#your comfort comes first ! not offended by folks staying away

[tenacquity]

emo gay cometh

NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHING !!

—and by that, i mean new scrunkly man alert and latest hyperfixation hide yo children hide yo wives (and honestly i'd humbly request someone save me but that's impossible so i won't even ask) . . .

soon.

ye have been warned

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

cishet white guy nursing student had a fascinating (and endearing) reaction to my experiences with hospitals

thinking about last week when i did the second queer-centered patient simulation for the new LGBTQ+ program at our university hospital. this is the same one i helped develop, and it's the first of its kind in our state (which is crazy!! i'm part of something groundbreaking!!)

at the end of it, the two other "patients" and i had to join the debrief, to share our impressions and advice with the students.

for the most part, as with any student, they were all nervous to interact with something new without any of the history or context, and all of them held a sizable fear of offending us. but each of them did wonderfully and treated us like any other patient: like humans.

one of the students was a guy in his thirties, and though he wasn't assigned to me he still listened to everything i had to say to all the students.

first i went "Congrats, y'all just met some queer folk!" as an ice breaker, bc i got the impression that most of them hadn't interacted with (openly) queer people before.

i also let them know that 1) they had the hard job when it came to pronouns; i don't refer to myself in the third person, as it's just me, myself, and i. and 2) don't worry about being accidentally offensive, bc if we got offended every time we got misgendered then every day would be exhausting.

and then, i ended with something a bit more personal but explained that many, many queer and trans people went through something similar.

i said, "Please understand, going to the hospital is a frightening experience for a lot of queer folk. Sometimes, the only way to ensure our safety and treatment, is to pretend I'm a girl. Until I know for sure I can trust you, I remain "undercover". It's not comfortable, but it's better than fighting for my identity every time I see a doctor."

the student mentioned before, the cishet white guy in his thirties, apparently got stuck on that. during the final round of comments, he spoke up and looked at me with a genuinely distressed expression.

"You mentioned you have to default to your assigned gender just to go to the doctor?" he said. he's a tall, broad man that had to twist and fold into the desk chair, and i guess he'd been working already from how frazzled and sweaty he was. nothing about him looked comfortable, but his expression, though pinched with concern, was open and listening.

"My current PCP still believes I'm a girl," I replied. "I've known him almost my whole life, but he's never given me any indication I can trust him. He's a kind old man, but there's always a fear that if I come out to him, then I won't receive the treatment I need. It's not a guarantee, but this has happened to many trans people before."

The concern in the student's face turned to genuine frustration. "I'd never considered that before, that's just," he tried. "That's just not right."

i'm reminded of the first time i read "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" in high school. our English teacher wanted us to decide for ourselves, would we stay in the utopia that depends on the suffering of one person, or leave?

a surprising amount of my classmates said they'd stay, bc there was nothing to be done about the one in suffering. and yeah, most of the class were white middle/upper class cishet people

i was horrified. when it was my turn to answer, i said, "I would leave."

"Why?" my teacher asked.

"Because it isn't right," i insisted. i couldn't put words to the disgust i was feeling. how could i possibly remain somewhere i knew for a fact relied on suffering to exist?

the teacher tried to get me to think past "right and wrong", or at least to find words to explain why this scenario was so wrong to me. and even then, i knew he was in agreement with me. but it was a philosophical question designed to make the reader think, to examine their beliefs when faced with a choice that many claim impossible. and the teacher informed us that our society is already like this due to colonialism and capitalism.

but i was stuck, because this was the first time i saw just how many people were ok with Omelas, and i got sick to my stomach so couldn't get past "This is just wrong, it's wrong!"

my twin brother, who had the same class with me, had what i thought was the best and most practical answer (and i was so so relieved)

"I'd walk away," my brother said. "I'm not going to rely on someone else for my happiness, not if I can help it. My home and health will be my own responsibility."

that nursing student had his Omelas moment. he'd never had to consider if he could trust his doctor or not, he'd never had to fight for treatment just because of his gender or sexuality. but he finally saw the metaphorical unnamed human being suffering in silence as the rest of society went on with their blissful lives.

i don't think i've ever been so happy to see someone so frustrated. and i made sure to tell him how much i appreciated it, it's not something you can easily explain to cishet people but he caught on fast enough that i'm fully convinced he's going to be a kind, compassionate nurse one day.

[rowanrabbit]

(this story contains references to illness, death, and grief)

The village folk call you cunning. You know the uses of all the herbs in the forest, and you know how to cure illnesses and lessen ailments. One day a fairy man comes down from the mountains to visit you in your cottage. You’re frightened at first, but he’s only come seeking your services. He wants a potion for his sick wife.

“I don’t know fairy medicine,” you tell him.

“My wife is human,” he says.

You agree to make the potion. He waits outside in the garden, where the daffodils and tulips are just beginning to bloom. He pays for the potion with a handful of strange seeds, which you accept without question. It’s best not to offend the fair folk.

He returns once a week for more medicine. He always wanders through your garden while he waits, looking otherworldly as he strolls among the flowers. He pays you with baskets of eggs, or bolts of beautiful cloth, or unfamiliar coins; a handful of glittering jewels; a set of old bones; a bottle of blackberry wine. You accept all of his gifts without discrimination.

Then his visits cease without warning. You mark his absence with disappointment; the foxgloves are in full bloom now, and you were looking forward to watching him walk among them.

The last of the asters are already fading when you see him next. He shows up again one day out of the blue, looking handsome and ethereal as always.

“Did your wife get better?” you ask, but as soon as you ask the question you already know the answer.

You sit together on your porch, watching the leaves fall from the trees.

“I’m sorry the medicine didn’t help,” you say.

“It helped a great deal,” he tells you. “Her last weeks were spent in comparative comfort.” He stares down at his long hands folded in his lap. “I’m sorry to take up your time. I don’t know why I came here. You were kind to me and my wife, and your garden was always lovely.”

“Why don’t you stay the night?” you say. “It looks like it's going to snow.”

You put him in the spare room, and he stays for many weeks. He’s listless with grief; he needs some looking after. You believe manual labor is good for people with emotional wounds, so you put him to work. There’s much to do to prepare for the winter, and you slowly lose your fear of him as you watch him chop wood and pickle vegetables. He hasn’t had much practice at these things, but he’s a quick learner, and he likes to use magic to speed things along.

Despite your reputation as a witch, you have no experience with magic, and the spells make you nervous at first. But before long you find yourself asking for enchantments for your own chores, and he obliges you with a knowing smile. You collaborate on potions and poultices, creating cures that could not be crafted by human hands alone. You enjoy working with him, and you think he enjoys working with you too.

The villagers begin to call him your familiar, which makes you both laugh. But you aren’t laughing for long. Suspicion and mistrust grow in the village. The fair folk are strange and sometimes cruel, and your companion frightens your neighbors.

“Will they try to drive you out?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, worried.

“If they attack the house, I’ll protect you.”

“I’d rather it didn’t come to that.”

“Then enough of this foolishness,” he says. “I’m going home. Come with me.”

“For how long?” you ask.

“Indefinitely,” he says.

“What? Forever?”

“Yes, forever.”

Or until sickness takes me too, you think, but don’t say. It would be nice to live a happy life, however long, by this strange man’s side. He sees your bittersweet expression, and he gives you a knowing, tender look.

“Say goodbye to your garden,” he says. You bid the last of the blooms adieu, and he spirits you away.

[rayofsunas]

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy. 

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening​ 

​

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude 

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly 

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was. 

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti. 

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared. 

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed. 

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case. 

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character 

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response. 

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.  

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time. 

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance. 

“I can’t help but think about what they did.” 

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa. 

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment. 

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action. 

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.  

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was. 

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily. 

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic. 

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop, 

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you. 

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort. 

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?” 

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.” 

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him. 

“You always wait for me, darling.”

- 

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh. 

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried. 

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.” 

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded. 

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-” 

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood. 

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-” 

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff. 

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now. 

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.” 

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times. 

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas 

[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s���much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[babygirl-diaz]

You're Cute Enough to Fuck With Me Tonight (AU)

Going to a club when you’re in your late 30s is not the best way to spend your Saturday nights, but Steve and Natasha insisted, so Sam ended up giving in to the peer pressure. Natasha got them to bypass the queue outside because she apparently knew the owner. The nightclub turned out different from what Sam was expecting. It was an elite club with its own fancy VIP lounge. Natasha got them a VIP booth and the three of them did whiskey shots to celebrate the successful first season of their tv show.

They were talking and laughing and well into their third beer when Natasha said, “Sam, don’t look now, but cokehead over there is eating you up with his eyes.”

“Huh?” Sam asked, and turned around to see who she was talking about when he found a white dude with short dark hair and a face full of facial hair, looking at Sam like he was starving and Sam was a buffet. There was a line of cocaine in front of the guy and he leaned down to snort it before coming up to wave at Sam. Sam ignored him.

“I tell him not to look and what does he do… he looks,” Natasha said sarcastically. “The guy’s hot, though. I think you should go for it.” She leaned back against Steve, who absently stroked her arm.

“The guy looks like trouble to me,” Steve pointed out. “I think you should stay away.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad,” Sam huffed.

“I love this song!” Natasha announced when the strings of a familiar song played. Before Sam could say anything, he was being pulled onto the dance floor by his friends despite his protests. “Call Me By Your Name, really?” Sam asks

“What? It’s a nice song!” Steve said, almost offended.

“You’re so whipped!” Sam laughed and slapped him on the back.

He moved his hips and ass along with the music and let out a frustrated groan when Natasha and Steve started grinding up against each other and got lost in one another. Sam knew this would happen. He’d end up as the third wheel and that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming tonight.

Sam lets out a surprised sound when he felt hands on his waist. Whoever had their hands on him spun him around, and Sam immediately came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes, rimmed red. It was that cokehead from earlier. Sam wanted to pull away but got hypnotized by the look the guy was giving him.

The guy leaned in close to Sam’s ear and sang completely out of tune. “Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try. You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight.” His voice was rough and despite the bad singing, it ran a shiver down Sam’s spine.

“I’m Bucky,” the guy introduced himself and pulled Sam even closer to move their hips together. “And you’re hot.” His voice was slightly slurred.

“Well, lucky for me, my name is Sam and not Hot.” Sam wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck and pressed their chests together.

“Sam…” Bucky said as if testing out his name. “Beautiful name for a beautiful guy.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my pants,” Sam smirked.

“Is it working?” Bucky pouted

“Nah, you gotta try harder.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Bucky said into Sam’s ear and took his earlobe between his teeth and pulled on it, making Sam moan. “I want you so bad,” he continued to say and squeezed Sam’s ass. Maybe the alcohol made him do it, but Sam surged forward and kissed him. He darted out his tongue and licked Bucky’s upper lip before taking it between his own lips. He then tilted his head to the side and kissed the edge of Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth and Sam’s tongue slid inside and he let himself explore Bucky’s mouth. The kiss got intense and heated. Sam felt Bucky’s cock press against his and he moaned into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallowed up the sound. The song ended and they pull apart but stay close. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said over the next song.

“Okay,” said Bucky and took Sam’s hand, leading him out of the club. But when they got outside, a small group gathered around them and asked Sam for autographs and photos. Sam felt himself strain in his jeans and he hoped no one noticed it as he took photos and signed autographs. Once the crowd dispersed, Sam found Bucky giving him a curious look. “You some kinda big shot?” He asked.

“I’m an actor,” Sam replied. “Ever heard of the show Captain America and the Winter Soldier? I’m the Captain America part of it. My friend Steve is the Winter Soldier.”

“I don’t watch tv. Don’t get the time,” Bucky shrugged. “But I get to fuck someone famous. That’s one thing off my bucket list.”

“So that’s why you wanna fuck me?” Sam asked faking offense. “And hey, who said you get to fuck me?”

Bucky got closer to Sam and kissed him again. “Oh, you’re so gonna let me fuck you, doll.” The way Bucky says doll makes Sam shiver and bite his lips.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Sam asked.

