smile. You were so nervous about getting the job but you’ve already got it. 

“Right then,” he sits back and once more stares down the camera. “It is a very old property but the upkeep has been consistent. There should not be any glaring necessities for maintenance, this more of a custodial position. So, you would be the one to keep the place clean, make sure it is aired out, tend to the lawns but we do employ a grounds keeping service that comes fortnightly to trim.” 

You nod. It’s intriguing. You were sent photos of the property but you’re not quite sure of its purpose. Judging by the clustered pines in the background, you would guess it’s remote. A getaway that could be a goldmine for those wanting a vacation from the urban jungle. 

“You would have a roster, you see, of those you could contact for service so you will not require any specialisations. You are the day-to-day and would be expected to bring in the appropriate support for higher-touch difficulties.” 

“Right,” you try not to show your anxiety. 

“Albeit I should warn you that the reception in that location is not the greatest so if you cannot call out, you would need to keep trying. It will eventually catch but uh, not to mind, as long it is attended is what matters, not when,” he says.  

“Mhm, that makes sense. Um, can I ask what the property is? Is it like a summer home or...” 

“Ah, family inheritance,” he answers primly. “I’ve not much use for it past the sentimental value and I thought of leasing it for traveling parties but I’ve heard horror stories. Right now, I’m merely sitting on it until I figure out exactly what to do with it.” 

“Oh, right. Wow. Quite the inheritance.” 

“Hm, yes, my uncle did rather adore me. I was the only one named in his will but he was a bit of a curmudgeon.” He laughs. “Now, I must ask the most important question--” 

Before he can, the door swings open and you jump in your seat. Your heart sinks. You signed the room out for ninety minutes. You thought it would be more than enough. Surely it hasn’t been that long. 

Shoot. It’s him. How did he find you? You deliberately went out of your way so that he couldn’t. 

“Jake,” you stand and turn to him, trying to block the computer. “What are you doing?” 

“There you are,” he touches his chest as if he should be the one so afraid. “You didn’t come home--” 

You growl and cross your arms. 

“Jake, go away,” you grit out. “Not right now. Please.” 

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” he steps into the room and you push yourself back against the table. “Who else is going to look after you?” 

“I will scream, alright,” you warn. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired of telling you.” 

He sighs and his jaw squares. “I don’t get you. You act like I’m such a bad guy and I haven’t done anything to you. I never hurt you but you hurt me. You just spit in my face--” 

“Pardon,” the voice rises from the speaker at your back. “If I may, she is occupied and you are interrupting. I have a mind to contact emergency service should you persist.” Your mouth falls open and you turn to look at your laptop. James leans forward to glare at the lens, “Not sure who you are, fellow, but the lady has been clear.” 

“Who-- who is he?” Jake sputters. 

“Please, just go,” you plead. “Or I will call the police.” 

Little good they will do, you think, but that doesn’t need to be said aloud. 

He frowns and his eyes glint dangerously. You stare back at him, tense, fingers curling and uncurling nervously. That man on the screen won’t stop him and you don’t know if anyone would hear you from the desk. 

“Fine, guess I’ll see ya around,” he relents and backs out. 

You don’t move until he snaps the door shut. You hurry over and twist the lock on the inside. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before. 

“Are you alright?” James asks, drawing you back to the desk. 

You sit and look at the keyboard, “I’m very sorry. I...” 

“He doesn’t sound like a friend,” James says. You shake your head. “Well, then, it does sound like you’re in need of a fresh start. I do hope this can be that for you.” 

You look up and bat away the glimmer on the brims of your eyes. You’re not just afraid, you’re embarrassed. His kindness is as comforting as it is unexpected. 

“Thanks, um, anyway...” you exhale, “you were going to ask something.” 

“Yes, uh, yes, I was,” he reconfigures and puts another smile on. “When can you depart? I would of course arrange travel to be sure you get here safe and sound.” 

“Oh, when... whenever is best. Not to be too desperate but as soon as possible,” you say. 

“Wonderful,” he praises, “absolutely wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon? Pardon my own desperation.” 

“Tomorrow?” You utter and shake your head. “Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.”  

It's sudden and scary but it’s good. The sooner you go, the less time Jake has to figure out what you’re doing. The less chance he can follow. It’s an escape. Not a perfect one but it’s all you have. 

🩸

You spend all night packing. You parse down what you have to the essentials and put the rest in bags. You don’t care about the furniture. You say as much in your email to your landlord, telling him to use your deposit for the disposal. 

You whittle your life down to three bags. A large suit case, a knapsack, and a single purse. You have it ready to go by the door. 

You feel uneasy about it. You stare at your luggage, the lights off, windows closed. Your phone buzzes and you put it to silent, ignoring the messages from your personal pest. You’ll be done with him too. You wonder if you should just toss your cell. 

You don’t sleep. You can’t. You still can’t believe you’re getting out. You hope you haven’t given the game away. 

There’s a tap on the window. You nearly roll onto the floor. You look over and hear it again, a harder impact. Are you serious? He’s throwing stones. He could break the damn glass. 

You shake your head. You won’t fall for it. Not again. You remember when he came to your door and cried until you opened up. He even smeared ketchup on his face to make you think he was hurt. It’s hard to tell the difference through a peephole. 

Almost there. Almost out. You just need to make it a few more hours. 

As you ignore the incessant tapping and the light of your phone glowing ever few minutes, your thoughts turn bitter. You should message everyone who turned their back on you and tell them exactly what they’ve put you through. Somehow, you think they’d care as much as they did before. 

Sleep eludes you but a foggy daze comes over you as the windows soften with the early morning. There’s no more pebbles bouncing off the pane. Just you and the buzz of the sleeping city. 

Your alarm chimes and you get up as your head pulses. You’re used to the constant fatigue. It will ease up and you’ll just feel a bit heavy. When it’s normal, you don’t notice as much. 

You get ready and have an instant coffee by the door. James messages just before nine. Your car will be there in ten. Oh, early. You don’t mind about that. 

You won’t go out and wait. You’ll stay here, where it’s safe. 

When your phone goes off again, you expect it to be Jake. It’s James. Whew. You’re so close, you can’t believe it. 

You grab your knapsack and purse, and drag your suitcase out behind you. You lock the door and throw the key through the mail slot. You hurry down the hall and take the stairs over the elevator.  

You don’t look back or anyway but forward. You look at your cell. 'Black Jaguar’ followed by a plate number. Jaguar? Holy moly. 

The tinted window rolls down and reveals the same face from the Zoom call. You didn’t know he was coming himself. You assumed he was sending a cab or something. You slow as you come out the door. He smiles and pops open the door. 

Before you can come forward, another figure appears, blocking your way. 

“Hey, I've been calling all night,” Jake says. You stop short and nearly yelp. Of course! 

“Jake, move.” 

“Where are you going?” He looks at your bags desperately. “Wait, you can’t--” 

“Pardon me, sir, is there some issue?” James strides up behind him. 

Jake turns to face him and stiffens, “and who are you—wait, you’re that guy from the computer.” 

“I’m none of your business, as is her life,” James insists. “Now, seems you’re used to picking on those smaller than you but let’s see how you do against me?” 

James steps closer. He’s a few inches taller than Jake. You can’t move as they stare each other down. You wait, expecting chaos. 

“I was only talking,” Jake shows his palms and shrugs. “It’s whatever. She’s a bitch anyways.” 

He turns and snarls over his shoulder at you. You back up. As Jake turns, he’s knocked off kilter as James hurls his fist into his jaw. The shorter man staggers and falls to one knee, catching himself in the grass. 

“Well, that was a lovely chat,” James smirks and beckons to you, “shall we?” 

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3k

A/n: the story will follow the events of Scream 5 and 6. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

The drive to the hospital was filled with a heavy silence. Each person in the car was lost in their own thoughts, unsure of what to say or how to express their feelings. The air was thick with anxiety as they all braced themselves for the sight of their friend in whatever condition they might find her.

As they arrived to the hospital and made their way towards Tara's room, Iris's nerves began to intensify. Her footsteps slowed involuntarily, each step feeling heavier as they approached. She watched with a mix of apprehension and dread as her friends moved ahead and entered the room.

Meanwhile, Amber lingered beside her, casting a puzzled glance at Iris's hesitation.

"Are you okay babe?" She got closer to her girlfriend, squeezing her hand in a comforting manner.

"Yeah, it's just... I don't know how to feel about all of this". She sighed. "Should i go in there? I don't think Tara would want to see me".

Amber silently eyed the girl as she thought of what to say." We should get in there, she needs it after everything that happened". Iris has always admired Amber's empathy and she knew she was right. Tara might not be her best friend anymore but she was still Amber's.

Sometimes she would find herself lost in thought, pondering how her friendship with Tara might have unfolded if they did things differently.

After all, they had been friends with each other ever since they were six years old. They had shared countless memories, dreams and secrets that felt unbreakable. Yet, the reality was stark; things had changed. She struggled with the uncertainty of how to navigate their friendship now, especially after the events of two years ago that had created a rift between them. It was painful to realize that the deep connection they once shared, seemed almost unreachable now.

Despite the distance that had grown, her concern for Tara lingered, especially after the traumatic attack. She just wanted her to be safe.

As they entered the room, they heard Wes say, "You're up." Tara smiled at him, but her gaze quickly shifted to the door. She appeared taken aback when she saw Iris standing there.

"Hey guys, thank you for coming" she smiled softly at them.

"Of course, Tara," Iris said with a small smile. Tara's heart raced until she noticed Amber take Iris's hand and intertwine their fingers, causing her to look away.

The room had a calming, almost serene atmosphere. Privacy curtains, currently drawn back, framed the window, letting in just a sliver of sunlight that danced gently on the floor. A television mounted on the wall caught her attention, softly playing a nature documentary. Across from her was a side chair, now occupied by Amber who clutched into Tara's hand, worried for her best friend as she asked how she felt.

It hurt Iris to see Tara in a hospital bed looking so wounded up. She had a cast around her leg and a tube helping her with the oxygen. Iris's heart sank at the thought of how alone she must have felt and how she probably thought she was going to die at the hands of some psycho.

Tara must have sensed someone observing her closely, as she suddenly turned her gaze directly toward Iris. The two locked eyes, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the emotional gap between them growing heavier. Observing the interaction, Amber placed her hand gently on her girlfriend's thigh, her thumb softly tracing circles.

They all keep each other company for a little bit longer when suddenly the door swung open. Iris's eyes widened as she saw Sam walk through the door alongside a brunette guy.

Sam immediately crouched beside her sister, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "How are you feeling?" She asked with genuine concern, her voice filled with worry.

"You came" Tara was just as surprised as everyone else.

"Of course I came" Sam replied, with a gentle smile in her face. She felt guilty that her own sister thought she wouldn't show up after getting stabbed but she didn't show it. "This is my boyfriend Richie".

"It's so nice to meet you. I'm so sorry if I'm intruding." Richie took a step closer to Tara and waved at her.

"Nice to meet you too" Tara smiled unsure, raising a hand.

"Thank you for calling". Sam told softly to Wes once she hugged him. "Look at your hair, I like it" they both shared a laugh, she then went around and hug all of her sister's friends.

"Hi Ris" she whispered softly into her hair after she pulled her into a tight hug. "I can't believe how tall you are right now"

Sam and Iris had always been close because of her friendship with Tara. The three of them would spend many hours together, watching movies and playing games, with Sam always making sure both of them were well taken care of. Sam was also the first person Iris confided in when she realized she was bisexual, stepping into the role of the big sister she never had. This relationship had been so important in Iris's life until everything shifted out of nowhere when Sam decided to leave without a word to anyone.

Seeing Sam now, Iris felt a surge of emotion and instinctively pulled her into a tight hug. "It's so good to see you, Sam," she said, her voice trembling with longing. The embrace was more than just a gesture; it was a deep need for comfort and connection that Iris had been missing.

Sam walked back to her boyfriend and introduced him to everyone. "These are Chad and Mindy, the twins, Wes and Iris. I used to babysit them all". They all sent a wave towards him.

"Which is always how I like to be introduced". Wes joked lightly.

"And Amber, hey". Sam akwardly greeted her, they never had much of a bond. Amber always seemed to dislike her for some reason.

"Hi nice to see you" Amber told her but everyone knew she didn't mean it. Sam glanced at her, then her eyes fell to the sight of her hand clasped with Iris's. She was taken aback by the sight and quickly took a glance at her sister. When she thought about what would happen when she saw this people again, she never thought Amber would be the one to date Iris.

"H-hi, I'm Richie" he smiled nervously. That alone made Iris raise her eyebrows, she put a hand around Amber's shoulder and pulled her close to her, bringing a smile to the girl.

"Where's mom?" Sam asked her sister, finally noticing the absence of their parent.

"She's stuck at a conference in London. She called me earlier". Tara explained and Amber scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah for all 10 minutes". No one knew what to say, Tara's and Sam's mom was certainly not winning mother of the year award.

"Look guys, Tara's really tired. Maybe we should just give her some space".

"Not you Sam, I want you to stay". Tara called out to her sister when she noticed her trying to leave the room too.

