#please for the love of god only look at this with the night light filter on. forgot my screen was tinted yellow and the colors are FUCKEDDD

[madootles]

dramatic eyes. dramatic lips. drama on the cheeks.

sketch

#the fuck's a look?? #this show keeps making me cry happy tears #this show made me cry last season when ed and stede kissed. Now I'm crying because LOOK AT IZZY! LOOK AT WEE JOHN!!! #please for the love of god only look at this with the night light filter on. forgot my screen was tinted yellow and the colors are FUCKEDDD #ya ya It’s la vie en rose I didn’t check my references my b my b je regrette ok #our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands #wee john feeney #ofmd s2e6 #this show brings me so much joy especially now when everything is so hard in real life. #they just get to be queer with their pirate friends #skdfjhskhgjfnlisadfhlksjdfh;sk #art #fan art #the first time in a while I've been inspired to make art :_) I love

[courtingchaos]

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

or

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

or

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic #asks! #THIS BITCH IS 6K????? since fuckin when 😩

[withleeknow]

fold.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; cursing, unedited lol word count: 0.9k note: idek what this is lol i just wrote this to get the brain wiggles out 🤣

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“You’re banishing me to the couch because of a little prank?”

“Because it wasn’t funny! God, you’re such an asshole.”

“It was!” Fucking hell, Minho is still laughing. “Babe, you should’ve seen your face.”

You hold up your big fluffy pillow to hit your boyfriend over the head, though he dodges it easily. "Piss off to the couch!"

“For real?” he asks, scanning your face with his big eyes, his brows raising annoyingly. “Sure you wanna sleep alone tonight? You're serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack,” you huff angrily, wildly kicking your feet at his legs under the sheets. “Out!”

“You’re so cute. You know you always fold, right?” he coos, eyes crinkling with mirth as he raises his hands, seemingly trying to hold your cheeks in his palms. “At least give me a kiss before I go.”

It only sharpens your dagger glare, and before Minho knows what’s even happening, he’s yeeted from the bed to the floor, rubbing the sore spot on his butt that you just kicked and sent him flying off the mattress.

“Ow! Fine, I’m leaving. See you in a couple hours."

Thirty minutes later, your phone lights up with a message, Minho’s screen flashing on your screen like an omen. You frown when you reach for the device on your nightstand, the furrow between your brows only deepening as you read the words Attachment: 2 Images.

Your finger hovers over the notification, clearly curious, but you know your boyfriend too well to be that naive.

There’s a 76% chance that he just sent you something scary that he got from the internet, which you think would be a stupid thing to do, considering that you’re “mad” at him.

But then again, he’s already on the couch. Maybe he’s got nothing left to lose.

Damn that man.

You shake your fist in the direction of the door, even though he can’t see you, before you decide to just get it over with and pop open his messages.

Hmm.

It’s nothing. No jumpscares, no scary photos of ghosts or ghouls or anything of the likes.

It’s only a couple selfies of him lying on the couch this very second, just a few footsteps away from your bedroom door, hugging his pillow with a content look on his face.

The first thing you do is save the photos to your designated Minho album, because even though you’re “mad” at him, he still looks cute with his stupid Snow filters and bunny smile, his gleaming eyes and-

Oh.

You see what this is.

Ass.

He’s banished, but he’s still pushing it, trying to show you just how much he seems to be loving it out there.

You huff out yet another annoyed breath. What on earth are you going to do with him? That’s a question you ask yourself every day.

In the end, you only reply to him with the middle finger emoji before you put your phone on the nightstand again.

You turn away from the device and snuggle further into your bed, willing sleep to come find you but you have to admit that it’s hard. It’s not because you’re scared or anything, you’re just used to sleeping next to someone.

No, not just anyone.

Only Minho.

You’re so used to sleeping next to Minho that now the bed feels infinitely empty without his warmth next to you, all over you.

Rationally, you know he’s right there in the living room - you can still hear him every time he paddles to the kitchen to get some water - and you’re clearly not strong enough to leave him on the couch for more than one night.

Actually, he has never been banished for a full night. Hell, his timeout on the couch has always ended much earlier than you’d like. Your boyfriend was right. You always fold. Pathetically quickly too.

You toss and turn for another while before you hear his unabashed giggles from the living room, light and relaxed, over the echoes of dramatic music. He must have put on a scary movie.

With your eyes closed, you listen to the sounds of make-believe doors slamming, floorboards creaking, a blood-curdling scream here and there. You’re still as wide awake as you were earlier, when Minho popped up from underneath the sheets, wearing a fucking Chucky mask just as you were getting into bed.

The idea of having his arms around you gets more appealing by the minute. You know you would be out like a light within seconds if he was holding you.

With both palms gripping the pillow beneath your head, you let out one last irritated exhale. Fuck it. This was a losing game from the start and you were all too aware of it.

You paddle out of your bedroom on light footsteps and into the enemy’s territory. When you’re in front of the couch, Minho calmly pauses the movie on the TV before he peers up at you with innocent eyes.

You hold out a hand wordlessly. This isn’t your first rodeo, and it sure as hell won’t be your last, as much as it pains you to admit it.

“Told you,” he titters, checking his phone for the time before he takes your hand in his. “You lasted 58 minutes. So close. Almost made it a full hour.”

You roll your eyes, though your body instantly relaxes now that you’re touching him in some way. He turns off the TV, grabs his phone and pillow, then waddles the both of you back into your cozy bedroom.

Your friends were right when they said they'd never seen anyone fold so quickly.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 02.11.2023]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho

[ghcstao3]

If I were to portray someone unbelievably pathetic and without any hope, would you give me another part of your #anyway mildly supernatural au?

I'll get down on my knees and pray to any god you want.

Just please give me more please.

do not even Fret i would have written more for absolutely nothing in return anyway because i just love writing AUs so much (if you could not already tell)

fun fact this is version 2.0 of what i wanted to write because tumblr didn’t save a draft and i lost everything 🫶 not edited

-

So much and so little time feel like they’ve passed simultaneously as John waits out the rain with Simon—and oddly enough, not once has he seen the bottom of his styrofoam cup of coffee in spite of the plentiful sips he’s certain he’s taken.

In any case.

He and Simon chat aimlessly to fill the minutes, hours, whatever it’s been—something just beyond small talk, though not by much. Not until Simon decides to face John with a rather puzzling question.

“So, then, what brings you here?”

John furrows his brow. “My car broke down,” he says slowly. He can’t help the confusion and tinge of curiosity that melt into his voice, nor can he help wondering why Simon would ask for an answer he already knows.

Yet Simon shakes his head. “No—what brings you here?”

A frown tugs at John’s lips, his eyebrows drawing ever closer. “Dinnae ken.” He shrugs helplessly, tries a different reply, “A road trip?”

Simon hums only as acknowledgment. It’s clear in the way he narrows his eyes and scrutinizes John’s face that it’s still not the answer he’s looking for.

“You’re lost,” Simon concludes.

John scoffs. “Am no’!” He exclaims, frustration laced in his tone as he folds his arms almost defensively across his chest. “I was followin’ a GPS!”

“You are,” Simon insists. “Just not in the way you think.”

With a huff, John drops his arms, instead reaching to curl his fingers back around the still-warm cup of coffee. His frown deepens. “How do you mean?”

Simon tilts his head, gaze ever-analytic. “You’re lucky,” he replies cryptically. “Or unlucky, depending on how you choose to look at it. Not many humans manage to get here.”

Now John is beyond confused. Of course, Simon had been all sorts of vague and avoidant throughout their interactions, but this? John is beginning to think this man might not be all… there.

“Human…?” John swallows. He shifts his weight between weary feet. “Why would I be anything but?”

Simon takes a step away from the counter, rounds past John only to stop at the large window looking out into a small, crumbling lot and the forest beyond the road, all blurred by heavy rain. John realizes with a start that he hadn’t really seen Simon move before that—hadn’t seen deliberate steps, the way he almost glides across the space; graceful, soundless.

It’s almost—dare John say—supernatural.

“Well, you see, Johnny,” Simon says with a mild air of amusement, and John has barely any time to process that Simon knows his name despite it never having been given as he continues, “there’s often a lot more than meets the eye in this world we live in. It just appears you’ve looked in the right place for once.”

“I don’t understand.”

Simon turns back to him, then, the glint in his eyes that same hint of unnatural as his movements. They flash, a glare almost like that of a cat’s in the dark of night.

“I don’t expect you to.”

Simon looks away from John again, a broad figure against the pale grey light that filters inside. John’s heart stutters even as he willingly brings himself closer to Simon.

“The rain will stop soon,” Simon states disinterestedly. It hardly appears like the storm would let up any time soon—the sky is still stained with dark and angry clouds—but Simon says it with such unimpressed, unwavering confidence that John thinks he may as well believe him.

“Will it?” John challenges anyway.

Simon shrugs. “Not unless you don’t want it to.”

John huffs out a quiet laugh. As strange as Simon and everything he’s said is, and as much as John has questioned everything else, he decides he’ll humour the man.

“Maybe just a bit longer, then.”

After all, John hasn’t hated lingering in the store. No harm in indulging in such silly thoughts as controlling the weather.

Simon nods. The corners of his eyes pull upward as if he’s smiling beneath the mask he’s still refused to remove. Briefly, John wonders what other things Simon may be hiding beneath it.

Simon concurs, “Then so it is.”

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing #alternate universe #anyway mildly supernatural au

[natriae]

Chapter 1: Stahp callin' me Miya

next>

Masterlist

warnings: profanity & complaining

"No Miya you cannot for the love of god post that you wanna ride Sakusa's dick on tiktok,"

"why not i'd be funny,"

Funny enough, leaving the MSBY gymnasium was the hardest part about your job. It should be the easiest, but all the boys think you clocking out means now is the time to ask you questions. In particular a setter manages to do this everyday. You always catch him running out of the locker room door with wet hair and his gym bag hugged tightly to his chest as he chases after you. Half the time his questions don't even have to do with your job. Questions he should be asking the manager or coach.

Exiting the large building the two of you are met with the beautiful, natural landscape of osaka. The parking lot with huge trees shading your cars, and small lights in the ground not to ruin the scenery. They even managed to make sure the garden full of flowers in the front was managed daily. The landscape would be so relaxing if there wasn't a loud blonde haired setter talking your ear off.

You'd think he'd be trying to get with you with how determined he is to be by your side on your way out, but those thoughts leave as soon as he opens his mouth.

Questions fly out of: 'can ya check out this pimple on my ass' or 'would it ruin mah image if i posted a twerking video'. If anyone heard your conversions they'd think you two are just close friends, but you only met him a few months ago and never see him outside of your job.

Atsumu was just a carefree young man without a filter, and as much as you hated him annoying you on your way out, you were grateful. You were grateful that you had someone walk you to your car in the afternoon or at night even if he wasn't purposefully doing it.

Like right now, while he rants about what a good idea it would be to post his hot-takes on his teammates he subconsciously opens your car door for you, and waits for you to roll your window down before shutting it.

"I'm just sayin' I don't think there will be as much backlash as ya think," the thick accent rolls off his tongue as he ducks his large body down to be face to face with you.

"Okay, yeah when you're getting death threats from Sakusa's fan's I won't be there to help you."

At your retort he scrunches his stupidly cute face up and fires back, "yah, ya will. It's yer job," he finished by giving you his best matter of fact face and waited for you to respond. You think that's why he enjoys toying with you so much, because he knows you will fight his own fire with more fire, but you also hate when he's right--like right now.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before continuing, "Please Miya just give me one weekend where I don't need to clean up your mess off the clock,"

"When have ya ever hadda do that,"

"Last weekend when you got in a fist fight at a bar," you snapped back.

"Hey! That guy was makin' a lady uncomfortable," he reasons.

"Yes, Miya it was sweet of you, but not for MSBY when headlines of 'MSBY Setter caught in Bar Brawl' hit the first page," Working with the boys as their publicist was hard to say the least. It's like babysitting, but without the money for dinner. Constantly making sure the boys don't fight, swear, or even post stupid tiktoks. You have to review their posts before they post it, and think of any possible way they could receive backlash for it, but the best part of it all was seeing the terrible photos of the boys-like the picture of Atsumu being punched in the face- or getting calls from their mom's because their son won't pick up.

"okay I promise…under one condition," dear god, "stahp callin' me Miya! I have a twin it's confusing!"

Exaggerating you stick you head out of the car window and glace around before ultimately turning back to the man and saying, "I've never met him so 'till I do it's Miya,"

At that you roll up your window as Atsumu gives you a look of disbelief. You signed a very specific contract. You cannot under any circumstances get close to the boys, so to save yourself from wanting more you will stick to their last names.

Taglist: OPEN!

@thisbicc @lovley212

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu imagine #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu #atsumu fic #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #hq #hq headcanons #atsumu miya x reader #haikyu #haikyū!!

[succcession]

Which Roy Brother is the Cutest? Part 1

Description: When you started your new job as Roman Roy's new assistant, you expected coffee runs and sending fax. This expectation is quickly thrown out the window as you find yourself falling in love with your boss and his older brother.

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader

“Roman, you’ve got to be fucking joking? What is this about?” You grumbled to yourself, looking back down at your phone displaying the 2am texts you had received from your boss.

Two months ago when you had first applied to be the assistant to the son of Media Mogul Logan Roy, it was simply a passing thought. You were broke and needed some kind of real job to support yourself as you tried transforming this whole ‘starving artist’ gig, into an actual career as a painter. Now it seemed you had fully dove into his traumatic but extravagantly packaged world. You rarely went a day without him giving you something absurd to do, tasks that definitely were not in your job description. Just last week he made you fly to California so you could bring him back dessert from his favorite restaurant. Then complained that “it didn’t taste fresh” and “could be compared to what they’re served in Guantanamo”. 

Although Roman was difficult and had zero filter when it came to expressing himself, you two had an understanding. Despite only working for the youngest Roy for about 2 months, since the beginning he always felt more like an older brother telling you what to do then your boss. 

The boss/employee relationship quickly turned into a real friendship after only a month of working for him. He had invited you to your first charity gala. Bringing you along to gain experience with helping him win over new investors. However, you two quickly turned the night into a drinking game of ‘you must take a drink of champagne every racist or sexist comment you hear’. You both stumbled out of the gala that night as a new pair of drunk best friends.

While waiting for Roman to answer your questions about the Elon situation, your mind began to drift back to the first time you met Roman Roy. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” You asked yourself harshly, your hands shaking as you cautiously walked through the spinning doors of the glistening Waystar Co. skyscraper.

 “I’m here for an interview with Roman Roy” you say to the front desk receptionist, giving a light smile you hoped covered the fear you know is seeping from your eyes. “God, do you think she can tell how nervous I am?” You questioned anxiously in your head, already beginning to fidget with the seam of your pencil skirt. Your paranoid thinking quickly interrupted by the receptionist. 

 “Mr. Roy’s office is located on the top floor. Please head up and someone will be waiting for you there.”

You had always thought of yourself as outgoing, adventurous, maybe even a little fearless. However, as you walked into the office of the son of one of the richest men in the world, all of the courage slipped from your body. 

“Hello!” 

A voice yelled as the grandiose office chair in front of you spun around slowly to reveal a least intimidating looking small man. 

“I’m Roman Roy.”

“Did you like that introduction? I was going for kinda like an evil villain vibe” He said dramatically, letting out a chuckle at his own joke

You were at a loss for words. 15 seconds into the interview and it was already weird, but in the opposite way from what you had expected. Shouldn't he be wearing a tie? Why is he making jokes? Is now a good time to shake his hand? Were all questions you asked yourself before responding.

 “Uhh yeah, it was great. I mean… I was intimidated” you stumbled letting out a light giggle. Hoping he would respond positively to your attempt at joking back. 

“Ahh and that brings me to my first point, possible future assistant” he stated loudly. “I don’t just want someone here to follow me around and suck my dick. I need an assistant just as driven and blood thirsty as me. Someone with opinions and fucking I don’t know good ideas!” 

“Blood thirsty?” 

You thought to yourself. You were under the assumption being an assistant meant getting coffee, making copies, sending faxes. You know, office stuff!

You watched as Roman paced the room, loudly rambling about “becoming CEO” and “burning alive anyone who fucks with him” As you listened you realized your nerves had disappeared. Something about his brashness, the constant swearing, or maybe the endless sexual comments made him feel… human. Despite being well worth over a billion dollars. 

“Well” you stated, finally finding a brief pause to interrupt his cadence. 

“Although I don’t exactly come from this high executive world, maybe that could be of benefit to you.” 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were going with this, but you knew he had likely been interviewing highly qualified Yale graduates all day and you had to stand out. You let your poised interview personality fall away and began to speak honestly.

“All these Ivy League guys that have walked in here will say anything to make you happy. Do anything to increase their position in the company, and honestly, Mr. Roy…I have no interest in climbing the corporate ladder.”

This was true. You honestly didn’t care enough about money to try and use the Roy family. You just needed a job to pay for rent, buy weed, and go out every once and awhile. 

“However” you continued “I am the only one who will be honest with you even if it’s not what you want to hear. And I understand the average person. I can provide you with real insight into how to gain leverage with the public.” You said confidently attempting to convince Roman but also yourself. 

Roman finally stopped his pacing and sat back down in his large office chair. Saying nothing, hands in front of his face with his fingertips touching. The stern look he had on his face made you begin to panic again. Maybe the overly honest approach was too passé, not “blood thirsty” enough. 

Roman breathed in deeply and began listing your flaws. “Well you’re highly under qualified, clearly lacking in professionalism and have zero genuine interest in the company” 

You looked down at your hands ashamed. Fuck, he was right. Why did you even walk into this building? Why did you try to play it cool?

“But” Roman drew the word out longly while spinning childishly in his office chair. “I think that’s…exactly what I’m looking for!” turning his frown into a devilish grin and jumping up. “You’re hired!” He stated placing his hand out 

“What?” You gasped leaving your mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Yes! You! You’re hired! I am hiring you.” He said sarcastically annoyed “Now shake my hand before I change my mind or something” 

You shook Romans hand more aggressively than you had intended as your excitement grew, while expressing repeatedly “Thank you, thank you Mr. Roy”

“Ew, no. Don't do that. Just call me Roman.”

#succession season 4 #kendall roy #kendall roy smut #kendall roy x reader #succession #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy headcanon

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-one

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you keep going. you have to keep going.

a/n: so I haven’t been on here in a hot second BUT I’ve been writing this story like a crazy person, lots more to come, thanks for all the love 🤍

word count: 7.2k

warnings: lil smut for your saturday, big emotions, ellie and liv forever 🤍

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Joel knows that he’s dreaming.

He hasn’t let himself dream for a long time now. Every night, he’s feigned sleep, while you insist on taking watch, Ellie even offering herself up a few hours at a time. It’s partially a conscious decision, partially not. There are nights when he wants sleep, wants to drift off just for a few hours, but his body won’t let him. He lays there with his eyes shut, trying to keep his memories at bay, but it always takes more effort than he expects, and before he knows it, the sun is rising once again.

But right now? Definitely dreaming.

It’s a strange sensation, being conscious of a dream while you’re in it. But it’s the best dream he’s had in years, so he begs his body to stay asleep a while longer, just so he can see how this plays out.

He’s home. Back in Austin, not your shared apartment in Boston, but his old house, his old bedroom. More specifically, sprawled on his bed, mid-morning light filtering through the curtains. The mattress feels so real beneath him, the springs creaking as he moves, but it’s only a backdrop to what’s really happening.

You, wrapped in his arms, back pressed to his chest. He swears he can feel how sweat-slick your skin is, smell the scent of your hair, hear the rapid thunk of your heart beneath his palms. He’s buried in your body, deep as he can go, your back arching with the force of him, whines falling from your lips as you beg him for more.

“Please, Joel,” you murmur, one hand reaching back to fist the hair at the back of his head. “Oh my god, please, I’m—”

Never one to deny you, waking or asleep, he lets one hand drop, skimming the curve of your stomach and finding your clit with ease. You keen as he draws little circles, burying his face in your neck, kissing at your throat.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasps, teeth scraping your jaw. “Lemme feel it, lemme—”

A crashing sound rings through his ears, making his whole body jolt, and the dream vanishes, his eyes shooting open.

“Fuck!” you curse, and Joel turns to see you crouched near the old desk in the corner of the watchtower. One of the drawers has fallen to the floor — obviously the source of the noise — and you’re trying to scoop the contents back in; maps and notebooks and random photographs. Joel groans as he sits up straight, lifting his body off the mattress, and you look at him over your shoulder, brows shooting up to your hairline. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” The drawer literally collapses in your hands and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he gets to his feet. You groan at the mess on the floor, head dropping back on your shoulders.