“Nah, I can’t wait that long but I know just the place.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and led him towards the parking garage. Sam raised an eyebrow when they got to Bucky’s vehicle. “You some kinda soccer mom?” He asked looking at the Jeep SUV.

“It’s nondescript. Works well for my line of work,” Bucky shrugged. “Besides, you’re gonna thank me in a bit.”

“Your line of work? Fuck, you’re not a stay-at-home dad, are you? I don’t do married men.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed as he got into the SUV. Sam followed him. “I am not a stay-at-home dad or married,” Bucky replied.

Bucky was on him, kissing him, the second they got in.

Sam pulled away briefly to ask, “What do you do then?”

Bucky looked him right in the eyes. The red rim around his eyes was gone and his eyes turned dark as he replied. “I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets.”

Sam blinked at him before he burst out laughing. “Wow, I’m the actor, but you’re the one with the vivid imagination.”

A smirked twitched along Bucky’s lips. “What can I say? I have a boring ass job. So I’m just trying to make myself sound interesting.”

“So what do you actually do?” Sam asked. “No. Wait. Lemme guess.”

“Be my guest.”

Sam’s eyes trailed down Bucky’s body. “You’re an investment banker.”

Bucky’s eyebrow shot up at that. “So damn close… I’m a stockbroker. How did you--”

“I’m just that good.” Sam winked at him. But then a smile broke across his face and he shook his head. “I saw you with those Wall Street folks earlier. Wasn’t that hard to figure out what you did for a living.”

Bucky leaned in close and kissed Sam once again. “So smart,” he said in between the kisses. “Just the way I like ‘em. Get in the backseat.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way onto the backseat and took off his clothes. He tossed them onto the front seat and felt his cheeks heat when he noticed the way Bucky was looking at him. Bucky’s blue eyes dilated, and he licked his lips while once again staring at Sam like he was a buffet. Bucky pulled out a condom and single-use lube from his wallet and Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “You were waiting to get lucky tonight, weren’t you?”

“I just like being prepared,” Bucky replied as he got into the backseat as well. He took off his own clothes and threw them onto the driver’s seat and pulled Sam closer to ravish his lips.

Bucky was right. Sam was thankful for the fact that the vehicle was an SUV. They had enough space to fuck in the back.

When they finished, it left Sam breathless and sore, but in a good way. Bucky drove him home, and the two cuddled up naked on Sam’s bed.

“Didn’t think you’d be a cuddler…” Sam commented.

“Oh, I love to cuddle,” Bucky replied, and tightened his grip around Sam’s middle.

Sam made his head more comfortable on Bucky’s chest and kissed his pecs. “You’re gorgeous, you know that.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bucky chuckled.

Sam frowned at that. “How many guys do you pick up at the club?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?” Bucky teased and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that cause I let you fuck me,” Sam huffed.

Bucky got on top of Sam and pressed their lips together again. “Nope, I’m only saying that so that you’d let me fuck you again.” His hand moved down on the sheets and groped Sam’s ass, making him gasp.

“You asshole,” Sam said, with no heat behind his words. “Lube and condoms are in the side drawer.”

“How many guys do you bring around here?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam smirked at that. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

***

Sam woke up the next morning to a cold and lonely bed. Bucky had snuck out during the night without even saying goodbye. That made Sam hurt a little. Just a little. Huffing, Sam threw the sheets over himself and fell back asleep. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the ringing of his doorbell woke him up. Sam wanted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the person on the other end of the door was relentless.

Groaning, Sam got out of the bed and put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before making his way to the door. He threw it open and found Natasha and Steve standing there, looking equally worried.

“Oh thank god,” Steve pushed past Natasha and hugged Sam tightly.

The guy was built like a tank, and Sam struggled in his embrace. “Let me go! You’re crushing me!” Sam complained and pulled away from his friend to catch a breath. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“You disappeared last night! And then this morning there was news that someone at the club died and you wouldn’t answer your phone… we were scared!”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, your leering cokehead friend, one of his friends OD’d at the club last night.”

“Shit,” Sam hissed.

I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets. Bucky’s words rang in his ears and for a moment, Sam entertained the thought that maybe Bucky wasn’t joking after all. But he shook his head and got rid of the thought as soon as it entered his mind. There was no way Bucky was responsible for some guy overdosing. Sam was being ridiculous.

“Where did you go last night?” Natasha asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“The leering cokehead… I brought him home,” Sam replied.

“What?!” Steve screeched. “Why would you do that?”

Both Natasha and Sam gave him an exasperated look, and he threw his hands up.

“So how was he?” Natasha asked.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Sam replied.

[plus-size-reader]

Company

Huck Finnigan x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2340 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Huck developing feelings for the reader, a patient who is equally as unsure of herself as he is

—————————————————————————————————

You woke up today as you did every day, in your room at the Lucia State Psychiatric Hospital, the light blaring in through the sliver separating the curtains.

It wasn’t a remarkable life.

If anything, it was boring and routine but at the very least, it kept you from hurting yourself. Besides, living in a facility like this wasn’t always bad. The food wasn’t too bad and you were allowed to bathe yourself, as long as you behaved.

For someone like you, it was an easy life. You had been hospitalised there due to a general diagnosis of melancholy, which made your family fear for your safety. Though, you always thought they just wanted to find somewhere to send you off to.

A young woman like you, unmarried and without prospects, was little more than a burden.

Some may have been upset about being sent off to stay in an institute like this one, taken away from everything they knew and left to die, but you didn’t see too much wrong with it. For someone like you, it wasn’t awful.

You were well taken care of, and even you had to admit that you were happier within these walls than you had been out there.

Not that all that change came from staying here alone.

In all the time that you had been staying in this place, you had found quite the interesting friend in a young orderly by the name of Huck Finnegan. He was interesting to you, as he was the sort of man who took care of other people even when it was difficult.

You knew that you didn’t have that much patience in your little finger, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with it.  In fact, Huck seemed to get a special kind of joy from taking care of other people, including you.

He really seemed to like coming to see you.

He was constantly coming to visit you during the day, checking on you and making sure that you had everything you needed, which might not have seemed so strange. After all, it was his job to make sure that the patients here were taken care of.

However, while you thought that he was just doing his job at first, taking his turn to do the rounds, eventually, it was hard to believe.  

It just didn’t seem plausible.

You knew for a fact that no one else ever took his place and when his visits came so frequently, it was becoming harder and hard to dismiss it as anything other than what it was.

Huck was sweet on you.

You didn’t really understand it, of course, and you weren’t entirely sure but there didn’t seem to be too many more reasons to be so attentive to another person. You certainly had never paid such close attention to someone else, unless you cared about them.

...And while it was possible you were way off base, it was a thought you couldn’t shake.

As far as you were concerned, someone like Huck would never be interested in you.  

It didn’t make any sense to you, because you didn’t have anything to offer him.  He was selfless and kind, thinking about others at all times and if the rumors were to be believed, he always had been.

Compared to all the things he’d done and all the people he’d saved, you looked like little more than a petulant child.

All things considered, you couldn’t have imagined him finding anything about you to love but in the months that you’d been here, something had certainly developed between you.  While you weren’t sure what it was, it didn’t really matter.

You didn’t mind the company.

As far as the folks in this place went, you could have done a lot worse than a handsome war veteran.

If nothing else, he was a good person and talking to him was going to be much better for your mental state than the other patients.

Then, as if thinking about him had somehow encouraged the man’s entrance, there was a knock at your door.

“Good afternoon,  can I come in?”

His words came as similarly as they did every day, meeting your ears in tandem with his knocking on the door. Technically, he didn’t have to do you the courtesy of knocking on the door or asking for entrance at all, but it was kind of him to do so.

It was a very human gesture, one that none of the other orderlies or nurses offered you.

Still, just as you did every day, you called out in affirmation, glad to see that Huck was one again coming to check on you. Of all the staff in the Lucia State Psychiatric Hospital, he was by far your favorite.

He was just so nice and polite.

...And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was more handsome than any man you’d ever seen.

Huck’s attractiveness went much deeper than his skin, which wasn’t altogether unattractive to begin with. It was just that the person he was, the person that lived within the skin was far too darling to ever let go of.

You really weren’t sure if you’d ever met a more wonderful person in your life.

“How are you today?” he asked, stepping into the room as casually as he could and closing the door behind him. You knew that this was one of those friendly visits, because you’d already had all your checkups and medicine that you would for the day.

He didn’t have any real reason to be here, but you were just as glad to see him anyway.

“I’m as good as I could be '' you shrugged, caught somewhere between being happy to see him and wishing that you could have met under different circumstances. When you really thought about it, you must have been crazier than any of them to think he could actually like you.

You were a patient of his.

You were out of your mind.

A man like Huck would never be interested in a chubby sad sack with nothing more to live for than walking around the hospital and doodling on your arm in pen. He was a hero, a beautiful soul, and someone you couldn’t have hoped to entice.

He was too good for you.

“Yeah? You’re doing alright? No distasteful thoughts or negativity this morning?” he hummed, doing the same thing he did every day, starting at the door with his arms folded behind his back. These visits always started off as clinical and professional as possible.

Though, before long, you knew well enough to know that Huck would be cracking jokes and smiling as if the two of you were little more than lifelong friends, catching up.

It was just the way this whole thing went.

“Nope, all good here” you teased, putting on your best cheesy grin as if that would somehow convince him. You did seem to be in good spirits today, compared to when you had a bad day, but that didn’t mean you were completely out of the woods.

If it was that easy to convince him, you wouldn’t have been here in the first place.

“Really, cause you kinda have that far off look in your eye again today” he prodded, relaxing a little further, just enough to let himself sit down on the far end of your bed.

It was a more intimate stance than he would ever take with another patient, not that he was going to tell you that. There was just something about you, and he felt really comfortable when he was with you.

Naturally, that kind of comforting energy made him much more calm and casual than he may have been otherwise.

Damn it.

You really didn’t want to tell him about the dreary realization you had just made but you knew well enough to know that Huck wasn’t going anywhere until you opened up and told him what was up.

By this point in your residence here, he knew you well enough to know when you had something on your mind.

“It’s no big deal. I just thought something was happening that wasn’t” you tried, keeping it as vague as you could while still telling him enough to satisfy him.  Considering what you were here for, it was much better to just talk to him than it would be to talk to everyone else.

Nurse Ratched tried her best to be understanding of your condition, much more than Bucket ever had, but they didn’t come close to the bond you shared with Huck.

You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, for even your most embarrassing secrets, and thoughts.

He was a real friend in that way.

“Tell me” he prompted, using the guiss of his profession to get you to talk to him, though you both knew that this was more of a personal suggestion than a professional one. He wanted to bond with you, to help you be better in a real way, but it wasn’t really that easy.

Getting you to open up to him in that way would require him giving away all of his own secrets.

You sighed again, of course.

The two of you had a lot of history between you in all the time you’d been living here but in regards to the feelings you shared for one another, you just didn’t talk about it. It was much easier to just dance around them, avoiding speaking it into life at all costs.

Both of you were too terrified of rejection to put yourselves out there.

“Why do you come here to see me every day? I mean, you don’t bring anything or need to take the time out? What is it about me?” you asked, trying your best to keep your wits about you, desperately avoiding making a fool out of yourself.

From where you were sitting, it seemed like Huck could leave at any time and never come back. It just seemed like you were reading too much into this and you were scared that you were going to ruin the whole relationship you had going.

You were friends.

If you made some kind of suggestion here that offended him, there was a good chance you would hardly see him around here at all.

Huck seemed taken aback by your question at first, partially because he hadn’t been expecting it, and mostly because he wasn’t sure how to answer. After all, he knew exactly what it was about you and why he was sitting here right now, but putting it into words was hardly easy.

He hadn’t been expecting to get into this today.