Chad, Mindy and Wes all said their goodbyes and turned to leave the room. Richie stood by the door waiting for Amber and Iris to leave too.

"If it's okay with you, I could sleep here tonight" Sam suggested unsure of her sister reaction, she knew they had a lot of things to talk about.

"I'd really like that". Tara smiled weakly at her and Sam reciprocated it. Iris felt herself smiling too watching both girls having a moment of peace.

Amber asked Tara if she had her extra inhaler and once she said yes, Amber tugged Iris along as she tried to walk through the door, but Iris held back and crouched down beside Tara to squeeze her hand hesitantly. She could feel Tara sharp intake of breath as she squeezed harder. She didn't know what came into her but she couldn't leave the room without showing some kind of support to Tara.

"I'm glad you're okay, I got really scared for you". Iris couldn't meet her eye but as she felt Tara's intense gaze on her, she found herself wanting to take a glimpse.

"Don't worry, I'm basically inmmortal at this point". They both laughed weakly at Tara's attempt of joking. "I didn't know if you were going to come and visit".

"You think I wouldn't have?" She was a little hurt Tara would think that, though she couldn't really blame her, the last time they a have had a real conversation that lasted more than 10 minutes was 2 years ago when they were still friends.

Tara ignored the question and gave her hand a tiny squeeze. "I'm glad you did, thank you". They stared at each other for a few more seconds before they felt Amber clearing her throat. "Baby let's leave so they can talk"

Iris gave Tara a final smile and then left the room with her girlfriend. "You okay love?"

"Are you?" Amber asked her in a serious tone, it threw Iris off guard.

"I think so?"

"Okay, let's go, the other just texted, they are heading to the bar". They walked through the hallway together and left the hospital, leaving Iris feeling confused. She couldn't quite grasp why Amber appeared so upset, but she chose to brush it off. Amber had always reacted this way whenever she saw them talking, so Iris decided not to dwell on it, assuming it was probably nothing important.

—————————————

"So, what's she like, the sister?" Liv asked as she leaned against the pool table, her eyes fixed on the game between Chad and Iris. The latter subtly moved the position of a ball that would make her have an advantage over Chad when he wasn't looking and shot Liv a wink, gesturing for her to keep quiet.

Liv gave her a playful smile and turned to pay attention to her boyfriend.

"Sam? She's so cool". Chad happily answered.

"You only say that beacuse she let you and Iris wear Pokemon onesies to bed for a year" Mindy replied making everyone laugh.

Iris exaggeratedly placed a hand over her chest in mock offense, playing up the moment as if she were deeply hurt. Now Chad's turn to play, he glanced at the table with a puzzled expression, his gaze darting around as he tried to locate the red ball. He was slightly bewildered, as he could have sworn that the ball had been in plain view just moments ago.

"Pokemon onesies? Me? I would never" Mindy gave her a knowing look, while Amber shook her head with laughter.

"Ambs, baby, don't listen to them alright? They are trying to ruin my reputation"

"What reputation bro? That disappeared the moment you fell off the school benches because you were watching Amber do acrobatics in a skirt". Mindy couldn't pass up the opportunity to make fun of her best friend, sue her.

"Omg baby that's so embarrassing, I thought you said you got dizzy" Amber playfully told her with a cute glint in her eyes.

"I got dizzy by your hotness cutie" she jokily winked at her, making everyone at the table groan with disgust.

"Don't call me cutie" Amber pretended to be mad as Iris planted a kiss in her head.

"You're right babe, you're a bad bitch". Iris put a hand around her waist and turned to look at her friends. "Me and the baddie I pulled by being a virgin, look at me Wes it's still possible for you".

They all laughed except for Wes who flipped a finger at her, calling her a bitch.

"Going back to Sam, trust me she is not cool" Amber brought back the conversation to Sam, explaining why she was a terrible sister. "Her dad left her mom, right? Walks right out when Tara's eight and Sam's thirteen. So Sam started acting out, getting in trouble with cops and then, on Sam's eighteenth birthday, she leaves".

Iris flickered her eyes towards her girlfriend, they both knew this but for some reason, Amber sounded more hateful. She knew what Sam did was wrong but she couldn't hate on the woman without actually knowing the reason she disappeared. She knew Sam, and if she left, it was because she thought it was better for Tara. She had a lot of things to say but she didn't want Sam to be the reason she fought with her girlfriend, so she shut up and continued focusing on the stripped blue ball she had been trying to put in the hole for the past 5 minutes.

"Ghosts them all". Amber shares a little bit of Vodka with her friends. No one was supposed to drink alcohol as they were just 18 but they always managed to hide some in a flask.

"Maybe Sam has changed but I just don't want to see Tara hurt again."

"So what, you're protecting Tara from her own sister?" Wes questioned her.

"She's not saying that Wes, but what if Sam leaves again? I don't think she will but if it happens then Tara is going to be hurt and we don't want that". Iris interjected trying to calm the waters between those two, with everything that had been going she didn't need her friends to fight each other.

"You don't want that? That's rich coming from you". Wes muttered in response.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it, so no guys are good enough for her, and now her family's off limits too?" Wes turned his attention back to Amber, scoffing at the girl.

"Mmm, motive!" Mindy spoke up, causing everyone to look at her. She leaned on her pool stick as she glanced at the boy. "If I can't have her, no one can"

"What?"

"We all know you have a crush on Tara," Mindy announced, and as everyone around them nodded in agreement, Iris was taken aback. She had been completely unaware of this detail. It seemed that in her attempts to avoid any direct interaction with Tara, she had missed out on some crucial information. What else did she not know?

"Alright, come on, Mindy," the boy retorted with irritation. "So what, am I suspect now because you think I have a crush on her? Does that make Iris a suspect too?" The mention of Iris's name, along with the words "crush" and "Tara," made her stiffen. Amber's gaze turned fiercely toward Wes, her expression so intense it was as if she were plotting something drastic. Her grip on her flask tightened, causing her knuckles to turn white with the force.

"Don't bring me into the conversation Hicks, I have nothing to do with that". she said, her irritation evident. She was frustrated with the boy, upset with her friends for not speaking up, and angry at herself for letting the comment get under her skin.

"Well you had a crush on her before"

"Shut up dude that was a million years ago".

"Know your place Wes, that's my girlfriend you're talking about". Amber angrily scoffed at the boy, enough to make him shut up.

"But we're all suspects," Mindy pointed out, prompting everyone to exchange glances as if they were only now considering this possibility. Chad lift his glass in a casual salute towards his sister. The air was thick with contemplation as everyone weighed the implications of Mindy's observation.

"Except maybe Liv".

"Thank you" Liv smiled as she thought it was a compliment.

"You're way too boring to be a psycho" Mindy finished her thoughts and Iris snorted on her drink. Liv looked at them both and flipped her finger at them.

"Hey don't look at me, she's the bitch" Iris said, pointing her stick at Mindy, who playfully nudged her in the side. In moments like these, when they were joking around and laughing with her friends, it was hard for Iris to believe that one of them could be involved in the attacks, targeting people. Her thoughts drifted back to her sister. She couldn't recall much about her, except for those times when she would have a nightmare and Olivia would come to her room, curling up beside her and singing soothing songs until Iris fell asleep peacefully in her sister's arms. Olivia never knew her two friends were behind all the attacks, she also never knew she was murdered in her own room by one of them. Iris likes to think it's better that way, to just not know, she couldn't imagine what she would do if one of her friends was behind it all. She would go insane.

Suddenly someone called out to them. "Yo Liv, want a real drink?" Vince shouted from a few meters away. "Or are you happy sitting at this kid's table?" The creep chuckled as he kept getting closer to them.

"Listen up, Uglier Michael Myers, it was a summer fling. It meant nothing". Chad went to him trying to defend his girlfriend.

"Was I talking to you?" Vince asked clenching his hand. "I don't fucking care who you're talking to" Chad shouted in his face.

Vince tried talking to Liv one more time before Chad got in his face. "Don't you fucking talk to her".

"Shut the fuck up" Vince pulled out a pocket knife out of nowhere and moved menacingly towards Chad. Iris quickly shoved Vince away from her friend causing his grip on the knife to falter.

"Get the fuck out of here dude" Vince attempted to advance toward her as well, but when he took a closer look at her, his demeanor changed. "Well, sweetheart, you can join me if you want," he said, trying to sound flirty. "There's no need for us to fight."

"Call me sweetheart one more time and I'll kill you" she muttered defiantly as she moved closer to Vince, undeterred by the knife he held. Just as Vince was about to respond, Chad quickly stepped in, grabbing her firmly and positioning himself between her and Vince. He shielded her from any potential threat, making sure that Vince couldn't reach her or cause any harm.

"Hey!" A bartender yells. "Get out of here before I call the cops"

Iris felt a firm grip on her arm and turned to see Amber's face contorted with anger. They quickly followed their friends as they exited the bar, coming to a halt once they were outside, letting the rest of the group walk without them.

"What the fuck were you thinking huh?" Amber demanded, her voice rising in frustration. "That fucker could have seriously hurt you, and for what?"

"He was threatening Chad," Iris tried to explain, but before she could say more, Amber moved closer, grasping both of Iris's arms tightly. Her eyes were fierce with rage. "I don't give a shit about Chad right now," Amber said urgently. "I don't want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger, do you understand? He could have really hurt you, and that's all I care about".

Amber was right. Iris hadn't intended to upset her, but her anger had clouded her judgment. "You're right, I'm sorry," she admitted, her voice tinged with remorse. Amber gradually loosened her grip and pulled Iris into a tight embrace.

"I just don't want to see you hurt," Amber said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're all that matters to me." She gently tucked a strand of hair behind Iris's ear and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Then, leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on Iris's lips. Iris sighed softly into the kiss, her hands cradling Amber's face while Amber's arms wrapped around her waist. The kiss lingered until they both needed to break away for air. They parted, their foreheads resting against each other, sharing a quiet, intimate moment.

"Don't worry, he wasn't going to hurt me."

"But if he did I would've destroyed him"

"Hot but it won't be necessary". Iris gently intertwined their hands and they started to walk together to the car.

"Amber baby, aren't you forgetting something?" She playfully asked her as she got into the passenger seat, they loved to play that game.

"I love you"

"I love you too" she happily sighed into her girlfriend's space. "Now kiss me again".

[lale-txt]

𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀 (𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤

♫ Soap&Skin - Safe With Me

No love can be safe with me No love can be safe with me No love can be safe with me No love can be safe with me

✰ 𝐜𝐰: slightly suggestive themes in both SMAU & written portions

⭅ back to m.list

He kissed you once.

You’re sure he remembers it. You wish he wouldn’t.

Sometimes, when Akaashi is deeply focused on capturing every shape of you in coal and ink, he’d get this expression that makes you want to cry; a deep loneliness that’s hidden so deep down you’d scrape your fingertips trying to dig it up. It’s too familiar, like looking down the bottomless pond of his soul, dead water luring you in. 

Sitting model for a bunch of spoiled rich art students has been by far the easiest job you ever had. You didn’t mind getting undressed for them; a body is just that–a body, a temporary home for your soul, a shield you carry with grace and the air of a silent threat. A few hours, three times a week, getting on the pedestal in the classroom like a fallen goddess climbing up the stairs to Mount Olympus to claim her rightful throne. Sitting, standing, lying down, it’s you who dictates how you want to be perceived that day, how you’ll allow them to lay their eyes on you, like an offering. They’re not chipping away from you, some of them don’t even see you. 

But Akaashi does. 

Love drunk. Longing. Lonely. 

At times he feels like a cat, pawing at the window of your soul, begging to be let in. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Every now and then you think about letting him catch a glimpse, just enough to scare him away, so he’d stop looking at you with those sad eyes of his. To prove him that you’re nothing like the version of yourself that he sculpted in his mind. 

You’re not sure why you keep agreeing when he asks you to sit for him in the evening hours. It’s for the money, you tell yourself. Everyone who goes to this university must be well off, so you don’t feel too bad taking whatever absurd sum they’re offering to you to pose for a few more hours after regular classes. 

It’s always the same, like a dance you memorize each and every step to. You know your way around this campus, having been here countless times and at different departments, but even after three years Akaashi would wait for you by the huge iron gate, leaning against the red brick wall and mindlessly fidgeting with his fingers, almost as if they’re itching to create something to calm his nervous system. He’s there, no matter the season or weather. It’s a ten minute walk from the gate to the east wing where his private atelier is at, and every time he already has a lighter in the pocket of shirt and a perfectly rolled cigarette behind his ear prepared for you. Sometimes, when you lean in to light it, his hands would tremble slightly when he cups the small flame to shield it from the wind for you.

Most of the time you do the talking–about new releases you got at the record store, any upcoming live shows you managed to get a guest list entry for, or whatever movie you watched the other day. Akaashi listens intently, his eyes always pinned on the path in front of you, only occasionally stealing a side glance at you, almost as if he’s saving those up for when the door of his atelier closes behind you two. 