“S’okay,” he tells you, reaching for your arm and pulling you up to stand. Your stance is sure now, but it’s old habit for him to support you, though your leg has healed. You’ve been in the tower for two and a half weeks now; the first two had you laid up in one of the mattresses, Joel and Ellie both refusing to let you up unless it was absolutely necessary. Your leg is still wrapped in a bandage — fresh ones from the first aid kit you found in the tower — but there’s no blood bloomed through, and it looked almost completely healed when Joel checked it last night. You’re out of the woods, and he knows you need to get going soon. You’re antsy, and he can see it. He’s just as bad.

You sigh into his grip, reaching up to drape your arms around his neck. “But you were sleeping,” you say with emphasis, and he knows you’ve been watching him just as much as he’s been watching you. “I didn’t want to wake you at all.”

Joel shakes his head, leaning forward to tuck his nose into your neck, lips grazing your jaw. “Slept enough, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him. “Just interrupted a dream I was havin’.”

“A dream?” you repeat, and he hums, grabbing your hips and pulling yours flush with his. He’s hard, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, his whole body nearly shaking with need. Your lips part softly, a quiet inhale that makes him even harder. “Was it a good dream?”

“Lemme show you,” he replies, reaching for the button on your jeans. “Where’s the kid?” 

“Downstairs,” you tell him, tilting your head to the door. “Told her to stay down there, to let you sleep.”

“Well, I’m done sleepin’, baby,” he grits as he unzips your fly. He brings his hand to his mouth, sucks two fingers past his lips, then slips them down the front of your pants, right past the band of your underwear. “Fuck, when’s the last time I touched you like this, huh?”

He watches your face, the way your bottom lip quivers, and right when he thinks you’re actually going to answer, he pushes his hand lower, curls his fingers up and into you. You squeak, nearly collapsing in his arms, and Joel can’t help the satisfaction that roils through him.

You clench around his fingers as he pushes deeper and your knees waver, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “Fuck,” you curse again, moaning when he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer, getting a better angle. “We need to be—” You cut yourself off, eyes rolling back when he finds that spot, the tips of his fingers rubbing circles. “Faster, Joel.”

“Faster, huh?” he almost taunts, but gives you what you ask for. “You want it just like this, huh? Y’know, I was dreamin’ we were back home, that I was fucking you in our bed. You were beggin’ me so pretty.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hand fisting the front of his flannel, pulling him close enough to make your noses brush. “Fuck me, please, baby.”

You whine when he drags his fingers from you, but he doesn’t waste any time, turning you around and pushing you against the table in the middle of the room. You plant your hands, bending over the edge as he shoves your pants down, just enough to see the shine of slick against the inside of your thighs, the evidence you need this just as badly as he does. He doesn’t have time to strip you down completely, but one of these days, he’ll—

“Joel.”

He frees himself from his jeans, his cock aching and leaking as he kicks your legs wide and lines himself up. Your whole body stutters as he drags himself along your heat, coating himself with your wetness. His other hand finds your hip, digging his fingers in hard. You call his name again, your voice a rasp in the air, and he pushes into you, breathy exhales filling the space between you as he fills you to the hilt. Just as fucking tight as he remembers, just as hot and perfect and…you.

The need and the desperation get the better of him, kicking his pace into high gear the instant he’s buried to the hilt. He can feel the shift, gripping both your hips, and your hands cover his, keeping him in place. Your head turns slightly, eyes meeting his, big and wide and just as full of lust as he feels. 

He gets you impossibly closer, keeping his hips tight to your ass and thrusting so hard your boots nearly lift off the ground. It pulls the most delicious sound from your mouth, your hand shooting back to dig your nails into his ass. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel hauls you up, banding one arm under your chest, his lips at your ear. “Yeah, baby? Tell me how good it feels.”

“So fucking good,” you babble, squeezing his ass, canting your hips back into him, driving him deeper. “Missed you — ah! — touching me like…like this.”

He had more words, more dirty things to murmur in your ear, but you take his mouth for your own, squeaking against his lips when he moves his other hand between your legs, thumbing at your clit. You clench around him, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard he’s sure you’ll draw blood, confirmed when he tastes iron a second later. But he doesn’t care, too engrossed in the way you twitch in his arms, thighs quaking around his hand, the breathy moans that fall out of you. 

How is it possible to miss someone who’s been right beside you the entire time?

It hits him like a ton of bricks as he works you through your orgasm, his movements sharper, trying to draw out your pleasure as much as he can. Your body goes lax, your lips still kissing his, both of your mouths smeared with his blood, but Joel doesn’t care.

His own body goes tight, pleasure creeping up his spine, slithering through his aching bones. The pain in his chest hasn’t made an appearance since you found the watchtower, and in this moment, he doesn’t even remember what it felt like, too preoccupied with how good you feel, your body wringing pleasure from his the same way he did to you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see his face, darting between his bloody lip and his eyes and back again. You kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip between your own, laving your tongue along the curve. His hips snap against your ass, that peak growing closer and closer with every touch you offer. He sees the recognition in your eyes, the spark of knowledge as you tighten your grip on him.

“Baby,” you murmur, your gaze softening, the corner of your lip curling up as his pace stutters. You cover his hands with your own, squeezing your fingers around his wrists, pushing your body back into his. “You fuck me so good, love me so good.” You steal another kiss. “Love you so goddamned much.”

His brow furrows, hands tightening on you, fingers curling against your ribs. He growls into your mouth, nerves set alight, the feeling barrelling up and down and side to side, making his toes numb in his boots. He cums with a shout, one you catch with your own lips as he staggers, nearly losing his grip on you as he spills himself deep. It makes you hum, your grip going tighter, and now it’s you holding him upright, your lips all over his cheek, one hand lifting to brush through his hair.

Once he’s caught his breath, you let out a little breathy giggle, your arms still around each other. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat as he slips out of you. “I just…needed that.”

You reach up, running your thumb over where you bit his lip. “You definitely don’t need to apologize for that, Joel. I’m sorry for biting you so hard.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I liked it.”

As you clean each other up, finding spare rags to clean the mess between your legs, wetting another to dab at the blood on Joel’s lip, he forgets, just for a moment. Forgets about the world outside, the terror and the violence that seem to follow you all around. For a moment, you’re just two people in love, as desperate for each other now as you were when you first met twenty-two years ago. You’re just…you.

You pull your jeans back up, inspecting your bandage after you do. Joel steps close to you. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, a relaxed smile on your face. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw you look like that — relaxed.

As you straighten, he pulls you back into the circle of his arms, fitting his arms around your shoulders. Your hands slip under his flannel, palms flat against his skin. He tugs at your hair, lifting your face until his nose brushes yours. Your lips part, words on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“I love you,” he whispers, well aware that his hands are shaking. You nudge your nose against his, pulling him closer. He drops his jaw, capturing your lips again, but softly this time. He adjusts his grip, hands lifting to cup your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. The cut on your face has also healed, a thin scar left behind. Joel traces it as you deepen the kiss, your tongue touching his.

Ellie clears her throat in the doorway and you both jump apart, you covering your face with your hand while Joel braces his hands on his hips, staring at the floor. She doesn’t say anything at first, stepping into the tower and tossing her gun onto the table in the middle — the table he’d just—

“What happened to your mouth?” she asks suddenly, brow furrowing at Joel. His head snaps up, brows rising.

“Huh?”

“Your lip is bleeding.”

“Oh.” He lifts his hand to his mouth, feeling his cheeks heat. “Uh—”

You stifle a laugh, turning away with a guilty look on your face, finding something in the corner of the room infinitely more interesting.

The kid’s eyes dart between the two of you, and then she makes a face. “Gross.”

+

One month later, on the outskirts of Cody, Wyoming…

You’re all dragging your heels. 

Ellie’s asleep on her feet, and Joel is so overtired that his senses are in overdrive. You can see it in the way his head swivels on his neck, eyes flitting every direction, coasting over where you’re stood on his bad side, bat over your shoulder, gun in hand. He’s still carting the rifle, knife at his hip, and Ellie has her not-so-secret gun. You feel better knowing she’s armed and feel shitty knowing how fucked up that thought process is.

Since you left the tower, winter has caught up with you. The snow came and left, then came and stuck, and it was very quickly apparent that the jackets you’d carried with you from Boston weren’t going to cut it. The chill in your bones had you detouring through neighbourhoods, reminiscent of your smuggling days, picking through houses over the remnants of people’s lives. You make Ellie and Joel keep watch most of the time, wanting to keep them safe from whatever horrors might be lurking behind closed doors.

You get lucky. You find a thick leather coat for Joel, wool-lined and worn in. For Ellie, what you think might have been a boy’s winter jacket, but it’s heavy enough to keep her warm and fits her fine. For you, one of those ridiculously patterned flannel-sherpa monstrosities you’re sure your mother had six of back in the nineties. It’s almost not warm enough, but you manage to find a few more layers to wear underneath and it works. 

You find a few hats — one of which you have to all but force onto Ellie’s head — and leather gloves to match Joel’s jacket. It’s easy enough to find boots for you and Ellie, the tall, lace-up kind that hug your calves and keep the snow out. For Joel, every pair you find isn’t the right size, or the soles are worse off than the ones he’s been wearing. What you do find is duct tape, and he wraps his boots in it, waving you off when you try to help.

Part of you wishes you’d stayed in the watchtower. It wasn’t the perfect place — it got drafty as hell once the temperature started to drop — but you had a good vantage point. The supplies you found would have lasted a bit longer, and you could have gone back to Omaha to look for more. 

Part of you wanted to stay, but a bigger part wanted to go. Once your leg was healed, you just wanted to keep moving. Whatever this is, you want to see it through. You’ve lost too much since leaving Boston, you refuse to tuck your tail between your legs and just give it up. 

Another part, a part that’s small sometimes, and so big sometimes you think it might swallow you whole, that part doesn’t want any of this. It wants to find a place, somewhere safe, somewhere far from FEDRA and the Fireflies and the past you left behind, just for you. For you and for Joel and…

And for Ellie.

You can’t deny the protectiveness you feel for her. Right from that first night, you just had to keep her safe, had to keep her as whole as you possibly could in a world that wants the polar opposite. You look at her, remember what you’ve agreed to do, to just hand her over to the Fireflies. What will they do with her, what will they…?

Never mind your own feelings, but you’ve seen her and Joel lately, since you left Kansas City. Something’s changed, shifted. You know Joel will be the last person to admit it, but there’s a kinship, a kindness between them that didn’t exist before. He’s still your gruff old man, through and through, but his edges that were once soft only for you have smoothed out for her, too. It’s little things — passing a can of soup back and forth, Joel making sure she’s got a good grip on the warm metal before letting go — and the bigger ones too. When you first left the watchtower, shortly after the first snow, Ellie had nearly tumbled down the hill, but Joel had been closer than you, and he’d grabbed her before she could fall, hauling her back and onto steady feet, keeping her pressed to his chest until she caught her breath again.

You saw the flicker in his face when her arms wrapped around his middle, and the twinge in his expression when she let go, giving a shaky laugh and stepping away from him.

They’ve gotten closer, but Joel’s different on his own. He still has those pinched expressions when he thinks you’re not looking, looks of pain that he forces mild when he catches you looking. The closer you get to Cody, potentially to Tommy, the more antsy he gets. You know he’ll never admit it, but you know exactly what’s going on in his head. You’ve come all this way, and what if…

What if you don’t find Tommy?

Or worse, what if you do find him and—

No. You cut the thought short. You can’t let yourself think like that. No good will come of it.

You’ll find the Cody Tower. You’ll find Tommy and he’ll help you find the Fireflies, and this will all—

“Liv!”

You’ve only just reached the outskirts of the city. Wrapped in your own head, your mind going a million miles a minute, you didn’t realize you’d gotten close to the buildings, the flattened cityscape that looks like something out of an old Western. Joel grabs you from behind, clamping a hand over your mouth and wrenching you backwards, your boots scuffing against the pavement as he drags you, stifling your surprised noise when you see the sight before you.

Off in the distance, the control tower is plain as day. Your mind paints a taunting image of Tommy perched on the top platforms, speaking into a radio, talking to you and to Joel, telling you where he’s gone, what he’s doing. 

The town below is less taunting, more nightmare.

Clickers, everywhere. 

As far as your eye can see, wandering and twitching their way through the streets, tripping over abandoned cars and cracked hunks of pavement. The odd screech reaches your ears, sending chills down your spine. You let Joel drag you back, your body going willingly, pushing yourself back into his arms as you go. Ellie is frozen in place as you pass, her eyes glued to the sight before you, and you grab the hood of her coat as you pass, pulling her along with you.

Joel doesn’t release you until you’re back over the hill you’d just crested, until you’re out of earshot, out of sight. Your heart is racing, thumping against your ribs, and you get your bearings, letting go of Joel enough to grab his hand and Ellie’s, pulling them off the road and into the forest lining the road.

But Joel doesn’t move.

He’s still as a statue in the middle of the road, the hill stretching below, a straight shot through Cody. Even at a further distance now, you can hear them, those awful noises, like some kind of demonic birdsong. Ellie grips your hand tightly and you put yourself between her and the town below. “Joel, we need to move,” you say, tugging on his wrist. Nothing. “Joel—”

“He was in Cody,” he murmurs, his voice nearly carried away on the wind that sweeps through, ruffling your hair and his, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “He was there. D’you think that he…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. The rifle falls from his grip, hanging against his shoulder, and his hand flies to his throat, boots sliding as his body tilts. He’s white as a fucking ghost. You pull your hand from Ellie’s, reaching for him. He grunts as you move in front of him, bearing his weight, trying to keep him upright.

“Liv—” Ellie starts, but you cut her off.

“Go to the trees,” you tell her, giving her a pointed look. “Go, and don’t move till I say, you hear me?”

She nods, her face nearly solemn, and heads for the tree line.

“Joel,” you call, and he gives you no response, his hands on your shoulders and his breath wheezing out of his chest. It’s coming fast, his entire body shaking with every inhale, every exhale. “Joel, honey, I’m right here.”

“What if he…” He trails off again, his eyes moving past you, back to the town. “Tommy…”

“Tommy’s alive,” you say, making your voice as stern as you can be, ignoring the panic rising in your own chest. “He’s alive and he sure as hell isn’t down there. We need to get someplace safe, okay? We need to figure out where to go next.”

“But he—”

You grab his chin in your hand, force his eyes on yours. “Your brother is a smart man, Joel, much as you hate to admit it. And he left Boston a long time ago. He wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to get caught up in something like that. He’s alive, and we’re going to find him. You hear me?”

His chest is still rising rapidly, his hands shaking as they move down to your biceps, squeezing so tight you feel it through your jacket and sweater. “I don’t know what…” He shakes his head, some of the colour returning to his cheeks. The wind howls and his eyes finally drop, pinched shut as he relaxes slightly into your grip, his breath starting to come a touch slower.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your chest to his, hoping he’ll feel your even breaths, that his body will respond and try to match them. “I’ve had that thought more times than I care to admit. We have to believe he’s alive, Joel, and that we’ll find him. We will.”

His shoulders sag and he pulls you against him, his temple against your forehead as he exhales slowly. “We will.”

+

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not fuckin’ lost,” Joel grumbles, swinging his bag from his shoulder. He pulls out the map, shoves it in your direction, and you give Ellie a glare as you unfold it, the lines and dots instantly giving you more of a headache than you already have.

“Really?” she quips, and you let your eyes flutter shut, pushing the map back at Joel. “Then where the fuck are we?”

He gives you a pointed look, brow raised, but you ignore it, scrubbing your gloved hand over your face. It’s fucking cold. You feel like you haven’t slept in three days — realistically, you know that’s not completely true, but the little sleep you have gotten hasn’t been nearly enough, and the thrum in the back of your mind has been near constant. You’re burning out, desperate for some real food, water that hasn’t been hastily boiled over a campfire, and at least eighteen hours of sleep. Hell, even eight would do the trick.

You’ve been walking since sunrise. Almost three days past Cody. You walked through (past? You can’t be sure…) Yellowstone a day and a half in, and you’re all dragging each other along. The roads are hell, covered in snow, the blanket of white a welcome repaint to the landscape, but it helps hide the things that go bump in the night. Infected aren’t the only things you have to worry about in the mountains.

Joel furrows his brow at the map, yanking his gloves off to trace the path he’s after. You’ve been following the map, using whatever landmarks you can to find the next town. Joel mentioned Jackson, you thought maybe Yellowstone would have a camp of some sort — the park was big enough they could have put up some sort of outpost or camp when the outbreak came — but your path proved otherwise. Whatever had been set up in the park’s boundary was long gone.

There’s a marked path Joel’s been trying to follow, but the snow is not helpful. You think you’ve been sticking to it, but with every step, you feel more and more unsure. What if you’re going in the wrong direction? You trust Joel, you know he’s good for this stuff, that he wouldn’t risk it — risk you — if he wasn’t sure, but after his episode outside Cody, your worry for him has only grown stronger. 

But you have to keep going.

It’s Ellie, that spots the cabin off in the distance. Small, tucked behind a wooden fence you’d guess is about chest height. Smoke pours out of the chimney. The relief that floods you is tinged with wariness, but it’s the first sign of actual living human life since you left Kansas City, and part of you wants to grab onto it as tight as you can.

The other part knows you can’t be stupid about this. You have to be careful.

By the time you get close enough to scope the place out, night has nearly fallen, and you make camp just inside the trees, out of line of sight from the cabin, but still able to keep an eye out. Joel insists on taking the majority of watch, and you let him, honestly too tired to fight with him otherwise. The little sleep you get is fitful, too many noises in the forest keeping you awake, Ellie’s murmurs in her sleep putting you on high alert, listening closely for any sounds of distress. You huddle close on the sleeping bags, keeping each other warm while Joel paces the small camp you’ve made.

You’re up with the sun, feeling like you barely got back to sleep when you’re being pulled out of it, and Joel has a plan. “It’s an older couple,” he informs you, scratching at his forehead, passing you a cup of coffee. You’ve rationed what you found back in KC best you can, but you’re getting down to the dregs and the grounds are more and more stale. But it’s caffeine, and you’re grateful all the same. “Husband looks like a hunter. I say we wait it out, wait for him to leave, then get in there. Get the wife to point us in the right direction. Figure out where the hell we are, if they’ve ever heard of Tommy, if he passed through here.”

“What if she doesn’t want to help us?” Ellie asks, and the waver in her voice pulls at something in your chest. You stare down into your coffee.

Joel pulls his gun out of his pocket, bare fingers curled around the handle. “We make sure she does.”

“Joel—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“We’ve been walking for days, Liv. I know you’ve been thinkin’ the same as I have. This is the first real thing we’ve found; I won’t walk away until we’ve found all we can.”

You swallow hard, the coffee bitter on your tongue. “Okay,” you nod, “but we ask politely first.”

His jaw ticks. “Yes, dear.”

Florence lets you inside with little issue. She actually laughs at Ellie’s whispered what the fuuuuuuck when you step into the cabin. The warmth that floods your body nearly makes you crumple on the spot, but you keep upright, taking in the log interior, the animal skulls and all manner of tools and equipment hanging from the walls.

Joel pushes ahead of the two of you, gun raised, scanning the space. “Anyone else here?”

“Just me,” the older woman says, almost smiling. “You waited until Marlon left.”

“He looked like a shoot first, ask questions later type,” Joel says, and she laughs again.

“He is.”

Keeping the gun at hand, Joel steps through the cabin, poking around doors, heading up to the loft to make sure it’s empty too. You and Ellie stand there awkwardly, teeth chattering as your bodies get used to the warmth.

“Sit down, girls,” Florence instructs, getting out of her chair with some effort. “I’ll make you some soup.”

“You don’t have t—” you protest, but she waves you off as she heads to the kitchen area.

“It’s cold out there.”

Joel comes back down the stairs, satisfied with his search, and Ellie sinks down on the couch, clearly unable to resist a soft seat. You’re tense, and Joel stands beside you, one hand in the middle of your back, the other still holding his gun aloft.

“Joel,” you start, but he shakes his head again, just like he had.

“Where is she?”

“Making soup,” Ellie answers and his brows shoot up. 

It’s a good few minutes of quiet, and you sit down beside Ellie, every bone in your body creaking as you hit the cushion. Joel puts himself between the two of you and Florence, her back to you, the clatter of dishes the only sound.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says, “just need to know where we are.”

The woman nods as she turns back, two bowls of soup in her hands as she walks back toward the couch. You and Ellie accept them with mumbled thanks, and she goes back to get a third bowl for Joel before sinking back into her rocking chair, regarding the three of you.

“You got a map?”

About an hour later, the bowls are empty, you can feel your toes again, and Ellie’s cheeks are not nearly as rosy as they’d been when she woke up this morning. The map sits on the table in front of you, and your eyes are trained on the spot Florence had pointed to. Joel is still rigid, pacing the cabin with the gun in his hand, ignoring you when you tell him to put it away.

Florence is still in her rocking chair, and she pauses mid-rock, head turning toward the door. “He’s back.”

“Ellie, upstairs,” you say, and she shoots you a wide-eyed look, but you press. “Now.”