“I guess I like your company” he decided, figuring that would be the best way to say it without offending you somehow.  Huck wasn’t blind to the reality of what he was, or what he looked like, and he was terrified to suggest what he was thinking.

After all, a woman like you had no real reason to ever give a man like him the time of day.

He had seen himself in the mirror. Huck was well aware of what he looked like, and he was hardly a male model. At this point in his life, he considered himself lucky to be alive, and didn’t think too much about what he looked like, until now.

Where you were concerned, he was painfully aware of his outward appearance.

The two of you had that in common, because you couldn’t imagine any man, let alone a wonderful man like Huck ever falling for someone like you. It seemed as if, at this point, the only thing you two could agree on was the fact that you couldn’t admit how you felt.

It was hardly ideal.

“Well, I enjoy your company too” you smiled, content to leave it at that. However, Huck wasn’t quite ready to just call it there.

As terrified as he was to do what he was about to do, it seemed like if there was ever going to be a time to do it, it was now.

The two of you had been doing this whole thing, dancing around your feelings for each other for months, and he didn’t want to do it anymore.

He had to know if you felt the same, and your admission just now seemed like the push he’d been waiting for.

“This might be a little forward, and forgive me if it is, but would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” Huck tried, fidgeting light with his fingers as he did his best to get the words out.

This feeling was new for him.

He was used to being uncertain sometimes and uncomfortable with certain situations but this was something else entirely.

It actually felt like his heart may burst out of his chest, it was beating so fast.

...and you weren’t much better.

The idea of what he was asking you was insane. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to, of course, dinner with Huck sounded amazing.

There was just one problem.

You couldn’t exactly hit the town whenever you felt like it.

“I would love to, but you know as well as I do that I can’t just waltz out the door” you reminded, once again put in your place.

Huck could go out and get anyone he wanted. It just didn’t make sense that he wanted to wait around here with you. You could hardly imagine how something like that would even work.

Thankfully, Huck was already way ahead of you.

He already spent more time here than he did anywhere else, and making a few adjustments to his plans on your account wasn’t going to kill him.

If it meant that the two of you could be together, he would do whatever he had to.

“You let me worry about that” he hummed, not even bothering to hide the huge grin on his face. After all this time, he’d finally done it.

Huck got the date.

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers Meeting the MC’s Family

I mean, if they have any family at all, what could they even tell them anyway? “Sorry Mom, still in Hell so I won’t make Thanksgiving but I’m doing great though!” This is another long one folks, but I lowkey kind of love it a whole lot. Sooo fun to write. One of my favorite posts so far.

Lucifer

Thinks it's a little weird that they’re so adamant to introduce their family to a literal demon but also kinda gets it. Family is the most important thing to him too.

Is very focused on making a good first impression, from image to attitude. Their approval isn’t going to do jack to stop him from being with the MC but he’d still take pride in being able to charm them for a night. Besides, if the MC cares then so does he.

Has more experience with the human world than the others so he’d know a lot of the do’s and don'ts already. They won’t need to worry about him making some kind of slip up.

Would love the irony if the MC’s family is religious at all. Christian/Jewish especially. May or may not play along with their little rituals but is going to make a lot of thinly veiled, passive-aggressive comments towards his "old man."

Would be most comfortable in a setting where there’s a lot of intellectual discussion or debate. He loves to steer a conversation down towards politics or other controversial things to get a rise out of people. The MC may need to reign him in if that’s a big no-go zone.

Isn’t really going to get along with any younger siblings the MC might have. Either he’s too stiff or too scary. If they’re looking for a playmate, look somewhere else.

Also not going to be particularly fond of any pets they have one way or another. Though he may take a shine to pitbulls or rottweilers because they remind him of Cerberus.

Mammon

You sure about this, MC? Him? Really? Are you really sure? He’s going to think they're crazy but he’s not going to refuse.

Will be so freaking excited if they’re from a well-to-do or, dare say, rich family. So much stuff to steal admire. Yeah, yeah no stealing from the MC’s family, he gets it... He’ll really try his best but it might be good to keep an eye on him.

Surprisingly though, he’s not going to be disgusted if they’re from a poor family either because the dude gets it. Money is hard to come by and things can be tough. He might even… pay... for some stuff while he’s there... You know, if he can. Don’t make a big deal out of it… He's got an image to keep.

He’ll try his best to not come off like a total scumbag and it may actually work. He’s rough around the edges but there’s plenty of chances for his better side to shine through as long as he stays on good behavior. 

They will have to be sure that he doesn’t get to talking too much because his dumbass will let it slip that he’s a demon. 

Mammon may not love kids but kids love him and any younger siblings are going to do the same. Even if he calls them little gremlins, he’ll let himself get roped into whatever game they’re playing and make it a lot of fun in the process.

Bring on the pets! He’s more of a dog person but he’ll play with a cat too. He may not be as animal-obsessed as Satan but he loves a good furry companion every once in a while.

Leviathan 

NOOOOO and you can’t make him!!! A social event involving strangers where he has to make a good impression?? Fuck no, that sounds like actual hell and he doesn’t want anything to do with it!

… But he also can’t just let the MC go back to the human world alone because what if they meet someone better than him and get reminded that they’re with a good-for-nothing otaku…? Okay he's going. But he’s going to pout about it.

His first impression is going to make him come off like a nervous wreck no matter what. There’s really no polishing this bundle of anxiety. The best he can hope for is to ride this thing out until it's done.

Will be pretty quiet and cling to the MC like a life-raft the entire night. Refuses to be left alone with their family in any capacity, he could not handle the awkward silence. If they’re going to the bathroom, then he’s going too damnit.

If they have a pretty nerdy family then he might be a bit more comfortable. Especially if any of their siblings/parents game or are into anime. Steering conversation more towards his comfort zones will help him out a lot...

If they have little siblings who play a lot of video games then he is going to be the coolest person in the world. Period. He knows all the best strategies to practically any game out there, demonic or human. He may even loosen up a little bit and start smiling if he gets to wow an audience with his gaming prowess!

Like Lucifer he’s not going to be all that impressed with pets either way. He’ll think fish are pretty neat and probably even reptiles too but don’t expect him to get too cuddly with a dog or anything.

Satan

Doesn’t hate the idea but agrees that his name is going to have to change if they’re really serious about it. “Hey everybody this is my boyfriend, Satan!” is only going to be appealing to very niche circles...

Like Lucifer, he's going to be mindful of how he comes across. He'd rather the MC's family likes him than didn't, even if it's irrelevant, so expect him to be very polite and sociable. Damn near the perfect gentleman.

… Until something/someone sets off his temper. He may not go full Wrath on the situation but it's probably best to get him out of the room real quick so he can cool down.

Would love if the MC comes from an super educated family but it’s not a must. He's the kind of guy who will ask a lot of questions about any person's profession/skills and how things work regardless of background. He's curious that way.

Either way, he is going to show off his smarts and make sure that their family knows where his intellect is at. He wants them to know that the MC picked someone with a good head on their shoulders, after all.

Best keep him away from small children and bratty teens. He isn't exactly opposed to kids, but it takes one little shit to set him off and NO ONE looks good yelling at someone else's kid. Deserved or not.

Will there be cats? Do you have a cat? Please say you have a cat! He's okay with dogs too but if the MC has a cat this man will be ecstatic. The cat will love him and he will love it right back. Honestly, he's already adopted it. It's his now. Who's MC?

Asmodeus

Baby, you can take him anywhere and he’ll be the life of the party! A little family gathering doesn’t matter to him.

Is going to make sure that the moment he walks through the door the MC's family is in awe of what a catch they've got for themselves. He wants them to be proud of their little MC! To him, that translates to looking good and being fun!

Hope this is a house used to physical affection because he will not (and probably cannot) turn it off. Everyone gets hugs. Everyone.

Extra affectionate the whole night. He'll hold the MC's hand or arm or waist or really any part he can get away with. Kisses on the head and cheek aplenty. He may also lowkey butter up their parents with loads of compliments no matter what situation they're in.

If he's told to cool it on the touching though, he may get offended.

Is going to be better with teenage siblings than little, little ones. The man lives to give dating advice, fashion tips, or makeovers, you name it. Though he has to be careful to mention just human products and not some of the stuff he has back home.

Animal fur on his clothes? After he dressed himself so carefully?? No thanks. You can have your cute puppy or your little kitty. He'll take pictures, but he's probably not going pet much.

Beelzebub

Is honestly kind of honored by the suggestion. The MC is already a part of his family so it only seems natural to make him part of theirs. Though he has some reservations, mostly around his appetite...

He doesn't go up to the human world very much because it's really hard for him to stay fed. He's well-known enough in the Devildom that restaurants know what to expect when he walks in. Not so much up there.

Arrange the meeting around a state fair, festival, or carnival where the food is plentiful and he's golden. Hopefully their family won't be too disturbed by how bottomless his stomach is…

Beel is a sweetheart through and through but his lack of knowledge about how the human world, or humans in general, work might come back to bite him. He may need a little 101 about human manners before going.

Truthfully, their family is in for a real treat! This giant may look intimidating, but he's as gentle as they come. The kind of guy who will carry their grandmother’s bags with a smile on his face just for the sake of being helpful. 10/10 Sweetie, mother will approve.

Ooooh little kids are going to love Beel. He'll let their siblings hang off of him like a jungle gym. Will also play games with them if they want him to. Doesn't matter to him, their family is his family too and he wants to see them all happy.

Man wants dogs. Preferably big ones that he can rough-house with but little dogs he can cuddle work too. Do remind him that he can't just rip a whole-ass branch off a tree to play fetch like you could with Cerberus.

Belphegor

Really? You want that? Lol, okay but no promises. This is pretty much the equivalent of sticking two unlabeled chemicals together in a beaker and leaning in to see what happens. Who knows, but now you're stuck in the middle of it.

He's not going to try especially hard to make a good impression or change himself in any way. If their family is into people who are kind of chill and sarcastic then he'll get along swimmingly. If they were expecting more of a Satan type, yeah. No. He's not holding open any doors.

Won't be taking the whole thing all that seriously to be honest, like, what are a bunch of humans going to do if they don’t like him? Tell MC? They're certainly not going to be able to make him leave. He's humoring them at best, even if he's nice, so why bother fussing about it?

Might be a disrespectful little troll at times like pretending to fall asleep or making casual jokes like "Oh no, ma'am. I'm not all that comfortable with that cross over there because I'm a demon. …. Got ya, didn’t I? That'd be silly." *shit-eating grin*

Would appreciate a quiet, slightly introverted family the most. He's going to start getting annoyed if people in the house are too loud and may speed the whole thing along as a result.

Kids are things he'd rather avoid than have to interact with, but if pressed he will humor the little ones too. Don't expect him to do a whole lot of moving, though. If they're happy to just show him things that he can semi-pay attention to, that works for him.

MC has a pet? Is it fluffy? Is it lazy? Bring'em here. Like Beel, he likes big dogs but would rather just bury his face in fluff than try to wrestle it. He may actually fall asleep with them if they lay still enough for it.

[bechloeislegit]

BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 3

Break Up And/Or Make Up

It's been a year since Beca signed with DJ Khaled and moved to Los Angeles. It's been the same amount of time since Beca has seen or heard from Chloe.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and Beca was sitting in her L.A. home. She was on the phone with Aubrey and they were talking about Chloe.

"So, they broke up," Beca said. "Did she say why?"

"Not really," Aubrey said. "She just said they broke up and she was coming home."

"Does coming home mean going to Tampa?" Beca asked. "Or to you?"

"Actually, she said she was going to L.A.," Aubrey replied.

"What? Why?" Beca asked, sitting up. "I thought she'd want to be comforted by her family or her best friend."

"She said she wanted to be with her best friend," Aubrey said. "And the best friend she was talking about is you."

"If I'm the one she thinks of as her best friend in this scenario, why haven't I heard from her in almost a year?"

"I, um, I don't know the answer to that," Aubrey said. "But, I do know she feels bad that she hasn't reached out to you."