You still remember what his lips tasted like. A sweet oblivion, paired with the gentle caress of his palms against your face, so soft it made you want to cry more than you already did that night. Like a forbidden fruit offered to you on a silver platter. 

The east wing of the uni building feels pretty abandoned and eerie quiet at times. You learned that all students were granted their own ateliers and the sculpting department had the bad luck of being assigned to what they call the catacombs, even though the rooms were on the second floor and not below surface. It’s probably thanks to the ancient hallways with the dark bricks and broken stained glass windows–once magnificent, today barely a shadow of what they once were. No matter the season, it was always cold here, too.

Akaashi’s atelier is a stark contrast to this. The high ceilings are plastered with sketches and notes, some polaroids of his friends, too. Blocks of clay and marble are scattered across the floor, some wooden blocks too, as if he needed every single material of the world to convey the story he wants to tell with his art. There’s an omamori from when they all visited the shrine for New Year’s together next to some dried flowers that you recognize from one of Yukie’s projects a few semesters ago. A dozen blankets are draped over the chaise lounge by the big window, the one where you usually take your position. In one corner stands a decorative paper screen that he put up for you to get changed behind, as if he didn’t spend hours studying every dip and curve of your body once you step out from behind it.

It feels homey and cozy. You hate to admit that.

Sometimes you’d stay here till past midnight. Akaashi lets you play your music over the small portable speaker while his pen scratches over the paper, his eyes darting back and forth between the sketchbook in his lap and your bare figure standing still for him. He never touches you when he asks you to shift your pose, his slender hands only ghosting over your skin, like a puppeteer pulling your strings. It feels almost reverent. He also never comments on the blemishes of your skin, the love bites and scratches and hickeys, but you can tell that he notices them, his eyes darkening for a split second before he’s back to his usual, calm composure.

At times you’d study his hands–his flawless, tender hands which look as if they never had to do dirty work even once–and you wonder how they’d feel wrapped around your throat, a quiet “Please” on the tip of your tongue.

“Have you thought about the theme of your final assignment yet?”, you ask, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoke by the open window. The blanket draped around your shoulders is warm and heavy, the material feels expensive. The ornamental carpet you’re standing on is one Akaashi got for you when he noticed how you shivered and shifted from one foot to the other during your cigarette breaks. You blow out a mouthful of smoke towards the night sky and look over to him. For someone as put together as him, with his dark green linen pants and the black button up shirt, his hair was always a bit unkempt, barely contained by his glasses pushed up into it. 

“Phantom pain.”

His voice is quiet, almost not audible, but his gaze feels like it could spark a thousand small fires inside of you if you let him.

He kissed you once. 

Your heart still aches from it. 

•┈••✦ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Problem Child Records has an attached rehearsal room which local bands can use for free (or in exchange for tickets to their upcoming shows)

the sofa in there has seen to many things (Issei and y/n are the biggest culprits)

Kunimi already has some practice in taking y/n's makeup off, she lets him do it whenever he sleeps over at the Ukai-Takeda househould and they do sheet masks together afterwards

Ukai & Takeda are high school volleyball coaches in this universe too and whenever they're off for training camps or tournaments, the remaining four are in charge of the store (usually Kiyoko is handling things best)

Akaashi doesn't smoke but he knows how to roll a mean cigarette (Kuroo taught him)

we bless Yukie for her service (putting pretty men in lingerie)

i haven't decided who the Semi's drummer in question is yet and i'm taking suggestions in the comments

•┈••✦ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@wyrcan @spacekedi @kentocalls @hhoneyhan @walllflowerrrsss

@rory-cakes @jaynawayna @zq13

taglist open! dm/ask/comment to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[peachshadows]

With lmk s5 finally released i promised ya'll that i would post a chapter of scum villain rip off so here it is! Just a bit of context this is basically where Wukong gets trapped under the mountain leaving Macaque to rule alone in FFM with an appearance of Erlang Shen.

---

“Y’know, monkey, your very existence annoys me.” He leans against the cavern wall, nonchalantly looking at his nails as if that was more interesting than being choked by hot coal.

Wukong spits out the burning coal. He honestly lost count how many times his throat and tongue practically melted and regenerated. Over and over and over again. It was torture. But not as torturous as talking with Erlang Shen. “Tell me something I don't know.”

Erlang Shen lets out a serene smile as if he remembered something fond and that alone makes him want to spit the coal at his stupid face. “Well then, would you like to hear about how our dear Macaque is faring?”

Hearing Macaque’s name made all the noises in his head go quiet. Just hearing his moonlight name was enough to soothe him like a calming balm on his soul but what frankly canceled it out was Macaque’s name coming out of the shameless god’s mouth. 

“…Macaque?” He whispered brokenly, his throat reforming itself.

“Yes, yes. He’s been so stressed lately.” Erlang Shen turns to finally face him, a cruel smirk dancing on his face. “Taking over a kingdom can be quite taxing but don’t worry he’s in safe hands, better hands than your bloodied demonic claws-”

“Do NOT touch him,” he snarls at the god because how dare he? How dare he touch someone that was his to take care of, his to love and devote his entire being to. How dare this second rate being have the audacity to even mess what’s his. 

Erlang Shen laughs, high and mighty; cruel and cold. “And what are you gonna do? Defeat me? If anything, this great one is doing you a favor.” 

If he could, he would’ve already punched the living shit out of the god. Alas, he’s stuck under a mountain where he doesn’t even get the luxury of seeing the sun. But, he does get the unfortunate luxury of talking with Erlang Shen. So he tries to even his breathing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Do you really need this great one to spell out for you, Great Sage?” The god spits his title like it was something disgusting. “He’s happy, joyous now that you’re gone.”

“You lie-”

“And why would this great one lie? You’ve been nothing but a nuisance, a hindrance to him.” Erlang Shen gets closer, slamming both of his hands above Wukong, baring his teeth as if he’s some demon and not a powerful deity. “Your greed, your lust for power drove Macaque into a corner where he was left with a decision of either sacrificing his idiotic friend or have the rest of your people be slaughtered. And he chose smartly.”

His first instinct was disbelief, a cruel joke that the god is telling him. But the more that Erlang Shen spoke, the more he’s painted a picture of Macaque, smiling freely and unboundedly, with all the citizens of Mount Huaguo at his side, and the worst part, he can clearly see Erlang Shen beside Macaque as the two make a powerful beautiful duo. A match made in heaven. Who else can deserve Macaque but a powerful high ranking god?  

“…He chose you.” 

The god smirks at his defeated figure before summoning his spear. “Goodbye, Sun Wukong. I have more important matters to deal with.”

And finally leaves the False Sage Equal to Nothing in a burst of light. 

And if the earth could hear him, they would’ve heard his screams of anguish and anger practically shake the mountain. 

—

It’s been 502 years since Wukong’s imprisonment, or rather his supposed “death,” and Macaque knows by now that his king is already on his journey, gathering as much power and maidens in his grasp as he can before he reaches back to Mount Huaguo. He can’t help but feel a pang of dread at the thought of Wukong returning. 

There was no turning back. No amount of kindness and servitude can save him from his inevitable death by Wukong’s hands. 

He kneels for however long right before where the staff–his king’s rightful staff–used to lay as he mulls over his options now. Could he escape? No, that would just lead to death as well. Maybe, he can beg for mercy? No, that wouldn’t make sense with Macaque’s character. Maybe, he could-

“Mihou-shixiong, there you are.” He turns to see Rin Rin in all her soft glory, gripping her hands in a nervous manner. The absence of Wukong must’ve really gotten to her if he could practically see the worry affecting her usually cheerful face. 

“Rin Rin,” he says softly, standing from his kneeled position as he approaches her. “How are you? I know Wukong’s absence has been affecting us all but-”

She shakes her head. “Not as much as it's affecting you, Shixiong. We’re all worried for you.”

Affecting him? Of course it has been affecting him, he will soon die a painful death, Rin Rin!

“You barely draw anymore. You go outside only to visit Wukong’s shrine. And you only accept visitors when it's the Generals or Erlang Shen. At least let Qi Xiaotian accompany you. I know you two have gotten close over the past centuries and he understands the pain you’re going through.”

That stuns him quite a bit. She’s not exactly wrong…He has stopped drawing ever since Wukong’s imprisonment but who can honestly blame him? Seeing the protagonist draw was an inspiring thing and without that, it just felt silly to continue on without him. He does only visit Wukong’s shrine but only because it was the only quiet place where no one would disturb him. Ever since Macaque was crowned as regent king, beings of Mount Huaguo always sought him out for solutions of problems or even just so they could stare at him and whisper behind his back. It was humiliating being the center of attention. It’s quite frankly the first time Macaque ever got nervous in front of people. So he hid. Only ever allowing General Liu, Erlang Shen, the General, Rin Rin, and MK to visit him. 

But he doesn’t voice those thoughts out, instead he returns to kneel in front of the empty shrine and continue on as if Rin Rin isn’t there. 

He hears Rin Rin let out a sigh filled with frustration, but instead of leaving, she kneels along with him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Hopefully, Wukong doesn’t find out about Rin Rin needing a shoulder to cry on or else…he shudders thinking about the many ways Macaque gets tortured. 

“Your sworn brothers are asking for you,” she mumbles.

“...What do they want?” he eventually asks.

“You’re needed at their kingdom.”

“Can’t I just ignore them?”

She snorts quietly. A small smile formed on her face. “It’s urgent, Macaque.”

It must be really serious if she’s calling him by his name and not by his title. So with a great sigh, he reluctantly says, “Fine. Gather some disciples and get General Liu to accompany me.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Breathe me in

requested: Can you please write a story where Azriel saves reader from drowning. +I added a little mission and reader being a badass.

warning: drowning, blood, injuries.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As you made your way through the never-ending wall of rain, you started to wonder why all of you insisted that it was a great idea to continue the mission Rhys had given you today. The high lord warned you about the potential storm, and even if he didn't, you only needed to give the sky a look to know that it was bad news. But you went on with it, and now that your clothes were fully drenched, you wondered why you agreed after all.

Cassian was way ahead with Nesta. Even if the rule was to keep the Illyrian wings glamoured at all times, the general still had his wing stretched over his mate. Somewhat protecting her from the wind and shower. Azriel offered the same thing to you, but you refused it instantly. Even if it was silly. You liked him too much, and sitting so close to him felt too intimate, even if his body warmth would keep your teeth from clacking against each other. Sometimes you wondered if there was a possibility that he liked you too. You have known him for some time now. The girls constantly told you that you were just oblivious to the signs, but all of his gestures always seemed friendly, never like something more. You pulled yourself out of your head the moment your horse came to a halt.

 "What's wrong, boy?", you asked softly, even if you could name at least five things that were wrong at this particular moment. You rubbed the mount's neck, trying to see ahead. Your heart sank a little when your eyes didn't land on the shadow of Nesta and Cass in front of you or Azriel, who at all times kept to your left. "Guys!", you shouted worryingly, yet your voice died down. Washed away by the sound of rain. "Azriel", your heart started to beat faster with every passing second, "If you are just messing with me, it's not funny."

Yet you knew they wouldn't do that. Especially not now. But you needed to give yourself something. Anything before you lost yourself to the panic. You gently nudged the horse to move forward again. The shield of water only seemed to increase, completely blocking your view of what was around you. You tried to scream out for your friends again, but it got you nowhere. Only resulting in more and more frustration. You were about to scream for Azriel once again when someone launched full force into your side, sending you out of the saddle and onto the dirty ground.

Your head hit the surface, making your vision blur for a moment. Just enough to see your horse disappearing into the distance, startled by the attack. Attack. You tried to turn your head to the side, seeing a group of what you assumed to be males standing over you. One of them kneeled closer to you. Even from under the hood, you could see his smug face. Unfortunately for him, you didn't love when people looked at you like that, so you quickly inched your leg up, and kicked it right at his face.

That would have given you the upper hand to escape, but you only got a couple of feet from them, before multiple sets of hands snatched you once again, followed by the blade to your neck, "You pull any more stunts and I'll gut you from the inside out." You squirmed in their hold anyway. You were not going to go down without a fight. But your attempts got cut short when someone launched another blow to the back of your head, and everything went black.

Azriel was both: worried and slightly pissed when you refused to ride with him. Firstly, he didn't want you to get sick. And your "I'm a big girl" attitude was getting on his nerves slightly, especially when your health was involved. And secondly, he selfishly wanted to hold you close to him. Have a reason to do so. He just wanted to feel his warmth surrounding you. To know at any given moment you were safe. This rain clouded his senses as well. He felt more distressed and uneasy, so trying to ensure that all of you were safe was a task in itself.

The shadow singer turned his head your way. He tried to limit those glances at you because he knew that every one of them was edging you closer and closer to snapping at him for being too overprotective. But when his eyes didn't fall on your frame, his heart nearly stopped. Azriel turns his head to look behind him, hoping that you had just fallen behind the group, but no. No sign of you. The spymaster shouted for Cassian to stop. Riding back a little as he called your name frantically, "Where the fuck are you?", he mutters under his breath. "Let's go further back, maybe she got separated," but then the darker shadow inches closer, and Azriel pulls out his truth-teller. It was a horse. And Azriel almost wanted to let out a breath of relief until he saw an empty saddle. His shadows swirling around it. All the color drained from his face as the spymaster turned to the general, "She got attacked. They've got her."

You're thankful that they at least dragged you to what you believed was their camp. That sheltered you from the rain, and even if your wet clothes didn't fully let your body warm up, it was better than nothing. Your hands were chained in front of you, alongside your legs. With the right amount of motivation, you could probably escape but this was the male you were sent after. 

"Pretty poor look for the thief lord if you'd ask me", you snarled as the male, who you assumed was in the lead of this group, stepped into the room. A few of his men inched closer, but he brushed them away. "My apologies that it doesn't meet your standards, my lady," he says as he reaches for your face, but you move your face out of his reach, "I'd rather entertain rats than you."

The thief lord grits his teeth as he falls to the chair directly opposite you. "You're full of yourself. What makes you feel like I won't just chop you to pieces?", you let out a bitter laugh before gazing right at him. "Ever heard of a shadow singer? The spymaster of the night court?", you drag your words out like a melody. The male's face pales slightly. Of course, he had. Was there a soul on this earth that didn't know of his cruel ways? "Well, I know that if something happens to me here, he will drain your body dry, and enjoy every second of it." Now it's his turn to laugh, yet you can feel the fear lingering deep down.

"I know you've been tracking me down," "Oh, look, you are aware of some things," you tease back, but that earns you a slap on your face, even if it's not the hardest of punches. The rings with rubies and other stones make quite a mark on your face. "Listen to me, you little bitch; you answer my questions now, and I have many." Taking a fistful of your hair, he lifts your head, and you can feel the blood running down your cheek. "Let's start with what your high lord wants with me", "You're wasting your questions. Cause you already know the answer, and if you don't, you are an absolute fool", another slap, and this time it's your neck his fingers move to. 

"Where are the others who came with you?" His voice was firm, but you couldn't help yourself from grinning. "Dancing on your grave." The male lets out a frustrated growl before turning away from you. At this moment, you knew one thing and one thing only. You needed to drag this out as long as you possibly could. To give Azriel enough time to find you because he was going to find you. He always did. Even if the world was falling to pieces, he would find you. "Bring her to the shore," the lord barked out after making up his mind. A shiver ran down your back, "We're going to use some of the older methods."

The rain outside had lessened, yet the drops fell colder somehow. At the sound of the water running, it hits you. This explains the enormous fog. There's a huge river here. Two of the thieves have a firm grip on you as they push down on your knees. The sharp rocks and pebbles cut into your skin. "How do you feel about a little dive?", the lord asks you, smirking sheepishly. "All in if you join me," you bite back, but the male just points a finger, and your face is under the icy water in the blink of an eye. Considering that that came as a surprise, you barely got any air, causing you to trash in the holds of the two males as you tried to lift your head.

When they finally do, you are gasping for air, feeling as if you were on fire. The stinging in your head from the icy cold water causes your head to pump. "Now you get the rules. If you answer incorrectly, you will go down under. The more I don't like your answer, the longer you will be in the water," he says, yet now all you care about is that you are out in the open, which gives your friends an easier opportunity to find you. "So, what does Rhys know about the rubies?", the thief lord brushes some of the wet hair away from your face, but with one crooked smile, you spit right at his face, "Suck your own dick", you bark out and you know what's coming next.  Yet it's not even a slight bit less shocking. The feeling of someone firmly pressing your face in the running water. The tide of the water made it hard to keep any oxygen in your lungs since the water seemed to pour into your nose. Then you're dragged back out, gagging up the water in your system.

"I'm giving you one last chance to redeem yourself, pretty face," his fingers tangle in between your hair as he turns you his way. "What does he know?", "That you don't have them," the thief lord's face shifts. Confusion is all over it. "Sorry, I'll make it more understandable for your dumb brain. You left them alone in the camp without supervision and came here to have fun with me," rage fills his eyes as he orders his men to return to the camp, "You will pay for this, cunt." His pushing you under feels different, and you can tell that he is not messing around. Your face is practically hitting the bottom rocks as he keeps your head in the water. However, his other hand comes to your neck, and he presses so hard that you can't help but open your mouth as you let all the air out of your lungs, letting the water pour in. You start to thrash around as the fear of actually dying runs through your brain. Ultimate panic sets in, and all of your logic senses turn off.

Nesta had the rubies as she darted away from the camp, and Azriel takes to the skies alongside Cassian. The plan wasn't like this, but the moment they stormed the camp and found your handprint on the box, they knew exactly what it was and that you had left a clue for them, knowing full well that they were going to find you. The feeling in Azriel's chest was telling him that something was seriously wrong, and when his shadows came screaming at him about the water, he went into full madness mode. The sight of your head under the water and the thief lord holding you down practically made him want to roar. Cassian was the first to throw a dagger that pierced through the male's right arm. He let go of you partially, but your head stayed under. The moment he sees the two males, he drags your body up before holding you in front of himself and using you as a shield.

You let out a tiny gasp but then slumped in his arms. Azriel was seeing red, but pulling out weapons now was dangerous. "You make a move, and I'll drop her into the river", the thief lord threatened. "You've lost Albert; hand her over, and you might walk out of this alive," Cassian said in a warning tone. He was well aware that Azriel was in a primal male form now. Primal mate form. Knowing very well that the bond had snapped for Azriel a while back, his brother just kept it a secret, knowing that he was as stupid as you and had convinced himself that you felt nothing for him in return.

"What is my gain? I walk out of this alive, and Hybern will kill me for the rubies", the lord steps closer to the edge, "She's your girl isn't she?", the male nods his head towards Azriel. The spymaster's jaw nearly splits in half. "She promised me a slow death from you if she gets hurt", "I will make you regret that you were born", Azriel snarls through gritted teeth, but the lord only laughs, turning his face to you. He shakes your body a little, pushing two things down your throat, and you almost immediately choke out the water that's been in your lugs, saying, "Here you are; you were missing all the fun." Albert presses his face into your neck as you still gulp down the air. Eyes falling on Azriel, and he's practically falling to his knees at how small and pale you look. But at least you're breathing. That's all he needs to know now.

"I'm sad I didn't have more time with her; I'm sure she'd be capable of a lot," the male kisses your neck, and this time Azriel tosses the dagger right between his eyes, but it misses the lord. The male spins you out of his arms and into the freezing river as the tide takes you down the river lane.

The sensation of water dragging you down makes your skin burn. You tried to pull yourself out, but every little breath you managed to take in was met with yet another wave crashing down on you. But you crawl your way back up; you need to. For Azriel, you need to tell him. You can't die without letting him know. You manage to keep your hands above the water as another wave moves over your hand, and that's when you feel it. Warm fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and then you're out of the water and up in the air. Azriel had caught on to you while soaring over the river. "Hang tight," he whispers as his other hand clasped over your second wrist. You could almost cry at the feeling of him being there as he lowers you to the grass.

You got the rest of the water out of your system, and before you can even get a breath in, Azriel's arms are around your body as he presses you closer to him. You can hear his heart beating under your ear. It's racing so fast. So fast that this can't be healthy. You pull away from him slightly, "I knew you would come", the spymaster shakes his head. Eyes falling over the cuts on your cheek. "I thought I lost you. Multiple times," "You saved me, Az."

The spymaster notices your shaking frame and carefully lets go of you before ripping his jacket open and wrapping it over you, pulling you close to him once again. Your ice-cold skin melted into his warmth. "You get yourself sick," you mumble, causing Azriel to snort, "I will get sick? You've been under that water all this time, and you're worried about me being sick?"

With a couple of breaths, Azriel scoops you up into his arms before he moves to go back to Cassian. "I would have never forgiven myself if you were to die," the spymaster says, looking ahead of himself, "But you would find another best friend to replace me with." You rasp out, your throat feeling achy already. Azriel tightens his grip on your body. "I would send out a whole army to find you because, without you, I don't have a purpose in this life," he whispers under his breath, and your icy fingers cup his cheek slightly. "I had a feeling, just wanted to make sure. Why do you think I threatened that fuck with you?". Azriel lets out a breathy chuckle, resting his head over yours for a moment. He's hoping his body heat will be enough to keep you warm till you all get to safety. "Remind me to tell you that I'm really in love with you if I make it," you mumbled softly, your eyes starting to feel heavy. "Oh, you will make it. I will make sure that you do."

[joojeans]

your thoughts on what riding nicho would be like??

it started out slow, nicholas helping you safely and comfortably mount him as he rested against the headboard. he hissed when he felt the initial resistance, hands finding your hips to keep you steady. feels so fucking good, he'd mumbled as you eased down on him, stopping for a moment when he bottomed out. he grinned up at you, thumbs rubbing the skin of your tummy as you enjoyed the moment of still fullness together. as you started to rock your hips, he'd sighed happily, eyelids fluttering, hands eager to help you move. when he realized you were doing just fine without his assistance, his hands wandered up, palming your breasts. feels good, baby? he'd asked, smirking as you moaned thru a nod. you picked up the pace and it made him hungrier, hand reaching for the back of your neck to pull you down to him. c'mere. his lips captured yours, tongue inviting itself into your mouth. you mewled and the fingers that had slid into the back of your hair tightened in response, nicholas whispering a fuck against your lips. all the little things were adding up, increasing the intensity until you were relentlessly stuffing yourself full of him, suffocating each other with your hot breaths. his hands grazed down your back as your body leaned over his, groping your ass in both hands. your head fell into the crook of his neck and shoulder as you moaned for him and he hummed against your ear. baby. he kissed up your neck, teeth toying with your earlobe. you're too much for me. you could hear the faint puff of a laugh, but you quickly forgot about it when he started to thrust up into you, piercing you each time you pushed back down his cock. your moans mingled in the air—each one louder than the last—until you were clenching around him so tightly that he couldn't stand it anymore, painting the inside of your walls a creamy white just as you're beginning the descent from your own orgasm. he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to his body as you both melted into the mattress to catch your breath. told you, he teased. you're too much.

cr. cafekitsune for mdni banners ♡

[lilacsnid]

Don’t You Think It’s Time? — 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 (𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀)

Part 2  ✘

warnings: mentions of violence, swearing & blood.

There was always something about Finn Shelby that made Y/N feel more alive than ever before.

The mere sight of him would make her heart swoon. The thought of him would make its way into her mind at almost every moment of the day, filled with his kind words and his gentle gaze.

She has had a yearning for him from the very first moment they had set eyes on each other.

Y/N L/N, the young 22 year old was fresh into her Nursing & Midwifery career. Riding around the streets of Small Heath on a bicycle, turning heads wherever she went. To begin with, she was utterly terrified. But she soon became more comfortable with every moment that passed and the streets of Small Heath soon became familiar to her.

She would never forget the night her path crossed with Finn Shelby’s. A wild turn of events that would soon lead to a beautiful friendship, and perhaps something more.

It was quite late into the evening, Y/N had just helped a mother to deliver another beautiful and healthy baby. The father had gifted her a small bottle of whiskey, followed by a chorus of kind and gracious words for her helping to bring his daughter safely into the world.

Even though she didn’t drink, she took the bottle, concealing it in her nursing bag that was strapped on the back of her bicycle.

She hopped on her bicycle, preparing herself for the long cycle home. The night was that cold that she could see her breath. She bid the family one final farewell before setting off into the night. She listened carefully to the sounds around her as she rode through Small Health. She could hear the sounds of rowdy men in the pubs, the occasional sounds of chatter and cars. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

Much to her despise, it had started to rain not long after she had left. She began to pedal a little faster, wanting to get back to the Nurse’s home as soon as she could. She still had around 20 minutes left of her journey.

She became extra vigilant, as her vision became impaired due to how hard it was starting to rain. She rode past The Garrison, another pub filled with music and rowdy men. She came across a darker part of the street that wasn’t lit up quite as well as near the pub. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Or rather, someone. They seemed to be hunched over from what she could make out.

Out of pure instinct, she came to a complete stop. She hopped off her bicycle, mounting it against the brick wall. Remaining cautious, she decided to approach the person.

“Excuse me,” she announced herself, hoping whoever it was could hear her over the rain hitting the pavement, “Is everything alright?”  

As she came closer to them, the person started to stand up. She was now able to make out that it was a man, who turned to her with a smile that she could only describe as evil.

The man snickered, dropping the bottle of alcohol she had failed to see him holding in his hand. She flinched at the sound of the glass hitting the pavement quite loudly, smashing into a thousand pieces.  

“I reckon there is something you can help with, sweetheart.” The man spoke in a low voice, before grabbing her and slamming her against the wall before she even had time to run away.

“No!” she screamed, trying to fight her way out of his strong grip, “Stop! Leave me alone!”

She could smell the vile, strong scent of alcohol on his breath, turning her head away as his face kept coming closer to hers.

The man chuckled, tightening his grip around her wrists, “I’m going to have some fun with you, stop fucking moving you whore.”

Her knees felt weak, like she could topple to the ground in fear any second. She fought harder and more desperately as hercoat buttons were ripped from being pulled open so forcefully. Her tears were hot against her cheeks as the rain that kept hitting her skin.