She sighs as she darts upstairs, like she’s annoyed to not be in the line of fire, and Joel pulls you up off the couch, bringing you with him into the kitchen, out of sight of the front door.

The man you assume to be Marlon steps through the front door a beat later, unzipping his coat and setting a hunting bow down on the nearby table. Florence just watches, rocking back and forth in her chair, but you don’t miss the way her eyes meet his and then flick to the pair of you tucked to the side.

Marlon takes a step forward, and Joel moves at the same time. “And the gun, too.”

Your brow lifts. You hadn’t noticed the holster at Marlon’s belt, but Joel had. “Who the hell are you?”

Joel steps around the room slowly, his own gun lifted and pointed at the older man. “Just someone passin’ through.” You stay where you are, watching the scene unfold before you. Joel stops, gestures to Marlon. “Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it outta reach.”

You have to admit the thread of power in his voice makes a shiver race down your spine. And it’s not from the cold.

Marlon does as asked, pulling the pistol out almost mockingly, shaking it in the air before setting it down — out of reach, like Joel said.

“Why didn’t you shoot ‘em?” Marlon asks, jutting his chin at his wife.

“Gun’s all the way over there,” Florence replies, looking toward the kitchen. You realize she could have — when she went to make you all soup, she easily could have grabbed the gun and started shooting. Three against one wouldn’t be an easy fight for the woman, but it would have been something. “He didn’t hurt me, by the way,” she tacks onto the end, her voice almost sarcastic.

“Yeah, I got eyes,” Marlon grumbles, and steps a little closer, gesturing at the table in front of the couch, your empty bowls of soup and the map. “You made him soup?”

“Yeah,” Florence replies, “I did. It’s cold out.”

Marlon sinks down into one of the empty chairs, and you can see Joel’s patience wearing thin. “I’m lookin’ for my brother.”

The old man scoffs, pulling his hat off. “Well, I ain’t seen him.”

“I haven’t told you what he looks like,” Joel retorts, matching his tone.

“He look anything like you?”

“A bit,” Joel answers, and you can’t stop yourself from stepping forward.

“Not really,” you say, and Marlon’s brows shoot up as you make yourself seen, your own gun dangling from your hand. “Darker hair, a bit shorter, more mustache than beard.”

Another scoff. “I ain’t seen him.”

“They’ve got a girl with them,” Florence says, lifting her chin toward the loft.

“Can I come down?” Ellie’s voice floats down, and Joel bristles.

“No,” he calls, his voice stern, and you both look up to see her lean over the railing.

“Ellie!” you call, trying to strengthen Joel’s command, but it doesn’t work. She comes bounding down the stairs, gun rattling in her hand.

“Ooh-wa,” Marlon grumbles, and both he and Florence start laughing.

“What did I just say?” Joel grits and you sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead.

“Joel, come on,” Ellie retorts, almost rolling her eyes. “They’re like, a thousand.”

“Who’s this little psycho?” Marlon asks, gesturing to Ellie, looking between you and Joel. “Your daughter?”

“She’s—” you start, but Joel cuts you off.

“Never mind her,” he says, stepping forward and poking at the map on the table. “I need you to tell us where we are.”

“If you got a map, why you lost?”

“Must have missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest,” Ellie bites out, and you grab her shoulder, yanking her backward and beside you.

“Ho-ly,” Marlon laughs, and Florence chuckles. The whole scene is making your head hurt. It’s like whiplash.

Joel gives you a pointed look as the older couple laughs. Your jaw goes tight and you shake your head ever so slightly, gripping Ellie’s shoulder as he leans in again, pointing at the map. “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.”

Marlon stares at Joel for a long moment before his eyes cut to Florence. “You tell him the truth?”

“Yeah,” she says, still rocking back and forth.

“You tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yeah.”

Another glare from the old man before he leans forward in the chair and pokes at the map. Exactly the same spot Florence had pointed out. Middle of fucking nowhere. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on your face, but you can’t bring yourself to look in her direction.

With a sigh, Joel tucks his gun away. “Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” He sinks down onto the couch, putting his head in his palm.

“Hide?” Marlon laughs. “Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody.”

“I didn’t want to,” Florence interjects, and despite it all, you laugh. 

Marlon waves her off. “Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far, then you know what’s out there. You’ve seen Cody?”

At the mention, you step away from Ellie, to the other side of the couch, hovering near Joel’s shoulder, reaching out and curling your fingers in his coat. Ellie sinks onto the corner of the couch and answers for you. “Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with Infected.”

“Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation,” Marlon tells you, his eyes flitting from Ellie to Joel to you and back again. “Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.”

You can feel Joel tensing under your hand like a drawn bowstring. “So you haven’t heard the name Tommy? Tommy Miller?”

“Nope.”

“What about the Fireflies?” you ask, finding your voice.

“We get those in the summer,” Florence answers innocently.

“Not the bugs,” Ellie bites out, “the people.”

“There are firefly people?” the old woman asks and the pair starts laughing again.

Ellie has more to say, but you call her name, your voice as stern as Joel’s had been, and this time she listens, shrinking down onto the couch.

“You got any advice on the best way West?” Joel asks, and you can feel his shoulders going tighter and tighter.

“Yeah,” Marlon answers, “go East. But you never go past the river here.” He points at the map, not far from where he’d pointed before. “Ever.”

“What’s past the river?” you ask, stepping around and sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand still squeezing Joel’s shoulder.

“Death,” Florence says, and an icy chill shoots through you. “We never see who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some Infected, some not. If your brother’s West of the river, he’s gone.”

Joel deflates. You feel it beneath your hand, the slump to his shoulder, the defeat that starts to roil through him. You know him too well not to see it for what it is. He’s giving up.

And Ellie is staring at you. You let yourself meet her gaze, and see your own fear mirrored in her eyes. But despite it all, what comes out of your mouth is, “You aren’t gonna scare us.”

“Scared him,” Florence says, chin lifted toward Joel.

Marlon laughs again and Joel snatches the map up off the table, moving out from under your grip and getting to his feet. “We need to leave.” You move to follow, grabbing Ellie by the shoulder again. You grab your bags from where you stashed them near the stairs. Joel swings the rifle over his shoulder and as he steps past you to get to the door, you hear the wheeze in his breath. Without another word, he steps out of the door, Ellie following.

You turn back to the older couple. “Thank you for the…hospitality.”

Marlon gives you a strange look. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, girl.”

You give a curt nod before turning on your heel, following Joel and Ellie. Ellie is nearly running to keep up with him, a dead rabbit hanging from her grip — where the hell did she get a dead rabbit?

“They don’t know anything,” she’s saying, like she’s trying to reason with him. “Never heard of the Fireflies.”

They’re at the fence by the time you catch up, your boots nearly slipping through the snow. Joel’s stock-still, one hand reached out, gripping the wooden fence for support.

“Joel, are you okay?” Ellie calls, and you hear him grumble at her to shut up. “Holy shit, are you dying?” She whirls, panic in her eyes as she stares at you. “Liv, is he dying? This is the second time.”

Joel shakes his head, the movement almost frantic, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m okay,” he wheezes, and you step past Ellie, moving beside him. “Okay, okay, I’m fine.”

“Joel,” you call, your voice soft, reaching for his free hand, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here.”

“No, no, but are you okay?” Ellie continues, her voice climbing. “Because just a reminder, that if you’re dead, we’re fucked.”

“Ellie, stop it,” you snap, squeezing Joel’s fingers as your head whips in her direction. The anger that spikes through you is there and gone in a flash, but you see it flicker across her face all the same.

“I’m fine,” Joel repeats, lifting your joined hands to his chest, rubbing your knuckles against his sternum. “Just the…cold air, all of a sudden.” He’s still panting, his breaths still wheezing, and he bends slightly, still gripping the fence for support.

Ellie’s still staring at you. The guilt is immediate as she ducks under the fence, putting distance between the pair of you. “Alright, uh, so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

Joel straightens, taking a deep, even breath, and you relax slightly, turning your attention to him fully. His lips form the words I’m okay and you wish to God you could believe him, but his eyes tell a different story. One you don’t have time to hash out here and now.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie is still carrying on, nearly crawling up the hill that leads away from the cabin. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

[queers-gambit]

One Sunrise at a Time

prompt: you have news for your husband.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.4k+

note: last in the series, my heart. got a thing for making 'bad boys' simps for their ladies - that's great shit right there. author has had too much coffee and can feel her heartbeat in her eyes.

warnings: cursing, mild angst, Daemon's a shitty husband and a dumb boy, but he's also a simp so super OC!Daemon, um, more baby-making smut, talk of difficult fertility journey, let's all run away from our problems.

previous: part five: Bright Light

Three years after your wedding night, and you still had not given your husband an heir; leaving a small divide between you both. You knew it stung at his pride that his seed will not take, and you grew worried that you were past your prime to bare children; where you both felt an obligation each month to couple, wait for results, and speak little.

By every God did it drive you insane. You wanted to be close to him, but Dameon busied himself while you took up post as 'Master of Whispers' for the King.

After 'the incident' that followed rumor of her virginity, he took your ear often to speak worries to you. And the young servants and orphans of the city passed word to you of their findings, dubbing them your Little Birds that like to tweet in your ear. You filtered what passed unto the King, wanting to take your Lord husband's ear, but was scarce in his appearance, and little did you get to his counsel.

However, you remained in Kings Landing for those three years, and you could tell it was wearing at Daemon's already limited patience. You passed time with Princess Rhaenyra, who you became quite close to in your time, and during court season, you still sponsored your step-sons; adamant on finding them suitable wives.

This season was going favorably, and Kase was courting Lord Stark's second daughter while Jamie was courting the young, but beautiful, (only) Lady Caldwell. You heard nothing from the Ladies Aline and Jocey, but you worried not for them, because Kase gave you every update possible. He liked taking afternoon teas with you, and you knew you'd miss him most.

"Mother!" Kase grinned, finding you in the gardens. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Oh, whatever for, my dear boy?" you asked gently, knowing damn well what the lad wanted.

"Might you... Accompany me?"

"Where?"

"Into the city," he nodded with a growing grin, bouncing on his toes to swish his long, dark hair around his face. "I need to visit the jeweler."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to propose," he grinned, making you giggle and clap your hands.

"Oh, my boy! This is so exciting!"

"Oh! Isn't it!" He beamed with you, taking your hands tightly in his. "And I need your help picking a ring, mother."

"Yeah?"

"Please?"

"Of course," you nodded, "just let me stop off at my chambers, I will get money for the ring."

"No, I've plenty - "

"No, no, you're going to let me pay, and we're not going to let expense be a barrier. Please, I will do the same for Jamie," you whined. "'S no fun being a Princess if I can't spoil you."

Kase nodded, "Let us go now, I want to be back by sunset."

"When are you doing it? When are you asking?"

"I'm asking her father for permission tonight, I want to show Lord Stark the ring first. You know, show I can provide for his beloved daughter," he explained, making you nod with understanding. His arm was then offered to you as escort, whisking you away to your chambers, and when you both burst through the door in a fit of giggles, he straightened up first.

Your eyes cut over to see Daemon idling by a table, the Grand Maester at his side. "Oh, right," you breathed, turning to Kase, "love, go to the foyer, I'll meet you there in a few moments."

"Are you sure?"

"I forgot, but this is a prior commitment," you smiled, giving his forearm a squeeze. "Go on, I'll be right there."

"I'll wait with the guards," he nodded with assurance, offering a nod to the Grand Maester. Then, "Prince Daemon," and he was bowing out of the room, closing it behind him.

You sighed gently, nearing the pair with your fingers twiddling nervously. "Is there any change?" You asked diplomatically to the Maester.

His old eyes shot between both you and your husband, "Well, I ran the tests, just as I usually do..."

"Is there any change?" You repeated firmly.

"No, Princess. Not this month, apparently..."

"Right," you nodded, waving him off, "then we are adjourned. Something is... Wrong with my womb," you hesitated to admit, feeling jarred by the notion as Daemon would not meet your eyes. So, you stared at the quivering Maester.

"Well, we could try other methods," the Grand Maester explained, making your throat bob. "I can bring a list of options later, or we can go over them now, if either of you are prepared to hear them?"

"No, later will be fine," you assured, sniffling after, and clearing your throat. "Thank you, Grand Maester, again... That will be all, thank you," You moved for the door, opening it with meaning; the old man glancing at your husband, who remained quiet, and did not look up from the table's top.

"My Prince," the Grand Maester nodded, shuffling out of the room, "Princess."

"Thank you," you whispered again, the door shutting firmly after. You did not look at Daemon as you moved for the safe you kept, drawing a velvet draw-string bag of Gold Dragons to your possession as Daemon remained stoically still.

"Where are you going with that?" He asked, eyeing you wearily.

"We agreed to pay for Kase and Jamie's engagement rings, did we not?" You asked gently.

"Right," he nodded. "Kase is ready then, is he?"

"He is."

"Right..."

You paused before deciding on changing your shoes, finally bucking up the courage to speak as you did so, "I'm sorry, you know."

"What for?"

"For being unable to give you a child," you admitted meekly, staring at the laces you did up tightly. "I did not - if I knew, I would not have - I would not have married you."

"No?"

"No," you answered definitively, tying off the laces of your boots before standing and settling your purse to your person. "I will understand if you do not wish to continue this marriage with me, as you were anticipating a healthy, functioning wife."

Your bitter, vile words marred your face as you hastened for the door, but his hands were like a stranger's grabbing your upper arm. You gasped lightly as you turned almost in shock, back against the door as he looked down at you with something akin to anger.

"Why do you speak such words?" He asked in High Valyrian.

"Because it's true, isn't it?"

"You are deeply mistaken," he shook his head, "because nothing about your ability to bare me children has ever influenced my want to marry you."

"That is laughable, for you fuck me like it's a chore, barely share my bed, only half-way look at me, and have been avoiding me like-like-like the plague, or something! As if I have Grey Scale!" You emotions tipped and tears filled your eyes, cascading past your waterline. "As if your mind is far from your body, and Gods only know where that is!"

"Sweetheart - "

"No, I needed you!" You sobbed. "I needed my husband, and it was like you couldn't even look at me! Be in a room with me! Share my bed - hold me in your arms! My God, Daemon, when was the last time you told me you loved me?"

His mouth opened before his brows furrowed, expression falling, "I fear I do not know."

"See?" You sniffled. "It's like I am not here, like we are not truly married, and my heart hurts, Daemon. I do not want this for us, so, if this is the grounds you use, being that I am barren, then use it, and cut us both free. I'm sorry. I really am, Daemon, please, I did not intend for this to happen. I did not know."

"Please, do not apologize to me, and let me offer my own," he shook his head, shame taking his features. "I have no excuse for myself - "

"Are you here now?" You begged.

"Yes," he swore.

"Then come with us to pick a ring, spend the day with me, please. I miss you so much, I am so fucking sad and by Gods, do I feel so alone."

"No, I am here now, pet," he promised. "I'm so sorry I was absent, but I'm here, I'm with you. I'm so sorry. Fuck, my dove, I'm sorry you feel alone."

"I'm sorry I'm not pregnant," you whispered, your hands moving to press to your empty womb; his hands laying over yours.

"No matter what is to pass, you are everything I need, and more. Everything I need, all I have ever wanted. Look at me, please," he asked quietly, forehead resting on yours as your eyes slowly rose - forcing them apart. "I have loved you everyday I've known you, and nothing will change that. No child will make me care more or less for you, because you're perfect for me, poppet."

"I don't want to be alone..."

"We will never be alone," he promised, kissing your forehead. "The Grand Maester will bring us options..."

"I want to give you a natural child," you whimpered.

"The Gods will decide, but for now... I could stand taking my duties as husband a little more seriously. You have felt unloved and I took vows to never let you go a day like that - I will resolve this."

You nodded, lifting your hands to pet over his chest, "Please just stay with me today. I feel like a fucking failure - not only as a wife, but as a woman."

"You are fare from a failure," he swore, switching back to the Common Tongue to prove how serious his words were.

"Then why can I not give you a child?"

"Because the Gods have not deemed it so," he sighed. "I am disappointed, yes, but nothing makes me love you less. I'm sorry I've neglected you."

"Be with me now, maybe buy me something pretty, and all is forgiven."

"Deal," he agreed with a small chuckle, sliding his hand over your cheek. "I love you. Fuck, dove, I love you so much."

You nodded, tears still falling, "I love you, too. So much so, Daemon, that being away from you hurts. As annoying and pathetic as that might be."

"Hey, no," he hushed you gently. "Never again will you know that pain for I will not be the cause of it any longer," he promised, pressing a searing-hot kiss to your salty wet lips. "Now, when is Jamie proposing?"

"I don't know yet, we're worrying about Kase today," you nodded, nuzzling your nose to his.

So lead to Daemon preparing for your day, lacing your fingers together as he escorted you to the foyer. Kase was waiting patiently, smirking when he saw the pair of you approach, "Ha! I knew it."

"What?"

"That he would be joining us," Kase grinned now. "Everything's good now?"

"Yes, we are resolved," you assured. "And we're dedicated to finding you a ring, so, shall we?"

He sighed, "She deserves something pretty. You know?"

"Pretty is a great start," you smirked, Daemon's hand tightening. "It's what Daemon's going for today, too."

"Yeah? You're in the market?" Kase wondered.

"For anything my wife wants," Daemon nodded, leading the way out of the Red Keep. "She's been without something new for far too long."

"I want to be able to do that," Kase sighed. "Like, my wife's sad? I can just up and buy her a new ring, or necklace, or whatever, and she's okay."

"In all honesty, I'd be happy with flowers from the gardens," you chuckled, "but my husband is dramatic, Kase, and likes to spend money."

"Only on you," he assured, tugging you in closer. "So, Kase, any idea where to start?"

"Something shiny?"

"Oh, he's helpless," your husband teased, to the enjoyment of your step-son.

"So, tell me," Kase muttered when you finally stepped off castle grounds - half a dozen Gold Cloaks at your flank, "what news did the Maester bring?"

"I am not pregnant," you admitted with indignation, trying to remain passive - as if this whole situation didn't cause your skin to crawl.

"Yet," Daemon tacked on with encouragement, "because in truth, lad," he told Kase, "I have not been as diligent in my duties as a husband as I should be."

"Meaning?"

"We don't fuck nearly enough - but that is set to change," he eased with a smirk; you hand smacking his stomach playfully.

"Well, you actually don't spend any time with me," you pointed out, feeling silly admitting it aloud. "Might we... I don't know, move along to another subject? How are matters with the Lady Stark, Kase?"

"Well, Jamie and I spoke of it, and if the Ladies agreed to it, have a duel wedding here with you before we return home. My Lady's father gifted her a small stead near Winterfell... I think we might move there after the ceremony."

"And Jamie?"

"Would still be Lord, only, married, and no longer in the capital," Kase paused to consider, "with very little reason to return to this city."

Pointing that out seemed to set you off some, though you did not let it show. The idea was that both lads were to marry this season, and Daemon was antsy to escape Kings Landing for across the Narrow Sea seemed like a terribly convenient coincidence. Daemon's been more than gracious to let you linger as you did, but now that the truth was tangibly verbalized about your boys leaving and not returning, Gods, did it sting!

Daemon and Kase asked one another a few questions back and forth in further effort to know one another, your feet and lower back starting to ache. Perhaps you were to start your cycle soon...

Time through the city drug only because it was evident Kase was 'forcing' time between you and your husband by going the long routes through market stalls. By the time you arrived at the jewelers, all 6 Gold Cloaks were holding items bought because you had so simply as 'gazed fondly at it.'

And he was even worse in the jeweler, though you talked him down to only one item - be it a ring, or heavy necklace, so solid gem broach... With reluctance, Dameon agreed, and the pair of you focused on helping Kase make his decisions. Your husband advised he simply go with whatever spoke to his heart, but it was evident the lad was becoming overwhelmed.

So, you stepped up, and together, pieced together what he thought would be suitable for his bride-to-be. Daemon watched with a smirk, gazing over other options for anything he found intriguing for you, but paused when Kase exclaimed, "AH-HA! YES!"

"Kase!" You scolded.

"Sorry, sorry," he winced, looking from you, to the jeweler, then to Daemon, "sorry. I just... I think I found the one!"

"Let's see it, lad," Daemon nodded, clasping the young Lord's shoulder and looking at what he held. "Befitting for a young woman so beautiful as your bride. It will do nicely - yes, we'll take it," he assured the salesman.

"Gems are imported from Qaarth."

"Where before?" You wondered.

"No idea," the man admitted. "But it's real nice, yeah?"

"It is, please, set it aside for us," you nodded to the man, then pointed to a pretty, solid gold necklace that held a plaque that looked as if it could be carved into. "And might I see that, please?"

"Course," the man mumbled, and the necklace was produced for your hands to examine.

"If I gave you script, could you engrave this for me?"

"Anything you'd like, Princess," he nodded in agreement.

"I'll send the instructions with a lad later," you smiled. "We'd like those two items - might we settle the debt now?"

