#am realising i think he would be In To This

[chelseeebe]

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie.

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things

[utterlyotterlyx]

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

#acotar imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #azriel fluff #rhysand #cassian #azriel fic #lucien acotar #rhys acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris imagine #mor acotar #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #elain archeron

[woodchoc-magnum]

idk. i'm annoyed.

i realise i am a fandom old at this point

and i have seen some shit in this fandom; witnessed the discourse.

and i don't post meta or spec or much of that stuff; i usually put all my ideas into fics.

but guys seriously. seriously.

eddie's current arc is not about buck.

buck and eddie are not currently dating.

buck is eddie's best friend and vice versa.

eddie is not cheating on buck.

eddie is lying to buck by omission, yes, but that is not a friendship ending offence.

eddie is on the very cusp of cheating right now. he went on a date with another woman, yes. he has not kissed her or slept with her. we are at a tipping point. we do not know what is going to happen next.

he only went on a date with another woman because she reminded him of shannon, who he is not over, who he has spent seasons trying to replace.

the point of this show is that none of the characters are perfect - and especially not buck and eddie. they all make mistakes. they have all made mistakes and will continue to do so because in real life, people don't always make the right decisions 100% of the time.

this black-and-white, morally righteous way of thinking, like eddie is suddenly evil now because he's on the cusp of cheating; that it's going to end his friendship, that buck is going to be angry at him for lying - do you have friends in real life? like, i am genuinely asking.

because if my best friend suddenly started cheating on her husband, i wouldn't be mad at her - i would be worried. am i alone in this? like i would be genuinely concerned and trying to help figure out what's going on.

all the shit i'm seeing in the fandom today, all of the spec posts and commentary about the episode and what might potentially happen, just feels like, once again, an attempt to paint eddie as the villain in the story to prop up buck. let's make eddie so terrible that buck has to have custody of christopher, right?

clearly none of you understand how a will works. it's for after you're dead. not for when you're alive.

but the main issue is this - now that buck has tommy, the people who tolerated eddie can stop pretending to like him. there's another option for buck now, so you guys don't need eddie anymore. right? am i fucking right??

i love drama as much as the next person, but in what world would buck turn on eddie because of this? in what world would the 118 shun him? he is their friend! they love him! they care about him! they are a family!

my god, nobody shunned hen when she cheated on karen. nobody shuns bobby and he indirectly killed 140 people!

eddie is a good person who makes mistakes, just like every single other character on the show.

that is the fucking point.

and the way ryan was talking in the interviews - isolation could mean any number of things. we know eddie has a tendency to isolate himself when he's feeling stressed out - does anyone remember season 3? season 5? buck literally broke down his door!

i'm just fucking tired of this bullshit.

eddie's not a bad guy because of this. he has done shitty things, yes. they all have. that's the fucking point of the show, and if you can't understand that or appreciate adult story-telling, then fuck off and watch riverdale.

#this is a long rant and i'm sorry #but i'm just so fucking annoyed at all of the stupid spec i'm seeing #we know literally nothing but the bare minimum at this stage #and i will defend eddie goddamn diaz til the day i die

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Five

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour including toy use. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.6k (I am so sorry)

A/N : This was originally over 7k long so... at least I managed to get it down to under 6k. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

MASTER LIST

Chapter Five

Minutes passed, your back against the door, barely breathing, the stuffed beagle clutched to your chest. Eyes closed, you tried to focus on any little sound that might tell you what he was doing, if he was even still out there. Part of you wanted to go to him, to carry on your conversation. To be near him. You’d seen a new side of him and it was enticing as it was frustrating; how could he be so aloof one minute and so sweet the next?

Your thoughts strayed to that night, to the way he’d kissed you and how his body had felt pressed against yours.

Tearing yourself from the door, you moved to your room, creating distance between yourself and temptation. But yet felt like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter with every little thought of him.

Surely he knew what he was doing to you, the effect he had every time he touched you and smiled that damned smile.

You barely knew him but he gave you butterflies. He stole your breath every time his dark eyes found yours.

Fuck. 

You felt like a silly school girl with a crush on the teacher, knowing that it was wrong and nothing could happen. Only, something had already happened. Just the thought of it brought heat to your cheeks and that fluttering feeling to your stomach.

Locking your bedroom door, you let your attention drift to your nightstand. To the top drawer. Cautiously you pulled it open and peeked inside. Embarrassment swelled inside you, reminding you why you’d been trying so hard to ignore it. 

It was as full as any other drawer in the room. No expense had been spared. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what half of the toys were for. Some you could guess but others were a little more confusing. All different shapes, colours and sizes. Some so large they looked downright painful.

Frustrated, you slammed the drawer shut.

You weren’t a virgin but you didn’t consider yourself experienced. Sex for you had been awkward fumbles with guys you’d grown up with, shameful moments that often ended in disappointment. Dates had been approved by your parents, and no one they approved of wanted sex unless it could be used to force an engagement.

But, now that you had the opportunity to experience new things, you didn’t even know where to start. Despite your age, you felt like a naive child.

Changing into your PJs you fell into bed, TV distracting you from thoughts of Billy and having dinner with him. When you finally settled to sleep, you pulled the stuff beagle to your chest again and realised that you could spell the faintest hint of his cologne on it. And, all you could think about as you drifted off, was how it would feel to fall asleep in his arms.

Panic gripped you the moment you woke, a thousand anxious thoughts about the evening to come filling your head. You didn’t know what you were going to wear or how you’d manage to make it through an evening without saying anything stupid.

You tried to read over breakfast but you couldn’t concentrate. The tension inside you, the desire that you didn’t know how to suppress, seemed to wind tighter and tighter until you couldn’t sit still.

Taking a cold shower didn’t help either. Instead, the cold water reminded you of his touch and, suddenly, it felt like his hands were all over your body, touching you and caressing you in ways that drove you crazy.

Returning to your bedroom wrapped in a towel, you threw yourself onto the bed, the frustration boiling over. 

He’d suggested talking, getting to know each other, but how were you going to do that when you couldn’t focus? How could you have dinner with him when all you could think about was him kissing you?

You realised there was only one thing you could do.

Closing your eyes, you fumbled with the top drawer of the nightstand, reaching in and pulling out the first toy your hand fell on. You took a few deep breaths before looking at it; blue silicone with a slight curve, not big enough to be intimidating but it still made your cheeks warm. A little button at the base caused it to vibrate.

Oh fuck.

You took a few more deep breaths, knowing you had to at least try. Parting your legs, you slipped the still-vibrating toy between your thighs.

Your breath hitched at the first little touch. The second touch was firmer, pressing the tip against your clit. Oh. It felt good, better than any pleasure your fingers were capable of creating. Biting your lip, you tried to keep from moaning, as the pleasure quickly started to mount inside you. You turned it off, knowing you needed more, you needed everything.

Gingerly, you reached between your thighs, feeling how wet you were before guiding the toy to your entrance. A low, gasped moan escaped you as you began to slowly slip it inside you.

Letting your head fall back on the pillow, you tried not to think too much about what you were doing, instead finding your mind drifting somewhere far more dangerous. To thoughts of him. And the more you thought about Billy, the better it felt. Soon enough, your eyes were closed and you were imagining him on top of you; the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress and his dark eyes fixed on you as he fucked you. You were certain that he’d know exactly what he was doing, that a night with him would be better than anything you’d experienced before.

“Billy,” you moaned softly, remembering the kiss, remembering the way he’d made you feel wanted. It became harder to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you as you descended further into the fantasy, moving the toy a little faster.

Your free hand reached for the first thing it could find, bringing the stuffed beagle to your lips to stifle your moans. Suddenly all you could smell was his cologne and it was almost enough to push you over the edge. 

Finally, you turned the vibrator back on and came almost immediately.

“Mr Russo,” you keened softly into the stuffed toy, every gasped breath filling your nostrils with his scent.

Your cheeks burned with shame the moment it was over, but you kept the toy inside you, imagining him as the sort of man who’d take his time before pulling out, making sure you were finished.

Suffice to say, you were mortified once you’d dropped the toy to the floor and your heart rate had started to slow.

It didn’t feel right, in fact it felt awful, like you’d used him for your pleasure without permission. But, you finally felt better. The tension was gone. You could finally relax and spend the rest of the day finishing The Picture of Dorian Gray, hoping it would give you and Billy something to talk about.

You drew blood early, getting it out of the way so you could spend an obscene amount of time obsessing over what to wear. Eventually, you settled on a casual little black dress that wasn’t over the top, but made it look like you’d made an effort. After tying back your hair, you put on some natural looking make-up, hoping it would give you a little more confidence.

And, when you finally stepped out into the penthouse, you could have sworn you saw his breath catch.

Billy was dressed more casual than you’d ever seen him, wearing a red sweater and dark jeans. A look that definitely worked for him. He watched from the sofa as you made your way towards him.

“You look lovely,” he said and your heart stuttered.

Glancing down at yourself, you bit your lip, feeling like it was too much. “We usually only have take out on special occasions back home, so...” you shrugged.

“I feel a little under-dressed,” he joked.

“You always look nice,” you remarked before realising what you’d actually said. “I mean... you always dress very nicely.”

“My tailor will be glad to hear you say that,” he smiled as you sat. “The food should be here soon. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered the fixed menu.”

“That’s fine.” If anything it made it easier; you wouldn’t have to worry about the food list.

“Wine?” He offered and you nodded eagerly, despite not being much of a drinker. “Is Riesling okay?” You weren’t sure so you nodded again.

The bottle and glasses were already on the table, in fact his was already half-empty. He filled a glass and you leaned to take it from him, your fingers brushing against his and, for a second, he didn’t let go.

“You smell nice,” he muttered, his gaze lingering as your cheeks warmed. You hadn’t put on perfume, so you assumed it must be your vanilla body wash. “How’s your hand?” He asked a moment later with a touch more reluctance.

Holding it up, you showed him the gauze bandaid across your palm. “It’s fine. Nearly healed.”

Billy nodded, his guilt obvious. But, thankfully, he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

“I finished Dorian Gray,” you told him, stopping an awkward silence from falling.

“Oh? And what did you think in the end?” He asked, crossing his legs so he could turn more towards you.

“I’m not sure yet. It was a lot to take in.” You shrugged. “He did some horrible things; especially to Sybil and poor Basil, but some of it wasn’t all that bad? And then when he tried to change, Henry made him feel bad about it.” You took a breath, feeling the weight of his scrutiny on you. “I get that it’s a cautionary tale about excess and hedonism, but I don’t think anyone should be punished for trying to enjoy themselves...”

“It was a different time,” Billy offered, still completely focused on you. “Dorian’s hedonism damaged almost everyone unlucky enough to fall under his spell.”

“I know, I just...” you let out a huff, not sure how to articulate what you wanted to say. “I think if he’d been given the opportunity, he could’ve changed for the better.”

“That’s very optimistic of you.”

He said optimistic but you were certain that he meant naive.  

“I still don’t understand why you like it.”

“Well, it’s -” he was cut short by the sound of a buzzer before the elevator doors slid open. “Saved by the bell,” he remarked, grinning as he got to his feet to go collect the food from the doorman and tip him.

While Billy got the food, you made your way to the dining table, taking your glasses and the bottle with you. Places were already set and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you noticed the candles. Realistically, he was probably just trying to make things nice but, in your mind, all you could think about was how it seemed intimate. 

You took a seat and a long sip of wine while Billy unpacked the food, almost covering the whole table. The smell was enough to make your stomach grumble. Once everything was on the table, Billy dimmed the lights with his phone and lit the candles.

“Dig in,” he told you, starting to fill his own plate.

You started with the things you knew you liked, taking a little and starting to eat, but it wasn’t long before you found your attention drifting to him, watching through your lashes. You watched him eat, watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way he licked his lips.

“What?” He asked, fighting back a grin. Your gaze dropped to your place and your cheeks started to burn. “It’s okay, you can ask.”

“What’s it like? When you eat, I mean,” you asked softly, knowing it really wasn’t any of your business.

“Same as when you do,” Billy offered without seeming to care, “only flavours are muted and it never makes me feel full.”

“Oh,” you looked up and instantly felt bad.

“What’s that look for?

“What look?”

“You get this look sometimes, like something I’ve said has made you sad. Like you feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not that,” you tried to explain, “I just... I can’t imagine not being able to enjoy things like food and sunsets.”

“It’s not that I can't enjoy them,” he shrugged again, “I just enjoy them less than I did when I was human.”

“Do you miss being human?” You asked before realising how inappropriate it was. You shook your head. “I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t’ve -”

“No, it’s fine,” he answered, reaching for his glass and taking a long, slow drink. “I do miss it. This - this wasn’t something I chose.” 

There was nothing you could say to that. There were questions, yes, but you weren’t entitled to the answers and you didn’t want to risk ruining the evening by asking them. Awkwardly, you reached for your glass and took a drink.

“There’s that look again,” he remarked with a soft smile, “don’t worry, I’ve had enough time to come to terms with what I am now.”

The small talk continued over food, mostly about the food, until you felt like you couldn’t eat another bit. Sinking back in your chair, you closed your eyes and let out a slow exhale. When you looked at Billy again you found him grinning at you as he reached across to top up your glass.

“I didn’t order any dessert but if you’re still hungry I could -”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. “But thank you, this was really nice.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he told you as he refilled your glasses. “I want you to enjoy your time here. I know things got off to a strange start, but I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I am - I mean, I’m trying to be,” you struggled to explain. “I’m still getting used to it, but being able to go out with Karen really helped.”

“She enjoyed meeting you. She found you very interesting,” Billy answered, an indecipherable smile on his lips. “I find you interesting too.”

The comment caused your head to pound a little harder in your chest and your thighs to press together. The lump in your throat kept you from responding. A moment later, he changed the subject.