She screamed. Wishing that someone, anyone at all, could hear her cries. The man kept clawing at the buttons of her uniform, trying to get them undone.

She had started preparing herself for the hell she thought she was going to face; but she soon heard someone yell out from behind them.

“Hey! Get the fuck off her!” she managed to glance up to see the man being pulled away from her. She had never been more grateful for being able to breathe properly now her attacker was no longer crushing her with his weight.

She was quick to wrap her ripped coat back around herself as best she could, watching with tired eyes as the scene unfolded before her. Whoever had saved her life was now above her attacker, throwing punches over and over again that she had lost count.

Her attacker was then slammed against the brick wall on the opposite side of the road to her, his face bleeding and broken. The other man, who she still couldn’t make out, took his hat off before turning it inside out. Even though it was dark, she couldn’t mistake the shine of razor blades hidden on the inside of his hat.

Whoever he was, he was a Peaky Blinder.

She knew who the Peaky Blinders were, and in any other case would be petrified. But in this moment, she felt somewhat safe. She knew she should probably make a run for it, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him.

The man slashed her attackers face, and she cringed after hearing him yell out in pain.  

“If I ever see you again,” he then points in her general direction, making her breath hitch, “And if I ever see you near her again, I will cut your eyes out of your fucking skull and I’ll watch you bleed. Do you understand?!”  

He then proceeds to throw him to the ground, not waiting to hear for her attacker’s response. The two of them watch him scramble to his feet and flee from the scene.

Y/N was stiff and hadn’t dared to move a muscle from the moment she was saved. There was something about her saviour that drew her in. She watches him turn around to face her, quickly making sure that her attacker ran completely out of his sight. They were still a few feet away from one another, staring at each other, not daring to look away once.

Looking closer, she realized that he was a young man who didn’t look much older than herself. She could see his shoulders moving up and down from how hard he was trying to catch his breath. His hair was now damp, droplets of water running down his face. He held his bloodied cap in his hand with a tight grip, not daring to let go.

There was something about him that made her feel a particular type of way. 

“I’m sorry, please, don’t be scared.” The young man broke the silence, beginning to approach her slowly, “Are you alright, did he hurt you?”

As he approached her, she couldn’t seem take her eyes off him. Not only was she grateful, but she was also mentally scolding herself for thinking about how attractive the young Peaky Blinder standing before her was.

Blood covered his white shirt that he was wearing underneath his dark grey suit, but she ignored it.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

She could see his face drop as he let out a small sigh, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

For the first time since the encounter, she offered a small smile towards him, “You didn’t. Thank you for helping me.”

“I wasn’t going to let that prick hurt you.”

Despite him being a Peaky Blinder, she could see something in his eyes. It was kindness, she could see it as clear as day. It was this kindness that had saved her from something awful. Something everyone fears. 

She glances down at his side, and without thinking, reaches out for his hand. His knuckles were red and bruised, there was blood from the amount of punches he had been throwing.

“You’re bleeding,” She spoke, concerned no longer for herself but for the young man standing in front of her. 

Her touch sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes for only a quick second, wanting to etch this memory in his mind of how soft her skin against his was.

It surprised him that this girl, who was only seconds away from pure terror, was no longer concerned for herself. She was concerned for him. He stole a glance at the nursing uniform underneath her coat. 

“I can barely feel anything, don’t worry about me,” he shook his head as he spoke, gently placing that same hand on her arm. 

After seeing her involuntarily flinch, he instantly felt bad. It was out of instinct, but she couldn't help miss his touch after he had taken his hand away. 

He led her out from the rain, into a small eve that sheltered them both from the rain. Again, they stood opposite one another; there being not much room between the two of them. She could the warmth radiating off of him due to the close proximity. 

He looked down at her small frame, noticing she had started to shiver. Without a second thought, he started taking of his suit jacket.

As he took of his suit jacket, she spotted the signature pocket watch tucked into his vest, along with the gun holster that was sitting on his shoulders that had been concealed underneath his jacket until now. 

He looked into her eyes, not needing to speak as he silently asked for permission. The space between them was small, but he managed to wrap his jacket around her. 

She glanced up at him gratefully, meeting his gaze and holding onto the front of his jacket to stop it from falling from her shoulders. She was engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes, it made her heart beat all the faster. It was comforting. 

“I’m Finn Shelby,” he spoke, his hands not once leaving her waist.

“Y/N L/N,” she responded. 

Her eyes trailed his face, admiring him. 

Finn smiled down at her, wanting nothing more than to make her feel safe. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her small frame until she stopped shaking. Resting his head on top of hers, the pair gently swayed in one another’s arms, listening to the rain as it began to fade away. 

“Would you let me walk you home?” he asked, pulling his head away to look down at her, suddenly becoming shy at the close proximity of their faces. 

She nodded, resting her forehead against his, “I’d like that.”

                                The pair soon set off into the night, Finn never once leaving her side. 

Y/N felt comfortable in his presence, knowing there was something special about him. It was like she had known him for her entire life, his eyes were so alive with promise. 

They had talked the whole way, both of them blushing when their arms would brush together. 

Their hearts fell just that little bit when they arrived underneath the bike shed at the Nurse’s home. 

Finn leaned against the wooden post as he watched Y/N put her bicycle away, unbuckling her nursing bag from the back. She held the bag by her side and glanced in his direction, smiling like she couldn’t help it. 

“Thank you for walking me home, and for being there for me. I can’t bear to imagine what would have happened to me if you didn’t show up.”

Finn smiled, leaning off of the post and standing up straight as she handed him back his suit jacket, “Anything to keep you safe.”

He could see that he had made the girl blush at his words, she’s so beautiful he thought. 

He shrugged his suit jacket back on, his gun holster now being concealed once again. The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, dreading the thought of having to leave one another. 

Y/N then rummaged through her nursing bag, Finn being confused once she pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. 

“Been drinking on the job?” Finn joked, looking back into her eyes.  

“No, uh..,” she chuckled, clearing her throat, “I was given this tonight from a grateful patient, I delivered her baby.”

Finn nodded, putting his hands in his pockets, “Boy or girl?”

“A little girl,” she smiled, “I don’t drink so I thought you could take this, consider it a thank you.” 

Finn laughed and took the small bottle she offered him, his fingers brushing against hers, “I’ll take it, but there really is no need to thank me.”

Y/N kept eye contact with him, unsure of what to say next. Finn managed to beat her to it, stepping closer so he was right in front of her. 

“Will I see you again?” he asks in a sort of hushed whisper. 

“You will,” she responded, a wave of confidence suddenly coming over her. 

She took one more step, her body now being pressed up against his. she slipped her hand through his jacket, placing her hand over his heart. She could feel it pounding through his chest as she reached up and placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, teasing him. 

“I’ll see you soon, Mr Shelby.”  

2272 words

© lilacsnid

[syddsatyrn]

❄️Stuck Without Rules❄️

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Smut, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, intercourse, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, pet names, Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 2.5k

☆Summary: Winter has finally made it to Hawkins covering the town in a white blanket of snow. You head over to your crush’s house to jam out but the snow day quickly turns into a snow storm and you’re stuck at Eddie’s. Turns out that trailer gets pretty cold when the power goes out. Eddie has a few ideas on how to keep warm.

☆Notes: This fic is apart of a holiday prompt challenge @hellfiremunsonn and I are doing for our Christmas event. You can find that post Here. We will be doing holiday prompts and request all month long so come join us!

☆Prompt: Snow day/snow storm

It was far too early for a phone to be ringing in your apartment. The damn thing is all the way in the living room too so you’re forced to leave your warm nest of blankets. With a groan, you crawl out of bed, taking the comforter with you. It felt like the floor was coated with a sheet of ice as you made your way to the receiver mounted on the wall.

“...Hello?” You wearily greeted the mystery caller.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Eddie replies teasingly.

“Eddie? Why are you calling me this early?”

“It snowed last night and my tires suck.” He claims.

“What?” You're clearly still half asleep.

“Look out the window, dork.”

The gravel gray skies were bare and cloudless, fluffy white snow smothered the ground and everything else it could reach. There had to be about three, maybe four inches of snow. A couple of neighborhood kids are tossing snowballs and chasing each other in the street.

“I was uhh, wondering if you’d wanna come over and jam? I just bought new strings and I picked some really good green.” Eddie offers, a slight nervous tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be over in a bit.” You smile behind the phone.

This isn't uncommon, for your crush to invite you to his place for a jam sesh. You both play lead guitar, so you immediately bonded after a “battle of bands” show. He plays a red warlock NJ series, you play a green fender Stratocaster. Your friends still make fun of you for “literally having heart eyes” as he shredded the solo to “Running with the Devil” By Van Halen.

It did take you a little longer than usual to get dressed due to how many layers you added hoping it helps you combat the cold. Your car heater isn't exactly in the best condition. You packed up your guitar in its soft case, grabbed your keys, and took off.

The weather looked okay, it doesn't seem like it’s going to snow again. The sky looks pretty clear, the roads look manageable. It shouldn't be too difficult to navigate your way to Eddie’s. Let's just hope your tires don’t suck too.

—--------❄️

You pulled into Eddie’s trailer park, it was a pretty safe ride. A couple of slides here and there, but nothing you couldn't handle. Your boots crunched through the freshly powdered snow as you walked up to the front steps. You swallowed your nerves and knocked on the door, heavy footsteps walked through the house, the closer they got the further your stomach sank. I mean, you’ve been to Eddie’s before, several times. But that doesn't make it any less nerve-wracking.

Eddie opens the door and smiles, that same charming smile that wipes your mind clean of any coherence. “Hey! I’m glad you made it in one piece.” He says, motioning you inside. His hand meets the small of your back as you enter and your skin feels like it’s on fire despite the many layers you had on. You remove your boots and leave them next to the door and place your things on the couch.

“It wasn’t so bad, the roads are actually pretty clear.” You reply while unzipping your jacket. You remove a couple of layers, a hoodie, and a sweater. Now you're left in a long sleeve black shirt. You unzip the soft case and pull out your guitar.

Eddie keeps sneaking glances at you. Little did you know, Eddie has been crushing on you for weeks now. He’s never met anyone who can play guitar as well as he can. When he saw you play, he thought you were completely out of his league. His bandmates dared him to talk to you and they wouldn't shut up until he did. Eddie was completely surprised when you stuck to him like glue.

You and Eddie head to his room. You take a seat on his bed and Eddie flips the switch on the amp and hands you the cable. You plug it in with little feedback and he turns the volume dial up slightly. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and you warm up with a few random chords. Eddie can’t take his eyes off your hands, how they gracefully slide up and down the neck of the guitar. The way your dainty fingers press down on each string. When you began to pluck individual notes and occasionally wiggled a string for a vibrato effect, Eddie’s mind melted.

“Show off.” He mocks and you smile back at him.

“You’re just jealous. I can teach you if you like.” You tease back while repeating the same movement.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs. He plugs his warlock into a second smaller amp sitting next to his bedside table. Eddie begins to play, his style is a little messier than yours, but that's the beauty of it. It didn't take long for you to pick up what he was putting down, you clipped the capo over the first fret and copied his movements by ear, playing one octave higher.

You have always enjoyed these jam sessions with Eddie. But something in the back of your head keeps telling you that he isn’t just interested in you as a musician. You’ve never been one for social cues, they fly right over your head, leaving you without a single clue.

The power promptly goes out, amps shut off, and lights gone. The windows are the only light source, and without the loud music, you both could finally hear the large snowflakes hitting the roof.

“Looks like the powers out.” He says while walking over to the breaker box in the hallway. He flips a few switches, but nothing changes. “It's probably a downed tree.” You both take a look out Eddie’s bedroom window to see a flurry of flakes falling from a pale gray sky. What was supposed to be a light snow day has turned into a blizzard. There is no way you’re going to be able to get your car home.

“I don’t think I can drive in this mess.” You add, just barely above a whisper.

“I’m not opposed to you staying until the snow stops. I’m sure my uncle wouldn't mind either.” Eddie suggests. He hangs his guitar back up on the wall over his mirror and plucks the acoustic from its stand. It's a pretty standard acoustic, nothing special. But he has painted the words “this machine slays dragons” on the front, in white.

Eddie sits back down on the bed and you do the same. He begins to strum and you're immediately mesmerized. See, you're not very experienced with an acoustic guitar. But you've always wanted to be, the way he plays so effortlessly is just mind-blowing. 

"You may wish for more electric skills, I think acoustic is far more difficult." You comment while bringing your knees to your chest. Eddie smiles, he doesn't receive sincere compliments often.

“You’re really sweet. Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” He abruptly stops strumming.

“No, I mean it. Really.” You insist.

The quick decrease in temperature makes you shiver, Eddie notices and sets his guitar down.

“Yeah, I had a feeling it might get cold in here fast.” He gets up and quickly walks down the hall to retrieve a blanket. He grabs a soft-knitted blanket off the back of the couch. When he returns he plops back down on the bed next to you. He was rather close, you can feel your face heat up. Eddie wraps the blanket around you both, making sure you are completely covered.