"If you'd like, of course."

"I'd like to, yes," you nodded from the salesman to your Lord husband. "Daemon? Love?"

"Right," he sighed, pulling the money pouch from his belt after fearing that if you carried it, it would encourage violence against you. "What's the number then?"

As the two talked price, Kase was beaming as he examined his ring choice - glancing at you, and making you prompt, "She'll be blown away."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you assured. "It's a beautiful selection, she's going to just die when she sees it. And her father will not think you lowly, but capable of providing for his daughter."

"But what if... What if I can't?" Kase mumbled, turning to you. "What if I screw up so bad, it can't be fixed, and she leaves me - or whatever have you!? I fear I am only a second son and hold no land or titles, but that my brother does, and so long as he draws breath, I have nothing..."

"Kase..."

"No, no, just that I want to be with the Lady Stark - even on her homestead, if it means being away from you all... But what if I ruin it?"

"You won't," you spoke with assurance.

"So quick to - "

"I know you, Kase, get out of your head," you advised as Daemon paid that debt owed. Kase sighed and thanked the jeweler, following Daemon from the shop, after you.

The entire walk back through town, Kase worried he wasn't good enough for Lady Stark - and Daemon was far too amused when the boy asked him for help. Daemon's solution? To take the lad to a tavern, but you weren't sure.

"C'mon, Mum, it'll cap off a great day," Kase encouraged. "And we can get drunk! It's a win-win!"

You chuckled, "You're aware of what we've on our person?"

"Yes, yes, but no one would dare cross the Prince of the City!"

Heaving a sigh, you glanced around to the Gold Cloaks. "Can we trust you to bring this all back to our chamber and lock the door?" You asked them, handing over the engagement ring but Kase lunged for it.

"Wait!"

"Oh, hell no," you snapped, taking the ring and pointing a warning finger, "I've been to enough taverns in my life to watch men gamble away whatever be in their pockets - and I will not jeopardize this ring! It's going to our room to be locked up, hmm?"

"Well," he looked nervous.

"I trust these men," Daemon nodded, "and if they choose to steal from us, or to vary from whatever my wife asks, they know the extent to which I will take to punish them."

"Oh, Daemon," you swatted at him, "you do not need to threaten everyone!"

"How would they know I'm serious?"

You sighed, handing the ring over. "Please?"

"Of course, Princess," one of the guardsman assured. "You've a key?"

"Yes, you can lock it, I've a way in for us," you smiled lightly, nodding as they took their leave. "Are we sure?" You asked Kase and Daemon.

"About the tavern? Yes - c'mon," Kase groaned, tugging you forward as Daemon quickly swooped in behind you. The tavern was relatively lively for the middle of the afternoon, but you were not one to offer judgement as Daemon was greeted calmly, happily...

Like you would a friend.

Your hand found his quickly out of nervousness, lacing together as Kase went for the bar to open a tab and Daemon secured a table by shooing off the residents of the back corner booth.

"Look here, position is everything," he mumbled, guiding you into a seat with him beside you; stuck like glue, "and from here we've the advantage."

"Should we even be here?"

"We're all right," he assured softly. "But if you are uncomfortable, my dove, we will leave."

"No," you sighed, peering around him to the bar, spying Kase talking with animation to the bartender, "he looks excited. But do you frequent this bar?"

"I do," he nodded. "'S why I brought us here, the security is under my payment right now... But I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What would that be?"

His fingers gently pinched your chin, sighing almost sadly, "How would you feel about leaving Westeros?"

"Not just Kings Landing?"

He nodded, "I'd take us across the Narrow Sea."

"Oh," you breathed, nodding slowly. "Well, that's something... When do you want to leave?"

"After the lads are married, so, the end of the season?"

You worried slightly, "Is that enough time?"

"We've three months, dove," he nodded, petting down your cheek, "and in truth, we've no more attachments here... Let us leave," he breathed against your lips, puckering his to kiss you. "Let us be done, we'll get away from the city."

"See the world?" You smirked some.

"I'll take you wherever you want to go," he nodded. "Maybe getting away from the city will give us the stress-free environment we'll need to conceive a child."

"You think that's our issue?" You sighed, lacing your hand with his to lean your chin on his shoulder. His own head tilted to caress your forehead.

"Perhaps," he alluded, "but we still have to hear the Maester out."

"Right..."

"Come on, pet, there's hope still," he nodded, kissing your forehead. "And perhaps we see the world instead," he chuckled some, "I don't think I'd mind that. Traveling the world with you?"

"What if we have children?"

"Hey?"

"Wouldn't you want your children to have dragon eggs?"

He sighed, "We can talk logistics later, but yes, I would... It is their birth right," one of his arms was around your back, the other flattening his palm to your stomach. "The Gods will bless us one day."

"But no harm in practicing?" You teased, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "I fear it's been too long since I've loved you properly, husband."

"Make that my burden," he shook his head, glancing up as his hips shifted when one of your hands laid on his thigh, "and I will make it up to you when we get back - ah!" He hissed when you boldly palmed his crotch before casually settling your arms at his hips when Kase returned to the table, carrying two jugs of ale and three cups stacked on his head. "Devilish woman," he mocked in your ear.

"Here, here!" Kase laughed, setting the jugs down as he dodged around to keep the cups on his head.

"Kase - good Gods!" You laughed, helping him.

"C'mon, we're here for a good time," he laughed in return.

"Are you drunk already?" Daemon perked a stoic brow, but you saw the mischief stretch across his face as a smirk.

"Yes," Kase nodded rapidly, pouring the ale for you all. "The lads at the bar were happy to hear of my impending engagement!"

"Oh, sweetheart," you chuckled lightly, giving Daemon's thigh a squeeze - making him jolt a bit - but Kase didn't notice because you asked, "sure they weren't hitting on you?"

"Really? On me?" He gaped, taking his seat finally, gulping his ale. "No, no, no, it was... No, it was harmless!"

"Mhm," you smirked.

"They were kindly!"

"Okay, okay!" You relented, "So, we are celebrating this afternoon. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yes," he slurred, "why won't her father give his permission?"

"Wait," you perked up, "did you already ask?"

"Mhm, weeks ago," he waved off between gulps of mind-numbing-ale. "But he said no, but let me continue to court her... So, I thought the ring would show I am the man for her!"

"Oh, wow," you nodded from under Daemon's arm now tossed around your shoulders, "well, that's, uh... Wow..."

"Lad, you've nothing to worry over," Daemon assured, "because there is no other for his daughter, hey? Obviously it is a love-match, and she is adamant on her end that he's not been able to force her to court others. He will not limit his daughter's happiness, yet I would argue you were smart in thinking the ring would help."

"You think it will?"

"Yes," Daemon nodded.

"Hmm," he considered, skulling his drink in full. Daemon chuckled in your ear, nuzzling into your neck, as if three years of slowly drifting apart hadn't been overcome in an afternoon at the jewelers. Your mind began to drift with ideas of how to get him back, and as Kase was enraptured with telling a story, you started to slowly palm Daemon's growing bulge. You felt his thighs tighten, but his throat bobbed to keep his cool - eyes set on Kase's overly animated storytelling movements.

"Dove," Daemon warned under his breath when you pulled the strings of his trousers loose.

"Sh," you cooed, sliding your fingers along his girth to reposition and give a few slow tugs with the table being the only cover between his bare cock and prying eyes.

His breathing shifted but he kept his cool, your hand needing to keep at an angle to protect his cock from the under belly of the table. Kase had shifted his attention half to those who would listen, Daemon's jaw steeling - hips sinking into the seat to keep from bucking. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, stifling a groan.

"Good boy," you purred, giving his shaft a squeeze as his tip leaked. "Always a good boy for me, hmm?"

"Yes," he panted, head bowed to yours again - and to anyone looking over, they would think twice about bothering you. "Just for you."

"Don't cum, save it for my cunt," you switched your tongue to High Valyrian. "Hold it, my Prince."

"Enough," he growled, literally smacking your hand away and instantly tucking himself back into his trousers. Nobody paid you any mind as he stood and gathered you from the booth, then hoisting Kase's arm over his shoulders. "Come on," he told you, "hold onto me."

Your hand latched onto his belt as he had full-hold of Kase. The tavern had grown in patron numbers, forcing a part in the crowd for you as you moved. On the street, Kase started singing, and Daemon kept a wobbly hold on him. When you return to the Keep, luckily, you didn't run into anyone important on your way to deposit the Lord in his chambers - you returning to your chambers, and finding the door locked and all the shopping left in the room.

Good, everything was where it should be.

You were sorting through the day's shopping when Daemon returned, who was then instantly on you with his mouth open to your neck; hands bunching up your skirts as his swollen cock was rutted into the round of your arse.

"Daemon," you gasped, hands bracing on the mattress of your bed as he finally gained access to your cunt, groaning in satisfaction when his fingers met your wet hole.

"I need this," he panted, yanking his cock free to run up and down your slick, and then push in. You both gasped in relief, your chest falling to the bed as his pressed to your back; humping into you as you let him take you as he wanted. "Wanted you in my mouth first but fuck - I couldn't wait."

"Harder, Daddy," you begged, clutching your sheets with desperation.

"Yeah, that's right, fucking beg for me," he encouraged, lifting off of your to piston his hips almost painfully. "Yes, my dove, fuck, take it all. Make me a Daddy, please, please, dove. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck - "

"Fucking cum in me, please," you begged, "I need it - I need to be full."

"Keep talking."

"Let me make you a Daddy, please," you yelped, whining into the sheets before yelping when his hand slapped over your arse cheek. "Fuck me harder, please, I need it so bad!"

"Take it then," He barked, one foot up on the mattress for leverage, hands wrapped around your neck and into your hair. You whined wantonly as he grit his teeth and jack-hammered forward into you with desperation. "FUCK!"

He came with a shout, coming to a standstill as his balls emptied into you; leaving him to rut boyishly into you as his lungs stuttered for air. You were panting as well, letting one elbow hold you up as the other reached up to pet over his cheek. "Someone can't last like before, hey?"

"Oh, you wicked woman," he laughed lightly, breath fanning across the back of your neck before his face was nuzzling there. "Got me worked up in public - I'm surprised I lasted that long." You laughed in return, your legs shaking slightly. "On the bed, pet. I don't want you off it for the next few days."

"Daemon," you whined when he pulled out of you suddenly, legs giving way with a small whoop of surprise.

"I got you," he rushed, catching your body; arms tight around your waist to gently pull you up with him. "Easy," he smirked, "if you're feeling it now, you're in for a long weekend, my dove."

"Gods," you laughed, pulling yourself onto the mattress. "You know, we're going to have to talk..." He sighed when you turned to face him, his fists propping him up on either side of your hips. "Can't just hump our way through this."

"We can't?"

"Daemon."

"I know," he sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. "But what is there to say? Besides I am sorry..."

"I fear that if we leave, you will become distracted. My love, we do not have allies outside the Capital City, and I could not bare your same behavior in strange lands."

He sighed, pausing to pull back and pull the rest of his clothes off; stepping out of his boots, too, before reaching for you. He focused on pulling your dress and boots off, almost weakly palming your bare breast before speaking, "I have not been a very good husband, and I know that now, and I cannot apologize enough. But I can try to rectify the situation, and to do that, I suppose I could try harder to prove I love you."

"I know you do," you sighed, leaning back to your pillows, guiding him with you as you took under the covers. "But what happened to us?"

He sighed, deflating into the pillows beside you and pulling you into his chest. "In truth, pet... I fear it is me who is the problem of our infertility..."

"What?" You wondered, looking up at him, confusion knitting your brows together.

He sighed, "Ah, my dove... There are written accounts that sometimes, fertility issues do not fall upon the woman only. Sometimes... It can be the man who struggles to sire an heir."

"Oh," you breathed, pushing further into his embrace. "No, my love, I do not think it's you."

"No - "

"Love, look at me," you frowned, titling his head down towards you. "Sometimes, when a woman takes Moon Tea for an extended period of time, it can... I don't know, alter the state of her womb."

Daemon winced, "If I waited, you wouldn't ever have had need to take the tea..."

"Okay, are we going to go in circles about who's fault this is? Or accept it for reality?" You sighed. "What're we going to do if we don't have a family - and what if we do?"

"It's to be figured out as we go," he sighed against your forehead; cradling you closer. "I just want us gone from the City, my dove."

You sighed, "Then swear to me that you will not put me through this again."

"I'm going to show you I can be the man who deserves you," he swore, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. "No talk of dramatic means; I am yours, and you are mine."

"Would you be honest with me?"

"Of course."

"Have you been visiting the taverns and brothels?"

"Only the taverns," he frowned. "There's been many a night I find myself waking in the stable after drinking far too much."

"Ah, sweetheart..."

"I know," He groaned lightly, readjusting. "Come, nap with me."

You pouted lightly, "You don't want to fuck me again?"

His head, which was settling on your chest, shot up in shock as he eyed you almost wearily. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"Fuck," he whispered, leaning up to latch his mouth onto your own - leading into another frenzied baby-making session.

Months later, you had married both of your step-sons off, and within days, Daemon had approached you regarding your departure.

He made no move to explain to his family where he was heading, choosing to instead latch your shared belongings to Caraxes' saddle as if to just disappear. But as fate would have it, when you approached him with confidence to hand off the last of your rucksacks, you were startled when Caraxes swung his head around to look at you with a great, heaving, cocking-with-curiosity head.

"D-Daemon?" You worried, hands held up in defense as the dragon's muzzle neared you; giving a great heave against your stomach. "Daemon, what is happening? What's he doin', love? Oh, this feels strange, what do I do!?"

"It's all right, you're all right," Daemon soothed, coming behind you to pose as a backboard as the scaly beast nuzzled into you. The power behind the movements jostled you some, but against your husband's chest, you were better secured.

"What's he doing?" You wondered again with greater fear.

Daemon's hands moved to hold over your hips, peering over your shoulder to watch the great beast breath against your belly. "Dove?"

"Hmm?" Your hands were still held up in defense.

"Have you bled this month?"

You paused, glancing up at him slowly, "Not to my knowledge."

"Last month?"

"No... I don't think I remember my last cycle," you admitted, looking up at him with widened eyes. "Does this mean what I think?"

"He's protective of you," he pointed out, sighing after. "No use in getting our hopes up right now. You've been to the Maester, yes?"

"Yes," you nodded, Caraxes growling when Daemon tried to pull you back. "O-Oh, okay," you sighed, gently holding his head to placate the beast, "okay, all right. Shh, shh. Okay, there yah go."

Daemon finished tacking the saddle, watching the pair of you for a moment longer than he would've usually allowed. Something stirred in his gut, and for some reason, he pondered, "What if we left in the morning?"

"Daemon," you sighed, "a single night makes no difference. We want to cross the Sea before night fall, yes?"

He nodded, "One last night here..."

"What are you hoping to achieve?"

Daemon again neared you, glancing up at Caraxes, whilst the beast purred. "There is a feeling I cannot shake."

"What feeling?"

"That we are missing something."

"Not per se," you sighed, patting the underside of the dragon's chin. "What do you think we're missing, love?"

Your eyes closed when Daemon's forehead met your temple, a beat passing, before he admitted, "An egg..." His hand slid across your lower belly to cradle it, "for the babe?"

"Daemon, you just - I'm not - look," you sighed through your nose, feeling frustrated, "it's been over three years, and it's not happened. Perhaps we just let nature take course, yes? Stop trying so bloody hard?"

He sighed, dare you say it, sadly.

"Give us tonight... Let me search for any eggs Syrax might be hoarding..."

You sighed, shifting on your feet. "Everything's packed already."

"We'll make do for the night," he tried.

"If I agree, might I go nap? Or do you want me with you?"

"No, you go rest," he nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. Yet when he let go, Caraxes whined and had to be held at bay while you made your way back to the Keep. Though, while Demon descended into the Dragon's Lair, you rushed for the Maester's chambers to pound rapidly.

"Princess!" He gasped when he opened the door to your tearful face.

"I-I need another test, Maester..."

"My Lady, it has been months since our last exam - "

"Hence why I need one now," you frowned, wiping your cheeks of tears. "Please."

"Of course, come in, come in," he ushered you, moving about his chambers to prepare his tools and herbs. You gave urine, blood, and spit; waiting impatiently as the Maester prodded around your stomach, ran his tests...

And by the end, he was blinking in near shock. "Well?" You demanded, exhausted by the long day of tests - but you knew Daemon would not be back for hours more.

How wrong you were - but first, the Maester turned with tears in his aged eyes. "M-My Princess... You are with child - without a doubt. I'd wager some eight or nine weeks in? Perhaps ten," he nodded, consulting his exam results. "Yes, just shy of three months, probably when we stopped our exams, yes, yes... Have you had symptoms?"

"I don't... Know?"

"All right," he sighed, "your blood?"

"I cannot remember my last cycle," you admitted with a nod.

"Hunger?"

"Some," you shrugged.

"Mood swings?"

"Well, perhaps no more than usual..."

"And have you any pain in your breasts?"

Sighing, you shrugged, "They are tender, yes, but that's not..."

"It is," he nodded softly. "But I'd wager you're ten weeks in, you'll start to notice your belly swelling soon."

You blinked a few times, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I'm pregnant...?"

"You are."

"I'm gonna have a baby?"

"Finally," he teased gently, smiling brightly at you. "What joyous news, Princess."

"Well... I... I do not know what to say," you whispered, feeling panic swell in your chest. "M-Might you send for my handmaiden? H-Her name's Mary, please, Maester, I am feeling overwhelmed."

"Just breathe," he nodded, moving for the door to send for Mary. As you waited, he lead you through breathing exercises; trying to quell your worry before Mary was bursting through the door.

"What's this?" She worried, rushing forward.

"I-I am pregnant," you told her, taking her hands tightly, "an-and I fear I am panicking."

"Do you want me to get your husband?"

"He's in the Dragon's Lair."

"No? I swore I saw him making for your room," she cocked her head, squeezing your hands. "Why are you panicking?"

"B-Because I am not - I do not - for fuck's sake, I don't know in full, but I am scared."

"Of what - "

"Of the birth!" You yelped, tears filling your eyes. "My Gods, they whisper about the Targaryen Curse but I thought it was just me - and that I could not bare children. But now... Fuck's sake."

"Okay, breathe," the Grand Maester advised. "This stress is not good for the baby, you'll have to take that into account the next few months, as you grow the babe."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped as you wept, latching onto Mary as she shot a glare at the Maester.

"Yes, okay, thank you!" She snapped, waving him off. "My Lady, listen to me," she sighed softly, caressing you in comfort, "you are not of Targaryen blood, and that can yet work in your favor when carrying a Targaryen child. Ease your mind, my Lady, you are not doing yourself favors with this stress."

You tried to calm down, but she was still petting your hair as you wept. But then, something in your mind snapped in place, "D-Did you say you saw my husband?"

"Yes, on my way here," she nodded.

"All right," you sniffled and wiped your face, "I-I need to go to him."

"Go," she encouraged, "but allow me to be the first to say - holy fucking shit! You're pregnant! Oh, my Gods, I'm so happy for you! Congratulations!"

You giggled lightly and hugged her tightly, letting her yank you off the exam table to lightly hop around in an excited hug. "I am blessed," you whispered into the hug. "Thank you, my friend."

"Truly!" She squealed. "Oh, no, but does this mean you're still leaving?"

"Let's find out," you breathed, squeezing her hands and moving for the door after. She held your hand as you moved for your chambers, but before you got there, she let go and insisted you talk to your husband alone. With tears in your eyes, you pushed the door to your chambers open, calling, "Daemon?"

"Dove?" He answered from the chair resting at the table's edge, his wrist flourishing as he wrote on parchment, almost sighing with relief. "Where have you been?" He glanced at you. "Thought you were napping, and I come here, you're not in bed."

"I've been - "

"Never mind that! Why are you crying!? Who did it?" He demanded, jumping to his feet and trying to take your face in his hands.

"Why're your hands covered in ash?" You dodged, holding his wrists, easing him back into the chair. "Did you find an egg, my love?"

"I did," he breathed, grinning shyly.

"Good," you nodded while blinking rapidly down at him, gently caressing the side of his cheek to pull his gaze up to meet yours, "because it will lie in our child's crib, finally."

His gaze met yours slowly before realization coated his features, almost gaping at you, "Truly?"

"Daemon," you spoke slowly, taking either of his hands in your own to pull them to rest on your waist, "we're going to have a baby."

"You're pregnant?"

"I'd like to think we are, but yes, I am pregnant."

"Finally," he breathed, leaning forward to caress your stomach with a grin, laughing some after. "Oh, thank the Gods - well, no, thank you, my beautiful wife."

You smiled and caressed his head, keeping him close as he leaned back a little; arms tight round you, legs spreading, and keeping you set between them. He sighed deeply, nuzzling your belly.

"A blessing, is it not?"

"It is," you whispered, petting down his neck. "See what happens when we don't try so hard?"