“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” pushing his chair away from the table. You nodded, pushing back your chair and standing, hesitating when you looked at the mess on the table. “Don’t worry, the maid will deal with it.”

“Maid?” There was a maid?

“She usually comes around 4am,” he answered, waving his hand towards the sofa, indicating that you should go while he got tonight’s blood from the kitchen.

Wine glass in hand, you sat on the sofa, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city and, again, you couldn’t help but think how intimate it all felt. Billy soon joined you, leaving some space between you, but not much - even less when you folded your legs beneath you and turned towards him.

“So,” he started with a smile, “what do you want to know?”

What followed was a long conversation about Billy, finding out what you could. He’d been a vampire for fifteen years; in his human life he’d been a Marine and, now, he ran a private security firm that mostly catered to vampire clientele. He was born and raised in New York but had no family. And he was wealthy enough that he simply laughed when you asked about the credit card in your name.

Then, he turned the spotlight on you.

You explained that you were from the Midwest, a little middle-of-nowhere town, and that your family were part of an insular, conservative community. You’d spent the last few years helping homeschool some of the local children, but you’d decided you’d wanted a change. You’d wanted to see the world and experience new things. He didn’t ask why you’d taken the job, and you didn’t offer the information, instead you tried to make it seem like everything was simple and happy in your life. 

All the while, his eyes stayed fixed on you, as he sipped your blood.

“Does it unsettle you?” He asked suddenly. “Seeing me drink your blood?”

“N-no,” you tried to speak around the lump in your throat, “I don’t mind.”

“But you have questions?”

“Some?” You answered and Billy gave a nod, indicating you could ask if you wanted. “The other day, when you mentioned it was still warm, is that...” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

“It’s better, yes,” his voice dropped to a low whisper, tongue running over his lips. “It’s like drinking from the source.”

“And is that...” Again, you couldn’t finish, feeling breathless just at the thought.

“I don’t bite. You never have to worry about that.” But the way he was looking at you said something else entirely.

“Good,” you finally manage to take a breath, “I don’t want to be bitten... or turned...”

Billy simply nodded.

“What can you taste when you drink my blood?” You asked, remembering what he’d said about knowing you hadn’t been sleeping or eating. “You said you can tell certain things from it?”

“Hormonal changes can affect how it tastes,” he offered.

“That’s why you want me to keep healthy and eat right?”

“Yes, it makes your blood taste better, but it’s also because I don’t want you getting sick. I’m not entirely heartless,” he smiled.

Silence fell and Billy took another drink. The care he took not to waste a single drop had your heart beating faster and, this time, when he noticed you watching, you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away. Maybe the wine had helped lower your inhibitions, or maybe you were starting to feel more comfortable with him. Whatever it was, the moment didn’t end until he’d finished the whole glass.

Billy licked his lips again, and you noticed his gaze drop to the neckline of your dress as you took deeper breaths trying to calm your racing heartbeat, causing your breasts to awkwardly rise and fall. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and your eyes dropped to the empty glass in his hand, now resting on his lap and - fuck, your eyes snapped back up awkwardly, the moment you noticed the way his pants were tented. He was hard. 

“I, uh -” you started, getting to your feet, “- I need a glass of water.” 

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to the kitchen, giving him space to deal with whatever that was. Your heart was still pounding uncomfortable, your hands shaking as you found a clean glass and started to run the cold tap. Filling it, you took a slow drink, hoping to drown the butterflies in your stomach.

You didn’t hear him move, didn’t realise he was right behind you until his hand came to rest on the edge of the counter beside yours, his cold thumb brushing over your pinkie. Your breath caught as his shadow swallowed yours on the wall, and your cheeks continued to burn. Desire and embarrassment warred inside you, but Billy didn’t speak until you did.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing without your consent,” he answered softly, against your ear.

He inhaled slowly, his nose inches from your hair. Then came that low, restrained groan. He sounded like a caged animal, desperate to be released, and you realised you were the one holding the keys.

For a second, you remained frozen, knowing that he was giving you a choice. It was a bad idea to complicate things between you, but some part of you wanted this, wanted him. Suddenly all you could think about were the fantasies you’d played out with the vibrator that morning.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped back, pressing yourself against him.

His hand twitched, his thumb covering your pinkie, holding it.

“Say yes,” he near-demanded, wanting your unequivocal consent, his lips ghosting your ear with every word. “I need you to say you want this.”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I want this.”

A split-second later, his hand was on your stomach, pulling you back against him, letting you feel the hard press of his cock against your lower back. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin in a way that made your heart race faster. And you quickly realised how much Billy liked that.

“That’s right, little hummingbird,” he groaned, moving his hand to palm your breasts over your dress. “Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

All you could offer was a whimper in response, breath catching as his hand started to slip down your body, reaching beneath your dress. Cold fingers trailed up your bare thighs, causing a shiver of delight to run up your spine and for heat to pool between your thighs.

His knee pressed gently between yours, urging your legs apart, letting his hand move higher. You bit your lip and tried to stifle a moan when you felt his fingertips against the wet fabric of your panties, but holding back anything became impossible the moment his cold fingers slipped inside. His touch was light to begin with, teasing, fingers stirring between your folds, drawing a gasp from you. A low growl vibrated through his chest as he coated his fingers in your arousal, his touches getting more pronounced the wetter you got.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as his lips and fingers continued their assault on your senses. You didn’t even notice his hand move from the counter until you felt his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling gently to turn your face enough so he could kiss you. His tongue against the seam of your lips was almost enough to distract you from his finger slowly easing its way between your walls. You whimpered and moaned against his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, keeping you in the kiss until every inch of his finger was buried inside of you.

“Fuck, hummingbird,” he groaned, a dangerous glint in his eyes and a grin on his lips. You moaned as his finger flexed inside you, slowly starting to withdraw before pushing in again. “Don’t come. That’s the only rule you have to follow right now; don’t come until I say you can. Can you do that?”

“I -” you could barely think to answer.

“If you can’t, I’ll stop,” he warned, his finger stilling and causing you to keen at the loss of sensation.

“Yes,” you moaned.

Your relief was palpable the moment he started to move again. The fingers in your hair, tugging softly so his lips could return to your neck. It didn’t feel real. It felt amazing in a way you couldn’t comprehend. Your heart raced faster when you felt him start to press a second, cold finger inside you, and you realised you were gripping his thigh. Hard. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned against your neck. “Practically dripping all over my hand,”

The words alone were enough to cause you to clench around his fingers, letting you feel them more acutely as they started to move a little faster, fucking you to the knuckle each and every time.

“Billy, please...” you pleaded, not sure you could take much more.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his lips against your ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe in a way that made everything so much harder for you. “It’ll feel so good if you just wait.”

You wanted to wait, to play his game, but how could you when it already felt so good? You felt yourself on the precipice, every muscle tensing, your slick walls tightening and gripping his fingers. Your eyes closed tight and you almost felt ashamed of yourself, like you were going to ruin the moment because you couldn’t control yourself.

His fingers stilled again just before you could go over the edge.

“Not yet,” he told you, voice calm but commanding. “Just breathe. Let me be in control.”

You managed a weak nod before he pulled you back into another kiss, fingers staying perfectly still for a few moments, not moving again until he felt you start to relax. This time his fingers moved in shallow thrusts, bending inside you, pressing against your soft inner walls like he was searching for something.

Your whole body shuddered when he found it and you saw stars.

“Does that feel good?” He asked and you nodded, unable to do anything but moan when his fingertips brushed against the same spot. “That’s it, little hummingbird, sing for me.”

More moans slipped from your lips, each more desperate than the last, your fingers digging into his thigh through his jeans.

“Billy, I-I need to...” you begged, words fracturing into another cry of pleasure.

“Do you need to come?” 

“Y-yes!”

“Say it,” his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine and right to your core.

“I-I need to come,” you pleaded, feeling more brazen than you had in your whole life. You’d never been the sort to beg to come, but the thought of it thrilled you almost as much as his fingers inside of you.

“Then come for me.”

Your reaction was instantaneous, so much so that you had to wonder if it was because you’d needed to come or simply because he’d demanded it. Your body started to tremble and shake, your walls clenching around his fingers as they continued to move inside you, and the sounds you were making - if you hadn’t felt completely out of your mind, you would have been embarrassed by the desperate noises.

As you came you barely noticed his hand slip from your hair to press against your chest, resting over your racing heart. Your head turned and his lips quickly claimed yours, swallowing down your moans, his fingers still dragging out your orgasm until your legs felt so weak you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand without his arms around you.

Without warning, Billy's hand slipped from between your legs and he swept you off your feet, carrying you back to the sofa. He sat back with you on his lap, holding you close, your body trembling so much that you worried it would never stop. It felt like he’d broken something inside of you and your body didn’t know how to process all the pleasure he’d created.

Being on his lap didn’t help, but it would have been a lie to say you hated the feeling of his arm wrapped possessively around you and his hand resting on your bare thigh. You curled against him, your head on his chest as you slowly caught your breath. 

Billy’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you finally started to sill.

“Are we going to -”

“Not tonight,” he answered, not needing you to finish the question. “I’m not going to rush you.”

Even though he was still hard, he didn’t want anything else. You weren’t sure if it was a rejection or if he really didn’t want to rush you, but it left you feeling even more uncertain.

When you found the nerve to lift your head, he gave you a gentle smile, his fingers squeezing your thigh tenderly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Any conversation felt like it would be for your benefit rather than his. Billy seemed perfectly comfortable with what had just happened.

“Thank you,” you told him softly.

“For what?” Both confused and amused by the comment.

“For - for asking first,” your voice broke a little.

His gaze darkened, an unasked question on his lips. He was angry, not at you but at what the comment implied. Thankfully, he didn’t ask, didn’t push for an explanation you didn’t want to offer.

“You always have a choice here,” he reminded you. “You can always say no to this. I’ll never hold it against you.”

You stayed silent for a beat. “What if I don’t want to say no?”

“Then I’ll make sure you enjoy your time here with me.”

“But that’s all it’ll be?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I won’t pretend I can offer you more than that.”

“Okay, good. I-I don’t want anything serious.” The comment earned a strange smirk from him. “What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to want anything so casual. You’re constantly surprising me.”

“I -” you paused, biting your lip, “- I want to have fun. I want to experience the things I’ve been missing out on.”

“That’s something I’d be more than happy to help with, hummingbird,” he told you, smiling that cocky smile, making you want to melt.

“I’ve never...” you trailed off and saw his eyebrow raise, “I mean I’ve never done anything like... friends with benefits?”

“I thought I was paying you for your blood, not your friendship?” He smirked, recalling the terrible comment you’d made when you’d been angry with him. Then he shrugged. “It’s simple; we hang out and, if you want me to touch you, I’ll touch you. We’re just two adults having fun with an equal say in what happens.”

“Even when you give me rules to follow?” A shiver running up your spine as you remember the way he’d commanded and you’d obeyed.

“I told you, I like to be in control. But if it doesn’t work for you, there are no consequences.” He fell silent for a moment, the smirk on his lips seeming to grow. “Unless you want consequences.”

All you could do was nod, not daring to ask what kind of consequences he might have in mind.

“I have a rule too,” you dared to say.

“Oh?”

“You can’t lie to me.”

Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that but he quickly conceded. “That’s fair. As long as you follow my rule, I’ll follow yours - even when you’re in bed with your vibrator.”

Your heart almost stopped and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment. 

“How did you -” you could barely get the words out, completely mortified.

“You moaned my name,” Billy continued, not in the least bit embarrassed. He’d heard you across the penthouse. “All I could think about over dinner was how wet you must have been and the way you moaned when you came.” His hand moved to your cheek, making sure your gaze didn’t drop in embarrassment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve jerked off, but listening to you had me coming all over my hand.”

Biting your lip, embarrassment and shame filled you, but Billy still wouldn’t let you look away. His thumb grazed your lip and left you speechless.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he told you, “those toys are yours to use whenever you need to, as long as you remember that your orgasms are mine now.”

You weren’t used to anyone being so candid but, you had to concede, it was exactly what made Billy the best person to help you experience new things. He knew what he was doing and he wasn’t shy about what he wanted.

“I’m not embarrassed,” an obvious lie that Billy decided not to call you on. “Things like that just aren’t exactly acceptable where I’m from.”

“Was that your first time pleasuring yourself - or was it your first time using a vibrator?” He asked, sounding like he was enquiring about something utterly mundane.

“Using a vibrator,” you answered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Well, you never have to feel ashamed of doing anything that makes you feel good while you’re here,” he told you with enviable confidence. 

“Like Dorian Gray?” You offered with the smallest of smiles.

Billy let out a huff of laughter. “Does that make me your Lord Henry?”

“Only if you plan on leading me astray,” you answered back.

“Oh, little hummingbird,” he smiled, leaning towards you, “you’ve got no idea.” Before you could answer, his lips were on yours again.

Minutes ticked by with his lips on yours, enjoying everything about the moment, about him. When he finally pulled away, you let out a content sigh, smiling as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“So, this rule of yours... I take it you have a question, something you want me to answer honestly?”

You were quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever done this before, with someone living here like me?”

“No, not like this,” he answered instantly, and it was good enough for you.

As he pulled you close again, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion catching up with you. Billy checked his watch.

“Looks like I’ve kept you up past your bedtime,” he joked, sitting forward and helping you to your feet. “We can continue getting to know each other tomorrow night, if you’d like.”

You nodded, barely even noticing that the pair of you were moving until you found yourself at the door to your rooms. His weight shifted from left to right, and you knew without looking that he was still hard. Your fingers tangled with his sweater at his waist and, for a few seconds, you just looked at him. Billy gave you a smile before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Goodnight, little hummingbird. And remember, I’ll know if you break the rules.”

Biting your lip again, you nodded, and finally pulled yourself away from him and slipped through the door. 