"She feels so bad that she can call and text you and the rest of the Bellas without any problem, just not me," Beca said, the anger in her voice evident. "Call her and tell her not to bother. She'd be better off visiting you."

"Beca," Aubrey said.

"No, Aubrey," Beca interrupted. "You always do this. You always take her side no matter what. I am not her best friend, she has made that abundantly clear by not talking to me for the past year. And since she'll still text you and take your calls, you get to tell her to stay away from me."

"I can't," Aubrey said.

"Yes, you can," Beca said.

"No, Beca," Aubrey said. "I really can't. She's already in L.A. And, she should be at your door, um, soonish."

"You gave her my address?" Beca asked, her voice rising. "And what the fuck do you mean by soonish?"

There was a knock on Beca's door and her head jerked over to look at the door as if it had offended her somehow.

"Soonish as in. . .now?" Aubrey replied.

"Of course, she's here now," Beca muttered and ended the call before Aubrey could say anything else.

Beca stood and stared at the door, jumping slightly when there was another knock.

Beca threw her phone on the table and contemplated pretending she wasn't home when another insistent knock came.

"Dammit," Beca muttered as she walked to the door.

Beca took a deep breath and let it out before opening the door. Chloe hadn't realized Beca had opened the door and was standing before Beca with furrowed brows staring down at her phone.

Beca waited, and Chloe raised her hand as if to knock again, looking up at the same time and finally noticing Beca standing there staring at her.

"Oh, um, h-hey, Beca," Chloe said, putting her phone in her pocket. "Brey just texted that she told you I was coming. I was hoping to surprise you."

"Trust me, I am surprised," Beca said and continued to look at Chloe.

"So, are you going to invite me in?" Chloe asked, waving her hand toward the inside of Beca's house.

"Oh, how rude of me to leave you standing there when you showed up unexpectedly at my door after a year with no contact whatsoever," Beca said sarcastically. "Please, do come in."

Beca stood aside to let Chloe in.

"I guess I deserved that," Chloe mumbled as she pulled her suitcases inside.

"So, what do you want, Chloe?"

"Oh, I guess we're going to forego the nice to see you formalities and jump right in," Chloe mumbled. She cleared her throat and said, "I was hoping I could stay here for a little while."

Beca opened her mouth to say something when she heard her phone ping with a text notification. She sighed.

"Excuse me," Beca said and left Chloe standing by the door as she walked over to check her phone.

"It figures," Beca muttered as she looked to find a text from Aubrey.

Please don't kick her out. She says she's fine but I can tell she's not. Talk to her.

Beca sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She texted back.

Fine. She can stay here but that doesn't mean I have to talk to her.

Beca turned back to Chloe, who had been looking around while Beca checked her phone.

"You have a nice place," Chloe said.

"Thanks," Beca said and put on her best phony smile. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

Chloe's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thanks, Beca. I really do appreciate this."

"It's not like I had much choice," Beca thought.

"Follow me," Beca said aloud and walked toward the stairs.

Chloe grabbed her luggage and followed Beca.

~~ BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 3 ~~

After showing Chloe to her room, Beca went back down to the living room so Chloe could unpack. She sat thinking about the last time she saw Chloe.

Beca's eyes widened when Chloe walked past without looking at her. She felt the tears stinging her eyes when Chloe grabbed Chicago's tie and pulled him into a clichéd movie-ending-guy-gets-the-girl kiss.

It hurt like Hell, but she couldn't look away. Beca was thankful that it was only a few seconds later when Theo came up to her and pulled her away so she didn't have to watch anymore.

Beca looked for Chloe at the after-party, but she was nowhere to be found. Beca didn't want to know what Chloe was doing, but the kiss kept playing over and over in Beca's mind so she had a pretty good idea. It didn't help that the girls were all going on and on about what Chloe and Chicago were up to.

The next day, after a sleepless night, Beca was up early and she looked and felt like Hell. She was surprised to see all the Bellas waiting to say goodbye when she reached the lobby. Well, all the Bellas except for Chloe. Beca was flying out immediately to Los Angeles with Khaled to begin her new career.

Beca hugged Aubrey last and then nonchalantly looked around.

"I haven't seen her," Aubrey whispered to Beca. "None of us has since she went off with Chicago last night."

"Figures," Beca said bitterly. "It would have been nice if she'd at least hopped off his dick long enough to say goodbye. So much for her always being there for her best friend."

"I'm sorry, Beca," Aubrey said.

"Stop," Beca said, sighing. "This is on me. I don't know why I'm letting it get to me. I knew she would find somebody she wanted to be with sooner or later; I just didn't expect it to hurt so much."

"I'm sure she'll be upset that she missed saying goodbye," Aubrey said. "And then she'll blow up your phone apologizing for it."

"I highly doubt that," Beca said. She turned and faced the Bellas. "I'll see you nerds around. Don't be strangers."

The girls hugged Beca one last time before Theo grabbed Beca's suitcases and led her out of the hotel.

Now, a year later, Chloe was staying in her guest room. And Beca doesn't know how she's supposed to feel about that.

~~ BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 3 ~~

Chloe sat on the bed in Beca's guest room, looking around. It was nice and Chloe thought she made the right decision to come straight to Beca's after her breakup with Chicago.

Chloe expected Beca would be angry with her, especially after breaking off all communication for the past year. What she didn't expect was such a cold reception from Beca. Not even a hug, or an 'it's good to see you' or 'I missed you.' But, if she was honest with herself, she knew she deserved it.

Chloe took full ownership of her role in Beca's current attitude toward her. After all, she was the one who avoided Beca the morning she flew off with DJ Khaled and she was also the one who broke off all communication with Beca. It was the only way she knew to help her get over her feelings for Beca. Too bad it didn't work out that way.

Chloe sighed and began unpacking her suitcases. She had put most of her clothes away when she saw the photo sitting on the bottom of the last suitcase. She lifted it out and sat down on the bed as she stared at it.

The photo was taken during their trip to Copenhagen for the Worlds. It showed a smiling Beca and Chloe as they stood facing each other under an umbrella. It was one of Chloe's fondest memories of Beca and their time together.

Chloe took the photo and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed. She smiled at the photo and continued putting her things away.

Once Chloe was finished unpacking, she took a deep breath and let it out before exiting the bedroom to go in search of Beca.

~~ BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 3 ~~

Beca was sitting on the sofa, her brows furrowed as she bit her lip when Chloe found her.

"Hey," Chloe said, causing Beca to look at her.

"Why are you here?" Beca blurted out. "I mean you could have gone home to your folks, or even to Aubrey's. Why did you come here?"

"Wow, she's angrier than I thought," Chloe thought. She cleared her throat and said, "Um, do you mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead," Beca said, waving her hand at the sofa.

Chloe sat and faced Beca. She took a deep breath and blurted out, "I broke up with Chicago."

"I'm aware of that," Beca said. "Aubrey already told me. But that wasn't my question. Why are you here? In L.A.? In my house?"

"Because you are kind of one of the reasons we broke up," Chloe said.

"Me?" Beca exclaimed. "I haven't even spoken to you or been around you for a year. How can I be the reason you broke up with him?"

"Just because I haven't seen or talked to you," Chloe said sighing. "Doesn't mean you weren't still present in my mind. And I'm not really blaming you; you were just part of the reason."

"Sounded like you were blaming me," Beca grumbled.

"I wasn't, I swear," Chloe said quickly. "Okay, so the first few months with Chicago were good. Then your song Freedom came out and I couldn't stop talking about it or you. Then when you did that video for the Cups song, it got worse. I missed you and was so proud of you, Beca, I couldn't help but talk about you. I guess Chicago got tired of hearing your name, and after a while, all we did was argue. Not about you, but about everything. I wasn't happy, he wasn't happy. He started to stay out late or not come home at all. I couldn't do it anymore so I told him I was coming home and he didn't do anything to stop me."

"Did he cheat on you?" Beca asked.

"I honestly don't know," Chloe said with tears in her eyes. "But, I think he did. That's the main reason I decided to come home. I couldn't trust him anymore."

Beca sighed as she watched a tear fall down Chloe's cheek. She slid over and wrapped her arms around Chloe. Beca held Chloe and let her cry it out.

~~ BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 3 ~~

Chloe had been staying at Beca's for two months. They had settled into their old ways and were enjoying being around each other again. During the day, Beca would go into the studio to work on her album while Chloe made her way around town trying to find a job. They'd always meet up at night to have dinner together.

It was Thursday, and Beca dragged herself home. It had been a long, grueling day as she and Theo clashed, yet again, over the last two songs she wanted on her debut album.

Beca ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath; her eyes widened and she moaned at the delicious aroma that assaulted her olfactory senses. Suddenly, she realized that soft music was coming from the dining room, mixed in with what sounded like Chloe moving around.

Beca made her way to the dining room, walking in to find Chloe setting a bowl of roasted potatoes and carrots in the middle of the table. Next to them, she saw a platter with a pot roast. It was her favorite home-cooked meal.

"What's all this?" Beca asked, causing Chloe to jump. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," Chloe said, smiling at Beca. "I didn't hear you come in. Please sit."

"This looks and smells amazing," Beca said, sitting down at the table. "What's the occasion?"

"I just wanted to do something nice for you," Chloe said, taking the chair next to Beca. "As a thank you for taking me in and letting me stay here."

"I appreciate all this," Beca said, motioning at the food. "But, it's not really necessary; you've already thanked me several times."

"I know," Chloe said, nervously chewing on her lip. "Chicago called me today. He apologized for cheating on me."

Beca huffed. "So, that's what this is," Beca said icily. "You're going back to Chicago, knowing he cheated on you and you want me to be okay with it?"

"Oh, God no," Chloe said, grimacing. "I'm not going to be with someone who cheats on me. He did try and talk me into going back to him, but I told him no."

"Then why are we even talking about this?" Beca asked.

"Because there's something I need to tell you," Chloe said, taking a deep breath before blurting out, "The reason I told Chicago no, is because I'm in love with you."

Beca's face went blank. The only sign that she heard Chloe was the rapid blinking of Beca's eyes as she stared somewhere over Chloe's left shoulder.

"Beca? Are you okay?"

No response.

Chloe patted Beca on the knee saying, "Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready."

Chloe got up and walked into the living room, picking up a few magazines from the coffee table before returning to her seat at the dining room table. She casually flipped through one magazine, glancing up at Beca every so often.

Chloe was just closing another magazine when Beca took it from her and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Becs?"

Beca stared into Chloe's eyes and gently put both hands on Chloe's face, pulling her to her and crashing her lips into Chloe's. Chloe whimpered and put her hands on Beca's to hold her in place.

Their lips moved in sync with each other, before Beca gently pulled back, smiling at Chloe. Chloe smiled back as a tear ran down her cheek. Beca used her thumb to brush the tear away.

"I'm in love with you, too," Beca said, smiling as she claimed Chloe's lips again.

[ashisstrange]

MASTERLIST

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ: ².²ᵏ

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵍˢ: ʰᵘʳᵗ/ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿˢᵉʳᵗ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Its late in the night, far too late for your liking. The moon is glistening in the sky with it's stars, providing a small sheen of light in your dark room, passing through the curtains. It's not unusual for Tartaglia to get home late considering his occupation, but you never got used to the worry pooling in ur gut each hour that passes without him by your side.

What if he's gotten incredibly hurt and you're not there to help? What if one day he doesn't return home? Nontheless you always prepare extra dinner and make the bed, even on nights he doesn't return. You never had the idea of coming home to loving arms and warm dinner as a kid, so it felt as if it's your duty to make sure Tartaglia never suffers that feeling.

The feeling of a stab in the chest as you enter the dark house, eerily silent. You'd always pad your way to the kitchen silently and snag a sandwich before going to bed in your room. Your living situation had never been inherently bad, but the people you lived with, the people any other person would've called their parents, seemed to make everything unbearable.

That is why when you turned 18 you moved out to Liyue harbor, and your close friend Zhongli was there every step of the way. You had run into him once during a trip at the age of 16, and you had kept contact through letters ever since.