He chuckled, his breath felt across your lower tummy. "Oh, my sweet wife... How I celebrate you."

"How I celebrate us," you smirked.

He gave a gentle nibble to your belly before lifting his gaze; chin laid to your stomach with his arms tightly around your hips to keep you in place. "I love you, thank you for this. I-I don't know what else to say."

"We've a long way to go, you might not be thanking me yet," you chuckled nervously, but Daemon saw through you. He sighed and leaned back more, guiding you to his lap to sit.

"What is it, sweet girl? Hmm? What's on your pretty little mind?"

You frowned a bit, leaning into his shoulder to caress his cheek and jaw; lowering your voice to mumble into his skin, "I am afraid."

"Of?"

"The birthing..."

"Ah," he sighed, tightening his hold on you. "I see... I will ensure the best midwives and Maesters are at your chambers."

"I need only one promise from you."

"You need only ask it."

"You'll be there with me. In the room, even. You will not leave me to do this alone..."

Daemon tightened his grip on you, pressing a kiss to the column of your neck. "You will not be alone, pet. Never in this. I am here with you, and I will be here until the end. You will not be apart from me, and I will not leave you alone in this."

"Thank you," you whispered, holding onto him tightly. He sighed lightly, nuzzling into your neck as tears surfaced. "I'm scared, Daemon."

"I've got you," he assured, tightening his hold. "You're not alone, dove. Not now or ever, I'm so sorry, pet, for how I was before. But it's gonna be different," he whispered, kissing at your jaw after, "I do swear this to you, my sweet wife, 's all gonna be so different."

You nodded, petting through his hair, "All right... All right, so, how about we go share the good news? Have one last dinner with family? And in the morning, we make for Pentos? Or Essos?"

He smirked, "It's a surprise first."

You sighed lightly, "Of course it is. What do you say?"

He sighed, nodding mutely. "A fantastic idea, dove, but let me bask in this moment first." Readjusting in his lap, you easily curled under his chin and let your eyes close. "I love you."

With a smile matching his, you swore, "I love you, too."

🍒 fin

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[vanishedangels]

Blunda

Summary: In a Galaxy where the Jedi are almost forgotten, Din Djarin, a young mandalorian, is currently in his final year at Galactic Republic College. At the beginning of his last semester he meets the enigmatic Luke Skywalker, his best friend's estranged twin brother, and he grows obsessed with him almost immediately. He would do anything to win his heart, even when Luke treats him with utter disdain.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Paz Vizsla, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Koska Reeves, Cobb Vanth, Bo-Katan Kryze, Axe Vowes.

Rating: Mature (+18) Rating will change

Warnings: Emotional Distress, Manipulation.

Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompt, Eventual Smut, Luke Skywalker Whump.

Chapters: 3/?

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

Excerpt:

The boy squinted and leaned back in the chair, resting his forearms on the table "You know Djarin, I came here to be alone." He said flatly making Din's stomach clench. As Luke started drumming his fingers on the table Din looked down at those hands he found beautiful, observing them, Luke was wearing silver rings, three to be precise, one on the right thumb, one on the right index finger and the third one on the left middle finger, and he was also wearing black nail polish, a little chipped at the tips, and Din had to look away to suppress the impulse to reach out and brush his fingers against Luke's. Now his eyes were fixed on Luke's datapad and he could see what the boy was reading about.

"Tatooine, huh?" He looked up at him, half smiling and raising his eyebrows.

Luke leaned forward covering the datapad with his arms, he hummed.

"Have you been to Tatooine?" Din insisted and Luke shrugged.

Chapter 3: The secret

Leia sat up on the mattress abruptly, breathless, something has roused her from a deep sleep in the middle of the night.

"Luke." She gasped jumping out of the bed as an unpleasant feeling settled in her gut. She couldn't figure out what was exactly causing it, still she was certain that Luke needed her.

When she finally opened the door to her brother's bedroom she could see Luke stirring beneath the sheets even when the only light bathing his room was the moonlight filtered in through the heavy curtains, she swallowed hard taking a few steps forward, her little hands resting on the end of the mattress, and she touched Luke's foot through the sheets "Luke. Please, wake up." She nudged his leg with her hands but the only response she got was that Luke was squirming in his bed now and her heart skipped a beat when the boy started whining.

"Gods, Luke, it's me, Leia." She said walking around the bed to cup his face with her hands and she could feel a low rumble in Luke's chest before he opened his eyes screaming, and before she could say a word something pushed her backwards with such violence that her little body hit the floor. She groaned. She looked up only to find Luke staring at her, still on the bed, levering himself up onto his hands, he was breathing hard, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, he frowned at Leia as realization crossed his features. Leia moved a little and Luke ran towards her trying to grab her by her upper arms, she could feel the way her ankle started throbbing painfully now. She sat up on the floor boring into Luke's eyes "You used the force." She said under her breath, Luke's hands tensed up against her. "You used the force against me."

"No." He said tightening his grip around her arms.

"You have no control over it. You're out of control." She frowned rolling back her shoulders in order to urge Luke to let go of her.

Luke's mouth set in a hard line, not breaking eye contact with her.

Then her eyes softened, she tilted her head "You're in pain." She said as her hand found Luke's cheek and the boy blinked astonished. "Oh, Luke. What had he done to you?" She asked stroking his skin.

"I didn't mean it." He looked down avoiding her gaze and he moved his head slightly, escaping her touch "Are you hurt?" Luke was now hauling her to her feet.

"Luke, please, talk to me." Leia insisted.

"Just answer me, dammit! Are you hurt?" Luke's eyes looked glossy now.

"I'm not hurt, for fuck's sake! I need you to trust me. I'm here. What was that Luke? What happened?"

Luke pouted and crouched down before her, unclasping her walking boot "You're gonna need ice." He caressed her injured ankle "Fuck! I'm so sorry, Leia."

Leia sighed realizing that Luke wouldn't open himself up to her. At least not yet.

~

"I'm screwed Leia, you keep talking about this galactic trade law but I can't memorize jack shit." Din dropped his holopen sighing defeated when he saw Luke entering the living room and he locked eyes with him, casually raising his arms above his head and he leaned back sinking in the big couch, resting the back of his head on his hands, fingers intertwined as he exposed his chest and neck, still staring at the boy pointedly. He heard Luke groaning, it was a subtle sound, almost inaudible but it fueled Din's fantasies in a heartbeat, and now he couldn't stop thinking about Luke making cute little noises beneath him, his body pressing against Luke's, pleasuring him. Then he remembered that Leia was still right beside him and when Luke disappeared into the corridor, he looked at her sideways, finding that she was as lost in thought as he had been a second ago.

"What is it, Lei?" He asked leaning forward and moving his arms to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder.

She shook her head "Never mind. We can talk about it some other time, now, you need to learn this shit." She pointed at her datapad.

In fact Din could have learned by heart that ridiculously long, never-ending law all by himself, but he spent the whole Saturday longing to see Luke again after the Mando party and by Sunday he couldn't withstand the urge to go to Leia's place and wait for Luke, the dark angel that shared a Junipera with him in the privacy of his room, to show up. And Luke showed up, twice.

An hour later Luke crossed the living room wearing a white hoodie that framed his cute face in a way that had Din swooning over him.

"I'm going for a walk." Luke said casting a glance at his sister, Leia nodded and the moment Luke closed the front door behind him, Din was already packing up his stuff.

"Uh-" He said standing up and zipping his satchel "Paz is gonna kill me, I promised him I was going to help him with statistics. It's late." He leaned forward pressing a kiss on Leia's forehead, gently pushing her shoulder down when she tried to stand up. "Don't, I know the way, you should rest, take care of that ankle." He said rushing to the main door, he heard Leia sighing at the distance.

He smiled when he saw Luke disappearing down the corner and headed towards that direction. Still keeping a distance, he followed Luke into a caf shop that Din knew quite well. Luke was sitting alone at a small table, hunching forward, reading and he looked absorbed in his datapad.

Din approached him giving Luke a big smile when the boy looked up.

"Are you following me?" The boy in eyeliner asked.

Feeling completely exposed, Din's smile faded as he pressed his lips together "I saw you from across the street and came to say hi." What a liar.

Luke blinked a couple of times "Hi." He muttered and shifted his gaze to his datapad, Din sat down across from him, Luke looked at him again, frowning this time. Gods! You look so beautiful with that hood on, Din thought, sucking in a breath.

The boy squinted and leaned back in the chair, resting his forearms on the table "You know Djarin, I came here to be alone." He said flatly making Din's stomach clench. As Luke started drumming his fingers on the table Din looked down at those hands he found beautiful, observing them, Luke was wearing silver rings, three to be precise, one on the right thumb, one on the right index finger and the third one on the left middle finger, and he was also wearing black nail polish, a little chipped at the tips, and Din had to look away to suppress the impulse to reach out and brush his fingers against Luke's. Now his eyes were fixed on Luke's datapad and he could see what the boy was reading about.

"Tatooine, huh?" He looked up at him, half smiling and raising his eyebrows.

Luke leaned forward covering the datapad with his arms, he hummed.

"Have you been to Tatooine?" Din insisted and Luke shrugged.

"When I was a kid." He muttered and Din beamed when he finally managed to engage Luke in the conversation.

"I love Tatooine." Din commented making Luke chuckle.

"You're out of your mind, Tatooine is a hellhole." The boy added with a little grin on his face and Din was suddenly experiencing a fluttery feeling in his stomach.

"Then why are you reading about Tatooine? I can see you're reading about Tusken Raiders' culture." Din said folding his arms over the table and Luke scratched his nose and fuck! Din clenched his hands into fists against his own arms unconsciously, because deep inside he was dying to cup that little face of Luke and press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"It's the language, I'd like to learn Tusken Sign Language." Luke said absentmindedly, eyes on the table, eliciting a little gasp from Din. The boy looked at him again furrowing his brows "None of your business, tho."

Din's eyebrows raised as he leaned back in his seat, groaning, understanding that Luke was putting up his walls once again, but he wouldn't miss this opportunity. He needed to act cool, even when he could feel his heartbeat drumming inside his head, he shifted in his chair trying to hide his effervescence.

"I know Tusken Sign Language." He said pressing a hand to his chest, Luke's eyes flickered to his chest and then he looked into his eyes chuckling. Din was holding his breath.

"For real?" Luke asked giving him a lopsided smile and Din's stomach fluttered more intensely this time.

"Yes!" He leaned forward, hardly containing his excitement, there was Luke's bright side again and he was basking in the boy's gleam, like he was a lonely bounty hunter staring at the moon in the dark night sky reflecting the sun's light in silence. "I traveled through the galaxy when I was a mandalorian apprentice and I learned a lot of languages, it's crucial when it comes to negotiation skills."

Luke nodded "Makes sense." He pressed his lips together.

"I can teach you if you want." Din managed to say as his heartbeat sped up hoping Luke couldn't notice how keenly interested he was in being his tutor.

"That-" The boy sighed rubbing his temple with the tip of his fingers "That would be great."

Din's heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't believe he was now sitting beside Luke, showing him the basic hand shapes and the second he was about to correct Luke, he hesitated, withdrawing his hand, he shook his head smiling "You need to curl the thumb inwards." He sighed.

Luke frowned staring at his own hand and tried to follow Din's suggestion.

"No, just, like this." Din showed him how, gesturing with his right hand and he couldn't hold it back anymore when Luke was still struggling with the proper thumb position, he finally wrapped his fingers around the boy's hand and it felt so right, so good. He lingered there enjoying it more than he should until he finally moved the boy's thumb. Luke's eyes fixed on his hand. "There, Luke, that's good. Like that." He said under his breath releasing his hand. But now his skin was burning and he was very conscious of the way his belly tightened all of a sudden.

Luke looked at him with round eyes and Din tilted his head, lips aching to kiss the boy's next to him. "How-" Luke's voice trailed off.

"Yes, Luke?" He asked taking a deep breath.

"How do you say I love you?" Luke asked frowning and then his eyes flickered to Din's mouth.

Din froze. He parted his lips but the words didn't come out easily "Uh-" Luke kept staring at him with piercing eyes "That. Right. Hmm." He couldn't hold his gaze anymore, finding the wooden table very fascinating now.

Luke was still waiting, in silence. Din blinked shaking his head "I don't know. Like I said, we learned languages in order to negotiate." He sighed.

"And that's not something you need to say while negotiating." Luke replied making Din look at him again.

"But I can do a little research if you want." He said rubbing his hands against his thighs.

Luke considered it for a moment and then he nodded "Alright." He said standing up "I'll see you around I guess." He added and Din's eyes followed him.

"Of course, maybe tomorrow after classes." Din said finally standing up, desperation taking him over.

Luke looked at him over his shoulder "I'm busy."

Din walked behind him leaving the shop "Then, the day after tomorrow?"

"We'll see, Djarin. Besides, you're always around, it's not like I'll never see you again." He huffed a laugh "Good night."

Din swallowed hard staring at him walking away as emptiness settled in his chest, he thought he was finally breaking Luke's shell, but he fooled himself once again. He turned around shoving his hands in his pockets and walked down the street, his heart aching as he thought back to the little intimate moment they shared, sitting so close to each other at that tiny table, Luke's thighs brushing against his own, his hand wrapped around Luke's, so warm and soft. He tossed his head back trying to stop that train of thought, it was only bringing him pain and suffering, wanting something he couldn't have. Wanting him.

~

Something caught Din's attention in History class, this guy wouldn't stop glaring at Luke now and then. Din stared at him and the guy locked eyes with him. Din lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, shaking his head with a scowl on his face making the guy look away snarling.

"What's going on, vod?" Paz asked keeping his voice down, leaning in.

"Nothing." He frowned taking his hand to his lips, holding his holopen between his fingers.

"Seems like you're trying to pick a fight with Axe." His vod insisted.

Din cocked his head sighing, he hated the way Paz could read him, in fact, it was a miracle he hasn't figured out that Din was crazy about Leia's brother already.

Axe. Axe Vowes was a mandalorian just like them, still he was arrogant and Bo-Katan's best friend, Din tried to get along with him in the past, but the guy was unbearable, always belittling Din and Paz' tribe, calling them primitives and such. The man was so full of himself and that irked Din somehow, still he didn't know why.

Although Din ignored Axe systematically since then, he wouldn't ignore the way he was leering at Luke and, clearly, backbiting about him with his friend. They kept chuckling every time Axe found that Din was giving him a death stare.

"Cut it out, vod." Paz intervened again making Din flinch.

"He's picking on Luke." He finally revealed the reason for his behaviour.

Paz turned around to look at Luke, the boy was almost asleep, face resting on his hand. He looked at Din again "Seems like Skywalker doesn't give a shit about it, why do you care?"

"He's Leia's brother." He lied to cover himself hoping Paz would buy it.

"Okay." Paz nodded clenching his fist over his desk "You know I love when I kick the shit out of people. Count me in." Din stared at him noticing the way his nostrils flared and he was already regretting telling Paz about it. Paz was a war machine, always ready to take advantage of his massive body and extraordinary strength. People used to be intimidated by him, but Din was always right there beside him to talk some sense into him, Din was as violent as Paz but he was more clever than him, only recurring to violence as a last resort. Paz was tall, heavily built, beefy, with tanned skin and dark hair, with hazel eyes and strong masculine features, and above all those things, a big scar crossed his cheek and all the way up to his eyebrow, courtesy of a smuggler that got into a fight with him one night when Paz was completely drunk and trying to stand up for a slave female twi'lek in a sleazy cantina, Din respected him for that.

Luke left the classroom the second the teacher dismissed the class as usual, but this time Din's eyes were on Axe, ready to step in if the mandalorian tried and follow Luke. But Axe didn't, and the tension around Din's shoulders dwindled as he walked towards the door. Axe stood up with a smirk on his face "Hello, Djarin." He pursed his lips staring at Din pointedly.

Din looked away and kept walking giving Paz the side-eye, his vod nodded understanding that there was no need to confront Axe, at least for now.

~

After his last class Din joined Paz and Cobb in the hallway.

"I don't know man, Koska is very smart." Cobb said smiling.

"So you mean she's returning to me soon?" Paz asked while the three of them were walking towards the campus.

"No, I mean that maybe this time she dumped you for good." He burst into laughter as Paz slapped his upper arm, leaving him breathless "Fuck, Paz!" He choked.

"Hey, vod, don't do that, he's too skinny and your hands too heavy." Din bantered and Cobb wrinkled his nose.

"Thank you Din, you're very helpful." Cobb let out a sigh.

Din was laughing shaking his head until he saw Luke walking in the outdoor seating area's direction followed by Axe.

Din started walking towards them without hesitation as rage flowed through him like lava. His heart thumping inside his chest when he saw them disappearing behind the building, he was quivering with anger when he finally made it to the seating area and then he froze. Axe was resting his hands on the wall at the sides of Luke's head, encasing him.

"I know you're Anakin Skywalker's son." Axe said through gritted teeth "Your father is a disgrace."

"Stay away from him, Axe." Din said standing before them as Paz and Cobb joined him.

"Not until this little shit admits that he's son to a murderer, a scumbag."

What?

"Come on, man. You're mistaken, this is Leia's brother." Cobb walked closer to him.

Luke narrowed his eyes holding Axe's gaze "Move away." He said quietly.

"Say it!" Axe insisted, tugging at the collar of Luke's shirt. "Fucking Skywalker! I want to hear you say it!"

"Fuck you!" Luke retorted, his voice thick with anger and something stirred inside Din when he saw the way Luke's expression darkened, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Luke raised his arm between them and Axe stumbled a little until Luke moved his fingers, making a crushing hand gesture, and Axe was suddenly struggling to breathe, taking a few steps back and pressing his hands to his own throat. Luke took two steps forward, his eyes were blazing with fury, his arm outstretched as his fingers twitched a little.

Din was frozen taking in the scene unfolding before him until he noticed the way Axe was rolling his eyes and he understood that he needed to stop it "Luke!" He yelled, finally moving towards Luke "Stop! Stop, Luke!" He was grabbing him by his upper arms from behind "Please, stop!" His voice breaking a little.

He heard Luke sighing deeply as he relaxed his hand and Axe fell flat on his face coughing and digging his fingers into the floor. Cobb rushed to him trying to know if he was alright, but Axe didn't pay attention to him, he looked up at Luke instead, visibly perplexed "Just like your father." He said breathlessly.

Din's hands were still around Luke's biceps, the boy squirmed releasing himself from Din's grip. Din stared at him as he started walking away leaving him behind. When Din looked around, Cobb was already helping Axe to walk towards the building. He looked at Paz, his vod was frowning standing in front of him.

"Can't believe it." Paz muttered. Din's stomach clenched and his chest heaved realizing that Luke almost killed Axe without even touching him. "Skywalker is a Jedi." He added and Din grimaced.

"What?"

"That shit, that shit he used, that's called the force, vod." Paz explained.

Din heard about Jedi but never saw anyone using that thing called The force. He had always thought that the force was actually a myth, until now. He ran his hand through his hair bewildered, he needed answers.

~

Leia listened carefully to every word Din said, he was breathing hard by the time he finished, he was feeling desperate, he was worried about Luke and he was convinced that talking to his twin sister about it was the right thing to do. They were in her bedroom, it was already dark outside and a storm broke moments after he walked into the Amidala's house.

Leia blinked a few times and Din could tell she was trying to hold back tears.

She walked to the window, Din followed her as a bolt of lightning cracked the sky followed by a deep rumple of thunder and he huffed trying to remain calm, but he was very conscious of the way his heart was pounding against his ribs.

"Paz said he was using the force." He managed to say.

She raised her eyebrows "Yes. He's a force-user, Din."

"Did you know about it?" He inquired.

Her expression softened as she tilted her head "We always knew that he was a force-user, and so am I." Leia said and Din's eyes widened. "But I haven't trained since I was a little girl."

"Why you didn't tell me about it?" Din rested his forearm on the wall and leaned in trying to catch her eyes.

Leia shrugged "It's not important to me, it's something that doesn't define me anymore. I'm my mother's daughter, that's all that matters to me."

"And Luke is his father's son." He nodded looking into her eyes. She nodded back with a melancholic smile on her face. "Luke's a Jedi." He said under his breath.

Leia shook her head slowly, sadness in her eyes "Din, a Jedi trains in the ways of the light side of the force."

"I don't understand."

Leia sighed crossing her arms over her chest "What you described, the technique Luke used to hurt Axe, a Jedi can't and won't use it." Din lifted his chin still not understanding what his friend was trying to say. "Din, that's a Sith technique." He could hear the way she choked with emotion "Don't you see? Someone has been training him to use the dark side of the force."

"What's a Sith?" Din asked as a feeling of dread crept over him unexpectedly.

"Someone that has lost their way." She frowned rubbing her hand across her forehead while Din rested his hands on his hips sighing deeply and looking through the window.

"Is it too late?" Din asked afraid of the answer he would get.

"No. I can feel it... right here." She took her hand to her chest "There's still good in him."