End Note : I never know what to say after the spicier chapters so... hope you enjoyed this and it lives up to expectations. Thanks so much for all the genuinely lovely comments and feedback over last four weeks, I'm loving how much people seem to be enjoying this story!! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl @rosey1981

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine #(ob)ts ff

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msby!atsumuxreader || w/c: 1.1k + 1 min of video (yes, video.) chocolate chip cookies are the way to a guy's heart. (everyone knows that!) a/n: wow I thought I wouldn't post anything this week, but one really good chocolate cake later, I felt alive. Perhaps Atsumu and I are more similar than I thought. 🔔Please use full screen for the video!

[<-chapter 2][chapter 4->] ||[start from intro][masterlist]

Back when you were still at university, you had a part time job at the campus gym. Legally, you weren’t allowed to call yourself a nutritionist at that point, but that’s what you did. It was never anything complicated— the hardest thing had been managing expectations. 

No, you won’t have noticeable muscle definition in a month. 

Yes, you’ll need quite a bit longer than a week to lose ten kilos.

That will give you results, but perhaps a more sustainable plan?

So yes, expectations. You’re in a career chock-full of them. You’re good at managing them. Even when it’s hard.

Or so you’d thought.

Can I keep starin’? 

(Could it really be that easy?)

With four words, Atsumu Miya had ripped open the top of that flimsy cardboard box you’d oh-so-carefully stuffed your expectations in, and now you were struggling to (convince yourself to) put them back in. For the last few hours, you’ve been fiddling with that metaphorical scotch-tape, not quite daring to believe he could be interested in you— and yet unable to let go of that fantasy.

Was it a fantasy? 

You can still picture his flushed-red face, the anticipation and anxiety in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of look you expected from a flirty joke.

Or…

It's when Osamu has to stop you from trying to grab the piping hot handle of a cast iron pan for the second time that you realise you need to come back to your senses.

“Osamu,” you ask, timidly. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Atsumu.”

Osamu turns down the flame on the burner, and looks at you. His face is neutral— some people went as far as calling those droopy grey eyes of his ‘expressionless’, but you preferred to think of them as steady. Osamu always said it like it was. 

He’s going to give you the reality check you so obviously need.

“How stupid am I for thinking I have a chance with Atsumu?”

You brace yourself for a scathing reply. Perhaps, ‘Next time, I won’t stop ya from burning yourself.’ Or maybe, “That oaf? Sorry, the only thing he’s attracted to is balls. Volleyballs, that is.”

What he does instead, is sigh heavily, and a little exasperatedly. 

“Did ya two idiots finally figure it out?”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You heard me,” Osamu says, turning up the flame once more. He stirs the simmering broth as he speaks. “He’s been actin’ stupid all week. And you’ve been actin’ stupid around him for a while.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s no way you’re ever putting those expectations away ever again, because that stupid box is all soggy at the bottom now. Soggy, because the raging mix of relief and happiness swirling around in your chest— the weight lifted off your shoulders because you don’t have to pretend anymore—  is making you tear up. 

Osamu hears you sniffle. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, tapping off the broth and setting the spoon beside the stove, “you know he isn’t worth cryin' over.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face, as he brings his large hands up to your face, wiping away the tears. “Want me to beat him up for ya?”

(You think he really might be your best friend.)

“You’re just looking for an excuse to!” You say, pulling his hands away as you laugh. 

He holds them up in mock defence. “Hey, two birds and all. Are you going call him?”

You’re already scrambling inside your purse. “I… think I forgot my phone at work.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I take it back, yer perfect for each other.”

“Hey!” You say it indignantly, but his words make you feel warm. Perfect for each other. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be weird?”

“He’d make it weird,” Osamu scoffs. “Just go over.”

“I— I should bring him something.”

He makes an amused expression. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

You make your best puppy face. “Please?”

Osamu sighs. “Well, he’s been complainin’ about those raisin bran cookies for weeks now…”

“I think it would be best if you don’t say anything. Just let it blow over,” the publicist says. She’s using the speakerphone, and her voice sounds far away. Atsumu can hear the clack of keyboard keys in the background. “I mean it, Miya. Log out of everything. No, uninstall everything.”

“Don’t ya trust me even a little bit?” Atsumu asks. He tries to sound teasing, but his heart isn’t in it.

“No,” she says bluntly. The call goes blank.

Atsumu collapses back on to his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He holds his phone up over his face, staring at the ‘call ended’ until the screen turns itself off, and then sighs heavily.

It’s not that he’s worried. She was right, it would blow over. But it would happen again. And he knows that each time, it would chip off a little piece of you; and eventually leave your edges jagged and rough enough to cut.

You’d resent him for it.

Atsumu unlocks his phone. It’s easy enough to find those pictures of you and Osamu again.

You look so happy.

He doesn’t think he was being delusional earlier, he knows there was something more than plain embarrassment in your eyes when you’d looked at him; and yet, he can’t shake the thought that he’s being selfish. 

The photo is cropped awkwardly, and he knows you and Osamu are close, but he can’t help but feel disheartened, and then hate himself for feeling like that. Were you two actually seeing each other? Was he meddling in his brother’s happiness, your happiness? What did he have to offer that his brother didn’t, save for the scrutiny of strangers?

The phone buzzes.

His eyes flick up to the notification bar. It’s a DM request from one of his new-found confidantes.

(Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do.)

In that brief moment, Atsumu understands his mother, and her panic at the state of the house when guests were imminent. He even understands, as he turns a couple of the trophies he has on display a few degrees to the left, why she would go around adjusting her many throw pillows in those last few seconds. That time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then the doorbell rings, and time seems to somehow come to a stop and rush forward at the same time.

Atsumu stumbles on the carpet as he rushes to open the door.

And there you are.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you say, fiddling with the lid of the plastic container in your hands, “can we talk?”

(Wow, he thinks for some reason. I think those are cookies.)

Osamu walked her over because the publicist was calling around to find her, when she couldn't get a hold of reader on her number. He was worried about her going alone. What a prince. Divider @/cafekitsune Tweet images edited from here and Shokubutsu Zukan (by Tsutsumi Kakeru). Had a hard time finding the source for that image lol, it's been used in SO many fic headers. Each time I reverse image searched, If found a slightly less cropped version until it ended as the full page. and then i had to google translate this russian pirated manga site. next chapter will be the last + I will post a little bonus from the osamu POV. :)

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #my fic

[7thleveldown]

Tumblr for Werewolves

So… If stiles existed you KNOW he would have had a Tumblr. In this essay I will…

Derek walks over to the dining table to pick up his laptop which Stiles had been researching on. Well, research? He's pretty sure this isn't research.

“Stiles, what the hell is this?” Derek gestures to the open webpage on the laptop.

“It's the internet Derek, I know I've explained this to you before.” The smirk from Stiles is so unbelievably arrogant Derek could slap him. But maybe he could have a little fun with this.

“Yes. I am aware,” he says, completely deadpan, “you took great pains with it. Or caused me pain anyway. But I meant this specifically… This… Does not look like pack research. I don't admittedly know what to does look like, but…” he scowled at Stiles 

“What are you…” Stiles muttered as he came back from the kitchen, looking confused, before barking out a laugh. “Nah, man, that's just Tumblr, I was taking a little break from the research to clear my head.”

Derek put on his best (hopefully) confused and grumpy expression at Stiles’ reponse. “But, what… Is it?” Derek saw Peter appear on the sidelines. His ability to pick up on mischief, whether he was creating it or not, was terrifying.

“Dude! Come on! Tumblr? It's probably older than you are!” Stiles laughed and then seeing Derek's face, he pretended to pout. “Aww, did they not have Tumblr for technologically backward werewolves who only want to scowl? Poor sourwolf, you don't know what you've been missing! The fanfiction alone! The memes! The in-jokes!” Stiles was gesticulating more and more wildly, pacing around the room.

“Oh come on Derek, you-” Derek shot Peter a look and a smirk that made Peter falter just a little as he realised what was going on, but not enough for Stiles to notice. “You must remember Tumblr, Laura was always on there.” Derek sent Peter the slightest nod of thanks, and Peter's eyes lit up in glee.

“Laura had Tumblr? Do you know what her username was? We could find it! I could find it, we could see what she…” Stiles trailed off as he realised what he was saying. “You know, I could try, if you wanted me to?” 

Stiles had stopped pacing, his voice softening and his arms wrapped around himself. This had taken a turn Derek had not expected.

“I guess I might be able to remember… Maybe if you explain it to me, because it just seems so…”

Stiles’ face lit up in response. “Course! I mean, we gotta start with bringing you into the 21st Century sometime, or at least the 19th would help, because the whole Heathcliff lurking in shadows thing is kinda old. We need to get you to understand our references!”

“I know who Heathcliff is, if that's any help?” Derek said, trying to sound a little coward and out of his depth. Stiles could be such an ass sometimes, and Derek would get his own back.

“Of course you do, big guy, of course you do.”

So, Derek sits back and makes Stiles try to explain exactly what Tumblr is, in excruciating detail. And then pretends to still not understand it. Peter has had to leave the room several times so he doesn’t burst out in laughter.

“Derek! Come on! This is not that hard! For the love of….” Stiles flounces around the room, getting redder and redder in the face, and even Derek is beginning to break at this.

“Stiles, what was it you were saying about codes? I think I remember something about that…” Peter asks, distracting Stiles’ attention from Derek for a moment.

“Yes! Yep, codes… It's one of those things so people would say a phrase, and it would identify them to other Tumblr users in the real world, but mean nothing to anyone else… it’s um…”

“Stiles, don’t tell me that great brain of yours has forgotten the code? Wasn’t it about liking something?” Peter was not holding back his smirk.

At that moment, in a moment of weakness, Derek replies “I like your shoelaces.” He screws up his face as he realises what he has just said out loud.

“I fucking KNEW IT!” crows Stiles, spinning on the spot to point the finger at Derek. “I will find you in there, you can’t hide from me, there is no getting away from me now, I will find you.”

Derek sighs. Great. “This isn’t Taken, Stiles. Stop trying to channel Liam Neeson.”

The sound that is emitted from Stiles could best be described as a squark. “But you don’t…. But you….” He flails between Derek and Peter, who is laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe. Stiles spins himself around so much, he ends up making himself dizzy and ends up on the floor with a thump.

Peter stops laughing long enough to glare at Derek. “Did you HAVE to break him? He’s my entertainment!”

Derek raises an eyebrow.

A slurred "I'm okay" is heard from the floor.

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #peter hale #stiles definitely would have tumblr #adorable dumbass #i will always be a little bit in love with stiles #7th writes

[goblinontour]

Wreck Of Him

a hard time dealing with reality

part 1

warnings: prof!al, age gap, smut, alcohol, crying, feelings

word count: 8.5k

As you stepped off the train together, onto the bustling platform, your mind replayed the whirlwind encounter that just happened. Despite the still lingering euphoria, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach at the thought of facing the aftermath.

You hurried through the crowd of commuters, and you could tell he was trying to make himself unseen. Maybe he was from here too, and didn’t want to risk being seen with you, and although you could understand, that didn’t stop it from hurting you a bit.

You followed behind him until he spotted the pharmacy inside the station. You stopped by the entrance and for a moment his expression softened as he caught sight of you, and, without a word, he fell into step beside you, his presence offering both comfort and uncertainty.

“I thought maybe we could go in together,” he said, his voice tentative. “To get what you need…or I can just go in, if you’d like.”

Your cheeks flushed at the implication, but you nodded gratefully, relieved that he was willing to help navigate this awkward situation.

He went inside, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor, feeling the weight of judgemental stares as he discreetly made the purchase. Once outside, he offered a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours, the gesture washing away some of your apprehension.

“So…where to? Why are you here, anyway?” he giggled at his thoughts, he didn’t even know what brought you on that train in the first place.

“I’m visiting my parents, they moved back home when I moved out for uni.” you said as he slowly led you out of the station.

“Home? Didn’t know you’re from ‘round here.” he said, curiosity peaking through.

“Yeah, uhm, we moved when I was quite young so, yeah, you?”

“Me? Oh- I-, I’m actually here for the same reason, family ‘n stuff…”

You didn’t want to intrude into his privacy, didn’t think it would be your place, regardless of what went on, you were still reserved.

“So you’re heading home now?” he asked as the silence started to settle between you.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Do you wanna maybe stop by my place to change or summat, before you…” he trailed off, suddenly realising how forward his suggestion might seem.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of spending more time with him, but you couldn’t help but hesitate.

“I don’t want to impose…” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“It’s no imposition, really. I insist. Plus, it’s close to the train station anyway.” he said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

With a grateful nod, you accepted his offer, your nerves tingling with excitement and uncertainty. The walk to his place was filled with awkward banter, but mostly silence, both of you skirting around the events of earlier.

As you arrived at his doorstep, he held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort settle over you.

“Make yourself at home.” he said, disappearing into another room to give you privacy to change.

You quickly freshened up, feeling a little self-conscious in his space but also grateful for his hospitality. When you emerged from the bathroom, he was waiting for you with a warm smile.

“Feel better?” he asked, and you nodded, returning his smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” you replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his kindness.

“Do you wanna stay…or?”

“I should go,” you murmured, though you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving. “It’s getting late, my parents…”

He nodded, understanding the necessity of your departure, yet dreading the inevitable separation. He didn’t want to be left alone with just his thoughts, the reality of it all might just be too much for him to get around.

With a heavy heart, he led you to the front door and he found himself drawn to you, to the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him for that split second before dropping your gaze to the floor. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

With a silent understanding, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting in a cautious kiss, much different to the ones from just a bit earlier. As he deepened the kiss, his arms snaked around your body, bringing you closer to him and holding you tight in his grip. Touching you ignited a fire within him, melting away any lingering doubts or fears, or worries. With you in his arms, he felt utterly alive.