The man, at the time, told you he was 23, but he never really seemed to age. You brushed it off, probably overthinking it. That is the same person that introduced you to Childe, it was quite a sudden occurence, but you'll be forever grateful.

You needed a place to stay and your friend told you that his friend wouldnt mind a roommate, and that he was rarely found home anyways. You took up the offer, not knowing that your roommate would be one of the fatui harbingers.

You were off to a rocky start, the man refusing to talk to you the very few times he was at the appartment. Later though, he seemed to warm up to you, ever so slowly.

You don't remember how your relationship ever came to be, it's not like you've ever explicitly put a label to it. There was just a moment where you felt as if everything changed. What you had wasn't just merely a romantic relationship, it was more than that. To provide each other comfort and love like no one else had ever done before. Unconditional love that didnt seem to falter, even during the moments where you parted ways.

You smile to yourself, remeniscing the days you barely talked, and the days you spent helping him when he was wounded. There was one particular night he just crashed into your bed in the middle of the night, even though he usually only used the couch.

He had clung to you as if you were his only lifeline, sleeping soundlessly as you laid in shock. The shock died down after a few seconds though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Not long after you fell asleep too, and since that night Tartaglia had never slept on the couch ever again.

You check th clock. 4:37 Am, way too late to be up, but it's not like you'd sleep regardless. You'd probably get an ear full from Zhongli during your scheduled lunch the next day, but that, folks, is something for future you to deal with.

Suddenly you heard the turning of keys in a lock, and a door opening and slamming shut. That can only be one person. Then you heard a crash coming from the living room, making you shoot up. You slipped on your slippers as you quickly shuffled your way across the room and out into the living room.

You flicked on the light and were met by Tartaglia, slumped against the back of the couch. His bow was discarded to the side and he was breathing heavily. Sluggishly, his eyes opened to meet yours, his gaze seemed distant, almost empty.

You snapped out of your trance, rushing to pull his arm over your shoulder. You managed to drag him across the living room, over to the bathroom, settling him down on the closed lid of the toilet. You held up your hands, as if to say 'wait here'. You didn't dare break the silence that hung over you, scared that you'd set him off or something.

He didn't seem to protest, so you left to go get the med kit from the kitchen, and a clean rag to clean off the blood splattered across his skin. Was it his? That was a question that, regardless if you could guess the answer, would be left unanswered. As always.

He met your eyes when you returned, seeking for some contact. He knew how much you hated blood. The stickyness, the sickening smell and the thought of what must have happened that involved getting covered in blood. You always helped him regardless, and he thanked you dearly for that. After a long day he simply could not do it himself.

It makes him feel helpless, but you're always right by his side to make him feel better. You wet the rag, cleaning off his calloused hands. His face too had some traces of blood, but those were easily wiped away as well.

After some emergency stitches and a bandage around his bicep you motioned for him to stand up, letting him know that the treatment was done. He was still quite weak, but not as much as before.

"Thanks," he croaked, the first words you shared in 2 days. His voice sounded devoid of any confidence. He seemed very fragile, but you didn't comment it.

"No worries," You send him a reassuring smile, helping him get up and over to the bedroom. You see him visibly relax once he's in bed, snuggling into the sheets. He immediately rolls over towards you when he feels the matress dip, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His face is buried in between your shoulder blades, and it's nearly impossible for you to turn over and look at him. He only does that when he's in a bad mood, and you stop putting in effort to try and face him.

"Bad day?" He hums, the vibrations thrumming against your back. He seems tense, but you're careful not to trigger him too much. The last thing you want is to stress him out even more, knowing he has a lot on his plate already.

After a while, when you've started nodding away assuming he fell asleep you suddenly feel movement behind you. You open your eyes as you hear a small sniffle. It's almost as if you could hear your hart shatter from beneath your ribs. He probably thought you were asleep too.

His arms had relaxed, allowing you to turn around easily. His ocean blue eyes met yours, big with surprise, even though they seemed almost grey-ish in the faint moonlight. All you could do is smile at him as you opened his arms, for him to rely on you.

And that's exactly what he did. qHe fell into your chest, sniffling and crying freely as you drew patterns on his back, your other hand running through his hair. You could almost feel his clogged nose by the way he was having trouble breathing. After a bit his sobbing eased down to mere sniffles as you handed him a handkerchief to blow out his nose.

He used to have a lot of trouble with that, relying on people. Upon meeting him he imediately sparked you as the type of person that didnt bother anyone with his personal feelings, bottling them up for only him to experience. You could see how it physically and mentally ate away at him

That's why one day you faced him, and opened your arms. He had quirked up a brow, confused at what you were insinuating. "Rely on me." You said, and he chuckled, assuming it was a joke.

When you didn't move he realised you weren't kidding. Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, the man tense in your grip. "You don't seem to want to bug anyone else with your problems, so you can rely on me instead,"

You had no idea ho much those words had meant to him, they stuck by him like gum under a shoe. It felt good, he admitted, to have someone to rely on.

"I'm so sorry," He croaks, and he sounds nearly as small as he did in the bathroom half an hour ago, his eyes red with tears. Seeing him like that made your chest clench in pain, knowing the pain the world has caused him.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," he seems to be taken aback by your comment, maybe even... offended?

"N-no way, i'm clearly a burden to you and a waste of yo-" you shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, making his eyes widen.

"You have nothing to apologize for because i am here for you, willingly. I promised to help you with whatever you're going through didn't i," He nods in defeat, leaning back into you. The way he cuddles up to you almost seems domestic, forgetting the fact that he kills people for a living.

"You need to take a break sweetie, otherwise you'll just keep eating yourself up," You stroke a lock of hair out of his face that nearly seemed glued by the stickyness of his tears. He furrows his brows, creating deep creases in between them.

"You know i can't, there's way too much for me to do," He looks up at you, as if he's offended you brought it up in the first place. You press your thumb in between his brows, easing up the crease and stopping him from furrowing.

"We both know it isn't a crime to take a week off, considering you've never used your days off," He tries to butt in, but you shush him before he can start. "And before you start about 'your duties', there's enough harbingers at the fatui, it's not like they can't send Scaramouche to deal with your business for a bit,"

He frowns again, but you resume in stroking his hair. "Besides, if they don't allow you to take off, which i highly doubt, they'll have me to deal with," You smirk. His eyes crinkle up as he musters a small smile. You're not the most intimidating person on the planet, but it's the sentiment that matters.

"What would i even do in that week though," he huffs, fiddling with the back of your shirt as he seems deep in thought.

"Well i had just the idea," you chuckle as he looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are still a bleary red, but you can tell he's a lot less tense than earlier. "And that is..." He continues, his tone ever so curious.

"Say, how long has it been since you've been back home," he visibly tenses up, not meeting your eyes. You know its a sensetive topic, but it'd really do him good to go back home to see his family.

"I dont know, nearly two years," his voice is merely above a whisper, bless the fact that the room is so silent you'd be able to hear a pin drop. You adjust your position so that he's laying against you more comfortably, going back to stroking through his hair.

"Well i thought we could book it to shnezhynaiya for a week or two, spend some time with your family," He lays still against you, as if he'd break if he moved. "After all, they've only heard about me through letters," you chuckle.

You hold him a little tighter, leaning into the warmth. "Wouldn't you like that?" You say in his ear, just above a whisper. That seems to break him, the realisation dawning on him that he'd get to see his family again.  Tears run down his face once again, only this time they're not caused by distress. He nods as he buries his face back into your shoulder.

You stroke his back as you continue talking about your trip, soothing him. Later, when he's stopped crying, he talks along. He tells you about his parents, about how his mother used to be there for him through everything. About how he used to go ice fishing with his father in the winters, and proudly mention he caught a very big fish once.

He also tells you about his siblings, about how he cares for every single one of them very dearly. He also tells you about the spots he wants to visit with you he used to hang out at.

He tells you all about it, and for the first time in a while you see him smile. Really, genuinely smile. The kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bares his teeth. It's an incredibly endearing sight, and u make a mental note to never forget it.

Suddenly he yawns. "You must be exhausted," you chuckle as you both adjust your positions, ready to fall asleep. He only hums as he keeps his eyes shut, pulling up his blanket. His breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

You smile as you look at his resting face, snuggling closer to him as you think; god, how did i get this lucky

[superdillin]

Here, have an angsty fic about a werewolf and a vampire in love

“Are you absolutely sure?” 

I asked this again, even though I knew quite well that he was. Patrick spent the better part of the last two months, night after night under the overhang of my front porch explaining exactly how sure he was about this. I was not.

When we first met, I was technically still human. The strange wolves that mauled me had run off, spooked by the sound of the shotgun I could just barely fire. Though I’d driven them away, the damage was done, and at the time I simply thought I was dying. I couldn’t find the strength to lift my bloodied legs to call for help; instead, I lit a cigarette from my shirt pocket and cried. 

That’s when he appeared. I remember him coming into view so fast, eyes inhumanly dark, I assumed he was the reaper here to carry me off to whichever afterlife turned out to be real. He later told me that it was the smell of my blood in the air that carried him there, that he just about finished the wolves’ work for them before he caught himself. All I remember is that he knelt at my side and the black of his eyes turned human again. 

“What was it that got you, friend?” He’d said. 

“Wolves.”

He shook his head, and scanned me, curiously, “We don’t have wolves here.”

“I know,” I remember thinking that by some miracle a doctor found me just by happenstance. But I lost that bit of hope when he looked to me and smiled in the way folks do when they are trying to protect you. 

“You’re going to be fine,” 

I scoffed at him aloud, offended that he would try to make me feel better. Just let me grieve in the minutes I have left, I thought. But he touched my arm and repeated again.

“No, truly, I’ve seen this before. A few times. You’re actually going to be fine.” He sounded relieved. Strange, since he didn’t know me then. But he was celebrating. “Trust me, before the moon sets you’ll be right as rain. You’ll be different. But you’ll be alive. What’s your name?” 

“Charlie.” 

No part of what he said made sense to me. In fact, no part of what happened made a single lick of sense. Between the frenzied wolves in my backyard, the devil-eyed man materializing beside me, and the fact that I felt comforted by his presence, I could not tell which part of this was most strange. And that’s when the change began. 

He stayed beside me there as the wolf’s curse shot through me, healing my wounds and twisting my bones, tearing me apart and making me whole. Through the searing pain and dizzying panic, I caught glimpses of his face. He stayed, still there, unflinching. 

Patrick was gone when I woke under the midmorning sun, confused and scared but just as he said, perfectly alive. When he returned that night he explained as best he could what I was now. He encouraged me to try to find the wolves that did it, “A little resentment now is better than a lifetime alone,” he’d said with heat behind the words. After hours, I finally found the courage to ask the question burning a hole in my chest. 

“Now that I know what I am, will you tell me what you are?”

“A monster,” he said without dramatics. I remember even then the strangest pull to disagree. 

I can scarcely count the nights to follow that he did not come to visit. As soon as the sun would set he’d be there, with a century-old book or an antique trinket with a story to share. For as much as we talked, he never fully explained his condition outright. That part I pieced together on my own.

He kept nudging me, gently, to seek out others with my curse. I’d ask him if he ever did the same and he would twinge. “No good can come when monsters gather.”

“We gather every night,” I said with acid on my tongue.

But he laughed with confidence and reassured, “There’s nothing monstrous about a wolf, or any living thing.” 

I took his advice after half a dozen full moons, heading off into the woods to find the ones who cursed me. They were ashamed, to my surprise, and again and again repeated they were simply glad I was alive. I told them it was fine, that Patrick had been by my side. That was when they gave the news that I could somewhat turn him, too. 

“If it’s something that he would want,” she said. “Vampires sometimes do.”

Two months of his persuading later I asked again, “Are you absolutely sure?” and he groaned.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure, to have a break from this monster? Anything is worth one day alive each month.”