Din breathed a sigh of relief.

"Be careful, Din." She said and caught him off guard.

"What?" He looked at her with round eyes.

"I think you know what I mean." She said holding his gaze.

Din looked away, the sound of rain outside filling in the silence. He pressed a kiss on her cheek and walked away knowing that he wouldn't stop by the big couch on his way out that night.

#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #dinluke fanfiction #blunda fanfic #skydalorian

[lurkingshan]

The Eighth Sense 5&6

Two of my meetings got canceled so I high-tailed it to Viki to watch this and OH MY GOD. If you have finished the episodes PLEASE COME TALK TO ME I AM LOSING IT. And if you haven’t yet get off tumblr unless you want to be mega spoiled.

- YES Ji Hyun and Ae Ri besties era has begun

- Yoon Won is such a nice senior but Ji Hyun and Jae Won totally had plans for a date, didn’t they

- Seeing Ji Hyun come into his confidence is so lovely

- Introvert/extrovert friendships are so funny, Ji Hyun looks at Ae Ri like she’s an alien

- Jae Won not wanting to waste his first call to Ji Hyun on a quick info exchange/errand is honestly very sweet

- Ack their cute little smiles after talking to each other

- Tae Hyung really has an inferiority complex about Jae Won, doesn’t he. And he just said Jae Won is “luckily” an only child, but we know he has (had?) a brother. Does Tae Hyung know that? Just trying to figure out if he’s a standard jerk or an unbelievable asshole of the highest magnitude.

- The instinctive thigh grab!! That just speaks volumes, doesn’t it.

- I am living for Ji Hyun and Ae Ri negging Tae Hyung. Yes, bully that man!

- Welp the angst has arrived. Ji Hyun is handling it admirably well so far.

- Anyone else noticing that the little brother kinda looks like Ji Hyun 😬

- His pain over Jae Jin seems very raw. I wonder how recently he lost him.

- Ah he feels responsible. And his dad is “aggressive.” I hate this.

- Ji Hyun is Jae Won’s place to rest 😭

- Jae Won attempting to get a larger volume of pills makes me very nervous. As does his affect in this car ride.

- What are folks making of this bright light and soft focus filter at the start of episode 6? I thought it was meant to convey something about Jae Won’s state of mind, but it’s present even in the scenes he’s not in.

- And what’s with this light-hearted music? What is happening. Is this a dream or something?

- Jae Won corrected the guy in the store that he’s with a boyfriend, where Ji Hyun didn’t. And store guy recommend a trot mix for a gf and fireworks for a bf.

- Okay this must be some kind of altered state we’re in with Jae Won. Everything about this is out of step with the rest of the series - the lighting, the music, the tone. And Ji Hyun keeps trying to get him to open up, which is maybe something Jae Won wants.

- Ji Hyun has water trauma from childhood and braved going back into the ocean for the first time just so he could connect with Jae Won.

- Jae Won, where are you going with this Ae Ri stuff? He seems like he’s kinda teasing, kinda sincerely jealous, kinda flirting with that self-destructive thing of pushing your loved on toward another.

- Even this night scene is brightly lit. And Jae Won just magically pulled a pair of hiking boots out of his little cart. I don’t know, this just doesn’t feel real.

- Yes Ji Hyun why do you suddenly have all this camping gear?? Even the characters know something is off.

- Ji Hyun is the same age Jae Jin would have been…

- Jae Won wants to be asked about his brother and is also unable to talk much about it. Which is striking ten years after the loss.

- And now this sleeping scene feels more like the show we know again.

- And we’re right back to the dreamy overexposed light in the morning.

- The physical intimacy escalated quickly! I didn’t expect high heat in this show.

- Omg. Was this a memory instead of a dream?? Or is it a fantasy version of this day in Jae Won’s head? I knew something was off. I’m losing it, y’all.

#the eighth sense #spoilers all up in this post #watch shan figure out in real time what was happening in episode 6 #shan shouts into the void

[alder-saan]

The path of Poisons .6

Daffodils

Larissa x gn! oc

The path of poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

words count: 2.5k

warnings: I'm translating this fanfiction via an automatic translator (I could do it myself but it takes so much time...). As neutral doesn't officially exist in French, I have to proof read it to correct all the misgendering. But I can forget some. So if you see a "he" or "she"... well I just forget to correct this one.

Rei's phone was ringing. They groaned and opened their eyes. The afternoon light filtered through their curtains and flooded the floor of his room. They picked up the phone, still half asleep.

"Hello?"

*Rei, it's Thalia. Were you asleep?*

"Not at all," they yawned, "I'm working hard now."

*I just wanted to call and tell you that you've been chosen to replace Mrs Thornhill*

"The botany teacher position?"

*It's for you.*

"Oh, well… Thank you."

*But that's the last time I'm going to forge your name on any files*

"It's just my first and last name… Relax."

*She didn't really check anyway. You were the most qualified so it wasn't a big deal. As you didn't put your number, she told me to tell you that you were summoned to her office tomorrow morning.*

"Okay, I have time to sleep by then…"

They heard Thalia laugh on the other side of the phone.

*How did you get so tired?"

"I spent the night working on my book… I didn't see the time."

*Well, good for you. You've made good progress I hope.*

"Not even that, I had to erase everything. Anyway, a disaster, I'm going back to sleep."

*Not too much, otherwise you won't sleep at all tonight and you'll be all shifty.*

"Yes, Mum."

*Well, I'll leave you to it, see you later*

"mmh."

They hung up and went back to sleep.

Rei knocked on the main door. Coming back here, legally this time, made them nostalgic.

"Come in," said a voice muffled by the heavy wooden door.

The mermaid entered. In front of them was the principal's office. It had changed little since they had left the school. Some of the pictures had been moved, and Larissa had had to bring in some of her personal belongings, but they recognised the place without any problem. The thing that had changed the most was the principal herself, transformed from the bossy old woman Avareida had known when they were young, to the tall, beautiful woman who sat at the desk. They held their breath as they met the two sapphires that served as her eyes.

"Hello, Raine."

"Hello, Larissa."

"Please sit down."

Rei obeyed wisely. To tell the truth, being alone with Larissa impressed her. They were always memories in her head that were not the most pleasant. And yet now she seemed so calm…

"I imagine Thalia has already told you what I'm about to say, but you're hired as a botany teacher. Congratulations."

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, you were the most qualified of all. I'm told you don't need accommodation?"

"No, I don't live very far. A quarter of an hour by bike."

"Do you have a house here?"

"Family house, yes."

Larissa smiled. She wasn't really listening to what he was saying. God, Raine was beautiful. His appearance seemed full of confidence and courage, but as she looked into his eyes, Larissa could only see kindness, and something vulnerable.

And then she closed her eyes for a second as if trying to regain her senses.

"Are you okay, Larissa?"

"I'm fine, I'm just a little tired. Shall I show you around? Especially your place of work: the greenhouse."

"I'd love to."

Rei obviously knew all about the place, but they loved hearing the story of Nevermore from Larissa. To tell the truth, they stalled a few times, lost in thought. Coming back here did something to them. Seeing Larissa again made them feel more upset than they could have ever imagined. Every time they passed a place that had been important to their relationship, good or bad, they stopped listening. Larissa had noticed that her new colleague was not listening very carefully.

"Is everything all right? I'm sorry, these stories can be a little boring."

"No, it's just… Well I've been to Nevermore so I already know the stories. But I didn't want to stop you, you seemed so passionate."

"You were at Nevermore? O right, I know it, it was written in your files"

"Yes. But I don't think we had any years in common. I would have remembered you."

They smiled at her. Larissa was a little surprised. Was this some kind of flirtation attempt?

"No, it wasn't. I think I would have remembered you too."

Rei found this situation a little ironic. But they didn't answer.

"Say, Raine, did you… When you were at Nevermore, did you know an Ava?"

"Ava? I don't think I… You know,I didn't have a lot of friends. I always liked to be alone a lot."

"She was probably about your age, but she was a couple of years older."

"Oh, wait. Ava… Avareïda Hydrurga?"

"Yes! That's her! Do you know her?"

"A little, we studied together, after Nevermore. I wasn't particularly close to her but I enjoyed her company. Why did you do that? Is she a friend of yours?"

"We were friends when we were here. But I've lost her contact and I'd love to hear from her."

"I don't have hers either. I'm sorry if I gave you false hope."

Larissa shrugged her shoulders, a little sadly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think she studied botany too. I might have colleagues in common with her. I'll ask her. All I remember is that she was often alone at Nevermore, and she got picked on by other students."

The principal tensed. This was all because of her. She waved her hand in front of her head, as if to chase away bad thoughts.

"Let's talk about something else, if you don't mind, Raine."

"No problem."

"Here we are at the greenhouse," Larissa said, unlocking the door, "but you know it. If you want to rearrange the place a bit, you can. Marilyn had moved the desk and tables to this side, but it's up to you. You have several locked cabinets because they contain toxic products, as well as part of the greenhouse.The code is 0713, but we ask you to change it, some people have discovered it."

Avareida laughed. They were looking at the greenhouse, happy to be there, officially this time.

"No wonder, it was the same one when I was president of the botany club."

"Oh well… I can see why someone discovered it."

"In connection with the theft of the manchineel?"

"Yes, it was in this part of the greenhouse."

Larissa pointed to some locked doors with the padlock. She took a bunch of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Rei.

"Here you have the keys to the greenhouse, to some of the cupboards, to the teachers' room, and to the gate, although normally you'd never have to use them. This key opens all the classrooms, and this one opens the study room, and this one opens the library. During this holiday I will not be here, but I will email you my contact details, including my work phone number. You are on holiday until two weeks before the start of the school year when we will have various meetings to allocate classes and timetables."

"Good."

Rei put the keys back in their bag.

The academy is still open during the holidays, you can go there to work and have access to the library. I guess it's a little short notice to prepare classes, but I'll let you know the curriculum for each year.

They were no longer listening. They were far too absorbed in the plants growing there. Larissa smiled as she saw them walking from bin to bin.

"Raine?"

They looked up from a boxwood bush.

"Yes ? Forgive me, I get like this all the time when I see plants."

"Don't worry about it. I wonder if you'd like to have a drink with me."

Rei turned pink. They weren't sure what they wanted. Before they had met her again, they would certainly have promised themself not to get too close to her, but she was beautiful… And she had probably changed a lot.

"I understand, it doesn't matter."

Larissa turned, her eyebrows furrowed, and headed for the exit. So she had misunderstood Raine's signals? And then she herself wasn't so sure anymore… Perhaps she had been so eager to find someone so as not to end her life alone that she had jumped at the first opportunity without thinking. It was stupid.

"I'd love to."

Larissa stopped short. Had she heard right?

"This afternoon I can't," Raine began, "how about tomorrow morning?"

"At eight o'clock at the Weathervane."

Rei nodded.

"At eight o'clock at the Weathervane."

At seven fifty nine Larissa was at the Weathervane. She was wearing a light green skirt with a white shirt and a jacket to match her skirt. Her hair was done up as usual and she had put on some gold jewellery. She sat at a table so that she could see the street and the entrance. She looked at herself through the camera on her mobile phone, to check that her lipstick was still on. Rei entered at eight o'clock one, wearing grey-black trousers, a white shirt and a grey jacket, with a small bouquet of daffodils under their arm. They sat down opposite her and gave her the flowers.

"Hello, Larissa."

"Hello, Raine, thank you for the flowers."

"You're welcome."

A message of love and desire, but also discretion, Larissa thought, assuming that they had a basic understanding of the language of flowers.

"Have you ordered yet?"

"No, I've just arrived."

"Then I'll try to guess what a woman like you would take. You must be a tea person. Probably black teas from India and Russia. You like smoked teas. And in green tea, you love jasmine tea. You add sugar from time to time, but not all the time and not much."

Rei was cheating. They knew something of Larissa's tastes. They had been her friend, and then Thalia had already alluded to running into her superior in a tea shop, before she had given her some advice.

"Well, you impress me. I love tea, indeed, and my favourites are Indian teas and jasmine tea. What do you like to drink?"

"Guess."

"You seem to prefer coffee. I think you like it with little sugar. But I think you like tea too… I'm not sure."

Larissa sought Rei's gaze, which she held for less than a second before looking out into the street. They'd always had trouble with other people's eyes. And especially the principal's was intimidating.

"I also like tea, yes, but not in the morning. For me, tea is in the afternoon, when I read a book or watch a film or a series."

The tall woman squinted. It wasn't the first time Raine had looked away. She smiled a little, it was kind of cute. Underneath their false air of courage, they were nervous. The waiter came to take their orders. Larissa ordered a jasmine tea, and Rei a strong coffee without sugar.

"Raine? Look me in the eye, will you?"

They turned their head towards her, looked into her eyes, but quickly closed them again.

"I'm really struggling with the look, sorry… You have beautiful eyes, though."

They looked down at the table.

"You're lovely. You have beautiful eyes too. Do you know why you can't look at people? You don't look shy…"

"I am. I've always been shy. You've just been fooled by the way I dress. Note that it's normal, it's been studied for. And to be perfectly honest, you make me a little nervous."

Larissa put a hand on Rei's hand, which was lying on the table. She wasn't sure if she was amused, and liked the idea of making her date nervous, or if it made her feel soft and protective. Probably a bit of both.

"Don't be. I'm not going to eat you. At least not yet."

Rei laughed softly. They wanted to hug her and forget everything that had happened at the end of their second year. Larissa was being kind again. Their drinks were brought to them.

"I wanted to ask you something, Raine."

"Yes ?"

"To be perfectly honest, if someone else had the same qualifications as you, I would have chosen you anyway, because you're non-binary. I would like the students to have some representation among their teachers. I don't know if you're confident enough to take it on but…"

"I'm already taking it on."

"We also have a lgbt safe place, the aim is to give students a place where they can be themselves, and some teachers are there to answer their questions. If you could go there, too…"

"No problem. It's nice to have a place like that."

"When I was a student, there were some problems because of a lack of education on these subjects. I try to avoid them as much as possible now."

So Larissa really had changed, huh? Rei felt her heart warm up. She was probably referring to their shared history. They weren't sure if they should continue to lie to her like this, pretending to be someone they weren't. But they thought it was the wrong time to tell her.

"What are you thinking, Raine?"

They snapped out of their thoughts and smiled at Larissa. They drank some of their coffee.

"I'm sorry, I'm just having some problems with my next book, that's all… I'm thinking about what my editor told me. But I shouldn't be talking about that now."

"Don't worry, I get stressed out by my work too. If you need to talk about it, I don't think I'll be able to help you since publishing is far from my area of expertise, but I can at least listen."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I don't want our conversations to be about work yet. I'll leave that for when we're married and have two dogs."

Larissa laughed, put down her cup of tea, and walked over to the table, resting her chin on her hand.

"So you like dogs?"

"I love dogs. In fact, I love animals in general. I have a few at home."

"I prefer cats, though."

"No problem, we can have cats too."

Larissa laughed. It was good to talk, like this, to joke around. When was the last time she'd been on a date? She couldn't remember exactly. She'd spent the last few years putting her career ahead of everything else. Not that she regretted it, but now she was tired. She wanted to take some time for herself.

"It's nice talking to you, Raine…"

_______________________________

[angelmichelangelo]

Hihi I’ve been scrolling through ur blog a little and I absolutely love your writing + opinions <3 for the five minute prompts if you’re still doing them: “Make it stop”?? (if it’s cool I make a preference: Rasey or general??? Otherwise don’t worry about it, do what you’re doing :])

oh my goodness that is so kind of you! thank you !! <3 hope you enjoy this lil ficcy!

--

“Make it stop, make it—”

Raph hisses, twisting out of his hold, squirming like his skin was on fire, and when Casey’s hands tremble over his body, barely touching against green, scaly skin, he feels as if he could be on fire, the heat rolls off of him and he has to bite back a burning threat of tears as he cradles the turtle in his hold, unsure of what to do.

The city explodes, dark sky flashes with a ferocious orange and there’s the staticy pop of his comms device trying to come back to life again.

There’s also the broken sound of April’s voice filtering through, barking out an order that Casey’s choosing to ignore. The blown out building that they’ve found themselves in rains down more dust as the air shakes and trembles in the aftershocks of whatever bomb had been set off just a few blocks away.

“I know,” Casey tells him, voice failing him, buckling heavily with emotion. Raph’s eyes are squeezed shut, so tight his face screws itself into a ball. There’s a gash sliced right across his face, deep and leaking crimson, Raph chokes back a sob and tries to escape Casey’s clutch again.

“Hold on,” Casey calls to him, voice warbling with uncertainty. The air shifts again, another explosion of light and noise that fills the fallen city. April is screaming at him again, something about falling back. Something about retreat that makes his gut squirm.

“Make it stop, Case, god please just make it all stop.”

And he knows he’s delirious with pain, with shock, with a boatload of trauma but he wishes he could fulfill his wish and just snap his fingers and make everything around them just disappear.

But other than hoping and wishing, he isn’t sure what to do. Raph is close to a hundred pound of pure mutant turtle. Casey is only a man. He could try lifting him but he knows it’ll be futile.

And maybe he’s destined to stay behind with Raph, turn himself into ash and stone, cradling his form for anyone past this war to find, to study, to purposely misunderstand and his breath catches in his throat when tears leak from the corners of Raph’s eyes and his hand is being crushed by three larger fingers that wrap around his. And then in an instance, there’s Mikey, having appeared within a fraction of a second, and Casey is sure he coughs up a small, weak laugh, thinking something like ha, Angel-o, get it, because the other younger turtle is looking at his barely conscious brother and his face is creased with determination and he’s yanking Casey up with just one arm, forcing him to his feet and Raph makes a swipe for him but Mikey’s filling the space between them both and somehow he’s able to do what Casey wasn’t and he’s hauling him over his shoulder, breath heavy and ragged as he steadies himself with the newfound weight against his. “Casey, go,” Mikey barks at him. Casey does go instead, moving through the smokey air everything feels warm and heavy on top of him and his eyes burn as he listens to the sound of Raph filtering between awake and being asleep. “Make it stop,” his words slur together. “Please. Make it stop.” The war carries on without them once they’ve hauled ass into the back of their van and as soon as Casey is out on his ass, both April and Mikey are chewing them out about suicide missions and being reckless, just as Mikey is tending to Raph’s face, pressing a cloth that soaks red, his lips are pressed together with unspoken hurt and all Casey can do is sit and watch as April wordlessly drives them back to their lair. It’s just them, their group having thinned out tremendously over the years but it doesn’t stop Casey from finding Raph’s room later that night, brushing his thumb over where the edge of the bandage that’s wrapped around his face, pressing his kiss to his snout. “It’ll stop,” Casey whispers to him. He knows he’s sleeping, body heavy with the drugs that Mikey had jabbed into his once they’d gotten home. “One day. It’ll stop.” And he can only hope it will.

#SAINW old reliable :') #gotta love some end of the world rasey <33 #hope you liked it ! #and thank you again for such a kind nice ask this really made me smile :)) thank you friend !!! <33 #ask #ask game #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt rasey

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Nights at the Circus: Part XVIII

As you nurse the worst hangover of your life, you finally settle things with the god you love, and come out on the other side as strong as you ever were, even as you finally hear a terrible truth about Loki’s past. All the while, Wanda Maximoff swears that she’s seen your face somewhere before.  

SERIES MASTERLIST

Content Warning: smut, mentions of mental torture, mild Dom!Loki and Sub!Reader, degradation kink, mentions of exhibition kink, hangover symptoms Word Count: 3.2k

Before you even opened your eyes, your head roared with every breath. Even the little bit of filtered light that came through your eyelids made you wish you were dead.

You could smell something quite foul, like if one burned something on a stove top. It didn’t help your nausea. Slowly, as your senses began to re-assemble themselves, you became aware of other pieces of the puzzle. You felt a cool, soft hand on yours, gently fiddling with your fingers. You could hear an almost-inaudible voice saying something as if being read from a book.

Finally, blinking your eyes awake, you saw that you were lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling. It was day time, as evidenced by the bits of sunlight trying to peek through the drawn blinds on your window. Turning your head, you saw Loki sitting next to you, holding your hand and using the other to hold up a tome he was reading from.

“…every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight…”

“William Blake? Overrated,” you whispered with all of your strength. “I thought you knew better,” you quipped.

Loki shut the book gently and put it on the night stand. “Welcome back to the plane of the living,” he said without emotion.

“If you’re going to keep reading that to me, I may just choose to go back to hell,” you answered.

Loki kept his strait-laced visage. “I don’t find Blake overrated at all. I enjoy the complex contradictions of The Auguries of Innocence particularly.”

“You probably weren’t forced to recite The Tyger in high school,” you moaned. “Sweet fucking god, I feel like shit. Let’s save the AP English talk for when I’m not praying for the merciful release of death.”

Loki nodded silently, releasing your hand. “Very well. Now, my question for you is, shall we do this the easy way, or the difficult way?”