He's really close. So close you can smell his cheap cologne and shampoo. You’ve been crushing on this guy ever since you met him but haven't had the guts to say or do anything. Then fate just swoops in and puts you in the most ridiculous situation.

“This better?”

“Lots better, actually” You lean your head on his shoulder. Eddie looks a little surprised but wraps his arm around your back. “How are you so warm? It’s freezing!” You ask and cuddle just a little closer. Eddie shrugs and you look up and search his face for any emotion. Eddie has always found you attractive and has developed feelings. He regularly uses pet names with you and goes out of his way to make you smile. He’s not the best at expressing his feelings with anything but music, so Eddie has hesitated and hasn’t made a single move. Well, until today.

Eddie cups your cheek, and his rings chill your face. Biting your cheek nervously, your eyes refuse to leave his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“...y-yeah.”

Just like that, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to yours. You feel hot under his touch, your stomach filling with more warmth than what was already there. Some shyness emerges, feeling incredibly close to him like he’s studying you. You kiss him back and fully lean into him. It immediately became something more, his tongue swiped along your bottom lip. All of your senses have been infiltrated by him, this a war you know you won't be able to win.

Eddie trailed kisses along your jaw and neck. He felt the way you shuddered as his lips ghosted over your skin. His hand slips under your loose top and roams the length of your body until he reaches your bare breast and hums into your mouth. Your breath hitches as he begins to knead the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You take a handful of his t-shirt and pull him just a little closer. Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist as you pull him on top of you.

You press your lips to his, he tastes like weed and coffee. Eddie deepens the kiss as your mouth drops open with a gasp. Eddie pops open the button on your jeans and draws the zipper down, his hand dips into your pants, and his fingers traverse lower and slide between your folds.

“Oh god…” You whine as he swirls his fingers around your clit, your back arches off the bed and your pants slip further down your hips. “Please don't stop.” Eddie sees this as an opportunity and eases two fingers into your entrance. Another moan escapes your lips and Eddie chuckles at how much of a mess he’s made of you. His thumb presses against your clit and he begins by making small circles. After some time he pushes two digits inside of you.

“Am I gonna make you cum with just my fingers? And so quickly too.” He coos in your ear. You close your eyes and bury your face in his shoulder, as pleasure unravels in your stomach and your core clenches in anticipation. All you could do is nod and shut your eyes, a few muffled whines escape and your hips buck. 

“Fuck! Eddie!” His name rolls off your tongue, a sound so addicting, he just wants you to say it again. You unravel in his arms, and Eddie slows down and helps you through the high. Your senses were smothered by him and all you could see were stars. When you open your eyes, Eddie is displaying his signature smirk.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” He coos.

“I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

Eddie cupped your cheek and captured your lips in a slow languid kiss. You palm at the front of his jeans feeling his cock strain against the denim material, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Eddie looks ruined, and you haven't even touched him yet. You make quick work of unzipping his jeans. He helps you shuffle them, along with his underwear. His aching member springs free, flushed at the tip and weeping, it’s the most enticing thing you’ve ever seen.

Eddie quickly sits up and leans back against the wall. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and dragged you with him. You rock your hips and completely remove them, Eddie crosses his arms and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere. Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, he helps you out of your top between kisses.

Eddie slowly rubbed his cock against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap, getting comfortable. As you slowly lowered yourself, moans fizzled into small huffs and whines. When Eddie bottoms out, your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks. He holds you by your hips and you brace yourself with his shoulder.

“Fuck…you are so tight.” He growls, “You look so pretty like this, filled with my cock.”

There wasn’t any pain, thanks to how completely soaked you were, but the pressure of him splitting you open made your breath hitch. You looked down at him as you began to roll your hips down onto his. His hands found their way to your hips and readjusting his grip on your body, he began to thrust himself up into you. Soon enough, you both found a steady and continuous speed.

“Are you gonna cum for me again, princess?” Eddie asks, just barely above a whisper.  

“Fuck…yes…please…” You mewl and allow yourself to slump forward over him, nosing at the crook of his neck. Your stomach was tight, breath fluttering in your chest as you tried to focus on reaching your high. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, groans and huffs escape his mouth as he shoves into you impossibly deep and cums, cock pulsing inside your walls.

“Oh god, fuck” He says under his breath. Eddie continues to help you ride it out, your hands slide up the back of his neck and card through his long brown hair. The coil that had been winding in your stomach finally snapped for a second time and Eddie groaned as he felt your cunt cling around him as you came. “That’s it.” Eddie praises. Your breathing is ragged as you come down from your high, still holding Eddie’s arm for dear life.

He pulls you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart.” Eddie commends and you give him a lazy smile. He peppers your face and neck with kisses which earns him a soft giggle. You slowly lift yourself off of him, the loss making you whine a little.

The sky is getting darker as 5 pm approaches. After some cleanup, Eddie hands you one of his band shirts, a pair of black sweatpants, and boxers.

“I don't think you’re going home tonight, sweetheart,” Eddie says while moving strands of hair away from your face. "But you can crash here if you like?" He offers and you nod. You look outside the window and see the snow flurries have subsided, but the flakes haven't completely stopped. Your car probably wouldn't make it out of the driveway. It has two wheel drive and runs on hopes and dreams.

"Thank you, Eddie."

"My pleasure, sweet thing."

Suddenly the lights started to flicker, you both looked up at the ceiling light. The power kicks back on and you can hear the heater start up.

"Oh thank goodness." You sigh with relief.

"I'm gonna make some food before we lose power again." Eddie declares, scampering down the hall to the kitchen.

[shitouttabuck]

Buddie unintentional cuddles can power me through a whole week, so the prompt 3. Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them really spoke to me <3

hiya thank u frida and @colonoscopys for sendin this one in (and an anon too!!!) very much distracted me from my wisdom tooth woes. i need to add a disclaimer that this is NOT kink it’s just sleepy drunkenness please trust me lol (rated t even!!!! not horny!!!!!!! just unbelievably stupid!!!!)

bed-sharing prompts: person A waking up to person B curled up and sleeping on top of them

put on a slow dumb show for you | 2.2k | read under cut or on ao3

Buck wakes with the same unshiftable heaviness on his chest that he gets mid-panic attack. Except—his body is incredibly confused, because while the physical pressure is bearing down, making breathing a struggle, every other cell in his body is telling him the opposite: no reason to panic, he’s warm and swaddled and safer than he’s ever been.

His brain scrambles to organise this juxtaposition of sensations. The room is dark, and not unfamiliar, even if he’s spent the night in here less than a handful of times. Eddie’s digital alarm clock is blinking at him, and Eddie’s recently mounted décor of three framed photographs on the far wall is facing him, and Eddie’s entire fucking body is draped over Buck’s and crushing the breath out of him.

Oh. Okay. The second half of his cells were right, then—he’s safe. His heart can stop racing now. And it does, a bit.

But his brain keeps reaching for puzzle pieces, laying them out for assessment before him. His mouth tastes like he licked the bottom of a public trash can, and there’s a sharp twinge behind his temple, and he feels more than a little nauseous.

That’ll be the last five tequila shots Ravi pressed into his hands pre-karaoke. Eddie’d just stumbled off stage, arm-in-arm with Karen, fresh off a You’re Still The One duet that had Karen sniffling half-way through and making grabby-hands at an amused but equally-smitten Hen. Buck had only enough time to whoop as Eddie curtsied dramatically before they were calling his name.

Buck’s good at a lot of things, but singing is not one of them. He’d whined and stammered and straight-up crawled under the table before Ravi, sweet, evil Ravi, had ducked down to join him with a tray of shots. After that is—a bit of a blur, to be honest. There was some Carly Rae Jepsen, maybe? He remembers sliding back into their booth next to Eddie and watching the rest of their friends be disgustingly romantic.

That, coupled with the best friend he’s a little unbearably in love with singing the most hopeful love song ever written, is just a recipe for Buck’s heart to get a little messy. And maybe it made him bolder with his affection than usual? Clingier, anyway. He must’ve been pretty needy for Eddie to let him crash in his bed. But Eddie’s always making sure Buck has what he needs, so that isn’t anything new. And Eddie must’ve been pretty wasted too, if this total lack of personal space is any indication.

Buck doesn’t think Eddie’ll mind waking up like this—a perk of having a physically affectionate straight best friend is that he’s mostly oblivious to a classic no homo situation. He breathes deep, weight on top of him grounding instead of suffocating, lets himself tentatively wrap an arm around Eddie to hold him steady as his chest rises with the depth of his inhale, and closes his eyes again.

Except Eddie snuffles and shifts and then jams his knee directly into Buck’s bladder. After the drinks he put away tonight? Buck’s dangerously full bladder.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, desperately trying to shift Eddie to the side. “Oh—fuck.” He clenches—everything, really, because he’s too old to wet the bed and too fond of the life he has to wet Eddie’s bed, as the aftermath of that really only involves fleeing the country.

In the end, fear of that outweighs any qualms he has about waking a peacefully slumbering Eddie, and he all but shoves him off, gasping a breath of relief when Eddie’s weight shifts from his bladder to his thighs.

“Whu—what?” Eddie slurs, scrambling up with a pinched expression. “Buck? What’s wrong?” He sits up clumsily, straddling Buck’s thighs.

“Nothing,” Buck says, voice strained. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—really need to piss. And…” He gestures uselessly between them, face contorted in apology.

“Oh,” Eddie frowns. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Buck echoes, feeling hysterical. “Um, I’m gonna…” He tries to tug his legs free from under Eddie and Eddie clambers off obligingly.

Buck swings himself out of bed and hurries down the hall to the bathroom, cursing himself for everything from waking Eddie to ruining what could’ve been the cuddle session of his dreams to going and fucking falling in love with his best friend in the first place.

He lets the door swing shut behind him and absentmindedly lifts the toilet seat, shoving a hand into his boxers and then just about leaping a foot in the air when the door squeaks open again and Eddie shuffles over to stand behind him, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.

“Um,” Buck says, feeling dizzy for reasons that are only partly alcohol related. “Uh.”

“D’you need a hand?” Eddie asks sleepily.

Buck laughs nervously, frozen facing the wall with his hand down his boxers. “Uh. What?”

Eddie yawns, muffling the back-half of it into Buck’s shoulder and crowding closer, plastering himself along Buck’s back. Does Buck have alcohol poisoning? Is this the tequila version of an absinthe hallucination?

“D’you need me to hold it?” Eddie clarifies, nuzzling Buck’s shoulder gently.

Buck chokes on his own spit, body buckling as he pulls his hand out his underwear to thump his own chest. No, he skipped straight past the alcohol poisoning, he’s dead, not even a coma could dream this up.

Eddie steps back, frowning in concern when Buck finally spins to face him, eyes wide. His whole body is taut, stark contrast to the sleepy slump of Eddie’s shoulders.

“Do I—what?” he manages.

“Sorry, I wasn’t, like, trying to baby you,” Eddie says, looking unsure. “But after earlier—”

“Earlier,” Buck echoes. Eddie’s gaze has dropped to south of Buck’s navel, where his boxers have rucked up enough to leave a considerable amount of his happy trail on display. He yanks the waistband up quickly, and Eddie’s head snaps up too, cheeks dusted pink. Then his face, his perfect, beautiful face, falls.

“Wait, Buck—do you not remember? After karaoke?” he asks, taking a step back. “Oh, I—I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“I wasn’t,” Buck insists, racking his brain, and oh.

The tequila-soaked memory swims up, Buck desperate for the toilet and stubborn about being able to get there himself, despite tripping over his stupid Bambi legs not two steps from their table. Eddie laughing and slinging an arm around him, half-carrying him to the men’s room. Buck standing in front of the urinal, frowning and arms flopping helplessly at his sides.

“Eddie,” he’d whined. “My hands aren’t working.”

Eddie’d laughed again, fond and warm, and asked if he wanted to sit in a stall.

“No,” Buck had pouted. “My zip…” He’d turned to Eddie, lopsided grin and beseeching eyes, and Eddie’d shaken his head and come to stand behind him. He’d undone Buck’s zipper and asked, “Alright?” and Buck had pouted some more.

“Can you help?” he’d asked, mortifyingly pathetic. Eddie’d raised an eyebrow and snorted, and then Buck had said, “Eddieee. These are my nice jeans. My hands don’t work. Your hands are perfect.”

Eddie’d muttered, “Might as well happen like this,” and slipped a hand into Buck’s jeans and—ah. Held his dick while he peed.

“Oh,” Buck says now, voice small. “Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, somewhat blearily. “Why? I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I know—I don’t think we’re on the same page. I don’t—” Buck closes his eyes and presses the heels of his palms into them. “I don’t think it meant the same thing for us.”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face is suddenly unreadable. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes another step back. Buck wants to cry. He basically tricked his best friend into touching him—doesn’t matter if Eddie did it platonically, because drunk or not, genuinely needing help to piss or not, Buck’s pretty sure his own intentions were not all that innocent.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” he says. “I was drunk as hell—that’s not an excuse, but it won’t happen again. I—I’ll be better at keeping it to myself. The last thing I ever want is to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

Something passes over Eddie’s face. “Wait,” he says slowly, “you asked me to hold your dick as friends?” There’s an uncertain lilt to the question, like he truly doesn’t know what the answer is anymore.

“Uh,” Buck says. He could use the confusion to wrestle the cat back into the bag and then ship said bag one-way to Nicaragua, but Eddie’s looking a little lost, arms crossed in his black vest and boxers and mismatched socks. Buck can’t be the cause of that. “No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I swear I wasn’t trying to trick you. I was just really drunk.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, stepping forward again and reaching out to tug Buck in by the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s the problem then?” He slides a warm hand under Buck’s shirt, smoothing it across his skin.

Buck inhales sharply, blood rushing to his brain and cheeks and cock so quickly he reaches for the porcelain toilet tank behind him to steady himself. “W-wait. Were you holding my dick as friends?”

Eddie blinks at him, disbelief slowly overtaking the slack sleepiness of his facial muscles. “You thought—is that generally something your friends do for you?”

“No, but…” Buck falters. “Why—why did you, then? Why else would you…”

“I was holding your dick because I want to kiss it,” Eddie snaps, and then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. “I want to kiss you,” he amends. “You, not your—I mean, sure, that too, but. Can you say something.”

The many million times Buck has daydreamed and fantasised and wished for this, he’s never anticipated fuzzy patches in his memory of it. But these things are clear: waking up with Eddie plastered to him like he wants to touch Buck at every possible point, Eddie following him in here unprompted and pressing up against him with unchecked affection, because even in his sleepy state Eddie just wants to make sure Buck has what he needs, even if what he needs is help holding his dick in a context that’s soft and sleepy and miles from sexual.

“You came in here to hold my dick,” he says, grin spreading.

Eddie’s cheeks are so rosy, rosier than they’d been with the flush of alcohol, even. “I came in here because I didn’t want your uncoordinated drunk ass pissing all over my bathroom.”

“Aw, Eds, you romantic,” Buck says, stepping closer. Eddie sighs exasperatedly, tilting his face up expectantly anyway. But, oh—

“Did we kiss already?” Buck asks, heart dropping. “Do I not remember?”

Eddie brings up one large palm to rub Buck’s sternum gently. “Nah. Didn’t seem like the right time. I kinda—I wanted to do that not-drunk.”

“Oh,” Buck says, sagging with relief. “Good.” Eddie gives him a sleepy, wonky smile, and Buck says, “I’m not drunk now.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, stepping back and patting Buck’s chest. “Nope, just hungover and harbouring the most toxic tequila-flavoured morning breath anyone’s ever had.”

“Don’t forget desperate to pee,” Buck grins. “You gonna help a guy out?” He flaps his arms limply, batting his lashes at Eddie.

Eddie grumbles unintelligibly, lips twitching with amusement as he bodily rearranges Buck to face the toilet again. Buck melts back into the cradle of his arms, safe and sleepy and sated enough that his dick doesn’t do any more than he needs it to right now, even with Eddie’s warm hand wrapped around it.

They stumble back to bed, Buck belatedly remembering he’s not washed his hands but deciding not to care if Eddie doesn’t, and when Buck flops down, Eddie’s right back on top of him.

Buck wheezes as the breath’s punched out of his lungs, and it becomes a laugh, and this time he wraps both arms firmly around Eddie to hold him tight. Eddie exhales into the crook of his neck, breath hot and a little gross, and then lifts his head to press a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of Buck’s lips.

“This one doesn’t count,” he murmurs against Buck’s cheek. “I just can’t believe you thought I wanted to hold your dick as friends, so. It’s an almost-kiss. An IOU. Tomorrow I’m gonna kiss you till one of us passes out. Not as friends.”

“As enemies,” Buck whispers solemnly and then grunts when Eddie digs an elbow into his ribs. “As anything you want, s’long as I can keep the kissing and the dick-holding and—this.” He tightens his arms around Eddie, feeling his chest reverberate against Buck’s as he laughs.

“Deal,” he agrees, nestling closer, messy hair getting in Buck’s mouth as he shifts. “But just so you know what I want—and I don’t mean to skip ahead—though I guess we’re doing the regular dating bases all out of order anyway—” He sighs, deep and satisfied as he gets comfortable, and says, “I’m ready to have and to dick-hold you every day of the week, you know?”

Buck didn’t know, but now he does, and in eleven months’ time when he and Eddie are saying these words in front of their friends and family, sans penis, not one single person can blame him for lurching forward and kissing the adoring smirk off Eddie’s face miles before poor ordained Bobby gives him the go-ahead. Doing true love in order is overrated, anyway.

[plutoscosmoss]

Fire Inside   ➸ c.21

Warnings: This series includes themes of violence, death, smut, childbirth and childbirth complications (if I forgot to mention any please let me know)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x OC

{Series Masterlist}

Previous Chapter

Chapter 21: The Waiting Game

Renva watched as Jacaerys came into their chambers to collect some belongings for the journey. Both did not speak, just existed in silence with each other until Jacaerys spoke up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me of your fathers condition? I could have been there for you.” He said walking towards where she stood by the window. 

“You had lost two members of your own family already it didn’t seem as important as to what you were going through.” Renva said, running a hand across her own arm to soothe herself. Jacaerys replaced her hand with his own, “You are my family now as well, you do not have to suffer on your own. My mother is sending me to the Eyrie and then to Winterfell. I will get an update for you on how your brothers are doing. If you would like me to bring anything back for you, or if you have to say anything to your brothers, simply write it in a letter and I shall deliver it to them.” Jacaerys said as he pulled Renva close and rested his head on hers, after spending her grief in solitude she felt her walls crumble as he pulled her in. All the weight of the events that have transpired fell onto her at that moment. Through tears she was able to choke out, “Why are you going instead of ravens? I don’t want you or Luke to get hurt.” Renva said and she clutched onto Jace’s tunic. “Look at me Renva,” Jace pulled away slightly and raised his hands to cup Renvas face. “We are to be sent as messengers, we swore to our mother not to fight. We will be safe.” Jacaeys heart swelled at the thought that Renva had not only cared deeply for him but for his younger brother who would also be taking a journey by himself. 

A knock on the door startled them both, they only briefly separated to see Lucerys standing in the doorway. 

“Are you ready brother? The dragons are waiting.” Luke said quietly, he had always been the quiet and compassionate type which warmed Renvas heart knowing that he was her family now. “I just have to grab a few more things.” Jace said and he kissed Renva’s forehead and gathered the rest of his belongings. Renva quickly wrote down that she was okay and would like her mothers charoite jewel ring, gifted to her mother from her father. She rolled up the parchment and handed it to Jacaerys. She then moved across the room to the table beside her side of the bed. She picked up what she had recently finished making and walked her way back over to where the two brothers now stood together. She motioned for both boys to hold out a wrist. Renva slowly wrapped a thick bracelet made of the Starks’ gray color, along with the Targaryens’ black and finally the Velaryian blue. Both boys looked up to her once she tied them to their wrists. She lifted up her own to show she too had one, “These symbolize that we are all now one,” she turned towards Luke,  “After my wedding to your brother, I became your sister. I shall look after you as my own and fight for you both until the end of my days.” Renva said, embarrassing both boys. She gave Luke a kiss on his cheek and her beloved one on the lips. “I shall walk with you to the Dragon mount.” As they walked to the dragon mount Renva couldn't help but feel uneasy about this  journey the boys were going on. 

—

Renva had been residing in the library for the remainder of the day to keep herself calm. The boys wouldn’t be back for a bit, she needed to keep herself occupied so as to not freak out. She was in the middle of reading about King Jaehaerys first of his name ascension to the throne, when she heard the door open and the guard announce that it was Queen Rhaenyra. Renva quickly rose and curtseyed before Rhaenyra.

“I thought I might find you here.” Rhaenyra said as she sat in the seat across from Renva. Renva’s heart raced at the memory of their prior interaction. “I am sorry for not being vocal about my fathers condition until now, your grace. You see I have been feeling under the weather, and preferred to rest in solace.” Renva spoke without being questioned, trying quickly to defend herself to the Queen. “My dear child, you are okay. I too wish to apologize for how I acted at the painted table. I am on edge due to recent events and have been cautious on who I listen to.” Rhaenyra held onto Renva’s hands. “It is okay, your grace. After all that you have been through it is to be expected in some way.” Renva offered a small smile to the Queen. “Let us wait for the boys to return together. Luke should be back within two days time and Jacaerys should be back before the weeks end.” Rhaenyra stood taking Renva with her. 

During the time Rhaenyra spent with Renva, they spoke of Targaryen history, growing up in Winterfell, and spending time with Rhaenyra’s youngest sons, Viscerys and Aegon. Renva asked all the questions she had about Targaryen history, making the Queen laugh occasionally due to her avid curiosity. The Queen in turn would ask how life in Winterfell fared to life at the Red Keep and Dragonstone. Renva was happy to answer the Queen's questions, highlighting her love for the snow. The young boys absolutely loved Renva, her time spent with them on the trip back to Dragonstone having solidified a great relationship between the three. Renva was like an older sister to the young boys. 

Speaking of the young boys, Renva took it upon herself to watch them while the Queens court discussed the next options, should the boys return with not so great news. Renva was sitting off to the side of the painted table, Rhaenyra requesting the boys never be too far from her. Renva was holding little sleeping Viscerys while Aegon was playing on the floor with a wooden dragon figurine. Renva glanced between the boys when she heard the door open and Daemon walked the length of the room, his face sullen. He pulled Rhaenyra over towards the fireplace just to the right of where Renva was sitting with the boys when she heard the news that made her heart break.

Lucerys Velaryon was dead, murdered in the sky by his uncle Aemond targaryen and his dragon Vhagar. He was no match for the war dragon, and the crazed rider. The small dragon tried with all of its might to flee it, but little Arrax was no match. Renva glanced at Rhaenyra, as she saw the Queen's eyes darken she knew that war was now closer than ever. Renva held little Viserys tighter before watching Rhaenyra and Daemond walk out of the room together. 

End Of Season 1 .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 116

"Here you go, some old pajamas of mine. They should fit you," I said, handing him the bundle. He took them without much thought, his gaze sweeping over the guest room, eyes widening as he took in the space. The quiet room, with its soft lighting, the mounted TV on the wall, and the big bed in the center, seemed to surprise him. It was warm, and inviting—things he probably hadn’t known for a while.

I finished tucking in the fresh covers and lit a vanilla candle, hoping the soft scent would make him feel at ease. "Thanks," he mumbled, disappearing into the attached bathroom with the pajamas.

I took the moment to pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling absently, trying to figure out what to tell Bucky. Breaking news like this over the phone felt wrong, but not telling him anything at all felt just as unsettling.

I looked up when I heard the shower turn on, so I stepped outside to make the call I'd been dreading. Taking a deep breath, I held the phone to my ear, waiting for Bucky to pick up.

"Hey, doll, what's up?" he answered casually, though there was a thread of worry in his voice.

"Hey, Buck. I just wanted to let you know that I'm staying at the house tonight," I explained, trying to keep my tone light. "It’s getting late, and I’d rather not drive all the way back to Brooklyn." Even as I said it, I knew it sounded like a flimsy excuse.

He paused, and I could almost feel his concern through the phone. "Oh... everything okay? Want me to come over?" His voice was cautious like he was ready to be there at a moment’s notice. And that’s when it hit me—he was worried I’d be alone, afraid I might hurt myself again. I didn’t want him carrying that weight, so I just blurted it out.

“I found my son, Buck,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Or… he found me. He was at the cemetery, and now he’s here, at the house.” I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. “He survived, Buck. He escaped from the lab and somehow made it out—he’s been living on the streets all this time… and now, we just ate pizza together.”

There was silence on the other end as he took it in, and I could picture him trying to process everything I’d just said.

"Buck?" I prompted gently, my heart pounding in the quiet that followed.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Your son… he’s alive?" His voice was barely above a whisper, as though he feared the truth might slip away if he spoke too loudly. I could hear disbelief, relief, and worry woven together in those few words.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady but soft. “And I know you must have a million questions. I’ll tell you everything, Buck, but… not over the phone. I just thought you deserved an explanation.”

He was quiet for a beat before he responded. “All right,” he said finally, though I could sense a hint of hesitation. “But if you need anything—if he needs anything—you call me, okay?”

“I will… thank you, Bucky,” I whispered, feeling the gratitude settle deep in my chest. I ended the call with a quiet click, letting the weight of the conversation linger in the stillness.

I leaned back against the wall, releasing a sigh of relief just as the door cracked open slightly. My son’s head peeked out, his expression tentative. “Uh… where should I put my dirty clothes?” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable. “There wasn’t a basket,” he added shyly.

“Oh, just hand them over,” I replied, smiling as I reached out. “I’ll take care of them and toss them in the wash.”

He handed over the clothes with a quiet “Thanks,” and I turned around and walked into the laundry room. As I started the cycle, I noticed he had followed me, lingering in the doorway, arms crossed tightly as though he didn’t know what to do with himself.