For near a year I held my tongue but today I finally disagreed out loud. “You’ve never been a monster. Not to me.”

[thebadgerclan]

The Dragon and The Fox: Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Receptions and honeymoons...

@autumnbabylon

Last chapter, thank you for reading!

The reception was being held in the ballroom just across the hall from the one in which the ceremony was held.  All the guests had made their way into the reception, leaving Nikolai and Zoya alone for the first time all day.  He looked at his wife, Saints, he thought, my wife!, taking in her radiant, unearthly beauty. Zoya’s face was dusted with a faint pink blush, her lips turned up in a smile.  Her wedding ring, which she and Nikolai had exchanged privately after the ceremony, was silver, a dragon and a fox engraved in the metal, a matching one on her husband’s left hand.

“I love you,” she said, making Nikolai smile.  “I’ve never been happier than I am right now.”  Nikolai pulled his wife into his arms, kissing her deeply, chest flush with hers.  “As I love you, my darling.  I love you more than any words could possibly hope to convey.”  Zoya giggled, taking Nikolai’s offered arm, walking with him across the hall into the reception.  Guards stationed outside the door bowed to the royal couple before opening the double doors, which now bore a golden dragon rather than the Lantsov double-eagle.

“Her Royal Highness, Queen Zoya Nazyalensky!” an attendant announced as they entered.  “And His Royal Highness, Prince Nikolai Lantsov!”  Their guests rose and applauded as they entered, Zoya waving and smiling, Nikolai doing the same.  The newlyweds made their way to the table at the head of the ballroom, which was intimately set for two.  Nikolai pulled Zoya’s chair out for her before taking his own seat, taking his wife’s hand in his, pressing a kiss to it.

Servants swarmed the room, serving a meal of roasted quail, vegetables with herbs, freshly baked bread, and Kerch wine.  Nikolai held Zoya’s hand through the meal, his gaze more on her than on his plate.  He pressed kisses to her cheek every few minutes, whispered in her ear, making her smile and laugh into her glass.  Anyone with eyes could see how in love their monarchs were, how deep their devotion to one another ran.  When most of their guests had finished their meals, Nikolai rose, and the room fell silent.

“I want to begin by thanking you all for being here today,” he said, smiling.  “Zoya and I are so happy you all could be here, your presence means the world to us.”  Nikolai turned, looking at his wife, whose cheeks pinked yet again.  “Zoya Nazyalensky: my general, my queen, and now, my wife.  If I would have told you three years ago that I would be your husband, you would have laughed in my face, and probably slapped me.  And yet, here we are, and I have never been happier, never been more in love than I am in this moment.

“You saw me at my worst, at my weakest, and yet, you never shied away.  You stayed by my side and helped me when I needed you most.  Zoya, milaya, you are my strength, my comfort, my other half.  I love you so much, my darling, and I will love you for the rest of my life.”  The guests let out a collective “aww”, and Nikolai offered Zoya his hand.  “Might I offer you a dance, my bride?”  Gracefully, Zoya rose to her feet, taking her husband’s hand.  She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him, making him flush.  “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Nikolai led his bride to the dance floor, bowing to her.  Zoya laughed, curtseying in return.  “You, my love,” he said, taking her hand in his, his other arm winding around her middle, resting on the small of her back.  “Are the only woman I will ever bow to.”  “And you are the only man I will ever curtsey to.”  Zoya took his hand, her other hand on his shoulder, looking at Nikolai with all the love in the world.  The small orchestra began to play, and Nikolai and Zoya began to dance.

Swaying in time with the music, gazing into each other’s eyes, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only Zoya, Nikolai, and the love and adoration they had for each other.  Zoya released Nikolai’s hand, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he put his arms around her middle, pulling her closer to him.  “Your necklace,” he said, noticing the wire ship for the first time.  “Is that…?”  “Your ship.  Yes, it is.”  Nikolai’s heart squeezed.  His wife, his perfect, beautiful wife had taken an absentminded creation and made it into something beautiful.  She always did.

The song ended, and Nikolai tipped Zoya’s chin up and kissed her, long and sweet.  For once, she didn’t care that her affection was on display for all to see.  It was her wedding day, and if she wanted to kiss her husband, then that’s what she’d do.  Nikolai led her back to their table, offering her a flute of champagne, which Zoya took with a smile.  Cocktails were being made and handed around now, the guests thoroughly enjoying themselves.  When the musicians struck up a traditional Ravkan folk dance, Zoya beamed, practically dragging Nikolai back onto the dance floor.

Other couples had reacted similarly, pulling their partners onto the floor, laughing and smiling.  Zoya had learned this dance when she first came to the Little Palace, and Nikolai had learned it while at the front.  The steps were fast paced, involving spins, twirls, and jumps, but both the bride and groom were smiling ear to ear as they danced.  It was a sight to see: the queen spinning around the dance floor with her people, her white skirts fluttering along with the rainbow of silks of her guests.

The dance came to a close, and Nikolai decided to put his own twist on it, pulling Zoya into his arms before dipping her, making her squeal in shock.  When he righted her, he kissed her, smiling against her lips.  “That was fun,” he said, and Zoya nodded, kissing him again.  The orchestra continued to play, a mixture of slow and fast songs, but the queen and her prince retreated back to their table, where various nobles and dignitaries came to greet them, all offering congratulations.  Dessert came and went, a luscious chocolate cake with raspberry filling, and when the orchestra began playing a final slow song, Nikolai pressed a kiss to Zoya’s forehead.

“One last dance, liymibaya?”  Zoya smiled and stood, following Nikolai back onto the dance floor.  This dance, while slow and romantic, was different from their first dance: Zoya’s head rested on Nikolai’s shoulder, his arms tight around his waist, Nikolai’s chin rested atop his wife’s head, hand rubbing up and down her back, the other resting on her hip.  This was more intimate, the couple hardly moving as they gently swayed back and forth.  In her husband’s embrace, everything in Zoya’s world felt right.  She was happy, she was unreally in love, and she knew Nikolai felt the same.

Guests were filtering out, back to their suites or coaches, but Zoya and Nikolai remained in each other’s arms, the queen’s eyes shut contentedly.  Nikolai pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, heart feeling like it could burst.  When the orchestra finished the song, Zoya lifted her head, eyes meeting her husband’s.  “I love you, sobachka,” she said, pulling him down into a kiss.  “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”  Those five words brought tears to Nikolai’s eyes, and he bent to kiss his wife yet again.

“Zoya, I am yours, and I will be for the rest of my life.  I love you, I love you so much.  My Zoya, how I adore you.”  She pressed herself into Nikolai’s chest, and he held her close, kissing the crown of her head.  Genya appeared at their side, clearing her throat softly to get their attention.  “I hate to interrupt, but the coach is ready.”  The newlyweds smiled, and Zoya stepped back from Nikolai.  “I’ll be back,” she said, pecking his cheek once more before leaving the ballroom with Genya.  Nikolai smiled, making his way back to the guest suite he’d stayed in last night to change.

His dress uniform was neatly hung in the wardrobe, replaced by comfortable yet formal travelling clothes.  Once he was changed, Nikolai went to wait for his bride in the entrance hall to the Grand Palace.  Zoya appeared moments later, her extravagant gown swapped for a simple silver dress, her blue kefta overtop.  Her tiara was gone, and her hair fell in loose curls down her back, but the ship necklace remained.  Soft leather boots adorned her feet, and when she was near enough, Zoya pulled Nikolai down for a kiss.

“Are you ready?”  “I am,” the queen replied, taking Nikolai’s hand and exiting the palace.  The royal coach was ready and waiting, a team of 6 white mares whinnying where they stood.  Genya embraced her friend, a wide smile on her face.  “Have a good time,” she said.  “Be safe.”  “We will,” Zoya promised, Nikolai coming to her side.  “Don’t ruin my country while I’m gone.”  Genya laughed.  “I’ll do my best.”  Nikolai helped his wife into the coach, sliding in next to her, shutting the door and rapping the roof twice.  They were off, Zoya resting her head on Nikolai’s shoulder, heart light in her chest and a smile on her face.

Three days later, the queen stood on the coast of the True Sea, her husband at her side.  The Volkvolny sat waiting in the harbor, its flags fluttering proudly in the breeze.  The Lantsov double eagle still flew, but alongside it was Zoya’s dragon, and she felt her heart leap.  “Captain,” his lieutenant greeted.  “My queen, a pleasure to see you.”  Zoya smiled, shaking the offered hand.  Nikolai shrugged the familiar teal coat on, a wide grin forming.  “She’s all set for the journey, sir.  Have a wonderful honeymoon.”  

Nikolai beamed, shaking his lieutenant’s hand.  “We will, thank you.”  “Your majesty,” he said in parting, leaving Nikolai and Zoya alone.  He looked at his wife, the sea breeze playing with her hair.  They were headed to the Wandering Isle for two weeks, letting themselves forget their royal duties and simply enjoy themselves.  “Shall we?” the prince offered, and Zoya smiled, nodding.  “Let’s go.”

He swept her into his arms, carrying her bridal style onto the ship.  “Nikolai!” she cried, eyes shut as she laughed, kicking her legs as she was carried aboard.  “Yes, my darling?”  “Put me down!”  He did, setting her on the deck, at the bow of the ship.  “As you wish, dearest.”  Zoya spun around, pulling her husband into a deep, passionate kiss.  “You are a menace,” she teased, and Nikolai smiled.  “Yet you married me.”

“I did, and I love you.”  Nikolai kissed her, arms around her neck, hers around his waist.  “And I love you, my dragon.”  “Sir!” came the shout of one of the crew.  “Are we ready to depart?”  “At your queen’s command!” he called back, and Zoya laughed.  She turned to face the body of the ship, the crew waiting on her orders.  “Ready for departure!”  They scattered, raising the sails and lifting the anchor, the Volkvolny gliding from the harbor.  Zoya turned to face the sea, Nikolai behind her, his arms around her middle, chin on her head.  “I love you,” he said, kissing her temple.  “I love you too, sobachka,” the queen replied, her eyes on the horizon.  The rest of their lives was ahead of them, much like the open sea.  The dragon queen and the too-clever fox, hearts and souls bound as one, forevermore.

[courtlyharlequin]

May I request headcannons for Kalim, Jamil, Leona, Vil, and Ruggie with a s/o whose blind or mute? Thank you! You may ignore this if you’d like. Have a good day!

When Words Fail

Warning(s): minor spoilers, trauma mention (though it’s not in depth but just in case)

A/N: I choose a mute reader! Please note that I mean to don’t offend anyone who is mute and/or knows someone mute. 

Kalim Al-Asim:

He thinks being mute is an adorable trait that drew him to you in the first place. You were so mysterious!

But... Kalim doesn't quite understand.. which might make things more hurtful if you’re mute due to a traumatic experience.

Sunshine boy assumes you’re just shy as in you can speak but you don’t want to because of some type of anxiety.

Kalim desperately tries to get you to talk. It feels like he’s having a conversation with himself and that’s not really fun. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s in love with you for sure, but he’s just not sure right now. Communicating with you is harder now since you’re in a romantic relationship. You used to communicate through notes, as he doesn’t know sign language, but that proves to be a hassle. 

How Kalim goes about things are just so sporadic and spontaneous that you can’t keep up with him sometimes. He sometimes speaks too fast for you to jot down your response. By the time you finish, he would be already talking about something else. 

It takes some interference from external forces e.g. Jamil for Kalim to understand that that’s just how you are.

Of course, he apologizes to you if he ever made you insecure about your voice or for pushing you out of your comfort zone. He’ll get super sappy and reassures you that you’re not a hinderance to him.

He makes an effort to try to learn sign language for your sake. He fails miserably, but he eventually is able to sign basic words like “hello” or “I’m sorry”.

Kalim really surprised you one day when he signed: “I love you.”

Students often whisper about your odd dynamics as a coups as you’re the quiet one and he’s the social butterfly. He doesn’t mind and neither do you. 