“Eh?”

“I’ll let you choose so as not to further complicate the way things stand between us,” Loki offered. “I can use my seidr right now. I can cure you instantly, or you can choose to do it the hard way.”

You sighed. “Loki, we may be at odds, but I’m still no fucking fool,” you said. “Give me relief.”

“Ask nicely,” Loki coaxed, gently smiling.

You knew exactly what he was looking for, and something about how he was eagerly drawing it out of you made you feel warm. “Please, Loki, take my pain away.”

He nodded and laid a cool palm on your forehead. “As you wish.”

A quick bolt of cold lighting radiated from Loki’s palms into your skull, but immediately following was the sweet, sweet wave of instant relief. You could sit up with ease, your migraine and nausea disappeared, and the light no longer bothered you. One unpleasant sense did remain, however.

“Ugh, what IS that obnoxious smell?” you asked.

Loki grinned. “The hard way to cure your hangover. Old Asgardian remedy called ‘Morning After Tea’. Only about half of its’ ingredients are palpable to humans, so I’d say you chose you medicine well.”

You took a moment to breathe deeply, further clearing your head. “So, now what? We talk?” you ask.

Loki nodded. “In a moment. But please indulge me a moment, if I may tell you a tale?”

“Yes,” you agreed, leaning back against your headboard.

“When you were brought here, you were assessed to not be a flight risk, or a threat to the rest of us,” he began. “You were given what was essentially the VIP treatment. I wasn’t so lucky.”

“I know,” you interjected. “The UN, your probation—”

“—may I ask to not be interrupted? This IS important,” Loki snapped.

You nodded quickly. “Sorry. Go on.”

“The UN tribunal only happened after a rather long period of deprogramming,” he continued, his skin beginning to pale as the memories were brought up again. “I was kept in the same cage Wanda now resides in. They ran tests, sent shocks up my back, locked me alone with people who are masters at drawing experiences out of your head and spinning them into falsehoods. All under approval by the different leaders of the world for anyone considered ‘high risk.’”

“Christ,” you muttered with empathy, bringing up a hand and running your fingers delicately through Loki’s hair. He trembled weakly under your touch. This memory was eating away at his soul, you could see it.

“Then, at night, after all was done, and all of the surgical lamps were turned off, and the pulsing machines taken away, I was left alone in there, with only a small ambient light nearby. That was by far the worst of it,” Loki finished. “I swear to you, Y/N, this had nothing to do with our fight,” he added. “I am as familiar with the pains of empathy as I am with pains of childbirth, but I suppose I was determined that no other would have to endure what I had.”

“I see,” you said quietly, biting your lip, wondering how one responds to such a deep confession. “I wish you’d told me sooner, Loki. That’s horrifying.”

“It never came up,” he said. “And anyways, until a few days ago, everything was moonlight and nudity. Why ruin such a streak with sad songs?”

You giggled at ‘moonlight and nudity.’ “So, you were with her to make sure she wasn’t scared and alone.”

“If it bothers you, she does have a brother,” Loki suggested. “They could be brought together as soon as one of them is deemed safe.”

You sighed and looked away. “I don’t know, to be honest. What I felt last night…you know, before I made the grave mistake of getting royally drunk with Steve…it hurt. I thought you’d moved on as quickly with her as you had with me when all of this began.”

“Don’t let our pace make you uncomfortable,” Loki insisted.

“It doesn’t,” you said, “but I was jealous as hell of her.”

“There will never be a need to be, Firebird,” he answered, taking your hand down from his hair and placing a kiss on your knuckles. Your heart fluttered.

“Loki, I still don’t like her,” you confessed.

“And why is that?” he asked. “How can someone like you, of such beauty and raw power, feel threatened by any creature?”

You took back your hand, trying to hide the pleasurable shudder that jolted down your spine at his words. “You know damn well why! Would you trust someone whose first act upon meeting you was to send you a nightmare?”

He considered a moment. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure you can take the Hydra out of her? Or them?” you asked, the fear raising the key of your voice.

Loki shook his head slowly. “I cannot speak for myself, but Fury and SHIELD seem confident,” he said. “I do have it on good authority that she bears you no ill will.”

“You know, they did keep me down there one night,” you mentioned. “Why didn’t you think I could be scared?”

“Because, from the minute we met, I could see you were a fighter, made of something stronger,” Loki declared. “The Sokovian is a frightened young girl who happens to have magic. She has seen pain that I understand and few others do. When I met you, it was evident that you didn’t need a night light in the darkness as she does. You make your own light.”

You smiled and looked down bashfully at the glowing admission coming from the god you loved.

“Loki, about the other night,” you began. “I meant what I said about telling the team about us…if there still is an us.”

He nodded and got up from his chair to join you on the bed. “So, now you know how it feels.”

“How what feels, Loki?”

His Cheshire smile came back, his voice deepening with the desire to thrill. “How it feels to have a rival for your beloved’s affection? To feel that pulse of jealously blind you from behind your eyes and guide your steps against your better judgement?”

Whether it was seidr or just his natural sexual power, you were fully under his spell in that instant. “Yes, Loki.”

“How did it feel, my love?” he asked, leaning over you, making you lean back against the pillow propping you up. “To think that what you most treasured might slip out of your fingers, leaving you desperate, hungry, aching, and alone?”

You felt your skin grow hot. “I was angry. Terrified of losing you, of the idea that you’d be sneaking around with her and driving her body wild the way you did mine. I just want you for me, Loki. I love you, even though you piss me off so damn much.”

Loki stopped you from going any further by putting his mouth gingerly on yours, running loose fingers down the side of your face. You drank in the kiss and let its comforting warmth wrap around you.

“Whenever I see you with Steve,” he began, “I was driven absolutely mad by it. Even in knowing your heart, I couldn’t help but imagine his hips pounding between your legs, him enjoying your body, claiming your cunt and sweating over your breasts. And the anger…the jealousy…I couldn’t stop myself. I had to lash out and defend myself, because you are MINE!”

You drew Loki’s face to yours for another kiss before he could carry on. You took his hand and gently placed it on your breast, inviting him to touch you.

Loki parted your lips again. “Firebird—”

“—tomorrow morning,” you interrupted, somehow knowing his question before he asked it himself. “We can call a meeting and let everyone know about us tomorrow morning.”

He looked at you like he was ready to fuck you into oblivion without another thought.

“My darling, you’re sure?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded, sinking down into the mattress a little, pressing your thighs together just as Loki’s wandering hand reached your crotch, trapping his palm between them. “I’m going to stop being afraid. I’m going to trust you from here on, not only to be open around others, but to choose when you use your magic.” You let your hips roll in a small circle, moving Loki’s trapped hand around just below your lips.

Loki’s fingers were able to nudge around the insides of your thighs until it located your folds, and it began tantalizingly prodding at them, urging them to open to his touch. You let a small, weak moan pass your lips. “Oh, my love…”

“Y/N, you’re still weak from your drinking party last night,” Loki smugly suggested, bringing the side of his hand firmly up against your slit before slowly drawing it away. “Perhaps we shouldn’t.”

“Oh no, we really should,” you groaned, grabbing Loki’s hand and bringing it back down to your legs again. “You want to know the best thing about after we tell everybody?”

Loki leaned in closer to you, and you licked your lips at the dirty thoughts in your head. You brought yourself up to whisper in his ear. “We can have sex wherever we want!”

Purring in pleasure, Loki finally put a hand up under your slip, bringing his fingers back to your tits, tracing a gentle circle around your perking nipple. “And, where do you suggest we go first, to celebrate our outing?”

You leaned back as Loki took the hand against your slit and pressed a thumb firmly against your bud, twisting it in a circle, sending you into ecstasy as he toyed with your soaked pussy, bucking your hips against his amazing hand.

“The dental chair…down in the infirmary…where we first had each other,” you decided. “Only this time…”

Your rushing hormones gave you a quick wind as you surprised Loki by suddenly sitting up straight, grabbing Loki’s arms and shoving him onto his back, while you swiftly moved your hips up, adjusting yourself over him until you straddled his hips. Loki gasped.

“…this time,” you continued after pinning him down. “I want to be sitting on your cock with you lying back for a change!”

Loki’s eyes rolled back deliriously into his skull as you began rolling your hips over his growing bulge. “And I will worship your incredible, sexy body when we do, my dear, but---”

His taunting smile came back, giving you little warning as Loki repeated your move, only with more force, leaving you dizzy as you found your lover on top of you again, your legs spread and held tightly against his swell. You found yourself unable to move anything before your belly in the way he held you against him.

“—this morning, I am still the Master!” he declared. “After all, you are the one that should be begging forgiveness after what you did last night.”

“What did I do, again, Master?” you asked meekly, drinking in the sensual heat as Loki snapped his fingers, dissolving his clothes away.

“I know you kissed Steve whilst you were intoxicated, love,” Loki confessed, looking down at you sternly. “And you propositioned him.”

You felt your heart bang nervously against your ribs. “Loki, I—”

“—sssh! Be still, pet. I know you weren’t of sound mind. It doesn’t matter anymore,” he cooed, instantly relieving you of your guilt. “Although the hapless man will probably be more than a little stunned when we make our announcement tomorrow. You are such a cocktease.”

You wanted to cry, but instead, you only sighed a ‘thank you, My Master.’

“Just remember, I may not be so lenient next time,” he warned, taking his cock and placing it at your soaked entrance, not yet thrusting up inside you like you were longing for. “Now, who do you belong to?”

You trembled, desperate trying to move your hips forward to impale yourself on Loki’s member, but he had the better of you, and all you achieved was making him more pleased to see you craving him. “My body and heart are yours, Master.”

“And this tight, dripping cunt…” Loki indicated, taking a finger and pinching your clit. You couldn’t control yourself, and a long, high-pitched whine bellowed from your mouth.

“My pussy is only yours to use, my Master.”

“That’s a good little girl,” he whispered. “No, open a little wider for me, pet. I want to feel every inch of you needing me.”

You breathed in and spread your legs in obedience. Loki smiled as he looked down. “Well well well! Have you been stretching more? I do believe you’re more flexible than before. Norns, you’re such a sex kitten…”

You needed him, and you couldn’t take just his tip anymore. “Please, I need you inside me, Master! Please claim me!”

“Oh, I will, my Princess pet,” Loki threatened, thrusting hard and entering you fully, filling you with his cock, your wet and slick walls greeting it with a shiver. You moaned louder as you began to feel an orgasm stirring in your core.

“Your cries are like music to me,” Loki mumbled, taking his time slowly bottoming out inside you, making his movements slow, firm, and deliberate. “Oh, you take me so well, you desperate little cockslut. And once we are out as a couple, I’m going to fuck you everywhere.”

“Everywhere,” you whispered. “Where? Please tell me while you enjoy my body, Master.”

Loki could barely hang on. Your needy words and sweating, bucking body were causing him to lose control, and it was all he could do to keep his cum inside until you were ready. He knew that talking about his fantasies would make him orgasm too fast, but the ideas in his mind won out.

“Oh Norns, I’ll cum,” Loki warned.

“Uhhh, ahh, oooohhhh….pleaaaase….” you cried.

It was how pathetic and small you sounded as you begged that encouraged your partner to indulge you.

“After the chair, I want to take you on the conference table in the middle of the day, right in front of the security cameras,” he began. “Then, I’ll fuck your beautiful body in front of the mirrors in Rogers’ gym, so I can see how I look when I penetrate your delicious, tight little twat. I want to pin you to the wall of the elevator with my hips, my Y/N…”

“Fuck…Loki….FUCK! I’m cumming—”

Your orgasm thundered down your walls with such force Loki could feel them urging him to his fall, spurting hot liquid up against the top of your passage. His final thrusts were violent, strong, and incredible. You could help with stare at Loki’s squinted eyes as he rode it out, completely lost to the world in the moment.

Once he found his words again, and he was spent, he said softly, “I think, maybe, that was the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had.”

You smiled and reached up to cup his face in your palm gently. “And we didn’t even need to tie me in ropes and show it to Steve!”

Slowly lowering himself beside you, Loki chuckled and took the hand on his face to his lips, gently kissing it. “Ah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t dream about it, my lovely toy,” he said, taking a wandering finger to your folds and mindlessly tracing figure-eights between the lips, making you instantly aroused again.

“Damn you,” you groaned into his ear. “I can’t have ANY rebound time?”

Loki grinned. “Oh no, I’m going to be keeping you in here the rest of today. We have some time to make up for, and that, my sweet Firebird, was just the appetizer.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Wanda wished mind-communication was part of her cache of powers, but, sadly, it wasn’t. She wouldn’t be able to tell Pietro about her revelation until they were in the same space, and gods knew how long that would be.

Sitting in the tank, watching the lab assistants scurry around her like mice, taking reading and observing her movements, Wanda purposefully tried to give everyone as little of a show as possible, but she was already occupied, trying to dig through her brain to make sure her insticnts were right.

Having been locked up in the Sokovian Hydra base for a long time, Wanda knew the place well. Specifically, a commemorative wall near her cell, where photographs of the failed Winter Soldier experiments were displayed in a warped, dark sort of ‘In Memorium’ tableau.  Over the months and years, she memorized their faces, the poor souls captured and destroyed in horrific human experimentation that ultimately culminated to nothing.

She didn’t know how, but yesterday when you’d walked into the room to confront Loki, Wanda swore to Christ she was looking at one of the failed Winter Soldiers displayed in the memorial case.

But that was absolutely impossible. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@el-zef​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @lokisgoodgirl​ @mischief2sarawr​ @michelleleewise​ @mochie85​ @toozmanykids​ @xorpsbane​ @huntress-artemis​ @itsybitchylittlewitchy​​ @the-fantasy-loving-angel​​ @moonlightreader649​​ @littlemarvelmenfan​​ @ficitve-sl0th​

#MCU #MCU fanfiction #fanfiction #MCU Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki #Loki laufeyson #Loki Smut #Smut #loki x reader #loki/reader #dom!loki x sub!reader #Dom!Loki #hangovers #smut fanfic #wanda maximoff #hydra

[discodeviant]

HARRINGROVE WEEK, DAY 6: Twenty | Mature | 2.8k

Molly Ringwald’s Wish: To Be Happy

Gift Wrapped: Steve Harrington’s Jockstrap

That’s Not Frosting: Hidden Bites

Specific Dialogue: “So, did you get what you wanted?”

I don't know what to say about this one other than: Steve Harrington is the greatest gift Billy could ever receive. Please enjoy!

Read on AO3 @harringroveweek

The night hadn’t even begun when Steve told Billy to leave for an hour while he got his gift sorted out. Oh, but it didn’t matter, Billy didn’t need a crazy present, he just wanted Steve and Steve’s time and Steve’s love and Steve. But he left anyway and drove around for the entirety of that hour, listening to the mixtape he’d been given early in the week, biting his nails, chewing the end of three different cigarettes once each filter had worn out.

It was exactly an hour later when Billy stood at the front door, amping himself up to walk into a surprise party or other anxiety-inducing crowd of Steve’s friends that Billy didn’t know very well. It was always like that back home, being thrown into people he’d never spoken to, expected to get along when all he wanted to do was shrink away, but Steve knew him better than that. Steve wouldn’t hurt him.

With a deep breath, he walked inside to an empty, silent house. The only difference was that the curtains were closed. “Steve?” He put up his jacket and set his boots aside, walked further in to notice rose petals leading upstairs with fake candles lighting the way. “Jesus…” he said to himself, following the trail with bated breath. “What did you do, Harrington…”

Upstairs and to the door of the bedroom they’d been sharing for months, not quite one year but quickly approaching. It was open just enough to see a sliver of fair skin in faded streetlights, and he chuckled to himself before stepping inside, eyes still down while he tried to keep a straight face.

And then he saw what was waiting for him.

“Oh, Stevie…” He was walking on air.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Steve said, low and seductive, naked on their bed, save for knee-high gym socks, a brand new jockstrap, and a red bow around his neck. His hair was coiffed, body hair trimmed neatly but still laid on thick. There were a few petals on the bed around his hips, but he was the centerpiece to a royal display.

Billy stepped closer, one foot at a time, slow in case his heart gave out and dropped him to the floor. He whispered, gliding his hands from Steve’s toes to his knees, following the teasing movement of his legs. “God, look at you…”

“You like it?” Dare he think that Steve was shy about this when Billy had stripped him naked too many times to count, when he’d demanded Billy strip him so he didn’t have to do all of the work. Wide-eyed and pliant, pink lips that threatened to frown if Billy said no, Steve was a dream in a dream.

“Do… I… like it…” Billy knelt on the foot of the bed, one knee at a time, closer and closer between Steve’s legs, and toppled over him with both hands to his sides. Then he kissed him, slow and featherlight, enough for Steve to float up for more. “What do you think?”

Steve grinned. “I think you do, but I wanna hear you say it.” He toed at the bottoms of Billy’s jeans and slid up strong calves, holding him down.

“Yeah? That what you want?”

“Mhm.”

“Whose birthday is it, Stevie?” Billy asked, melting into hands that fluffed up his hair, eyes so tender that they made him fall apart.

In a voice so smooth, so devastatingly focused: “Yours.”

“What if I wanna show you instead, hm?”

“Show me what?” Steve asked, and he knew what he was doing. Billy laughed and leaned down to kiss him again, stronger this time, rendering Steve weak enough to fall back into the pillow.

Growling against his mouth, Billy said, “That I really fucking like it.” And then arms came around his shoulders, strong so he remained right where he was. “Can’t wait to mess your hair up again.”

“Better get to it, then, we don’t have all night.”

And Billy’s eyes darkened. “Oh, yes we fucking do.”

All smiles and teeth into deeper kisses, hips rocked against hips and into the mattress. Steve’s fingers crawled under Billy’s jeans, gripped at his skin with starving desperation. Billy’s chest rumbled with a rattling heart underneath; they were the only men alive.

“Is this what you were doing for an hour?” Billy asked, letting Steve dress down his bottoms.

He shrugged. “I had to get ready…” Belt buckle, brass button, a long zipper down. “Wanted to look good for you.”

“You always look good.”

“Smell good for you…” He’d put on that cologne that drove Billy wild, deep and woody with floral undertones.

“You know you do.”

Steve grinned. “Taste good…”

Another kiss; their tongues met. “Mmhm.”

“What’s left?”

“I like the way you’re talking at me, pretty boy.” Denim slid down over his ass, and he shucked them off the rest of the way. Soft cotton rode up his bare legs now, and he rolled his hips again, bit his lip at Steve’s quiet gasp.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good thing I like talking at you, sunshine.”

Billy was so hard that it ached, and he wondered if Steve was there too or far past it. Either way, his breath hitched when Billy teased kisses to his mouth and pressed them to his cheek instead, or his nose, his forehead, the corner of his eye. When their lips did meet again, Steve kept him there longer with the pull of his teeth and hands back in his hair again, but Billy was still stronger than him in some ways. Billy knew just how to unravel him.

Both thumbs rubbed just under Steve’s nipples, and, like a switch was flipped, he fell slack with a long sigh. Billy’s kisses moved from his mouth to his jaw, down his neck. Billy nudged the bow up with his nose and sunk his teeth into Steve’s Adam’s apple. “Not too high, baby, I’ve still got that interview tomorrow.”

Billy laughed, moving to his chest. “Fine, but I’m compensating down here.”

“Twenty?” Steve asked, and Billy looked up.

“Plus one for good luck.” Laying his cheek against Steve’s chest, weaker with every tug on the top of his head, he said, “Worked last year.”

Steve smiled. “Did it?”

“Mhm.” And Billy pressed another kiss between his pecs, dragged his teeth over and around one nipple before laying his tongue flat on top.

“What happened last year, hm?”

“You finally fucking asked me out,” he said, and they both laughed. “God, I thought I was gonna die every time I walked into that damn ice cream shop.”

“You could have asked me out.”

“I’d have died if you said no.”

“I wouldn’t have said no.”

“How would I know that?”

“I don’t know.” They laughed again, and Billy came back up to press his nose into Steve’s neck, breathe him in, cologne and hair product that reminded him of when they met.

“See? I got lucky.” He nibbled on Steve’s ear.

“I don’t know if that was luck. More like I got tired of pretending I wasn’t madly in love with you.”

“Yeah, well… I’m lucky it was you.” Back to Steve’s eyes, and their kiss sent them all the way back to the first, the second, the third and all the rest. “I love you so much, Steve.”

“I love you too.”

Soon Billy’s shirt came off one button at a time, one sleeve, one inch down his back until it was on the floor. Bodies rocked in waves of lust and amour. Moans slipped in between mouths. Steve pulled Billy harder against him, letting the drag of white briefs rub his ass, teasing his lover, teasing himself. He tugged them down and rutted against Billy, fingertips pressing hard into his glutes. Billy kicked his underwear off too. “Someone’s impatient.”