When I faced him, he looked down, seeming smaller than before. “You’re safe here,” I said gently, stepping closer, the urge to reach out and embrace him almost overwhelming.

He swallowed and looked up, eyes meeting mine, though he stayed rooted to the spot. “I don’t even have a name,” he whispered, a tinge of shame in his voice. “Never needed one.” His eyes were hard, defensive—but his posture told a different story, one of uncertainty and vulnerability.

I started to respond, but he spoke first, his voice quieter. “What would you have called me?” He crossed his arms, looking both curious and defensive.

The truth hit hard. I hadn’t had the luxury of imagining names, of planning a future together. He was taken before I’d ever had that chance. “I didn’t get to name you,” I admitted softly. His expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

After a moment, he glanced up, hesitantly. “Can…can you call me Steven? Like my father.” His voice carried an unsteady pride, and my heart tightened as tears threatened. I nodded, pressing my lips together to hold back the flood of emotions. His face softened into the faintest of smiles, there and gone so quickly, but it lifted something heavy inside me.

He shifted, glancing away. “I…think I’ll go to bed,” he murmured, though he lingered, almost as if he was waiting for permission.

“Good night…Steven,” I whispered, my fists clenched against the overwhelming urge to pull him into a hug. Just the sound of his chosen name was enough to make his small smile return. It was enough—for now.

“Good night,” he whispered, and then, with a final look back, he turned and disappeared into his room.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts circling back to the same unbelievable truth—my son was right down the hall, finally here after all these years. Every time I closed my eyes, a fear tugged at me, whispering that I’d wake up and find him gone, that it was all a dream. After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning, I gave in and quietly slipped out of bed, needing to do something—anything—to quiet my racing mind.

I began to clean, dusting every surface, and sweeping and mopping every inch of the floors. The steady rhythm was soothing, the focus a temporary relief from my nerves. As I moved through the house, I found myself in the basement, sorting through old boxes until I pulled out the Christmas decorations. Somehow, it felt right. I wanted this place to feel warm, safe, a home for him—something worth staying for.

Decorating the house in quiet solitude, I realized this wasn’t just about welcoming him but about showing him he had a place here. That he wasn’t alone anymore.

After finishing the last touch—a string of lights draped over the mantel—I finally let myself collapse into bed. For once, I didn’t lie awake overthinking, and sleep claimed me almost instantly.

It was only as I drifted off that a quiet realization brushed against the edges of my mind—I was lying in the bed Steve and I had once shared, a place filled with memories of a life that felt like it belonged to another time. But tonight, it didn’t bring the usual ache. Tonight, with my son across the hall, it almost felt like a new beginning.

The first rays of sunshine woke me, stirring a feeling in my chest that I hadn’t experienced in a long time—a flicker of hope mixed with anticipation for the day ahead. I tossed the blanket aside, slipped into my morning coat, and dialed a nearby breakfast place. I would have preferred to cook, but the kitchen was bare of ingredients.

Twenty minutes later, the delivery driver arrived with an array of breakfast foods: pancakes, waffles, omelets, sausages, and freshly squeezed orange juice. I was plating everything on the kitchen table when I heard footsteps descending the stairs.

He appeared, rubbing his eyes and taking in the delicious scents wafting through the air. “Good morning,” I said with a smile as I poured some juice into his glass.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, sitting down and eyeing the pancakes. I quickly grabbed a stack and placed it on the plate in front of him.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked as I settled into my seat and took a sip of my coffee. He swallowed a massive bite and nodded. “Beats the cardboard box I usually sleep on,” he replied, and my heart ached at his words.

I bit my lip, trying to keep the sadness at bay. “Well,” I said softly, “no more cardboard boxes.” I reached over to slide a small bottle of syrup closer to him. “Here—drizzle as much as you want.”

He took the bottle, pouring a generous amount over his pancakes before taking another big bite. I watched as he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. Seeing him enjoy his meal in the warm morning sunlight made my heart swell.

He caught me staring and squinted at me as if contemplating what to say next. “Who was the man you called yesterday... when I was in the shower?” His tone was neutral, but there was an edge of curiosity.

I hadn’t anticipated that question, and it caught me off guard. “That was Bucky. He was your father’s best friend, and he’s my best friend too,” I explained. A familiar feeling of shame crept in—shame for being in a relationship with my best friend so soon after his father’s death. It had only been over two years, after all.

“Bucky Barnes?” he asked, his eyes widening before he seemed to shrink in on himself as if he felt he wasn’t allowed to get excited. Yet, there was a spark of admiration in his voice.

“Yes, Bucky Barnes. Have you heard of him?” I asked with a smile.

He shrugged, trying to contain his excitement. “Yeah, I snuck into that exhibit once.”

I nodded, saddened that he had sneaked into places others just walked into without worries. Then he hesitated before speaking again. “Uhm, can I meet him?” His voice was quiet as he watched my reaction.

I smiled warmly. “Of course you can. He would love to meet you.”

I found myself staring again, completely unaware until he caught my gaze. “Can I have more orange juice?” he asked shyly, nodding toward the bottle on the table.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask,” I replied, filling his glass. “This is your home, Steven. You’re home now,” I added, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

He nodded, his eyes dropping to his plate as he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Next Chapter

[narnian-neverlander]

Reaching Out [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: The Sovereign are responsible for some of the biggest tragedies in your life. But when you meet one of them that just seems different, you find yourself reevaluating your stance and reaching out to him.

Word Count: 1,6k

Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence

A/N: Haven’t written/posted sth in about… 5-6 years??? But of course Will Poulter being a literal and figurative golden boy is what gets me back to it 🤷

This was really just supposed to be a prelude to a scenario I actually wanted to write, but it kinda got away from me, so have it on it’s own

Best friend or not, when you’d come back from a mission of your own to learn that Rocket’s kleptomaniac tendencies had put you smack dab in the middle of a crossfire with the Sovereign, you’d had half a mind to stuff and mount him to a wall. You’d spent almost your entire life hiding from that nation and now you were back on their radar. After just barely escaping Ego and the Sovereign army by the skin of your teeth, you’d immediately started packing, ready to run and hide again; they would come for you, that hadn’t been a question of if, but when. And you would not put your newfound family at risk by staying with them.

Except… they’d refused to let you leave. Every last one of them. They’d sat you down and demanded an explanation at the very least, so you’d done just that. Told them about how the Sovereign had considered your people a threat, an abomination even, due to your shapeshifting abilities. About the destruction of your planet, your people and finally finding a temporary safe haven on the little mud-ball known as earth. It’d been quiet for a long moment after that, then Gamora had shrugged and with a very blunt ‘What’s one more target on our backs?’ the discussion was over and Drax was carrying your bags back to your room before you could utter a single word of protest. You would never admit it to any of them, but you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. People you could rely on, who’d risk their lives for you - you hadn’t had that in a very long time.

The memory of that day had been fresh on your mind when your retrieval mission at Orgocorp’s headquarters had gone sideways; severely outnumbered with the Sovereign and the High Evolutionary’s lackeys on their way, you’d gladly stayed behind to give your friends a clean escape. The fact that you’d ended up in the hands of the people you’d been hiding from your whole life didn’t matter if it meant giving the others a chance to save Rocket.

You’d only arrived on Knowhere to the aftermath of the attack of the Sovereign’s newest weapon, but whatever you’d been expecting hadn’t been… him. He was different from any Sovereign you’d ever come across. The golden-skinned race of people weren’t exactly known to be particularly individualistic or open-minded, but the Warlock constantly asked questions in such innocence and naivety, it was almost endearing - and frustrating to the High Priestess to no end. The incredulous bark of laughter that had escaped you when he’d flat out told her that he did not like how hurting people made him feel had earned you a few new bruises to the face from the annoyed woman, but it’d been worth it. There was something absolutely hysterical to you about their perfect super weapon apparently having just a bit too much of a mind of his own, only further proven when he’d openly opposed his mother and had insisted on keeping the Ravager’s pet as his companion.

And then he’d saved Peter. Unprompted, a choice all his own; maybe the very first of it’s kind he’d made. As baffling as it had been, you’d seen a lot during your travels of the universe, so maybe, just maybe, a Sovereign with a kind heart wasn’t completely unthinkable. So when you leave the cantina, tears still fresh in your eyes from having said goodbye to some of the people you called family, and find him sitting hunched over on a flight of stairs, dirty, bruised and looking so incredibly lost and alone, you decide to do the unthinkable yourself: you reach out.

There’s plenty of people buzzing about, already repairing the damage the battle did to Knowhere and helping the new arrivals settle in. You grab a blanket from one of them as you pass and weave your way through the crowd. He doesn’t even realize he’s your target until you drape the blanket over his shoulders, making him flinch in the process. Wide, surprised eyes follow your movements as you settle down next to him on the stairs, but he pulls the fabric tighter around himself anyways. There’s a beat of awkward silence during which you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this approach through in it’s entirety, but there is one thing that comes to mind that you decide to ask him about. “You know, between you trying to kill us, my best friend almost dying and some lunatic almost destroying our home… I don’t think I ever actually caught your name. It can’t just be the Warlock, can it?”

“Adam. My name is Adam.” he answers and you give an acknowledging nod as you hold out your hand to him. “Alright, it’s nice to kinda officially meet you, Adam. I’m (y/n).” He stares at your offered hand with furrowed brows and it occurs to you that in all likelihood, the guy has no idea what a handshake even is. “I’m fully aware of who you are; (y/n), the shifter.” Dropping your hand back into your lap, you honestly feel like backing off and just leaving him be. But you don’t. “Right… I’m sure Ayesha told you everything about me…” He seems to brighten at the mention of his mother, but it’s gone just as quickly and replaced by the same exhaustion he’s had in his eyes since you approached him. “She did. To help me with my mission, she gave me very detailed reports on all of you. But-“

Soft music playing from the speakers above you interrupts him and a light chuckle leaves your lips as you recognize the band as one of your favorites from earth; you catch Rocket��s eye from across the square and he gives you a grin and a wink, earning a shake of your head and a laugh in return. Bringing your attention back to the golden man beside you, you find his focus on the crowd and your friends, curiosity written all over his features, accompanied by a small, albeit sad smile. He’d quite obviously never seen a celebration before, had had no victories to celebrate. Hadn’t known the sacrifices that so often went hand in hand with triumph.

“But…?” you prompt gently and he brings his golden eyes back to you. He studies you for a long moment and you’re honestly not quite sure what exactly it is he’s looking for, but he seems to find it all the same. “But… I’m starting to think she was… mistaken about some of it. The things mother told me about the Guardians, specifically about you… don’t align with what I’ve seen for myself.” Humming thoughtfully, you start tapping your foot along to the song as the crowd starts letting loose and picking up pace. “Well… forming your own opinions, your own path? Admitting that not everything that you were taught is necessarily the right thing? That’s all part of growing up. Of becoming your own person. It’s a good thing.” He vehemently shakes his head at that. “It doesn’t feel good. My stomach hurts and it’s like I can’t breathe and I feel so… so…” He struggles to find the right words, but you know exactly what he’s talking about; you’ve been there yourself. “Small? Helpless? Despite your powers?” When he nods in affirmation, you continue. “What you’re feeling is fear. You’re scared. Scared about change, about the unknown that now lies in front of you. It’s perfectly normal, everybody gets scared sometimes.”

If possible, his shoulders slump further and he seems to curl into himself even more. In spite of his tall stature, he seems so incredibly small in that very moment and it makes your heart clench. “Everybody gets scared… I don’t have everybody to guide me, though. I do not have anyone left...” You don’t mean to, you truly don’t, but you can’t help the inelegant snort that escapes you at that; one that erupts into full blown laughter when he gives you a look that can only be described as somewhere between scandalized and actually hurt. “Please”, you manage between wheezes, “you really think we’re gonna save your life and then leave you to fend for yourself? Nah, you can stay here with us - only if you want, of course.” He blinks at you, once, twice, before he says “But… I tried to kill you?” His deadpan delivery makes you laugh yet again, even if it is the truth. “Yeah, we’ve all tried to do that to each other at one point or another, actually.” You find Nebula, gleefully dancing with some of the kids and a grin spreads across your face. “Some on more than one occasion. But here we are, one big, happy, messed up family.”

Adam still looks as puzzled as ever; why would you willingly form a family with people who’d tried to murder you? It’s obvious he’s overwhelmed with… everything, really, so you decide to drop the big, life changing conversation topics for now as you get up and dust yourself off. “Listen, all I’m saying is, you’ve got people here who are similar to you in some ways. Maybe sticking around and learning from them could help you. Either way, I think you’d fit in just fine around here, golden boy.” Big, hopeful, golden eyes follow your movements as you offer your hand to him yet again. “Come on, let’s go find you a place to rest up, okay?” There’s no confusion or hesitation this time as he takes your outstretched hand and let’s you pull him to his feet. Despite the state he’s in, he’s warm, you note, like a bunch of tiny golden suns are burning right under his skin. And as you tug him along behind you, through small alleys and groups of dancing people, he holds on tight and you decide you like how his hand feels in yours.