Jamil Viper:

He’s always attentive especially when it comes to you. 

Jamil makes sure that he doesn’t talk too much and gives you time to convey your own thoughts.Then, again he is not a man of many words himself. 

Scarabia’s vice prefect doesn’t treat you differently. You’re just another person to him albeit his significant other. 

He’ll talk on your behalf and make an effort to be at least conversational at sign language.

Jamil might also pass notes to you too so you don’t feel like anxious or embarrassed for being the only person doing this. 

It’s not out of pity, it’s out of a sense to make you feel like you’re not alone– that he’s with you on this.

Everything Jamil does for you is because he genuinely cares for you.

He’s very patient. This is probably from his experience with biting his tongue and serving Kalim and pretending to be someone he’s not. 

But for you, he’s not biting his tongue at all! Jamil admires your earnest efforts of living life without a voice. He can’t imagine if he lost his.

He thinks you’re strong for dealing with dozens of overblots without a voice. You’re a hard worker.

Honestly, he prefers the quiet even if it wasn’t intentional on your part. Again, probably too much time around Kalim. 

Cooking with you is his self care. It’s just you two working together in a serene silence. Not awkward at all. 

Of course, he would give anything to hear your voice as he’s curious, but he won’t push you especially if you became mute through trauma or you were born like this. 

All in all, he’s extremely respectful towards you. 

Leona Kingscholar:

Oh boy...

He’s going to be impatient with you. He’s going to be harsh on you. Even if you’re a girl and especially if you’re a guy. 

Like Kalim, Leona doesn’t understand at first and he’ll need a long time to understand you.

Now if you become mute while you’re in a relationship with him already, then he’ll be more reluctant to stay with you. However, you are mute prior to courting him, the task might be more challenging than expected.

It’s a lot of work to be looking out for you, to actually give you his attention. He actually has to open his eyes to see you sign or read your little notes. This is not exactly good for napping.

Leona can be a jerk. He is a jerk.

The catch is worth the chase though. If you manage to win him over, he’ll acknowledge your tough skin. Will he read every single note? No, but yo know he’s there for you when you need him most. 

He’ll care for you in the most discreet ways like speaking on your behalf even though you haven’t told him what you wanted him to say yet. 

Leona is more perceptive and observant than he lets on. He’s also smarter than he looks.

This lion managed to pick up sign language just by watching you sign to others. Now, he’s not fluent, but he’s conversational. 

He’ll rarely sign with you, but Leona can understand you. You figured that out when you two were arguing and, since you figured he couldn’t understand sign language, you signed a rather colorful insult at him only to be exposed. 

After that event, your communication as a couple became more fluid. you’ll sign something and he’ll just reply back to you. 

Remember, Leona conversational at sing language so some phrases might need some more processing or he’ll straight up asking you to write down what you just signed because this lion doesn’t know what it means. 

Vil Schoenheit:

Being a public figure on social media, Vil is familiar with all sorts of people. 

But did he expect to end up with a significant other that is mute? Not quite. Does he mind? Not at all. 

He’s surprisingly considerate and patient with you. One would think he’d be strict just like with any other person.

Let’s be real here– Vil adores you.  

You put so much effort in making the most of your situation that he can’t help but admire you. 

Hard working is a trait that instantly turns Pomefiore’s dorm leader on.   How can he turn away from someone so diligent, so alluring? You caught his eye the moment you stood your ground against an impediment that required your voice and prevailed. 

He’s terribly infatuated with you– from your looks to your personality. 

This beauty king relies on social media for tips with a partner with  disability. 

He takes it upon himself to learn sign language in order to meet you half way since he doesn’t think it’s fair for you to just keep passing him notes. It’s a waste of paper and you’ll end up forming callouses on your fingers if your keep holding your pen like that. Stop!

Even if Vil goes out of his way to educate himself about people who are mute and sign language, he never makes you feel anyone less of a person.

If anything, he makes you feel more confident about yourself.

He doesn’t even wish to hear your voice since it doesn't follow the ten second rule.

Note: the ten second rule is a rule found on social media where it urges others to be mindful of their words. For example, you can tell someone that their makeup is smudged. Said subject adjusts and solves that problem in a short amount of time e.g. “ten seconds”. However, if you tell someone that they’re “fat” then obviously they cannot fix that problem in “ten seconds”. They probably feel insecure about it as it’s something they can’t fix. 

“A voice isn’t everything, you potato,” he chides as he applies his hourly chapstick touch up. 

Ruggie Bucchi:

As unpleasant and unfortunate as it sounds, Ruggie’s entire childhood has been surrounded by disabled folks, ranging from blind to crippled with missing limbs.

His significant other being mute isn’t a huge surprise as he’s familiar with all sorts of people kind of like Vil except his experience is more hands-on per se. 

The only surprise is that his partner is mute which sounds contradicting, but at least hear him out! Ruggie never imagined being with someone with a disability. He doesn’t ever look down on people, but he never imagined being so smitten with someone with no voice.

Ruggie always imagined a mature lover who was willing to 

Listen, listen! He loves you! It was just unexpected and he surely isn’t complaining. He’s still is in shock, that’s all!Please don’t take that the wrong way. 

He isn’t good with words; Ruggie  doesn't want to offend you. Sometimes, the little hyena feels like he’s overstepping boundaries. 

This idiot overthinks things way into the future? Can he afford health care? If you became mute through trauma, then will he be able to afford therapy? 

What’s it like caring for someone in a condition like this? He’s only given them food from NRC’s cafeteria during the winter break; he doesn’t know much aside from that.

Ruggie tries his best nevertheless. He’s extremely understanding and cares for you in his own way. 

He isn’t one to be all sappy or speak on your behalf but he’ll definitely keep in mind that he speaks faster than you can write. 

He suggests for you to write in shorthand which is basically a method of writing that matches the speed of someone’s speech. At first, it was difficult, but now you two have your own secret language of sorts.

Now, learning sign language isn’t hard for Ruggie since being brought up in a poorer area taught him a thing or two about being a quick learner, but his hands are always full thanks to a certain prince so it’s hard for him to respond back via signs. 

Plus, he prefers shorthand messages. They’re just as quick as signs except they’re more discreet and they’re chaotic enough to confuse the staff whenever they catch you two passing notes in class. What’s all these random scribbles for, hm?

[limepigeon]

@crownleys organised an evening of writing sprints over at the Zombies, Fanworks! Discord tonight and here’s what I wrote! I can’t remember if I’ve ever written fanfic for the ZR fandom so it was great fun! Of course I had to write something about everyone’s favourite Radio Boyfriends. Thanks again for organising this Emma! Title: Get it out (or Jack helps Eugene deal with his emotions in a Jack way) Fandom: Zombies, Run! Words: 1,432 Warnings: None Set during Season 1 Notes: I’m sorry if there are spelling/grammar errors in it, I wrote it in two hours and gave it a quick little edit/proof reading but some things may have slipped by (they usually do haha).

Eugene hardly ever gets angry. He doesn’t cause any scenes. If anything he prefers keeping any arguments under a tightly shut lid. Let it simmer for a while until it either fizzes out or boils over. Tonight is the third sleepless night, caused by an unusual large horde taking their sweet time dragging rotten feet across the vast meadows outside of Abel. Everyone is on edge, sure, but Jack and Eugene are the ones trying to keep morale up. “And that’s day three…” Jack sighs into the microphone, “still no signs of stopping. I’m sorry folks but this thing seems to go on forever. Just kilometer after kilometer of endless zombies, all the way to the horizon. There are some places where you can’t even see the ground! I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many in one and the same-“ He’s interrupted by an exasperated groan. “Will you please shut up?” Eugene’s voice is harsh. There’s none of the usual warmth that makes even the coldest of nights comfortable in his presence. He’s rubbing his temples slowly, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. “I’m sorry?” Jack doesn’t even try to not sound offended. “Is my voice bothering you?” “Little bit, yes” Eugene says without as much as looking at Jack. “Too bad, ‘cause this is our job, talking is my job.” “Well, your job is drilling a hole through my skull.” Eugene puts his forehead in his palms and stares at the small red light indicating that they’re still broadcasting. It’s been on for what feels like hours. “Put on a song” he says. “But we have to send out Dr. Myers report on-“ “Put on the fucking song” Eugene demands, punctuating each word harshly, and Jack barely has the time to switch on the CD before Eugene rips his headphones off his head and lets the chair slam into the ground as he stands up.

“Hey Gene, what’s the matter?” Jack reaches out for Eugene’s shoulder but he moves out of the way.   “Aren’t you sick of this?” Eugene mutters while keeping his eyes fixed at the ground. Jack sighs. “Well, it would be nice if they left so we could get some proper sleep, yeah” he says. “I don’t mean the zombies” Eugene says, “I mean all of it.” He seems to lean onto his crutch more than usual. His whole posture seems off. The air outside is chilly now that the sun has set, even though it’s summer. “Gene, I get it, it’s okay to be upset about this, everyone’s-“ Jack gets interrupted again. “I’m not upset Jack! I’m fucking pissed!” The shouting takes Jack by surprise. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Eugene like this. At least not since… He shakes the past out of his head. “Oh, okay then, uh...” It’s all he can manage. “About what?” “Everything! All this bullshit! We’re just sitting here, talking shit that doesn’t even matter! People are dying out there Jack, and what do we do? We joke, and we laugh, as if that’s what the world needs right now! We’re just…! I’m- I can’t-“ His words get jumbled before his voice cracks. “Hey, hey love, it’s okay” Jack grabs Eugene by his arms “it’s okay.” “I’m just so tired, I don’t know what to do.” Eugene looks into Jack’s eyes, probably for the first time for the entire evening. There’s pain, sure - there always is during hard nights, but there’s something else. Something stuck deep in Eugene, aching to get out. Jack wants to tell him he’s talking shit, that their job is important. That Eugene is important, and not just to Jack. But he knows that’s not what he needs right now. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Jack heads into the tiny shed used for their broadcasts and is back outside in less than a minute. There aren’t many hills in Abel, which is quite ideal when putting up the makeshift homes for newcomers to the township. The radio tower, which has been there long before Jack and Eugene arrived, stands just about a hundred meters away from Janine’s farmhouse at the highest point of Abel. “It’s freezing Jack, what are we even doing here?” Eugene complains. His good leg has started aching from the climb and he didn’t bring any mittens either. “Something that always makes me feel better when I’m angry” Jack smiles. Eugene raises an eyebrow to show his skepticism. “Oi, don’t give me that look! I promise, it’s nothing dirty!” Jack jokingly punches Eugene’s shoulder and Eugene sighs. “You know I love you, but you know what your problem is, Gene? You’re always so bloody calm and collected. When was the last time you just let it all go?” “I, uh” Eugene starts but quickly falters. “Jack, what are we doing here?” His voice grows a bit more cautious. “We’re going to scream” Jack looks at Eugene almost triumphantly and Gene can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you’re serious?” Eugene’s has something akin to terror creeping onto his face when he realizes Jack is in fact not joking. “Dead serious, my man” Jack says and slaps Eugene’s back. “Now go on!” “I’m not going to scream” Eugene protests and he looks like he’s about to turn around to start the journey down the hill. He’s not prepared for the sound and his whole body tenses up in reaction to it. It’s loud, but different from what he’s heard during his time outside the walls, or in their tent at night when his partner wakes him up in a sweat-drenched panic. The scream now is lighter, not nearly is dreadful as the ones Eugene is used to. Afterwards there’s an almost as loud burst of laughter. “What the hell, Jack?” Eugene exclaims as he spins around, only to find Jack almost doubled over. He smiles at Eugene with a wide grin which is incredibly infectious. “Your turn” he says once he’s managed to catch his breath, only a little hoarse. “Come on.” He reaches out his hand towards Eugene, who with the help of his crutches moves closer to Jack. He can’t help but smile.