“I bought this thing two weeks ago, of course I’m impatient—hah…” Sharp suction on the weak spot of his collarbone sent Steve’s eyes rolling up, then closed and fluttering open again. Billy took his time. Billy held his breath and saved them for Steve’s lips when he returned from painting bruises on his torso.

“Worth the wait?”

“Mm… I don’t know yet,” Steve said, and there was that challenging stare of his. Billy took it and flipped him over onto his stomach, Steve gasping and laughing into the pillow. He pulled Steve’s hips up against himself with one hard thrust that made him moan and preen his head back. “Getting closer…” Billy laughed and shook his head.

“Brat,” he said, leaned down over Steve to bite his shoulder, steal his breath, swallow his tongue and croons.

Billy was stiff as a steel pole against him. Arousal tickled him from the inside out, made his cock throb against Steve’s ass when he looked down and saw white elastic squeeze around his thighs. It was a sight to behold. Lean and slender, long, speckled, fucking gorgeous by every stretch. The socks pulled up just under the bend of his knee, where Billy planted his own for Steve’s legs to climb him like a vine, and they rocked like the waves.

Already Steve was moaning into the air, light and sweet but pornographic in their resolve. Billy’s hand made way to his crotch, a heavy grip against his bulge that strained the fabric around itself. “Gonna cream your new jock for me, Stevie?” he asked, dick riding the surface of Steve’s ass.

“If you promise to cream yours,” Steve said, Steve bartered, and Billy gripped his cock even tighter.

With that, he slid himself back a bit, still with a hold on Steve’s waist. His ass was perfectly framed by a thick band around his back, two below each cheek and emphasizing their shape. Billy kneaded and pushed and squeezed like he’d never had the pleasure of holding something so tender in his life. Then he was all teeth, roaming lips, a curious tongue. Steve tasted like himself, homey and familiar. The only one Billy could ever want.

He was still impatient, pushing back against Billy’s face, harder into hands that kept him from arching his back too far. Thumbs pulled both cheeks away from each other. He spit, rubbed it in, poked in just the tip; Steve laughed, low and heady, said, “Fuck,” under his breath to nobody at all.

Unprompted, he leaned over to reach to the nightstand and into the drawer for the lube bottle that Billy took from him with haste. Right down the middle, it dripped to home base, and a thick finger helped it flow deeper inside. Steve hissed, pleading in his own wordless way. Billy had memorized him by then. Every inch in and out, every noise, every sound—

“God, Billy, please…”

—every declaration of love that he sent through passing glances. Billy slathered his own cock and rubbed against Steve one more time, teasing until he’d beg out loud. “Please what?”

“C’moooon, it’s rude not to open up your presents…” He looked over his shoulder with a smirk and daring gaze, then Billy hovered over him real close. Only one hand held him up.

“Oh, baby, I’ve never cared much for chivalry.”

His breath curled around Steve’s ear just as he slid the tip of his cock past the threshold of want and need. “Fuck…” It was almost too much. Grinding into Billy’s hand, squeezing around his cock and trying to pull it in deeper, Steve’s breaths were shallow. And he knew it was the jockstrap that made Billy so insufferable this time. Something they’d entertained in the past, half-joking, half-not, wholly enthralled with each other no matter the clothes on or off their backs. For that to be fulfilled, now, when Steve was his to take and love, he worshipped every inch of fabric that dared touch Steve’s body. “Billyyyy…”

“Shh… you know I like to be careful with the wrapping paper,” Billy said. He moved his one hand from Steve’s crotch to his belly, blunt nails scratching lightly against his happy trail. “Oh—I almost forgot.” Then up and around his side, flattening his fingers to slide up to Steve’s shoulder blades. Billy’s fingertips grazed the back of Steve’s neck, thumb creeping up and daring to hold on with a grip to remind Steve just how possessive he could be. Instead he reached around to the bow in front, which had slidden down past Steve’s Adam’s apple. In one slow, agonizing, long, long, long pull, the bow was unraveled and left to fall right under his chest. “There we go.”

Billy had pushed in a little deeper without realizing it, not that either of them would complain. Steve was putty in his hands from the moment he walked into the room, and now he fell through his fingertips. Slipped from any semblance of awareness into seeking pleasure and warmth and the burning hot of Billy’s breath, Billy’s touch, of Billy, Billy, Billy. At last, the final stretch was made, buried to the hilt and pulled out again. Rocking back and forth, steady waves on the open ocean. Steve rocked with him. Steve was the sea itself.

He strained against the white cotton terribly, cock too big for the cup now that he was erect and searching for air to breathe. He wished Billy were touching it again, but now that strong hand was on his shoulder, and he didn’t want it to leave there either. Back and forth, Steve counted in his fuzzy head—fuck, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck. Billy always knew how he liked it, fast then slow then fast again, and then slow for so long that he thought he’d combust. With Billy pressing into him from every angle, into the bed, into the pillows where dreams of each other lay dormant until the next night. His eyes shut painfully tight. He could barely breathe.

There were moments when Steve felt tensed knuckles against his ass in Billy’s attempts to keep his own body from unraveling. He could only get away with it so many times, which he knew, and which Steve figured once Billy told him to lay on his back again. “Fuck, baby, lemme see you,” he said, slurred and breathless. “There’s my pretty boy…” He whispered and leaned back, hands sliding along Steve’s body, over the least and most sensitive points. Steve chuckled when Billy’s fingers barely grazed under his arms, a sound that got both of them lost in shared rapture.

Billy came loose the moment those doe eyes opened again to look up at him, to lean into Billy’s forearm on his shoulder. Bliss-shaded lips searched for a wrist, then a palm to a finger to hold between glossy teeth. The jockstrap had long been soaked through. Neither watched—only felt, because they were enthralled in sultry faces—Billy’s cock strain its hardest to last a little longer. Steve’s whimpering didn’t help.

And, just to torture him, Billy rode the other hand down to Steve’s bulge for his palm to rut against. His name was muffled around his ring finger, drool finding its way down Steve’s chin. Agonizingly slow now—and fuck—each thrust in curled up against Steve’s prostate. His thighs tensed, knees hooked more forcefully around Billy’s legs—and fuck—stuck between cramping and falling apart. One hand gripped the sheets while the other held onto Billy’s for dear life, holding it against his face—and fuck—as he repeated Billy’s name like a mantra, “Billy, Billy, fuck”—and fuck, and—

Billy came first, but not by long, and rode Steve’s orgasm like a tidal wave. Focused and steady, balanced on both knees even while Steve pulled him forward, gasping and trembling when he creamed his jockstrap just like he said. Pearly white dribbled down the inside of his thigh, and his eyes rolled, and his toes curled, and Billy watched every pretty little expression on his face.

They smiled like loons by the end of it, and Billy took a nosedive into the side of Steve’s neck, kissing him without suction or teeth. “Happy fucking birthday to me, I love you, I love you, I love you…” Words melted into a medley of sweet, sweet nothings that were everything to Steve. Something like, “You’re perfect, you beautiful motherfucker,” and his heart would have stopped if not for Billy to keep him there.

By the time their breaths were soft and slow, Billy’s hands were tugging at his hair. His head on Steve’s chest, eyes on him like he was the brightest star in the dim Hawkins sky, a warmer blanket than the one they’d pulled over themselves to relax under for a little while. He was so sleepy, so worn out. Steve scratched gently up and down his back, the base of his neck and through the bottom of his curls. “So,” he said, “did you get what you wanted?”

Billy laughed. “Baby, I’ve had it.”

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #one shot #fanfic #.discowrites #ao3 meta

[nervouslaughter05]

The Stars to Be Missed By a Lonely Moon Version 2: I'll crawl home to her

A/N: Those of you who voted on my Twitter and Tumblr many moons ago, here is the continuation to "The Stars to Comfort a Lonely Moon"! I am so excited to bring this to you-it was a joy to write! However, I will warn you, the vote of what kind of continuation this was going to be was split in half between happy and angsty soooooo...I did both...please don't be upset. Angst will be in the first version here, and the happy ending is in the second one (the one you're reading!). Also forewarning, there was no beta reader and I didn't proofread it very well considering my lack of sleep for the last couple months lol. Apologies for any grammatical errors or such. CW: aftermath of near death experience, some descriptions of injuries, angst WITH comfort Recommended listening is "Work Song" by Hozier. Socials: Art Insta: @timtoart05 Twitter: @Vegas719 Enjoy!

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

Death was something Simon no longer wanted to believe was the reality of the world.

He didn’t want to believe he was mortal-that the blood in his veins was one day going to run out in a crimson stream.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that right when life had become something worth living for, it was being taken away from him.

He wanted to believe in a universe where he could live and breathe and love.

Love the stars surrounding the moon.

Love the way they twinkled and gleamed in the low light.

Love the comfort they brought in fits of loneliness.

Love her.

“-hear us.”

A voice?

No. That wasn’t possible. He was dead. He’d died in that field with Katelyn in his arms. He’d felt as the air left his lungs.

Hadn’t he?

“He’s wakin’ up!”

“Boys, I’ll be back.”

The voices were very clearly there and it was that of his teammates. But they hadn’t been on the mission-hadn’t even known about it. Laswell had sent him and Katelyn out in the dead of the night without even getting the authorization from Price, knowing he’d never let them go.

With considerable effort, Simon opens his eyes. He immediately has to narrow them back to slits, however, because the stark white of the hospital room he was in was harsh against his sensitive eyes. As he slowly comes to, his senses also return. The sterile smell of the room filters into his nose, a very sudden difference from the copper that had been coating his senses back in the field. He hadn’t been able to tell who’s blood it had been that was filling the air so intensely, but if he had to guess it was likely Katelyn’s.

Katelyn.

He sits up suddenly, wincing with a grunt as his head spins and his back screams in agony.

“Woah! Easy, Lt.”

He recognizes the voice as Johnny’s immediately, and doesn’t shy away from the hands steadying him against his back.

“Thank God you’re alright, mate,” Gaz says, and he also steadies Simon. “Had us worried.”

He wasn’t concerned about himself though–only her. Always her.

“Where’s Katelyn?” he asks, his core straining to keep him in the upright position. “What happened t’ her?”

“Ghost, ye need t’ lay down-”

Sharp panic was rising in his gut. “Where is she?”

Johnny opens his mouth to try to say something else, but the door to the hospital room opens. In walks a doctor and Price, who looked relieved to see him conscious. They step into the room and right as the door is about to close, another figure steps into the room.

“Laswell,” Ghost says as a way of greeting to her, voice cool.

“Lieutenant Riley,” she replies, voice level as she takes in his injured form.

That he had because of her.

“How are you feeling?”

Ghost scoffs at the question, wincing at how the action stirred the pain in his back. He can feel Price’s gaze, sharp as ever, on him at the motion. He realizes his mask was still off, likely for the doctors to examine him easier. However, it also left him very vulnerable and he didn’t exactly appreciate that.

“About as well as a man who nearly died can feel, ma’am.”

She has the humility to look the smallest bit sorry at that comment, and he is once again reminded of how Grizzly wasn’t here with him.

“Have the boys told you about Kate-”

“Staff Sergeant Ard,” he cuts in, voice betraying the animosity he felt. “Refer to her as Sergeant Ard or Petty Officer First Class Ard if you refer to me by Lieutenant Riley.”

He didn’t feel she had the right to refer to Katelyn by her given name after the hell she’d put them through. Logically, in the back of his mind, he knows that they both agreed to the mission willingly. However, that part of his brain had long gone quiet. It had been completely mute ever since he’d crawled to her prone body in the grass.

Laswell takes the interruption in stride. “Have the boys told you about Staff Sergeant Ard?”

“No, not yet.”

She looks to Price now, as if seeking permission.

It makes that ugly thing in his chest curl its lip and snarl.

The fact she was seeking permission from his captain now after she’d sent him and Katelyn into a hot zone without it was maddening.

“I’ll relay the news,” Price replies, voice low and the lieutenant can tell what he’d just thought isn’t too far from the mind of his captain. “I believe you mentioned having a debrief to get to?”

Laswell nods her head in farewell, and exits the room without receiving anything back from the other three members of the 141.

When the door closes, the attention returns to him. Ghost suddenly wishes Laswell was still in the room to avoid the piercing gazes of the three other men in the room. He pushes through, knowing he needed to deal with it to be able to find out where Katelyn was being held. Why she wasn’t in the same room as him was confusing considering they had been on the same mission, but he doesn’t let that deter him.

“Where is she?” he asks, slowly moving to sit more upright.

“Ghost,” Price says carefully, still standing away from his bed, unlike Gaz and Johnny who flanked him on either side. “When the two of you came in she was in critical condition. Hardly breathin’ at all. She’d lost so much blood that it was a miracle she made it back to the base alive.”

The ugly thing in his chest begins to stir again, shifting about in irritation.

“The doctors operated on her for nearly eight hours, trying to repair the damage to her internal organs and back. The bullet nearly severed her spinal cord.”

Dread began to unfurl in his gut, spilling up into his throat as it began to close.

“She’s down the hall,” his captain tells him, voice somber. “However-”

Ghost doesn’t hear anything else. Cotton and rushing water fills his ears, drowning out every other sound. Without comprehending the pain his body was in–it was mostly gone thanks to the painkillers anyways–he was up and out of the bed. The door slamming against the wall from the force with which he shoved it open was a dull thump in his ears.

He had to see his Grizzly. He had to see his Katelyn. He had to see his stars.

Even if the light was gone from them for good.

There was hardly any medical personnel in the hallway, a singular nurse ducking into a room housing another patient. Ghost scans the labels on the doors, searching for any indication of where she was. He barely manages to catch it and immediately turns on the door, pushing it open with as much force as what he used on the door for his own room.

There, on the bed, was Grizzly.

His throat closes at the sight of her, beautiful even in her motionless state. She looked peaceful, his Katelyn, despite the different tubes connected to her and the wires attached to the heart monitor beeping steadily-

Wait.

In the seconds Ghost had stood in her room taking her in, the woman stirred. With a groan she opened one eye, the other flying open at the sight of him. He probably looked a right mess, the lack of his mask leaving his black smeared eyes and tousled hair in full view.

He moves on instinct, collapsing onto the bed and pulling her close.

She presses into him, hands clutching at his shirt.

He tugs her closer by his hold around her waist, tucking her into his chest.

“Simon,” she breathes, her lips so agonizingly close to his own. “Oh Simon.”

“Katelyn,” he replies, closing the distance between them.

Despite any fatigue or pain either of them should be feeling, they come together fiercely. One of his hands was on the back of her head as they kissed, the other around her lower back. Her arms were thrown around his neck and she held him like a lifeline.

There's a thump and a gasp from the hallway, but neither of them pay it much attention since whoever had been surprised didn't intrude. Simon would later find himself thanking Price for moving Johnny away from the room before he could shout out something. For now, however, the two of them press close into one another with every ounce of passion they could.

“My Katelyn,” he growls into the kiss. “Death can’t have you.”

She presses into him, responding in kind. “Never. Only you can have me.”

Calming down a bit after seeing one another again for the first time in only God knows how long–Simon suspected the two of them had both been in some sort of coma state–the kiss begins to slow. The previous urgency was gone, being replaced with a desire to just feel one another. Simon was convinced this was some sort of cruel dream fate had decided he was to have, and that he’d wake up and hear the words “She’s gone”.

But he doesn’t wake up, and the words never come.

Instead, he’s here with her in this small med ward bed hardly big enough to fit the two of them.

He couldn’t ask for anything better honestly.

Simon pulls back a bit, receiving her peck to his crooked nose with a soft chuckle. He shifts in the bed, situating himself against the backrest with her nestled into his side. She curls into his form, a soft sigh leaving her lips.

One hand grasping his, she pulls herself up a little more, the other slipping to his cheek and leaning her forehead against his own. He supports the back of her head gently, breathing in the same air as her. She scoots closer, and he tucks her into his chest.

—-------------

Meeting her family was nerve wracking to say the least.

Ghost had already met her father before–they’d holed up in his place in Alaska at one point–but he’d never met her mother or any of her brothers. Her mother was an…interesting woman to say the least. She came draped on the arm of her new husband–he found out from Katelyn they’d gotten married less than a year after her parents had divorced nearly fifteen years prior–and was instantly bombarding him with questions about how he treated Katelyn and when they were going to settle down and when was the baby going to be born and-

“Mother,” Katelyn ground out, voice strangled. “A baby isn’t in the picture yet. Calm down.”

She had simply shrugged and wandered off with her husband.

The brothers were an amusing bunch, all except for the youngest, Andrew, reminding him heavily of Soap. Watching her interact with the eldest, Caleb was sweet, reminding him of how he and Tommy used to be together. The twins brought down hell wherever they went, and Ghost found himself very quickly being brought amusement from their antics. Caleb’s daughter, Sadie, took a liking to Ghost very quickly. If she wasn’t in the arms of her mother or Katelyn, she insisted on being on him somehow.

It was like she was a squirrel and Ghost a tree she felt the intense need to climb all the time.

She made him think of his little nephew, and having her around made things ten times easier.

She didn’t question the scars, poking them once and then focusing on his tattoos with awe. Sadie had insisted on coloring them in, making Katelyn laugh so loudly he couldn’t do anything but oblige. He’d do anything for that woman’s smile and laugh.

Later that night, they stood on the balcony of the big home her father had obtained for the boys, themselves, and him to stay in for the next week and a half. Overlooking the beautiful Alaskan woods, Simon stood beside Katelyn with his arm around her waist. She leans into him, sighing happily.

“I told you,” she says out of the blue.

He looks down at her. “Hm?”

“The moon and stars-they can’t be separated.”

Simon grins down at her and then looks up at the night sky, watching the stars and the moon twinkling together.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I guess you’re right.”

The darkness surrounds them, folding around them as a blanket of night.

He has no need to fear it–not anymore–not with her beside him.

It’s a welcome thing, and whenever the time arises for death to try and separate the moon from the stars again, there will be hell to pay.

#original work #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost call of duty #i love simon riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #original character #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod fanfic #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #fluffy #fluff

[frankcastlescumslut]

💐 frank would hardly buys new clothes and would grumble when u bought him stuff but would also do a lil fashion show try on for u if u asked him sweetly and gave him puppy dog eyes

Fashion Show x Frank Castle

this is making me so…… I’m laughing thinking about Frank with a “high maintenance” partner

No because Frank is such a man!!!!

and self depreciation is basically his thing- believing he needs absolute bare minimum to survive

it was a big deal to him when you got a Brita filter when moving in together, babe, there’s water in the tap, and you stared at him for a solid minute before responding with an absolutely not

and he didn’t really understand why you have a skincare routine? it took a month or so to convince him to just trust me, until you finally had an entire cabinet filled with whatever moisturizers and cleansers you both would need

he would also complain about facemask night, emphasizing that he’s only doing this because I love you so much, not even hiding the way he double checks that he’s gotten it in all the right places

gif from @bernthalized

which is why you don’t understand why he’s so annoyed when you come home with a few bags of clothes, most of them for him

I don’t need new clothes, already got shirts and shit he would argue, but quickly end his own argument as you held up a shirt with multiple stains and tiny tears, already knowing what excuses he would pull, yeah, but it’s getting cold out

just try them on and let me see, please? and he would kinda scoff and think you were just being facetious but when your face doesn’t change his brows kinda furrow, what- like a fashion show?

and he would regret even bringing it up as soon as your face lights up with a smile, exactly!!, but quickly shuts the idea down, no way, nuh uh

oh come on!! pleeeeeaasseee!! you’d practically bounce in excitement, but when that fails, you knew you had to pull out the big guns. for me, Frankie??? you knew he couldn’t resist your pouted lips and puppy dog eyes

damn you, he’d grab the bags before placing a quick kiss to your cheek, only obliging because he just loves you so much and loves the small things that make you happy, so of course he’ll do it for you, no matter how much he hates being the center of attention

the nerves would only intensify as soon as he would put the sweater on. the seasons were changing and he did need some new long sleeves, but he’d rather the attention be kept on you- he was nothing spectacular, to himself, at least

so when he would finally come out from the room after inspecting his reflection, he’s unprepared for the squeal that would fill the apartment- oh my god!!!

the attention and praise catches him off guard, especially when your hands run over the new fabric, making sure the sweater fit properly, god, you look so good, and he blushed, such a handsome boy

the onslaught of nerves would quickly disappear when you would pinch at his backside, causing him to slap your hand away playfully, hey! no one ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?, and you’d laugh before taking a step back, drinking him in, it’s hard to when you look like that

he’d laugh at that and surprise himself when he slowly spins in a circle for your amusement and pleasure

of course you have to give him a wolf whistle. I mean, come on, it’s Frank Castle. and he’s reluctant to admit that he enjoys this new attention, but you can tell by the blush that blooms on his cheeks and amused huff, followed by a soft smile

alright, next! you’d interrupt his moment and insist that the fashion show continues, but not before he places a chaste kiss against your cheek, anything for you, doll

give him to me NOW.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle headcanon #frank castle drabble #this was such a cute idea like literally what a cute little princess baby man trying on new clothes