But to his dismay, reality began to intrude once more. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, meeting your gaze with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

“You should go.” he whispered, without adding anything else.

You understood him. But as you turned to leave, you hesitated, your hand lingering on the doorknob.

“I want to see you again.” and you would end up seeing him again, of course, he was still your professor, but that wasn’t what you meant, and he knew.

“You shouldn’t.”

And with that, you were gone, and he was left standing alone by the doorway, his head pounding in the same rhythm as his heart. Maybe this impulsive encounter was something he could just forget about, he told himself. You were a good girl, you wouldn’t tell anyone, but that wasn’t even his biggest worry. He shouldn’t act like this with you, he shouldn’t even feel this way in the first place. What the fuck was he thinking, you’re almost half his age.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push the frustration and anger bubbling inside away. It didn’t work. He got his bag again and left. He did not want to be alone. Maybe going to see his parents already would be good, spending the night there.

The brisk night air did little to soothe the turmoil swirling within him as he made his way to his parents' house. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the weight of his own conflicting emotions. Arriving at the familiar doorstep, he hesitated before ringing the doorbell, unsure of what awaited him on the other side.

His parents greeted him warmly, oblivious to the storm raging inside their son. Inside his childhood home, memories flooded back as he walked through the familiar corridors and into the cosy living room. The air was tinged with nostalgia.

He spent some time with his parents, they chattered on about trivial matters, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in a labyrinth of regrets and desires he dared not acknowledge.

It was getting late, he’d been up for what felt like too long, even though he woke up quite late, it wasn’t the lack of sleep that tired him out. He excused himself at some point, heading back to his old room.

As the night wore on, he found himself unable to sleep, his thoughts consumed by memories of you. He tossed and turned, wrestling with the guilt and shame that threatened to suffocate him. How could he have let things escalate like that? What kind of person did that make him?

He decided that perhaps taking a bath would calm him down, help him drown his thoughts. All of them. He wanted to not think for just a moment.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom, the weight of his thoughts dragging behind him like chains. The warm glow of the overhead light illuminated the room as he filled the tub with steaming water, the sound of rushing liquid echoing in the silence.

Slowly, he undressed, the fabric of his clothes clinging to his skin like a second layer of guilt, the feeling only intensifying as he noticed the dried stain on his sweater, instantly remembering the exact moment in which it formed.

Stepping into the water, he let out a shuddering breath as the heat enveloped him, soothing his frayed nerves and easing the tension in his muscles.

For a moment, he allowed himself to sink beneath the surface, letting the water wash over him like a cleansing tide, erasing the stains of the recent past and offering a fleeting respite from the turmoil of his mind.

But even in the cocoon of warmth and tranquility, he couldn't escape the memory of you, the taste of you lingering on his tongue like some bittersweet poison. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget, to banish you from his thoughts once and for all. But try as he might, your image remained etched in his mind, a haunting spectre that refused to be removed.

He was taking advantage of you, even just thinking about it, but it still didn’t stop his hand from dipping between his soapy thighs. It didn’t stop him from whining weakly from his hand wrapping around his cock and lifting his hips into the touch. You had him pressing his fingers in a tighter grip as he felt himself harden in his fist.

As he surrendered to the sensation, his mind drifted back to that moment with you, the intensity of your gaze, the electric touch of your skin against his. Guilt mingled with desire, creating a tumultuous storm within him as he succumbed to the memory of your passion.

Each stroke of his hand became a desperate attempt to recreate the ecstasy he had experienced with you, yet knowing deep down it could never compare to the real thing. Despite the warmth of the water surrounding him, he felt cold, hollow, craving something he couldn't name but knew he had lost.

His breaths became shallow and erratic, mirroring the rhythm of his movements as he chased after a fleeting sense of fulfilment. But with each passing second, the emptiness within him only seemed to grow deeper, the void left by your absence expanding until it consumed him entirely. Yet still, he couldn't bring himself to let go, clinging to the memory of you as if it were the only lifeline keeping him afloat in a sea of despair.

His hand moved on its own accord between his trembling thighs, seeking solace in the familiar touch. The sensation of his own touch was a bittersweet feeling in a way, he’d much rather feel you, be inside of you, if you’d allow it. And he knew you would, but a part of him wished you wouldn’t. He wished you wouldn’t have fulfilled his fantasies.

In that solitary moment of self-indulgence, he found himself more alone than ever, only accompanied by his groans of pleasure and frustration echoing off the walls of the room. He got so lost in the feeling, he was so close he could almost taste the release until-

“Alex, honey, are you okay?” his mother asked from outside the room.

But fuck he was so close, the interruption made him close his fist so tight around his cock for a split second that he couldn’t stop his orgasm from taking over him once he removed his hand. He gripped the sides of the tub and threw his head back, hitting the hard tile wall, as the cum kept spurting out of him, without a way to stop it or turn back time to get himself out of this situation, or perhaps have it end in a less unsatisfactory way.

“Alex…?” the voice from the other side of the door rang through his ears again.

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to regain his composure, his mother's voice pulling him back to reality with an abruptness that left him disoriented and ashamed.

"I-I'm fine, Mum," he stammered, his voice strained with embarrassment. "Just... just lost track of time."

He could feel the weight of her concern lingering in the air, her footsteps receding as she presumably retreated from the door. But the echoes of her interruption remained, a stark reminder of the boundaries he had crossed and the secrets he now carried alone. As he sank deeper into the water, the warmth no longer offering solace but instead suffocating him with its false comfort, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find redemption for his indiscretions, or if he was doomed to drown in his own desires.

And as the water grew cold around him, he knew that no amount of scrubbing could cleanse him of the stain you had left upon his soul.

With a heavy heart, he emerged from the bath, his skin wrinkled and pruney from the prolonged immersion. With a trembling hand, he reached for the nearest towel, hastily covering himself.

He stopped to look in the mirror, he should probably shave, he thought. His stubble was beginning to look a bit rough, but he couldn't face himself, he was too vulnerable. Not with the reflection of the cloudy, stained water draining slowly in the background.

He made his way back to his room, the weight of his thoughts still pressing down upon him like a leaden blanket.

He put some boxers on and settled back into bed, he knew that sleep would elude him once more, his mind consumed by the endless cycle of regret and desire. And so, he lay there in the darkness. For hours. Tossing and turning, adrift in a sea of his own making, longing for the dawn to break and release him from the prison of his own mind.

As the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Noon came around and Alex rose from his slumber, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on his mind. He knew he couldn't stay at his parents' house any longer, the suffocating atmosphere only serving to heighten his inner struggle. With a murmured apology and a forced smile, he made his excuses and departed, longing for the solitude of his own apartment.

Arriving home, he found himself enveloped in a suffocating silence, the empty rooms echoing with the ghosts of his past mistakes. He hadn’t been here in what felt like years. And it probably was in fact years, but he didn’t want to admit it. He felt bad for not seeing his family more often, but he often got so absorbed in his work that he just didn’t bother to make the time.

Desperate to escape his own thoughts, he reached for the bottle of whiskey hidden away in the cupboard, the liquid offering a moment of peace. As the alcohol burned its way down his throat, he felt the edges of his consciousness begin to blur, the sharp edges of his guilt softened by the numbing embrace of intoxication. But even as he sought solace in the bottle, he knew it was a fleeting comfort, a temporary distraction from the pain that lingered just beneath the surface.

Maybe he should’ve just bought a bottle of wine on his way here, not go for something so strong. He shouldn’t feel the need for it at all to begin with. But here he was.

Lost in a haze of alcohol and regret, he barely noticed the sound of the doorbell ringing, the noise barely registering in his foggy mind. But when he opened the door, he was met with a sight that cut through the haze. Did he really get that intoxicated? Enough to hallucinate? Because this didn’t feel real. Christ, he was drunk.

There you stood, bathed in the cold glow of the hallway light, a vision that threatened to undo him entirely. Despite his protests, despite his insistence that you should stay away, you had come back to him, drawn by some unseen force that neither of you could resist.

“I’m sorry I just…I wanted to see you, I shouldn’t have come here like this.” you said, your voice trembling from seeing him once more.

For a moment, he was paralyzed, unable to tear his gaze away from you, the memory of your touch igniting a fire within him that refused to be extinguished. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw something there that mirrored his own soul, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the guilt and the overwhelming sense of shame, he found himself reaching out to you, his hand trembling as it brushed against your cheek. In that moment, all the walls he had tried to build around his heart came crashing down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the face of your undeniable allure.

He didn’t even know when it all started, what pushed him so badly against all his better judgement when he saw you on the train. He’d been thinking about you for what feels like forever, even if he’d only known you for what, a few months?

“I can leave if you want, I-“

He wasn’t even listening as he interrupted you by bringing his lips to yours and embracing you tightly, pulling you into the room, leaving the heavy door to slam shut behind you, the gasp that escaped your busy lips getting drowned by the loud sound.

But even as he leaned in to kiss you, to lose himself in the intoxicating embrace of your lips, he knew deep down that this was a mistake, a temporary pause from the inevitable reckoning that awaited him.

And yet, for now, he allowed himself to…forget, to let himself feel the warmth of your touch and the promise of more that lay just beyond his grasp.

His kisses grew more passionate as he started leading. He held you close to him as his tongue gently parted your lips, exploring your mouth.

A momentary pause came next, as you gently retreated only for a bit so you could catch your breath. His hand slipped over your chin, caressing the skin lower and lower until he grabbed your neck and leaned back in, licking filthily into your mouth as his hands continued to roam your body.

After a while, he slowed down and pulled away from the kiss, his breathing heavy and his forehead pressed against yours, his finger tracing to the bottom of your jaw and tilting it to the perfect angle to be able to whisper in your ear.

"I've been thinking about you all day." he whispered to you as he pressed his lips against your neck. He pressed gentle kisses all over your neck as his grip tightened. His soft breaths against your neck made it difficult to think, difficult to breathe.

“I probably shouldn’t admit that.” he chuckled, though his eyes said otherwise. They gave off a sense of hunger. His lips inched closer to yours, so close. He could practically taste you. “You’re just so pretty, I can’t help myself.”

He kissed you again, and again before lifting you up and pulling you closer to him, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

Slowly, he started walking with you in his arms, as if you weighed nothing. As he did so, he continued kissing you all over your neck. The more kisses he pressed onto you, the more the kisses turned into hickeys, marking you as his.

When you reached the bed, he lost his balance, falling on top of you and struggling to get his limbs to cooperate for a moment. It was like his body finally matched the mess in his mind. His weight felt comfortable though, sinking you deeper into the mattress, engulfed in his smell from being so close to you.

You started unbuttoning Mr. Turner’s stained shirt, the scent of the alcohol taking over his own distinctive one as you moved the fabric around. Your hands were trembling so much you couldn’t even work the buttons.

“I want to feel you, please.” you begged him, wanting to touch him, to see him fully. You never got the chance the last time.

He smirked and sat back a bit, settling on his knees in front of you, struggling to unbutton it himself, though not as much from nerves as it was for you, but for the inebriation taking over control of him. He abandoned his mission of taking it off completely, leaving it to hang on his back as he returned to hovering over you. He slowly started kissing you again, his body pressing against yours as your hands slowly made their way underneath his shirt. He was so warm, the sweat he worked up easing your movements over his skin.

You wanted to taste him too, as much as you loved feeling his lips on yours, you wanted to bite into him, to feel him, so you pushed him off, getting slight protests from him, but that stopped once you started sucking lazily on his collarbone. You couldn’t stop yourself from making little moaning noises as you moved your lips up Mr. Turner’s neck and attempted to run your hands over his chest, the way he was pushing so close to you making it awkward to move.

“Please just, just take it off. Please.” you couldn’t stand anything in the way anymore.

He bit his bottom lip at your demand to take the shirt off but obeyed, nodding as he pushed himself away from you to sit up. He took off his shirt and tossed it to the side, the useless object falling somewhere on the floor.

You resumed your work, kissing over his naked chest, his neck, anywhere you could reach the quickest, your hands roaming his back, shaking from the realisation that you were actually doing this. You could hear him giggle quietly as you kissed over where you bit him earlier.

You felt a rush of excitement as you explored Mr. Turner's bare skin, his warmth radiating against your lips and fingertips. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed. As you continued to kiss and caress him, you felt a sense of liberation, the weight of inhibition slowly lifting off your shoulders.

Mr. Turner's laughter filled the room, a sound that fuelled your desire even more. You found yourself drawn to him, captivated by his every movement and expression. With newfound confidence, you leaned in closer, your lips trailing a path across his chest and down his abdomen, wanting to get on with it already. You needed him so bad. You came here with a slight glimmer of hope, but you really didn’t think he’d be so willing to give himself to you again.

“Can I touch you?” you asked tentatively, he was clearly into it, you could feel him hard against your thigh, but you still felt a bit reticent, wanting his approval before going any further.

He chuckled at you. He found it adorable how timid you were. He pressed a kiss against your lips before whispering "You are very sweet. But yes, you can touch me, please."

With his approval, a surge of confidence washed over you, emboldening your every move. Your hand traced a path down his abdomen, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. As you reached his waistband, you hesitated for a moment, savouring the anticipation of what was to come.

He noticed your hesitation, grabbing your hand and moving it down further, his breathing getting heavier as he continued to press gentle kisses all over your neck. Struggling to keep steady for a moment, he helped you by unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down as he led you to explore further, putting your hand on his bulge and grinding against your palm.

“Feel that? Feel what you’ve done to me?” he whispered as you continued tracing the contours of his cock with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Mr. Turner's breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, fueling your desire even more. His mind started to fog up from you touching him.

His reactions to your touch only served to heighten your arousal, each gasp and moan driving you to explore even more boldly. Lost in the moment, you forgot everything else, consumed by the overwhelming need to feel him, to taste him, to make him yours in every sense of the word, although deep down you knew that was impossible.

You slipped your hand inside his underwear, feeling him directly on your skin, your fingertips running along the length, feeling the wetness dripping from his tip.

As you wrapped your hand around him, he took a deep breath and you saw the way his cheeks started to turn a nice, even deeper shade of pink as you touched him.

"Mhm..." he let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

With his eyes closed and little whimpers escaping his lips, you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing the effect you were having on him. His vulnerability in this moment only added to the intensity of your desire, fueling your own need for him.

Your touch became more confident as you explored every inch of him, committing the sensation to your memory, wanting to remember every single portion of him. You revelled in the way he responded to you, the way his body reacted to your every movement and caress.

As you continued to stroke him, you felt the tension building between you, his breathing was ragged and deep but he was trying to keep control, he wasn’t attempting to touch you any further, other than his lips over your own or your neck or chest.

You didn’t want him to hold back though, telling him “Don’t be afraid, touch me.”

He froze for a moment, he moved his face to yours so that you were mere inches away, his hot breath against your skin making it even harder for you to think.

“Okay.” his whisper was gentle as he moved his face back to your neck.

He began undressing you with a tentative touch. You could sense his hesitation, his desire warring with his restraint. But you refused to let him hold back, craving his touch as much as he craved yours. You quickly pushed your pants down as he worked on your top half, begging him to remove his trousers as well once you were left almost naked before him, only your underwear left standing in the way.

As his hands began to explore your body, you felt a rush of electricity coursing through you, every touch setting your skin ablaze. His fingers trailed a path of longing across your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You found yourself trembling under his caress as his hand reached your cunt, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through your veins as he slipped it under your panties and used his fingers to spread your wetness before dipping down and pushing three of them inside of you, making you clench around him instinctively, stilling his movement as the stretch of his fingers took you by surprise.

Any initial shock was soon brushed off, being replaced by immense pleasure, giving way to sheer ecstasy. With each gentle stroke as he moved his fingers inside of your hole, you felt yourself unravelling, each time his knuckles pushed back into you, breaking past that ridge, stretching you open more and more, the barriers between you crumbled away. You gave in to the primal urge to be consumed by him entirely.

You arched into his touch, aching for the intimacy and connection that only he could provide, your body responding eagerly to him.

As he continued rubbing and sliding in his fingers, you found yourself closer to giving in, your hand tangling in his hair and pulling roughly on it to bring him closer, to have his mouth on yours again. He could tell you were struggling to kiss him, your mouth going slack every so often as the moans poured out, but your lips must be on his as you come undone.

“Come on love.” he encouraged, his lips moving along yours.

Your senses were ablaze, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. With his encouragement, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of an abyss, your body yearning for release. Your lips met his eagerly, hungry for that last touch that would push you over the edge.

His fingers worked their magic inside you as you tightened around him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you started to surrender. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm that matched the intensity of his touch, driving you closer and closer to the brink. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his hair as you chased that peak of pleasure.

With a primal cry, you finally let go, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you succumbed to the feeling, your body convulsing in his embrace.

“Good…” he whispered and leaned in close to your ear “Well done, love.”

He carefully removed his fingers, leaving you with an awfully empty feeling. He brought them to your mouth, playfully touching the tips of them to your bottom lip. He parted your swollen lips, pushing past them just enough so he could touch the tip of your tongue, letting you taste yourself from him, before leaning in and licking the rest of the length himself, his nose nudging yours as he pushed his face closer to you, his tongue working on the curves and cracks in his fingers, not letting a spot go to waste.

“‘M gonna fuck you now.” he said, sitting up to kick off his underwear, too sticky and wet to keep on anymore, not that it was of use any longer.

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as anticipation pulsed through your veins. As he sat up to discard his underwear, you watched with eager eyes, craving what was about to unfold between you.

“Drawer…right.” he told you.

His command pulled you from your haze, and you fumbled to open the drawer, heart racing with excitement. Inside, you found what you were looking for, and you handed him the condom with trembling hands.

With practised ease, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs. The air crackled with tension as he hovered over you, his presence dominating the room. He pulled your panties down low enough that they wouldn’t be in the way. You could’ve probably kicked them off, but you didn’t bother, leaving them to hang somewhere between your calves and ankles.

He positioned his cock at your entrance, nice and ready for him. He tapped the head on your pussy a couple of times, revelling in watching you clench around nothing as he brushed your clit before guiding himself, pushing in just the tip with his thumb.

Then, without further warning, he plunged into you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust. A gasp escaped your lips as you arched into him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming in the best possible way.

His movements were primal, raw with desire as he drove into you again and again, each thrust sending you higher and higher towards blissful oblivion yet again. You clung to him, lost in the rhythm of your bodies moving as one, your hands clawing at his back the only thing holding him down to earth.

But perhaps that wasn’t such a good thing for him. He’d rather be floating off to somewhere than being grounded and remembering the harsh reality, the haze slowly fading away, leaving him to remember the night before.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts, that you could easily get him to be a desperate thing begging you to touch him, he was weak enough to give you that power if you wanted it. Knowing he could get off by himself but it just wouldn’t be as good as you felt. He wouldn’t even have to make it a rule to not touch himself if he had you all to himself, you’d make him feel so good, touching himself would never compare.

A nagging doubt crept in, reminding him of the harsh moments awaiting him once the night was over. He couldn't escape the weight of his thoughts, the fear of vulnerability clawing at him even as he surrendered to you.

He trembled over you. He became aware that tears were rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto your hair splayed out on the pillow. He wiped his face furiously with one of his hands, struggling to support himself with the other.

His body moved on instinct, driven by a hunger that could never be satisfied. He buried himself deeper within you, seeking solace in the connection you shared, desperate to drown out the doubts that threatened to consume him as his mind raced with conflicting emotions, his body consumed by the primal desire coursing through him. With each thrust, he felt himself losing control, surrendering.

As the tears kept welling in his eyes, he fought to maintain his composure, unwilling to let his vulnerability show. But in that moment, as he moved over you, he realised that he couldn't keep pretending.

With a shaky breath, he let go, allowing himself to be vulnerable in your embrace. And as he buried his face in your hair, he found a fleeting moment of peace, a moment of acceptance in your arms.

You didn’t dare to interrupt him, not even knowing how to approach the situation. He was making you feel good, but you could sense his distress nonetheless, petting the back of his hair as his thrusts faltered for a moment, his hips snapping so close his hip bones collided with yours, the rough hair surrounding his cock brushing against your clit as he kept grinding into you, before feeling him twitch inside, his cock pulsing as his release was spilling inside the condom. You wished it could’ve been inside of you instead, the thought of him filling you up again taking you to the edge as well.

After a while, he pulled out and pressed his forehead against yours. His breathing was deeper than it normally was as he held you close to him.

You stayed like that for a while, his skin sticking to yours everywhere. It was comforting, having him so close, so close you could feel the sweat at his nape making your fingers slippery as you brushed your hand through his hair.

He pulled away, just enough so he could see your face and- God. The way you looked at him sent shivers down his spine and made him feel disgusted with himself at the same time.

“Please hate me.” he whispered, his voice shaking and his eyes closing, he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes.

Your heart sank at his words, confusion and concern washing over you. You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands, making him look at you, searching his eyes for answers.

"Why would I hate you?" you murmured softly, your voice laced with empathy. You could feel the weight of his inner turmoil, the struggle he was facing.

He wanted to speak, to break the silence that settled after your question, but words eluded him. Instead, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with everything he had to give, hoping you would understand him.

He stood up, the cold air hitting you as he separated himself from your body, and you couldn’t move, stuck there watching him as he stumbled into the bathroom down the hall.

You sat there, the echoes of his whispered plea still resonating in your mind, trying to process. What was he hiding? What was causing him such…pain?

Minutes felt like hours as you sat in silence, only hearing the water running in the bathroom, until that stopped, the only sound left being the faint hum of the air conditioner. Your thoughts raced, trying to piece together the fragments of his cryptic behaviour.

Eventually, you were unable to bear the weight of the unknown any longer. You rose from the bed and made your way to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light peeking through the crack. You pushed it open gently, your heart pounding in your chest.

And there he was, leaning against the sink, his reflection staring back at him with haunted eyes.

Without a word, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, offering silent comfort. He stiffened at first, debating internally whether he should allow you or push you away, but then he slowly relaxed into your embrace, his body trembling against yours.

"I’m here," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, a small sign of acceptance. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, holding him close as you both grappled with his struggles.

You felt him squirm in your arms, loosening your grip, allowing him to turn around. He looked at you in a way that almost made you crumble to the floor, his eyes red from tears but soft as he pushed your hair out of your face, neatly tucking it back behind your ears.

"I honestly never expected to fall for someone much younger than myself." he finally spoke out, whispering with a soft but pained smile as he looked down at you.

He lifted your chin up and kissed you. It was a soft, gentle, loving kiss. It was clear now, in that kiss, that this was much more than just a fleeting thing for him. After a moment he pulled away.

"And I don’t know if, or- or how I can…cope…with it." he whispered as he pulled you closer to him. You didn’t know what to say to him, the silence of the bathroom only broken by the sounds of you breathing.

"I never meant for this to happen," he confessed, his voice strained. "I never wanted to burden you…I’m sorry."

You held him tighter, feeling the weight of his words like a heavy anchor dragging you both down.

"You're not a burden," you whispered, your voice trembling with unshed tears. "I want this."

He shook his head, his grip on you tightening as if afraid to let go.

"But…you shouldn’t, we shouldn’t-" he choked out, his voice cracking. "I don't know how to love you the way you deserve."

A sob almost escaped his lips, the pain of his self-loathing searing through you like a knife.

"Please don't say that," you pleaded, your heart shattering with each word. "I don't need this to be perfect, I just need you to be here with me."

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tears staining your skin as he clung to you desperately.

"I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper against your ear. "I feel like I-…I shouldn’t..." he trailed off, leaving what he didn’t want to admit unspoken. “I feel like I’m suffocating…I need to…”

In a silent understanding, you guided him towards the bathtub, the soothing warmth of the water promising some calmness, maybe it could help him wash off the bad feelings he had. But he knew it wouldn’t work, he’d already tried it.

Without a word, you settled into the tub together, with you behind him, making him feel smaller, and that was somewhat comforting for him, along with the water rising around you like a barrier against the outside world. His trembling form nestled against yours, seeking solace in the comfort of your embrace.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your combined breaths and the soft lapping of water against the porcelain. But within that silence there was a deep intimacy, a shared vulnerability that bound him to you.

Gently, you began to wash away the tears that stained his cheeks, your touch tender as you traced the lines of his face, and even though he had his back turned to you, you could feel him react, his muscles twitching as your wet fingers brushed his skin.

"I'm scared too." you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head around awkwardly due to the position and buried his face against your chest, his body shaking with silent sobs as he clung to you. In that moment, you realised just how fragile he truly was, how deeply he needed to figure this out for himself.

"I don't think I can let go of you." he confessed, his voice raw.

You held him tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Maybe you don’t have to." you reassured him, your words a soft whisper against his messy hair.

After a moment of silence, when you felt him relax, his breathing returning to a normal, calm and steady rhythm, he continued his confessions.

“I thought about you last night…about us, in here. I was alone in the tub but I thought about you being there when I was…I imagined it was you instead.” he said, his words just above a whisper, enough so he could feel the guilt lift off his chest, being honest about it bringing a sense of relief.

With a gentle touch, you brushed your lips against his forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the courage it took for him to bare his soul to you.

“Sometimes…” you stopped yourself, still feeling somewhat nervous around him, but he’s laid himself out for you, it would only be fair to reassure him. “Sometimes I fantasise about you too.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and relief. "Thank you." he breathed, his voice filled with an emotion too profound for words.

“I’m here.” your implications heightened by your hand slowly slipping down his chest and over his tummy under the water.

His breath hitched at the touch, his body responding to your caress with a shiver of anticipation, his muscles tightening at the ticklish feeling, allowing you to feel the contours of them under your fingertips.

With each tender stroke, you traced the lines of his form, committing the feel of him to memory as if to reassure yourself that he was truly there, tangible and real in your arms. His gaze never left yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions too complex to name.

"I'm here now." you whispered again, your voice a soothing balm to him, the words a promise and a plea rolled into one. "You don’t have to imagine anymore."

As your hand explored the contours of his body beneath the water, a silent understanding passed between you in the quiet intimacy of the bathtub.

Your hand went lower and lower, brushing past the hairs surrounding his v-line, disturbing the pockets of air stuck through them. His lips parted in a soft gasp when you cupped his cock in your hand, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the rhythm of your touch.

"I want you so bad." he confessed, his voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the water's gentle lapping as you started moving your palm back and forth over him, urging his cock to harden for you.

With each stroke of your hand, his body responded eagerly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure coursed through him. The water around you seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your movements, enveloping you both in its sweet and warm embrace.

His gaze remained locked with yours, his eyes dark but with a certain softness to them, as he surrendered himself to the sensations that you laid upon his body.

"I know." you murmured, your voice barely audible over the soft sounds of the water.

As his cock hardened in your hand, his body quivered with anticipation, aching for release, approaching quicker than he would’ve thought.

With each gentle touch, you guided him closer to the edge, your movements fueled by the little sounds he made, reverberating through your ears, perhaps from the echo of the room, or from the sheer closeness.

With a newfound sense of urgency, he leaned in, his lips seeking yours desperately as he let go of himself in favour of the pleasure that washed over him. His whimpers mingled with the last few swooshing sounds of the water as he finally found release in your arms, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

You held him close, your own heart racing with the intensity of the moment and you both basked in the afterglow of it, the water lapping gently against your skin, cocooning you in your own little bubble.

"Thank you.” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

His gaze met yours before he intertwined your fingers together. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as you shared a moment of silent understanding.

As you both rose from the bathtub, the water clung to your skin like a tangible reminder. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering out the door, towards the bedroom.

“Can you maybe, uhm, stay? With me? Stay tonight, please.” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your heart skipped a beat at his request, a rush of emotions flooding through you. With a nod, you squeezed his hand gently, “Yeah.”

“Wait here.” he told you, wrapping a towel around himself and rushing towards the door quickly, stopping in his tracks and turning back around just as quick. “Here.” he handed you a towel, giving you a small smile before disappearing, leaving you to stand alone in his bathroom, a moment for you to think about how much just happened. With trembling hands, you wrapped the towel around your body, the fabric a comforting shield.

He quickly came back, his sudden return jolting you from your thoughts. He was longer naked and you couldn't help but notice the way his clothes hung loosely on him, a stark contrast to the usual image of him as a confident professor. He was wearing some sweatpants and a t-shirt that was way too large on his small frame, the neckline almost revealing one of his shoulders from how it hung to the side. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a bit weird seeing your professor like that, despite the intimacy you had shared, seeing him in such a vulnerable state still felt surreal.

He had a change of clothes in his arms, “I thought it would be more comfortable for you, I’ll leave you to change.” he said handing you the clothes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You couldn't help but return the gesture, grateful for his thoughtfulness, murmuring a ‘thanks’ before he exited the room once again.

His t-shirt smelled so much like him and it was soft against your skin, a welcoming contrast to the lingering tension and moreover the awkwardness that still hung in the air, a reminder of the boundaries you had crossed, as you emerged from the bathroom.

You found him waiting for you on the edge of the bed, his expression still giving off uncertainty. But as he raised his head and your eyes met, a certain warmth flickered between you.

With a tentative smile, you went next to him and the fabric of his clothes you were wearing clung to you like a second skin, a tangible reminder of his presence beside you. He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes softening as he took the image of you in. If only he could just pretend for a moment that there was nothing that made this wrong. 

As he settled back on the bed, patting the space beside him, you hesitated for a moment, his unspoken invitation hanging in the air. But as you met his gaze, an understanding passed between you, a shared recognition of the thing you both knew you wanted.

With a soft smile, you shifted closer to him, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as you settled in beside him, your bodies aligned perfectly. His warmth enveloped you as you lay side by side, the rhythm of your breaths falling into sync, you felt a quiet acceptance of the moment and all that it represented. 

Despite the complexities of your situation, there was a simplicity in the way you fit together, a natural ease that defied explanation.

“Goodnight sir.” you whispered quietly, not knowing if he’d even be able to hear it from the way your face was squished into his pillow. 

But he did. As your whispered words hung in the air, you felt a flicker of uncertainty cloud the peace that had settled over you both, feeling him tense behind you. But before you could dwell on it, his response cut through the silence like a knife. 

“Don’t call me that.”

The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken implications. In that moment, you realised the weight of the titles that had defined your relationship so far, you understood why he was so harsh all of the sudden. With a soft sigh, you shifted closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor in the darkness. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you "I just...I don't know what else to call you."

He turned you around to face him, his eyes searching yours for something even he couldn't quite name. "Call me...whatever feels right," he said softly, his voice filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "Just...not sir." he continued as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. 

In that moment, you realised the significance of his words, urging you to shed the roles that had defined you. With a nod, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a gesture affirming your understanding. 

"Goodnight..." you whispered, “Alex.” 

Calling him by his name still felt weird, but it made your stomach fill with butterflies for whatever reason, blocking him from seeing the smile spreading on your face by quickly kissing the tip of his nose before turning back around. 

You drifted off to sleep quickly, much quicker than you would’ve liked, wanting to savour more of the time spent with him. 

The same couldn’t be said about…Alex. Alex couldn’t sleep that night, instead he listened desperately to your breathing and the cute little snores you made. He just felt numb, but he reckoned feeling numb was better than feeling terrible about himself, at least for now.

a/n: idk what to say, i hope you like it

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour #mr turner

[calaisreno]

Make a Choice

702 Words / Prompt: Choice

John’s therapist smiles. She’s the new one, he thinks. Or the one after that. Sometimes it’s hard to keep it all straight. 

“How are the wife and kids?” she asks. 

John sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Here’s the thing. You ask me that about half the time. The other half, you ask me how my flatmate is, what crazy stuff he's got up to.”

She blinks, then frowns. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do. It’s like I’m two separate people to you. Two John Watsons.”

“Perhaps… you could say a bit more about that.” She’s fallen back into therapist-mode, and John knows it will be hopeless to explain. 

He will try, though. “This is what my life is: two non-intersecting realities. In one, I'm living in Clapham with Mary and my two kids, Rose and Hamish. I have pub nights with my old army buddies, started biking to work a few months ago, and work at a surgery, treating sniffles and rashes. Sort of boring, but it's what I always expected my life to be.”

She smiles, uncertain. “Yes, I remember. You’ve mentioned your friend Bill.”

“Right.” He leans forward, shaking his head at the absurdity. “But that’s just half of it. In the other life— well, let’s call it another reality. I have one life, split between these two. In the other reality, I'm living with Sherlock Holmes. I never know what's going to happen when I wake up each day. There will be a spleen in the sink, no milk in the fridge because it's all been used for an experiment, and Sherlock will either be nowhere in sight, or flopped on the sofa, taking up as much space as possible with his notes. We go out on cases a few times a month. I've been shot at, stabbed, and got some sort of fungal infection from whatever that was in the sugar bowl. Sort of crazy, but never boring.”

She’s biting her lip now. “John. It’s not unusual for PTSD to manifest itself in… well, imaginings.”

“You mean hallucinations. And that’s not what I’m saying. What I mean is that I am living two lives. The wife-and-kids one, and the Sherlock one. I never know which one I’m going to wake up to. And I have no idea why it’s happening.”

Notebook open, she’s writing something. Upside-down, he reads: possible psychosis.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he says. “I’m not psychotic. I always know which reality I’m in. I’m not confused. So, I'm wondering. You're the only factor common to both of these worlds. Do you realise what's happening to me? Is this... an experiment?”

Yesterday, when he explained this, she offered to schedule him in twice a week and send him to a sleep specialist. 

Today, in a different reality, she regards him with a half-smile. “Well, John, that’s a good observation. Very good. I would say that it’s time to make a choice.”

She holds a gun. 

...

His head is splitting. Sherlock is talking, and John is trying to make sense of it.

“Every decision point creates two parallel realities. Yes and no. Turn right, turn left. Go through the park, get on a bus. You’re not aware of all the consequences of your choices, but they exist, as real as the fact of your life—”

“The park,” he says. “I went through the park.” 

“I know.” Sherlock frowns. “Are you all right, John?”

“Of course I’m not all right—I’ve been shot!”

“Wrong. You’re concussed.” He leans over John, studying him like a specimen. “He hit you on the head and stole your wallet. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You’re my mad flatmate. And my therapist shot me.”

“Wrong. I’m your husband. And you don’t have a therapist.“

He closes his eyes. “I think some wires got crossed.”

Sherlock kisses him. “You’ll be fine.”

...

In a parallel reality, a thief is talking to his therapist.

“How are the wife and kids?” she asks.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Here’s the thing. I stole this bloke’s wallet, and ever since, I’ve been living two lives.”

She smiles and leans forward. “Perhaps you could say more about that, John.”

@lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @ninasnakie @raina-at @friday411

#mayprompts2024

[tracingpatternswrites]

Decision week pt 2 | Married at First Sight

(Read the whole thing from the beginning here)

The time has come for our couples to make their final decisions. Will they choose to stay married, or will they go their separate ways? They have come a long way in the past five weeks, and now it’s time for them to decide whether or not they want to continue on this journey together.

Welcome to Married at First Sight - the Final.

Read on AO3.

Snippet below the cut.

Sirius had been right, the house did feel empty without Remus there. It surprised him, in a way, that he had grown used to the presence of someone else so quickly. Before Remus moved in, the only experience Sirius had of living with other people, that wasn’t family, was when he and James had shared a dorm during school.

He was normally fiercely protective of his own space, and he didn’t mind spending time on his own. Whenever he wanted company he would go over to James’ and Lily’s place, he knew he was always welcome there, but one reason he loved visiting them was that he knew that at the end of the day, he could go back home.

He had been tossing and turning all night after he returned from Brighton, unable to sleep. He wondered if Remus did the same, if his mind was also buzzing with thoughts of the big decision they had coming up.

When the clock on his bedside table showed six am, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to stay in bed any longer. He made himself a coffee before heading out into the garden. He sat down in the same place where he and Remus had sat talking about their future and it felt absurd that it had only been a few days ago.

Sirius wanted to call Remus, wanted to check in on him, but they weren’t allowed to have any contact before they met at the studio to make their decision. So, instead, Sirius was left to his own thoughts, his mind whirring a mile a minute.

He was glad that Remus had asked him to come to Brighton. He felt as if he had seen one Remus here, in the house with him in London, and another one when they went up north to meet his parents. The Remus he had seen with his friends was yet another version, and now he could add Brighton Remus as a piece to the puzzle.

It had made sense to see Remus there, and it suited him to walk through the narrow lanes with the small shops and cafés and vintage boutiques. Even the flat had made sense, and Sirius honestly didn’t think that it was as bad as Remus had made it out to be. It was supposed to be a temporary thing anyway, and Sirius had seen much worse places in his youth.

He knew that he might have become a little carried away as he told Remus he could imagine living in Brighton, he was still a London boy at heart, but being close to the beach and the sea had its appeal. Especially if they were going to start a family.

That was the other thing – a family. Sirius wanted one; he wanted to do things differently and break the Black family curse of horrible parents and dysfunctional childhoods. He hadn’t thought too much of the details, he hadn’t been close enough to get what he wanted to properly consider it, but when they had talked about it he had realised it was important to him.

He knew that Remus had said that he would consider it, that he needed to think about it, but what if he decided that it wasn’t for him? Would Sirius be able to accept that, or would it be a deal breaker?

He tried to imagine how it would have felt if Remus had told him that the day before. If Remus had told him straight up that children were out of the question, would Sirius have walked away? He wasn’t sure and that scared him.

When he couldn’t put up with his own thoughts any more he pulled his phone out. It was barely gone eight but he knew that James would be up, they were both far too full of energy to sleep in. Unsurprisingly, James picked up after only two rings.

“Pads! What’s up?”

“Not much,” replied Sirius, sighing softly as he leaned back against the wall behind him. “I just– I’m back home. Alone.”

“Remus back in Brighton?” James’ voice was sympathetic. “That sucks, mate.”

“Yeah,” Sirius exhaled. “I know that we’re supposed to spend this time apart to figure out what we want but…”

He trailed off, and he heard some rustling on the other end before James’ voice came back.

“But you’re worried that thinking is going to give you, or him, cold feet?”

Sirius gave a non-committal grunt.

“I just want to call him but I know that I can’t.”

James didn’t reply straight away, there was another rustling noise and Sirius could imagine James making his way down the stairs and into the kitchen of his and Lily’s house.

“Y’know, we were thinking of going to Hampton Court for the day,” said James as Sirius heard the sound of his coffee machine on the other end of the line. “You should come with us. It’d be good for you to get out a bit, and Harry’s been asking for you.”

Sirius felt his chest tighten with affection for his best friend, grateful that James always seemed to know exactly what he needed, even before Sirius knew it himself.

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling softly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Continue on AO3.

#mafs #mafs wolfstar #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #muggle au #reality tv au #my writing

[saelique]

CHEAP BEER & FRIDAY NIGHTS

cinna’s note : wrote this at 2am n finished it in a library. why do toddlers scream s’ much D: my feet hurt ;;

tw : blood, guns, the usual mafia stuff, one death threat, alcohol ( beer ) ft. chuuya + mori, can be seen as platonic or romantic, angst / fluff !

the last time you see dazai osamu was when you were in your apartment, opening cans of beer to drink and eating cheap food from a convenience store nearby your home. 

it was a normal saturday night, one that happened every week. talk about stupid stuff with him and fall asleep on the sofa together with nothing but a thin blanket to keep you warm, the lights still on. 

you expected to see him when you were in your office, hanging around to escape his workload. until you don’t. 

you didn’t think too much about it. he’ll be back tomorrow. maybe he got sent on another mission without your knowledge, and so you buy some extra food in case he decides to crash by. 

seconds, minutes, hours which turn into days passes. and you presume he got killed by the boss. not really. 

you ask around when work is over, hoping for some sort of news, only to receive confused glances. then you realise you haven’t asked nakahara. he was nowhere to be seen as well for now.

the elevator’s doors open and you step in, only to hear a greeting. 

“hello.” 

a shiver runs down your spine when you recognise that voice. “oh. hello boss.”

awkward silence falls and you can barely breathe, choked by the heavy air. petrified. you were scared. you never knew what made this man so fucking intimidating but you guess its because he looks the most normal out of all of you. but is practically a monster behind that facade of being fake nice. 

“you’re the girl that ex-executive dazai always hangs around with.” he commented, a smile on his face. “yes.” you manage to nod, before his words struck you. “ex-executive ?” you repeat, eyebrows furrowing. 

“yes. he defected a couple days ago. unfortunately no one could contact him.” he sighs. “a shame, dazai truly was a treasured subordinate.” bullshit. 

“I take it that you weren’t aware ?” “I was unfortunately occupied with reports. I apologise.” 

but why would he leave ? it doesnt make sense. and if he left, the people close to him would be suspects. and didnt he say that the port mafia was really where he belonged- 

oh. then you remember why you were stuck in the office with another worker for the whole day doing stupid paperwork. 

that bitch had known that you would be questioned. 

“dont worry,” that sickening sweet voice again. “well, I’ll have to go now. see you around.” he says, when the doors open and then he left. 

you sigh, then walk your office. you bite your tongue, so hard that it draws blood and you can taste the smell of rusted nails in your mouth. 

you walk to your desk and pull out a drawer full of small notes from him. taking one out, you rip it into small, tiny peices, coloured paper fluttering down the ground.

“you’re taking this better than I expected.” nakahara walks in, bottle of wine in hand. “I thought you would go out, look for him and then murder him.” 

“why is there wine ?” “wanna drink ?” you pause before silently agreeing. “sure. lets just go back to my apartment. dont wanna risk anyone seeing me drunk.” 

shockingly, four years pass quickly when youre preoccupied with shitty work. 

you ended up being nakahara’s assistant, a promotion that you hadn’t expected honestly. but the pay was good so you didnt have any issues. 

when you come back from printing some reports at two am, you find chuuya sitting in his couch, legs spread and his hat covering his face, asleep, soft snores escaping his lips. 

you hum, covering his sleeping figure with a blanket you found draped on the side of the couch, taking your briefcase and fixing your appearance, you left the building. 

waving over a cab, you quickly went into it and gave directions to your apartment, tired and wasted from the long hours. 

it soon stopped, signaling it’s arrival. mumbling a thanks, you stepped out of the taxi after paying. 

you walked up the stairs slowly, feet aching from your heels. when you arrived to your door, already key in hand, ready to insert it into the lock. but just as you opened the door a crack, you stopped short. 

the light was on. 

swallowing a groan, you grabbed a gun from your belt and kicked it open. 

“get out from your hiding spot or I’ll shoot you in the head ten fucking times.” 

“aww, but you’ll shoot me even if I come out.” 

what the actual loving hell was he doing here ? 

turning around, you pointed your gun at him, rolling your eyes. “the fuck are you doing here dazai ?” 

“it’s friday.” 

you scoff, still holding the gun up to his head. “we dont even do that anymore. leave.” 

“mmm . . . i bought some beer though, it would be a shame if you drank it alone-“ 

bang. 

smoke hisses behind dazai, a hole shot clear through the wall. only then did you let your arm down, glaring at him. 

“i’m not going to deal with this bullshit. I’ve had a long day.” 

“the last time we saw each other was today’s date. wouldn’t you like to catch up ?” when did he become so persistent ? he changed too much. but you did too. 

you put the gun down your coffee table, running a hand through your hair, defeated. “i’m going to take a shower, dont pull anything funny or I’ll be dragging your ass to the port mafia and handing you over to ozaki’s team.” 

“got it !” 

you end up screaming inside the shower the whole time. 

when you come back out wearing your usual clothes, hair still wet and your towel around your neck, dazai looks amused but thankfully keeps his mouth shut tight. 

he was already drinking a can of beer, and  you notice there’s small splatters of blood on his beige trench coat.  

“so, how’s everything back in the port mafia ?” he starts as you open a can straight from your freezer, a pop echoing through the room. 

“as usual. i got promoted to become executive nakahara’s assistant.” you relish in his pained and disgusted look, knowing the friendly rivalry in between them that usually caused fights and included random buildings exploding. 

“him ? that slug ? couldn’t you refuse ?” “the pay was high.” “hmph.” 

“hows things at your new job ?” you ask, “is everything better there ? you’ve changed a lot so I guess so. you’re not the dazai I knew anymore,” your voice cracks, “what the fuck were you thinking ?!” 

tears fall down your cheeks as you get up from your chair, grab his collar, “did you know how much I worried for your stupid suicidal ass ?!” 

dazai stays silent, chocolate brown eyes staring back into your own. you let go of him and plop down your chair. “things are alright. altough there’s a co-worker named kunikida who always nags at me.” he replies, not talking about your sudden outburst. 

you avoid his glance before getting up yet again. “i’m going to the toilet.” 

the faucet is running and you’re splashing your face with cold water. eyes and nose a bit red and puffy. 

it wasn’t any use crying. that dazai wont ever ever come back and it’s not something that you could control. 

when you come back, you find your beer is already almost gone, so you grimace and pop open another one. the second one for the night. 

“you’re working at the armed detective agency huh ?” you sigh, “I hope you manage to get killed in one of your missions.” “youre so cold.” “only to you.” 

“you didnt lose an eye after all.” you comment, staring at where his eye bandage had been. “was that really just for fashion ?” 

he doesnt answer and you dont talk anymore. 

it continues on for a while until he breaks the silence. “i’m sorry.” 

“im not accepting it.” 

“knew it.” 

silence envelopes the room yet again, and the only sounds audible is the clock ticking.

“I wont ever forgive you for a million years for pulling that. but, i’m quite a merciful person yknow ?” your words breaks the invisible wall in between you breaks a bit, cracks starting to form. 

he perks up in surprise, “what do you mean-“ “i’m willing to start over. but dont think I won’t try and murder you in one of those fights.” 

the young man chuckles, “alright then. to new beginnings ?” 

“to new beginnings.” 

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader fluff #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ : novels !

[aha-chuu]

Bladie confirmed to have a driving license is funny enough, but he specifies that he has one and uses it on Japella, the "city of sins". Which means you probably aren't expected to need one and he thinks that's why Firefly is confused about it

Obviously in reality she's confused because it's insane to imagine he has a driving license

Anyway, it's more weird to me that driving licenses are a thing in hsr?? Like the car has full self driving capabilities but Bladie is choosing to driving it manually? Do driving licenses work across planets?? Bladie's must have a fake identity because he has an 8 Billion credit bounty on his head like I think not having a license is not the issue if they get pulled over

Also Firefly didn't know he had a license, but she and Kafka recruited him. The Stellaron hunters are pretty tight knit. If he'd been taking (god forbid) weekly driving lessons she would have known. So I am choosing to believe he is using his license from back before he became immortal

Which is also silly because you know. He is so old his license must be so outdated. He probably looks younger in real life than he does in the ID . When Kafka and firefly recruited him did he have the license on him or did he go to the space DMV for a new copy . He probably didn't remember how to drive after hundreds of years and crashed multiple cars over it. Also because um well bladie isn't known for wanting to be alive and not driving into the nearest river.

In Elio's script was there a random chance an insanely incompetent cop would pull them over, not realise they were wanted terrorists but arrest bladie for not having the proper certification. Why else would they bother.

Most crazy part of this is that bladie chose to drive a self-driving car so he probably enjoys driving which . Like why

#honkai star rail #hsr #blade #firefly #stellaron hunters #he probably likes driving because he used to drive machines around for his job #you know before uh #anyway

[cable-salamder]

Felt like drawing Skybound stuff, so why not give my two cents on what I think Delara looked like? I saw people saying that she must have been very young when her and Nadakhan were together because why else would he think an underage person would be her, but I hc that Delara just looked quite younger than the age she actually was.

Something that I think people forget is that the first time Nadakhan saw Nya was 1. In black and white and 2. In very dim lighting. I’m not excusing him being a creep or marrying Nya, or the fact that he still continued to pursue her after he saw her in person, but I am just pointing out that within that first moment of seeing her Nadakhan could have very well thought it was Delara, and simply decided to ignore the differences after he realised it wasn’t actually her.

#eugh just talking about nadakhan makes me sick to the core #he’s a piece of shit #don’t even get me started on the jay brawls stuff #anyways. #Delara! and Nya! #i always imagine delara as a badass pirate queen #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago fanart #ninjago delara #ninjago nya #nya smith #nya jiang #ninjago spoilers #..kind of?

[boyfridged]

What do you think about bruce wayne?

that is such a broad question… but i guess i rarely talk about bruce specifically, in isolation. and i love bruce dearly, despite despite despite… despite the fact that it took me so long to get there even, because for years of reading dc comics he was a nuance to me. but i am now tremendously interested in bruce wayne. i have a soft spot for pre-crisis bruce, his geniality and zest, that easy affection. but i’m also interested in bruce of the “dark” post-crisis era, and where their personalities meet at…

so i’m interested in bruce wayne who took the idea of “grief work” too literally. in how he invented a myth for his tikkun olam and did it wrong. and hence in a myth that grows hungry and implicates others in tragic cycles. in bruce wayne whose kindness makes him project on people that would be better off without it. all to say, i’m mostly interested in how batman sees a man, dead in crime alley and thinks: that could be me. my beginning and my probable end. and who ought to rectify that opinion later, by admitting he thought he’d be a victim of his own mission, but it was his son instead.

his biggest trouble: he perfected the vigilante-civilian lives compartmentalisation, but it lasted no longer than a few years, only for his newly-found family members to enter the picture and mess his brilliant system of identity split… because with children, there’s no dichotomy - they will be his in cowl and out of it, and there will be a price to pay. and bruce realises that, when his abandonment issues also come into play - when he pushes his sons away to protect them from a life of his own invention.

i want these narratives to be complex; i want stories in which his love, just as his grief, gets ugly. and his grief, just as his love, becomes graceful and merciful. however that quote went, about being like gd -- loving everything/everyone and therefore nearly no one/nothing. not a comparison too out of place, since the whole world bends to his personal story.

but i also want the real, breathing thing, ordinary. i want bruce wayne a socialite that truly enjoys high society, as per old canon, that bristol man who drags his body through gotham whole, one with it and yet separated through the numbers in his bank account. i’m interested in bruce wayne rich and a rehabilitationist and therefore worryingly liberal-leaning-conservative. bruce wayne and his stupid, soft robes, and reading glasses, and barbecue parties, and that mini-golf in his WE office, having all of that while playing an every-man.

but that doesn’t answer the question, does it- i suppose what i think of bruce wayne is that: he’s wrong about nearly everything but that love matters. and he's most compelling when put in opposition to leslie, who reads him like an open book and thinks of him: a monster of her own.

#and that doesn't nearly cover it all. #because what of bruce wayne the lover for example... married to a woman he nearly never sees because everyone knows gotham comes first #sorry this was just me rambling<3 #is it even comprehensible at all #can you guys tell. i love batman very much... #can't believe i wrote a bruce wayne love letter #outbox #core texts #bruce.zip

[hotluncheddie]

t4t chubby autistic steddie GO

i have been thinking about this (nsfw from twitter!!) art lately so i am here with u <3

even tho i get nervous to write trans characters, idk why, i just don't wanna mess it up i think

but im doing my best!! bc autistic and gender exploration are very lovely wonderful cozy subjects so i'm gonna focus on that

this is such a string of ideas but - 4 u <3 :3c

Stevie leaves with Eddie and Robin, taking their trust fund and leaving their parents to it - too the rest of their lives - without her. Like the Harringtons always hoped, really.

Stevie doesn't need them, the money is useful but they offer nothing more to her.

She's able to buy an apartment. In Chicago. With her loves. They learn how to live. How to live together. How to be at peace.

There's big bright widows in the main space, with light and air and the sunset. The two bedrooms are cozy and warm and it's a place for them all to grow.

'There's chips here.' Eddie says. They have a matching day off and she's trying to practice what it is to do nothing, to truly rest. Eddie helps, by being there, keeping her still with his hands and his love.

But Stevie tenses up, she was snacking, has been snacking, trying to learn her hunger signals better - what they feel like to her. It was always a rule not to east in her room, not to eat between meals. But she was hungry, she had a snack.

'I'm not judging, I'm saying so we remember to take it out next time one of us goes to the kitchen.' Eddie says, coming back from changing the tape, kissing her. Kissing her and kissing her.

Stevie relaxes.

'You've gained a little weight.' Robin says, laying on Stevies thighs on the couch, crocheting while Stevie watches sports and rubs her knuckles agains her teeth, twirling a strand of Robins hair in her fingers.

She looks down at her best friend. Robin looks back at her.

Robin smiles.

'It's good. You look more like you than you ever have before.'

Stevie smiles back. Tries not to cry.

Stevie letting herself change, relax. Unlearn those eating habits that helped her feel in control. Instead allowing herself to enjoy, and eat the things she wants to, the things she likes.

Eats pasta every night for a month and doesn’t feel bad about it. Doesn’t force herself to eat kale because she hates it, spinach is good enough. She is good enough.

Eddie gets little chubbier, in this new life. After recovering from nearly dying. Explains to Stevie in his long lilting way that he likes it, feels more protected, like his skin isn’t so fragile now.

He’s never liked his body but now he truly knows how short life is, and, maybe he can learn to like this new one. In this new place, in the love that surrounds him.

Plus, the bats destroyed his chest. So without that in the way, no longer lurking and potentially ruining his day. He realises he can shed that background fixation he always seemed to have with thinness. The idea that it would make him look more masculine or more androgynous. Curves were for girls and Eddie was not. That.

But now, now, who fucking cares. He’s alive. He needs to eat.

Steve feels a finger trailing over her hip, dipping into the band of her underwear, skimming over her crack and the the ridges of stretch marks that lead up to her waist.

'So so pretty' Eddie whispers, and it's filled with so much awe, so much grace, so much reverence and love.

Stevie shivers, feeling endless and grounded and like her body is here and hers and everything she ever dreamed of because it exists now.

She puts her hand under her loose shirt, cupping her belly. Skin still sleep warm and the energy of her palm seems to cover her whole body in warmth, in light and softness. Tinging and bright. Still being traced lightly by the love of her life. But being loves by her own hands, now, too.

She exists. And finally, everything is beautiful.

#i had a dream and i was on holiday and fell in love with a girl #and it was very romantic #and also cathartic in the way she loved me #so im trying to get that vibe here lol #and also give them paradise to exist in #so lets all hide here together - fill ourselves with love #hotlunch #steddie #ask #chubby steve harrington #chubby eddie munson #trans steve harrington #trans eddie munson #autistic steve harrington #autistic eddie munson #:)

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (Bit 5)

Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5

Dashing out the door.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the readthrough and all the wonderful support I have received for this fic. I haven't forgotten it! So here is the next bit for FishTank Week :D

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Pain.

There was only pain.

Somewhere beyond that, there were his brothers, but their touch hurt and grief burned.

Father.

His beloved father.

Gaat. He snarled the name. Begotten of worms and dung. Though he was doing shame to the worms and dung. Gaat was worthy of nothing that lived.

You have some fire in you, little one. Good. We will need it.

But above all, he was tired.

Tired of the pain. So much pain. It hurt to breathe.

Breathe, you need to breathe.

Máthair Chriona had been there. Virgil, too. There had been pleading, but he had not the strength.

You have the strength now. Breathe.

Something poked him in the belly. He opened both his eyes and his mouth without thinking and was bathed in golden light.

And water. So much water. It crawled into his lungs and he was drowning. A gasp for air and…

Count with me, little one, draw in the sustenance and let it give us the life we need…óen, dá, tri, cethair…

His body struggled with a density it wasn’t used to, pushing fluid in and out with a foreign strength.

Hmmm, yes, that’s good. Keep at it.

Panic began to wane and his senses finally came back with something other than pain.

He was floating in a golden light.

And there was a dragon.

All the gods!

There was a chuckle heard deep inside. No, I am no god.

It was only then he realised he was floating in water, breathing water, his belly burning with the effort.

How am I?

You needed breath, I gave it to you.

His eyes blinked slower in the water.

Why?

You needed it. The young one called for help. I could help.

But why?

The great golden creature hovered in the water column before him but didn’t answer. The light emanated from its scales. It lit up the water like a reassuring beacon in the deep.

And Gordon O’Treasaigh was breathing water with no pain, no terror.

And no clothes.

You have no need of the wrappings of the Above here.

That could be debated.

You have your skin returned to you. Your body is now part of the Below.

The Below?

The mother and cradle of all.

The voice was reverent.

Gordon was breathing water.

His mind churning memory and fact.

He looked into those large red eyes, unsure of what the dragon wanted or why, but sure of one thing.

I need to go back.

-o-o-o-

Virgil slept eventually, exhausted by grief. His brothers were curled up beside him, Cóic providing the feather pillow and warmth.

He did not know for how long, but the steady breath of the great dragon lulled him.

But his brothers were only three and his heart continued to ache for the fourth.

The spark of hope was there, but it hurt. By the gods, it hurt.

He did not know if he would ever see his little fish brother ever again.

Father…

No, NO! that way lay even more pain he could not afford.

Gordon…

Gods, please.

“Virgil?” His shoulder was gently shaken. “Virgil, all will be well.” John’s voice was as melodious and calm as ever.

Curses. He both hated and envied him for it.

And it fuelled that flame of hope he didn’t know he could afford.

“It is morning.”

“Wha-?”

A great white wing lifted off them revealing a cold blue sky still golden with the first rays of dawn over the hills behind them. The fine pebbled beach still muttered to the waves.

Reality and responsibility abruptly slid into place. Their clothes were still damp, though warm enough until the morning air had its way with them. This was something that needed to be remedied as soon as possible. People had died of less exposure than this.

Walking into the ocean had been foolish.

But what had been their choice?

John was sitting up with an arm around a sleepy Alan. The boy had tear streaks in the dust on his face. Virgil’s heart ached for the youngest. Alan, of all of them, had lost so much the previous day. He was still little enough to need his parents and now both were gone.

Virgil’s heart ached.

They would care for him, but they could never replace their parents.

On Virgil’s other side lay the Flaithri of their people.

Scott was still in slumber, his skin flushed.

Virgil swore under his breath, his hand reaching for the man’s forehead and finding it warm.

A fever.

Curses.

He should have stayed in bed!

Virgil was up and checking bandages and swearing further when he found the wound burning with heat. He needed to get his brother back to camp and Máthair Chriona as soon as possible.

There was a cough barely heard above the surf. A hacking, choking cough.

“Virgil!” John’s voice had so much hope, it cut through Virgil’s heart.

Scott stirred under his hands as he looked up.

A staggering figure was struggling against the waves.

“Gordon!”

Before Virgil could react, Scott was on his feet.

So fast.

“Scott, no!”

Óen warbled question off to his left, suddenly appearing with Dá. A short bellow urgent in its reprimand was ignored by his rider.

John was moving with Alan, and Virgil was running.

Down to the edge of the water. He slipped an arm around the waist of his wavering eldest brother as the surf curled around their boots.

But their eyes were only for Gordon.

Their fish brother strode purposefully through the water towards them. There was no sign of the golden dragon.

As bare as the day he was born, Gordon stepped up to them almost as golden in the dawn light as the dragon who had answered.

The burns on his body were gone, but there were scars. They glittered, shining in the sun.

He stopped several arm lengths away.

“Gordon?” Virgil felt that flame of hope burst into a wildfire.

“It’s me, Virg.” He frowned. “What’s wrong with Scott?”

Beside him, Scott straightened. “I am well. Gordon, what happened?”

Gordon’s eyes slowly blinked and Virgil frowned. There was something different…a membrane flickered over the surface of his brother’s eyes.

Oh.

Then he realised that not just the burn scars, but all his brother’s body was shining ever so softly almost as if he possessed the scales of the fish he loved.

Oh, Gordon.

“You’re different.” Virgil said it as his heart broke. What did it mean. Had he lost his brother forever?

Gordon nodded once. “Yes, I am.”

Virgil ached to run to him, but Scott’s weight kept him where he was.

“Gordy?” Alan’s voice was small and cut Virgil’s heart further.

“Hey, squirt.”

“What did the dragon do to you? Where is it?”

Young honesty. At least it asked exactly what they all wanted to know.

Gordon let out a sigh. “Cethair is not far.” Those different eyes looked back to Virgil and Scott. “He changed me. He had to. I was dying and he gave me life.” His shoulders settled. “His life. I am now bound to him.” His eyes caught Virgil’s. “And to the sea.”

Virgil reached out with his free hand.

Gordon took a few steps closer and grasped it in both of his.

His hands were cool and his skin different. There was strange webbing between his fingers.

But the warm brown eyes that stared at him with a hope that reflected his own were so Gordon…

“I am well, I promise. I need to go with Cethair for a while, but I will be back.” He looked to John and the Matriarch beyond. “Cóic will know where I am.”

John’s soft, ever knowing, ever loving smile said everything it needed to.

Gordon turned back to Scott and frowned. “You need to go home. You need Máthair Chriona.”

Scott reached out. There was a sob in his voice. “Gordy?”

Gordon drew that trembling hand to his cheek and held it there, bowing his head just a little. “I am well, Flaithri, and will always be your subject to command, ever honoured to stand with you.”

Scott shook in Virgil’s arms. “Love you, Gordy.”

Whispered on the wind. “Love you, too. Love you always.”

Óen bellowed distress as Virgil caught all of Scott’s weight, his body giving in, finally paying the toll for everything.

“Scott!” He scooped his brother into his arms. “Don’t you do this to me!”

As he ran towards Dá, conscious of yet another brother trying to die in his arms, he glanced back towards the ocean seeking the one who had survived.

But Gordon was gone.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #nuttyfic #thunderdragons #fishtank week #fishtankweek2024

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 24 - Repair

Story so far a.k.a. The 23-chapter lead up to this hug. Worth it? I’ll let you decide.

These things aren’t fixed in a snap, but the boys are on their way up…

Bonus points for spotting the double meaning of the title ;)

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Something deep inside Virgil’s soul screamed in bewildered frustration.

Why was Dad so determined to keep them apart? Why couldn’t he see how much danger Scotty was in when Virgil had to stay behind? What if his brother fell and Virgil wasn’t there to catch him?

He knew it would happen one day. His luck would only last so long. One day he would be too slow, too small, too weak… and Scott’s hand would slip through his and Virgil knew that on that day he would plummet as well.

Gordon always joked that he and Scott were like Earth&Sky and everyone knew that when the Sky fell the Earth would burn.

But every time he defied that inevitability, every time he pushed that day away into the future was a victory. Each won precious time back from the darkness.

But Virgil was so tired.

And Dad kept pulling him back: “He’s gone, Virgil! This is just a fantasy!”

Maybe he was right? Maybe Virgil should accept it and let Scott go.

Maybe he should. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t stand back and allow Scott to fade to grey. He deserved to be bright, shining blue like the sky he loved so much.

Dad was sorry, he kept saying so. But that didn’t change anything. Virgil needed to fix this himself. As always.

He tried to wriggle free of his father’s grip… he truly didn’t want to hurt him again…but the more he squirmed the tighter he was held. His father’s presence solidified around him like some kind of non-Newtonian fluid. He knew he could break free as he had the advantage of size - Dad’s arms were strong and he was tall but his shoulders were not as broad as they used to be. A small part of his mind puzzled over that while the rest of him braced, ready to force the issue. He took a deep breath, tensed the muscles in his chest and arms and…

He was home.

The melody that he hadn’t realised was missing swirled around him.

Scott.

Scott had him.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“Scotty?”

“Yea ‘sme… It’s me, Virg, am here.” Scott tried to get a grip of himself and make his voice sound normal, familiar, unscary…but utterly failed and croaked “Am here, ‘m right here.”

Virgil’s eyes met his and widened momentarily before the bear hug was returned with interest. For a few moments. Then Scott’s little brother began to shiver violently and suddenly melted into his arms, a deadweight clinging to him for dear life.

Scott’s knees finally gave out and they hit the floor together with a thud. He winced at the impact ricocheting through his skeleton but there were more important things to think about - Virgil’s respiratory rate was high. Too high. He was peering over Scott’s shoulder, brown eyes wide and flicking back and forth between the door and Scott’s own face, his breath coming in short squeaky gasps.

“I don… I can’t… what…?”

“Sssssh it’s ok you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

Virgil responded with a sound like an animal caught in a trap which made Scott’s every hair stand on end. The hyperventilating worsened as he tried to speak.

“Hel… help me… aaah… how… why are there… two… of… I don’t… you… aaaah… amsoscaredScott… Please don’t… please don’t leave… me.”

Scott held Virgil and rocked him and kissed his hair and did his best to soothe the panic away. His eyes burned again.

“I’m here, Vee. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Virgil calmed a little, then raised a hand and clumsily examined Scott’s face with it. Scott was reminded of baby Allie grabbing at his nose only this time the hand was far bigger and more desperate than curious. He felt a shaky finger trace the scar on his chin before Virgil curled into his chest again and squeezed his eyes shut. Scott continued to rock him ever so gently.

“I’m not ok.”

It came as a whisper.

“Can see two of you Scotty, clear as day.” A shiver and Scott squeezed tighter. “What is wrong with me?”

“You’ve just been poorly, it will pass.”

“Don’t like it.” More breath than words but Scott got the message.

“Me neither bro, one of me is definitely more than enough.”

Virgil snorted.

“But you’re getting better, I promise. It’s gonna be ok.”

“Love you Scotty, y’know that right?” Brown eyes stared up at him.

“Course I do. Love you too.”

Scott kissed the fluffy hair again.

“I couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry. They needed me and I… I know I promised but I couldn’t do it without you. I’m sorry.”

“You did great, I know you did.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“Not again… I couldn’t… not again.”

“Really trying not to Virgie. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”

Virgil sniffed and shook his head as if to clear it. Then shook it again and winced as if it had hurt.

“Don’t want you to be grey.”

“Grey?” Scott couldn’t hide his confusion. Virgil dissolved again and sobbed:

“Please don’t go grey.”

Scott didn’t understand the words but the pain in them was crystal clear. He was supposed to be strong and support Virgil who was so small and so broken but found himself falling apart all over again.

They clung to each other the same as they had at the edge of the roof, shaking and crying with dissipating terror and overwhelming relief and vowing never to let go of each other again.

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Sally slowed her pace as she approached the not-quite-closed door of the infirmary, holding her arm out to slow Alan who skittered to a halt behind her.

All seemed quiet.

The lack of yelling was promising as it was fairly unlikely anyone had actually killed anyone and so her heart lifted a little, hoping she had been right to take her time getting down here. Perhaps Scott in his unsubtle, frankly cannonball-like way might have made things work after all.

She did feel for the lad - knowing full well that being kept away from his sick brother was nigh on torture for him, but the consultant psychiatrist had been quite specific. And Sally had passed on the advice as far as she could because this wasn’t her area of specialism and, well, she had to didn’t she? But in the end… did she have any more say over Virgil’s care than Scott did? He was his next of kin after all, not her. But he’d deferred to her as medic as they usually did, which meant she carried the weight of the prohibition even if she had deliberately made no real effort to enforce it.

Taking a deep breath she eased open the door and peered around. After an initial double take at seeing the bed empty her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and she spotted the huddle on the floor. Virgil was curled in Scott’s lap and the older boy had wrapped himself around him. No, not boy. Neither were children anymore but something about the position they had adopted… it instantly took her back twenty years to when the two would gravitate towards each other after lights out, teaming up against the monsters in the shadows.

Virgil seemed peaceful but Scott’s breathing was laboured in that stuttering, convulsive way that spoke of a long overdue cry only recently concluded. He glanced up at her, guilt written all over his face but very definitely not relinquishing an inch of the contact he had with his brother. Nor should he.

They were both where they needed to be.

She smiled gently to reassure him and ruffled his hair and her heart faltered as he leaned into her hand. Sally couldn’t remember the last time she had done that… had she been too taken in by his Commander & Protector act to notice how badly he needed looking after too? She’d always been so distracted by the younger boys… and of course he would never ask… Oh Scott!

She bent to kiss the top of his head and he closed his eyes as she whispered “You’re doing great honey.”

The tension in her eldest grandson’s shoulders dissipated as she gestured at her youngest and together they began to pull all the pillows and blankets from the beds.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #tw: mental health #tw: psychosis