Janine tends to stay up late. Tonight she’s found something else that needs repairing. The radio has been on for the last couple of days, she likes to keep herself updated on the situation and maybe especially so at night. She barely listens to the song playing, only annoyed at how it interferes with the updates on the horde. Then it abruptly stops as Jack’s voice replaces the tunes. “Very sorry listeners, but I have some urgent business to attend to! We’ll be back shortly, in high spirits! Stay safe!”   She looks out of the kitchen window as two figures make their way up the hill towards the farmhouse. For a second she dreads the possibility of an unannounced drop by but as they start moving towards the radio tower her shoulders lowers again. She follows them with her gaze and even by just the light of the full moon she recognizes Jack and Eugene. Curious by her nature she opens the window just a crack, letting the summer air creep in. She moves some dirty dishes from the counter to the sink and brings her project from the kitchen table. Before the end of the world she had the TV on while working, not as company of course, Janine de Luca would like you to know she was not a lonely woman. It is the same now. She doesn’t watch the two men out of loneliness; she simply wants to know what’s going on in their lives. What Jack Holden and Eugene Woods do when no one else is around, when they are comfortable just the two of them. She’s seen the way they look at each other and lets her mind drift to an imaginary future where maybe something like that could, perhaps, be possible for her too? The first scream almost makes her jam the screwdriver into her hand. She curses loudly while looking out of the window bewildered, and then sighs when she watches the two men up on the hill. The second scream comes a few minutes later. It’s different. Unfamiliar and filled with more emotions than Janine thought possible to fit inside of a person all at once. It lasts at least twice as long as the first one and ends almost in a wail.

The calm silence lingering afterwards lasts for a couple of minutes, until it starts up again. Then the screams starts mixing together with laughter until there’s only the latter left. Janine shakes her head, thinking how everyone in Abel must be just as startled as her. Then she smiles.

[polar534]

Hockey Injury Pt. 1

So Hockey AU was... surprisingly more popular then I thought. Which is good, because I still have ALOT written down about it, and I intend to add more. (It's become a bit of a coping mechanism to write about.) So, in the set-up post I warned that I had a bunch of notes regarding Amity's hockey injury. Well, welcome to a 3-parter folks! That's right. I've got that much written.

Anyways, this first part will be a general text-dump summary of events, the second will be a Luz centered more detailed 'story' about what happened on the ice. And the third will be focused on both girl's healing after the fact.

So vague explanations and warnings aside. Have part 1. Under the cut cause I have ~problems~

In essence. Amity gets like... really injured. It's bad. Like she is laid up in a hospital bad. They don't even have time to get her to the demon dimension where they usually take her when she gets injured (because different biologies and hiding her witchiness), so she gets taken specifically in Camilla's hospital.

They were only barely able to sneak her away from the emt's on duty at the game.

The team becomes immediately suspicious and HIGHLY concerned but they can't do anything because Amity is hurriedly rushed out of the place and to the hospital. Camilla is completely freaked but she also knows this could be much more serious then anyone realizes, because if they take Amity to get the help she needs right now, they'll find out she is a witch. She barges into the hospital first and pulls aside the doctor she works for and explains, completely deadpanned, that the other girl who lives with them is a witch from a different dimension but there's no other place to take her.

Luz is in the hallway with Amity, and is completely shutting down. She is barely holding it together. She knows it's bad because she's only ever seen her mom like this once. And that was when Luz got deathly ill with the flu one year. Amity is barely conscious so there's no need for Luz to be brave.

Luz is alone and terrified. She's spiraling.

The doctor, having worked with and been taken care of by Camilla for years agrees in a heartbeat to not only treat Amity but to make sure the entire treatment is confidential. They get the xray's back and its serious. The broken bone has cut a major vein inside Amity's shoulder. She's bleeding out. They don't have time to worry about the different make up. They rush her into surgery and Camilla needs to be a part of it.

Luz is alone. Waiting.

She knows there's a chance Amity... is just not coming back.

She knows there's a chance of losing her.

And Luz completely shuts down.

During this time, the team secretly tracks down where the family went. As soon as someone pulls it up on their phone, they ditch all of their equipment and leave immediately, mid-match, much to the other's teams confusion.

They crash into the hospital, rushing past the nurses and security trying to stop them. They find Luz out in the hallway from the surgery room, and she's fully awake, but she's unresponsive. They can't get an answer out of her. So they sit there with her. Completely silent. Waiting.

The staff eventually catches up with the teens, but where they expect to find a bunch of rowdy teenagers, instead they find deathly quiet kids, all quiet in fear, they know there was warning put out to all the staff about privacy regarding this emergency surgery. So they buzz off and leave the teens be.

Nobody speaks a word, nobody moves a muscle until Camilla pokes her head out of the room, a couple of hours later. The team all become responsive and alert but Luz doesn't budge.

Camilla understands immediately. Knowing too many people will be overwhelming for Amity while she recovers she beckons Luz in first.

Luz, moves slowly, like a zombie. The team being extremely concerned about both girls but they have each other.

Amity is awake when Luz comes in.

Luz stiffly walks over to her and Amity knows something's wrong. Something broke her girlfriend.

"So. This is where your mother works right? It's so much more clean then the hospitals in the Isles." Amity points out, completely seriously.

Luz cracks. She is so incredibly relieved that she sobs, with a massive smile on her face.

"That's... that's not good Amity!"

It breaks both of the girls and they both laugh and cry as they have a soft moment. Luz updates her on everything that happened after she fell unconscious.

Camilla on the other hand is informing Eda and Lilith what has happened. Some members of the team leave the hallways to find some food and overhear their conversation. Specifically the frequent use of the word: Witch.

***

The next couple of days are spent with Amity being laid up in bed at home, with Luz absolutely spoiling her and fussing over her to the point of annoyance.

King, Eda and Lilith all go to the human realm to check up on their Blight child the night of the injury, Eda and Lilith are concerned but they also know Camilla has an absolute handle on the situation. They trust her to take care of Amity and promise to visit daily until she's better, warning the poor witch that they'll be telling the twins and Willow and Gus first thing in the morning. (Which was a whole thing) King... dallies at the portal to go home that night. Luz picks up on the little guy's worry immediately and knows he won't just admit to wanting to stay with the girls.

So she insists on stealing him for the night, for therapy of course and King takes the hint and runs with it. Insisting that his subjects NEED him.

This makes Luz feel much better because Camilla insists that Luz cannot miss classes despite her girlfriend being bedridden. So she entrusts King to take care of Amity. Which is a relief to King and Amity, because Amity is kinda tired of being babied and King isn't one to baby. He'll take care of her, but they mostly just chill out together and complain. King curling up on Amity's stomach while they both rest.

Meanwhile the team is concerned as well. They discuss the idea of Luz at first being the witch the mother was talking about, because it just kinda fits with her being quirky and an outsider to most everyone else.

So they confront her on it one day when they go to check on Amity, as she's walking them out.

Luz. Finds. This. Hilarious.

She loves it and is so incredibly excited because 1. They know now. And 2. They aren't afraid!! They aren't mad, just worried as to why the girls would keep it a secret.

However they got something wrong. And that's who the biological witch is. Luz points out the teeth and the ears and it suddenly clicks.

Amity is a witch.

Cue that night, Luz getting chewed out by Amity for telling them, but the girls both really giddy that they now have another place they don't have to hide in. They make a plan to have a serious discussion with the team about the need for secrecy.

But more angst. Back to the days immediately following the injury, Camilla comes in one night while Luz is visiting Eda and Amity is alone.

She has a serious talk with Amity about the danger she was in, and just how hurt she had gotten. Camilla wants to be honest and straightforward with her. Amity could've died that night. She brings up the idea that maybe the witch may want to reconsider her decision to continue next year. Just that Camilla will never stop worrying about her. Its soft and gentle and Camilla really is just concerned about her.  

Amity is quiet that night when Luz comes home. (She can't spend the night anywhere without her girlfriend, no matter how much she loves Eda) Quieter then Luz has seen her in a long time.

It worries Luz, but she just holds her girlfriend extra tight, knowing that Amity will talk to her when she's ready. That's their agreement.

The next day, Amity tells Luz she is quitting Hockey.

The witch is in tears and its incredibly obvious that she doesn't actually want to quit the sport. Luz begs her to explain and Amity breaks down and tells her that its her fault, and that she's been so selfish to worry Camilla like this. That she needs to quit. She fucked up. She got hurt and it made Camilla, Luz and everyone so incredibly worried.

Her toxic upbringing is coming back, the damage her parents did on her not quite leaving, Amity truly believes that she has deeply upset and offended Camilla and then that worry stetches into her team and Luz. That she needs to correct the problem that she made for other people.

Luz takes her by the shoulders, very seriously and tells her that Camilla loves her. Unconditionally. That worry comes not from a place of inconvenience, but out of care. That her mother would be 100x more upset if Amity sacrificed something she cared about, just to make Camilla feel more comfortable.

Luz admits to worrying about losing her, but she also gushes about just how HAPPY hockey has made Amity and how she loves seeing that happiness on Amity.

How incredible it looks on her.

Luz then proceeds to get Willow and Gus to come crashing through the portal to which they explain, Gus methodically and scientifically, and Willow from the heart, that Amity is doing wonderful and its clear that she is enjoying herself.

They original squad all have a night of support for Amity. Because that's just what a family does. Camilla overhears most of what Amity fears and let's her daughter and her friends handle it. Though she feels awful about how she made the girl feel like that worry was because Amity did something wrong. She takes a field trip to the demon dimension to talk with Lilith and Eda who explain that she's doing wonderfully. That not every parent is perfect or can be. They tell her everything that night about Amity's parents. Most of which Camilla has pieced together from the time Amity had been living with her, but alot of it is still shocking. Horrifying.

Its a night of healing and learning all around.

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Sleep Therapy

A Frederick Chilton x Reader fanfic written in collaboration with the lovely and talented @pascalispretty​ . I can’t believe that we have been writing smut with each other since before we went under quarantine and this is the first time we’ve actually gotten our acts together and published it. I refuse to apologize for this, y’all were warned lol. I now dedicate this to my favorite prickly, grumpy, lonely, little asshole man, Frederick (never Freddy) Chilton.

Part One of the series A Sign That Someone Loves Me Part Two: Laugh With Me a Little

Warnings: sex, somnophelia, drug use, inappropriate use of prescription drugs, over stimulation, dubious consent, references to voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), Fred being Fred

Rating: yeah, this is definitely M folks  Word Count: 6111 sorry not sorry lol Summary: It’s been a long week for you and your fiancé and you’re exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both a world of good. 

The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said lovable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work. 

You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week without sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much. 

You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you.

“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs. 

“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently. 

You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch. 

“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair. 

He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well. 

You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before. 

More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered. 

You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly. 

“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second. 

“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers. 

“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes. 

“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?” 

“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,

“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently. 

“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconscious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea. 

“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment. 

“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright. 

“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole. 

“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him. 

“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something. 

“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.

Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck. 

“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck. 

“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult. 

“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.

Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away. 

“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”

You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes. 

"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.

“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill. 

"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down. 

"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.

"Sweet dreams, my dear."

~X~

You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours. 

You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations, you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least something happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face. 

"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.

He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on. 

“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin. 

“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation. 

“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe. 

You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling. 

“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night. 

“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”

“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and  he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone. 

“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body. 

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that. 

“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible. 

“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth. 

“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.” 

He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core. 

Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks. 

“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his. 

“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off. 

“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.

“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction. 

“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him. 

“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly. 

You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself. 

“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you. 

“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.

“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you. 

“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you. 

“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much. 

You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself. 

“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you. 

“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close- 

“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.

“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself. 

“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasize his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred. 

“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin. 

“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods. 

“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair. 

“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”

You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock. 

“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it. 

“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain. 

“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming. 

“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you. 

“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut. 

“Fred...” 

He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his. 

Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you. 

“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair. 

“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster. 

“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you. 

“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair. 

“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you. 

“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin. 

You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.

“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your claw foot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand. 

“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh.