#but i still very much appreciate it and am STILL FLATTERED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

tags: mmf threesome, oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, piv, anal, double penetration, dirty talk, dom!eddie, dom!steve, sub!reader, best friends with benefits, mentions of virginity, hair-pulling, breeding kink, throatfucking, squirting, praise and degradation, everyone is horny

summary: back home from school, you recount about your time away in college with steve and eddie, leading to a sexual proposition that you never would’ve expected.

notes: pure filth, forgive me if it is hard to visualize positions… threesomes are very messy and crazy to write! feedback and reblogs appreciated :)

There’s a veering shift in the way they look at you. Maybe it’s because you’ve been gone for so long, so out of the loop, nothing but a modulated grainy voice on the other end of a call line, or a lingering scent in the back of their closets — jasmine, soap, the smell of girl and all things sweet, a tang of Eddie’s favorite green bud.

You want to believe it’s because they’ve missed you, they always do, but it’s different.

The way they each hug you, toned arms locked tightly around your waist, dragging and dragging upwards until it’s slung over your shoulder possessively and Steve’s perfectly-curved nose is in the tangles of your hair.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

You may have been gone for almost a year, but you’re still their girl.

“Look at you, dressin’ all tough and shit now!” Eddie grins proudly, tugging the hem of your skull shirt towards him as he tenderly presses your head to his chest. You nearly stumble on your boots, nothing but a shy smile ghosting the curl of your upper lip as he runs his thumb along your brow bone and you inhale him in with fluttering lashes. “You copying me? Stealing my style, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. His gorgeous best friend. Wiser, older now, prettier — well, you’ve always been pretty, but now, you’ve really grown into your features.

A year, it’s only been a fucking year and yet you still look this good. Better. Knocking the wind out of him, just to breathe it back between his lips.

“You should be flattered,” You shake your head at him, clasping a hand over his shoulder as you gaze over at Steve with admirable regard. There’s emphasis on every word that falls from your taunting smirk as he steps up your front porch. “You should be flattered I chose your clothes over Harrington’s preppy mom-jeans and—“

Then you’re being crushed, wedged between two warm bodies and clashing scents of woodiness and lavender as Steve wraps himself around you.

“You’re talking mad shit about me now, Y/N? All this time, thought I was your favorite — hey, I know that face — I am certain I was your favorite. I was before this one,” He ruffles Eddie’s hair roughly, beaming at either of you. “Came along and practically hypnotized you with his — his rings and his music and his…”

“Shut up and just say you missed me already.” You pull Steve closer to you, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck as Eddie rests his chin on the top of your scalp. It’s a chorus of can’t believe you’re back, crazy you left us in the first place, you’re here, we’re gonna spend so much time together. You can only smile, feeling their love spill out of their respective cups and into yours as you pull them into the house. “Saps.”

Your childhood bedroom of pinks and blues and whites feels exceptionally, jarringly smaller.

Steve and Eddie take up so much space — long legs and big socked feet, sharp jaws and curious eyes as you sit out on the fluffy beige carpet, sifting through the contents of your suitcase as you tell them stories about wild parties, about classes, about your messy roommates and about professors who didn’t know how to teach.

‘Listen, I loved Chicago, but I’ll always love Hawkins.’

‘Hello? The only reason you like Hawkins is because of us.’

‘Still you and your ego, Harrington.’

You don’t tell them about the boys, about the crushes and what kind of antics you got up to in the absence of them. Of them, their protectiveness, their touch, gentle and fleeting and borderline blurring the lines of friendship.

There was an ache for Steve and Eddie — far from platonic, short of romantic, closer to a sexual awakening than anything. The nights where you called, feeling the baritone of their deep snappy voices over the phone as they fought over for a turn, that dreaded dial tone when the line had gone dead and you were left with an emptiness, a twisting heat in your stomach as you replayed their words over and over again before you slept: Miss you. Come home, pretty girl.

You can’t help but wonder what they got up to while you spent nights in the dorms tossing and turning to the thought of either of them. There’s only so many ways you can quietly lull yourself to a blissful sleep in a shared room.

“Mmm, what do we have here?” Eddie breaks up the childish bantering between you and Steve with a curious tone, waving a flimsy stack of polaroids between his forefinger and middle.

No. No. Absolutely not. Not fucking now.

“Okay, Eddie. Maybe not…” Your laugh is frantic and near-alarmed, hands already reaching out for him until he’s gently swatting you away. “… not that one. Hey, no.”

“Cold case, hard evidence of little Y/N’s college escapades?” He quirks a beady brow, tongue wiggling against his front teeth as he winks at Steve and rambles on in amusement. “Do you… do you hear that? Oh, oh! Eddie, pssst, pssst, Eddie… look at me!”

“Give it back, asswipe.”

“Is Y/N guilty or…” He cards through the pictures, lines dimpling around his pursed lips as a wicked grin starts to split his face in half. “Innocent?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Stupid. You should have taken this into account, boys and their lack of respect for privacy, your boys and their habit of sticking their noses where they aren’t fucking supposed to. Eddie and his big greedy mouth, yapping and yapping until he’s dragged good ol’ Steve into his influential mess — you’re trapped between the two brunettes, pleading to Ozzy that they save you from the embarrassment and just move on with their lives.

It’s the worst picture out of the stack. So much for “it’s all about preserving the memory, you know, you’re only young once.”

Memory or not, it was supposed to be for your eyes only.

Not Steve’s. Not Eddie’s.

They stare at a blurry photo of you, very topless and covered in bruising hickies, your smile split into a hearty laugh as a green lime dangles from between your teeth and Some Blond Guy licks up a trail of salt off of the horizon of your pretty tummy.

“Oh, my god.” Steve gapes. “Dude. Body shots?”

“Guys…”

“Don’t guys us, who is this rat-faced son of a bitch that’s practically making out with your stomach?” Eddie’s brows furrow, jealousy dripping from his tone. He’s trying to lead with the playful card, but it’s difficult — difficult when he’s looking at a picture of a guy (who looks like he’s fucking named Brad) basically violating you.

“He’s… a friend. Just a friend.”

Steves laughs unconvinced, “Ah, friend. Guys and girls… they can’t be friends.”

“You’re friends with Robin.” You frown.

“Robin’s gay, you idiot.” Eddie flicks the back of your head.

“Okay, right! Fine! She’s an exception, though.” You scoff. This conversation is unbelievable. “Well, us then? We’re friends.”

Friends. It’s a weird word. People say the l-bomb is horrible, but the f-bomb — friend, not fuck — is absolutely petrifying, numbing, fear-inducing.

It hangs heavily over your heads like something you’re not supposed to say, like forbidden fruit, Adam, Eve, and the serpent. Because the meaning of friends has always been a little strange for the three of you. What are friends?

What are we - what are we - what are we?

You are not friends, you are more, something unreachable, unconventional, something only you and they can understand, you are—

“Best friends.” Eddie corrects, glancing up at you. He pins you with his eyes, even as you suddenly avert your attention down to the pack of Marlboros in your lap like it could serve as a scapegoat, your fingers drumming anxiously against the weathered box. “You know what, I get it. I do. I really do, Y/N. A pretty girl — a woman, like you, has primal urges. And when you’re in college…”

“Eddie… I’m not thirteen.”

“Where sometimes mediocre, average fucking bozos like this Brad-looking fellow come along… bless his heart for even trying, by the way...”

You groan outwardly, fingers fumbling to pinch a cig between your quivering lips. Your voice comes out muffled, sharp and blunt like the end of a knife. “His name is Matt, okay?”

Steve winces, glancing over at Eddie who responds to with a shrug. “Okay, well, Matt is just as bad.”

“Can you guys, like, chill out? Your name is literally Steve.” You avoid their questioning glares, an orange shadow coating the lower half of your jaw. “I just got back and you’re already hounding me.”

A harsh sizzle cuts through the atmosphere as you raise your Bic lighter to your mouth.

You’re defensive. Sensitive.

They hate it. It’s not like you.

“So, what then?” Eddie continues, unable to drop the subject. He wants to pry. He needs to. It’s you. It’s you, so he has to know every detail, even if it leaves you fuming, nostrils flaring at his persistence. “Is he… the college boyfriend? College sweetheart? How about fratboy, porno fantasy? Hot TA that gives your exams a pass every time? You’ve always been ass at math, can’t even tell a full gram from half so I wouldn’t technically be surprised.”

God. Insufferable. But you still thrum under his stare, his pupils imbedding themselves into your skin as you suck your cheeks in and inhale.

Eddie wonders if you remember, if there’s some part of you that thinks back on your graduation night, the way he touched you in that diner, a hand spread over your thigh, your head on his shoulder as Steve rambled about how boring his version of graduation was.

Eddie wonders if you remember the way you inhaled him inside Steve’s garage, knees sinking into the shitty abandoned couch beside the washing machine as you eagerly sucked him off. You were on cloud nine, adrenaline coursing through your veins from the thought of college-college-college, but also when will you ever get to do this again? Do this with someone as perfect and rare as Eddie?

‘Do they have boys like you in college?’

You can still picture the glimmer of his smile. ‘God, I hope not. What a bad influence they would be.’

‘I think I turned out pretty okay so far.’

His rings stuck in your hair, his head thrown back against the furniture, your mouth and the lewd, filthy squelch of his cock burying itself in your throat while you waited for Steve to come back after he had forgotten his wallet at the diner.

‘This doesn’t change anything’, you had told him. ‘We’re always gonna be best friends.’

‘I know, sweetheart. Just needed something to take the edge off, didn’t you? Bet you’ve been working so hard on getting that scholarship, smart girl.’

He fingered you under the graduation gown afterwards.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. “I didn’t — it was nothing. He was nothing. Trust me. Just… I mean, a quick fuck, s’all, I didn’t even…” You chuckle nervously, girlish and unsure and very vulnerable. “… okay, he was fun, but like, I didn’t even cum so… so it doesn’t count. He doesn’t count.”

“You fucked Brad?”

“Matt.” You cringe.

Steve’s voice nearly booms. “You fucked Matt?”

“It’s college!” You cough out, choking on the contents of your cigarette. “People fuck other people all the time.”

“Weren’t you a virgin?”

You were a virgin. Technically. But you were also a virgin when Eddie spread you open on that couch, moaning as he told you how proud he was of you for working so hard.

You were also a virgin when Steve made out with you in the back of a movie theater, where he’d left a gnarly hickey on your left boob for everyone to see — including Eddie, who didn’t even bat an eyelash because he knew, he fucking knew that Steve boyishly wanted you in the same way he did the summer after you graduated, and he supposes that’s why there’s always been an unspoken understanding between the three of you.

‘If you make a sound, we’re gone. Kicked out. Won’t get to finish this awful movie,’ Steve said. ‘You want that?’

Breathless. Eager. Drowsily drunk on your affection.

His lips against your neck, your pulse point, a nibble to your jaw, a hungry tug on your earring. Fucking hell. How soft he was, how gentle, how he touched you with such a special regard and how some sick, jealous part of you thought — were you like this with Nancy? Was it ever like this was Nancy? Part of you wanted to moan. Croak out his name. Make a sound, any sound, so you could get kicked out and have him all to yourself.

You were a virgin when Eddie let you practice a handjob on him in the living room of his uncle’s trailer. You were a virgin when Steve ate you out in his car after finding out you were leaving for Chicago.

You were a virgin.

“I was, but I’m… do you even count that? He didn’t even… he could barely stick it in me at first, Steve, Eds.”

The air feels angry. Tense. It’s suffocating, how they share that look, how they casually train their gazes back on you like you’ve killed someone. “What was he like?”

“Come again?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull as Eddie steals the cig from your lips, taking a drag before he repeats himself — slower, syllables laced with a darker want.

“I said, what was he like? In bed? You said he could barely stick it in you, so I doubt he was any fucking good.”

“Did he kiss you?” Steve follows on, nodding at Eddie to pass him the Marlboro. It’s so fucking intimate. His lips on the patch where Eddie’s had been, to which, in turn, where yours was. There’s smoke everywhere, even as he speaks, it somehow hits you coldly right on the mouth. “Was he a good kisser?”

Only then do you realize how physically close you are to both of them. You’re stuck, sandwiched between their thighs, their knees knocking against yours as you try to compose yourself. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t awful but it wasn’t good, either. Too much tongue. Too much — not enough… not enough teeth, I guess. You know how I…”

Oh, they know, alright.

You don’t even flinch as Steve leans over and passes the cig back to Eddie. It’s a dance, a fucking taunt as you clench your jaw and curl into yourself under their presence. The longer-haired brunette tosses the dirty polaroid aside, speaking accusingly through a lazy drag.

“Thought you wanted to save it for someone special, sweetheart.”

“I did.”

“No judgement there. Lay it on us, what changed then?”

You shrug, blinking rapidly. “Just wanted to get it over with.” They don’t believe you. It’s clear as day on their faces, the crease between their eyes, the side-twitch of Eddie’s lips and Steve’s nerved running of hands through his hair. “If you wanna call bullshit…”

“Bullshit.” These fuckers. Steve eggs you further, “A real reason, come on, Y/N.”

“Look, you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“Which we always do. Just spill it.”

You can’t hide anything from them. Not them. Not Steve, who’s practically had his handsome face between your legs for hours and not Eddie who’s basically bent you over the hood of his van so he could spread you open with his fingers.

Not your best friends, who you’ve wanted in an insatiable way all your life, even when you had went away, it was always them — just the thought of them — that made you dizzy in all the right headspaces, the callousness of their fingers, their constant gonna-take-care-of-you aura and that implicit agreement between you and the two of them that I’m yours, m’your girl, always going to be.

“I just always thought I’d… lose it to one of you guys, and — I mean, you guys weren’t there and so I just figured I’d be more… fuck, I dunno, desirable? Yeah, just… desirable if I lost it before I came back since you already have so m-much, like, experience and...” You mumble rapidly, losing your tongue amongst your word-vomit of an explanation as you clamber onto your knees and try to stand up. Hot, embarrassed tears blur the cones of your vision. “It’s stupid, really! Like, it doesn’t even matter to me anymore because i-it was such a disappointing experience. Let’s just drop this, okay?”

This has to be a dream. A prank. A delusion. Maybe you’re still in Chicago, blacked-out after a party. Drank too much? Took the wrong weed? Shit, maybe Eddie is right — you don’t know half a gram from a full one.

And before you can shakily rise to two feet, your elbow is tugged back forcefully. Pain shoots up your arm, and you nearly yelp when your ass collides onto your springy twin mattress.

“Uh-uh, you are not getting yourself out of this so easily. If it was oh-so disappointing, tell us what he did wrong and we’ll… we’ll… we can be your fix-it. Think of us as a rebound for, like, the guy you totally should not have fucked. Again, no judgement. Just saying a girl like you should have high standards.”

You should not be turned on right now.

Eddie looks sincere and so pleadingly desperate for an answer that you feel the yearning in his stare. It’s graduation night all over again. The stir of your belly, the squeeze he gives your thigh as he sits beside you, your glance of disbelief at Steve and his return of that hooded-gaze that turns you completely boneless as he joins the two of you on the bed.

“And you meet that standard?” You scoff, a snort following.

His brows rise up his forehead. You’re testing him. “I can meet any standard, sweetheart.”

“And you swear you guys can do better than Matt?”

“You already know we can do better than Matt.” Steve laughs, almost as if you had just said something completely stupid.

Eddie’s fingers trail up your knee, a ghost of a touch. He’s barely even pressing into your skin, but you feel him — his warmth, just inches away, gliding over the little goosebumps on your body, caressing the shaky ball of your knee.

“You know, we talked ‘bout you. Had our own bonding moment, me and Harrington. Jus’ talked about how we’d take you out once you got back, treat you like a real princess after being so studious, talked about how… hm...” He chuckles, pausing to glance up at you while you lose yourself in his beady smile. This fucker. This absolute fucker. “Talked about how generous you are when it comes to friends. Thinkin’ we didn’t know you were practically playing pornstar with the both of us. Doin’ shit behind our backs like you’re a genius.”

Both of us.

Both. You want them both, and suddenly, you don’t feel bad for being unbelievably horny, a fucking mess.

“Listen…”

“Nu-uh. It was smart. You gotta make do with what you have. I’ll give you that.”

Steve whispers, thumbing at the corners of your lip. “Hey. No need to be embarrassed. S’alright that big brain of yours can’t think right now. You just wanna feel good. That whole thing with Matt must’ve been so disappointing.”

Eddie puts out his cigarette on the polaroid, smirking when he cups a large hand around your chin, thumb and pointer finger pressing into your hollow cheeks before he’s tenderly pulling your head to look at him.

There is too much heat. It’s stuffy, and warm, and you can’t really breathe. There’s grimy sweat in the crooks your elbows, the duvet is getting stuck to your skin and you can’t really sit still in the itchy fabric of your sweats because it’s fucking boiling. It’s boiling and you can’t think and you don’t know what the hell is happening, and you want air — not this swirling humidity that wafts under your knees, between your thighs…

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Yeah?” His hand dips down your jaw, fingers wrapping around the small girth of your throat. A gentle squeeze. Experimental. Your breath hitches, a stuttering exhale as he tries again, harder, then he’s withdrawing and soothing the roughened area. “Care to share with the class? Unless, it’s inappropriate… then, you might just wanna,” He chuckles, tilting your head back. “… whisper it.”

If this is a black-out, you hope you wake up with a gnarly hangover.

“If that offer still stands, if you guys wanna be my… my rebound or— or fix-it, or whatever the fuck...” This is messy. This is wrong. This is… this isn’t what friends do… but at this point, can you even call yourselves friends? “I’m down to do it.”

“You sure? I mean, you were just a virgin and…”

You snap. “Well, that never stopped either of you before, did it?”

He lunges at you.

Your mouth finds Eddie in the tangle of limbs and bodies. You run your fingers through his unruly hair, feeling yourself relax into the sudden notion as he tilts his chin to slot his lips over yours. It’s brazen, an open letter of lust from you to him saying I want this. I want you to kiss me back. I want this so bad, you don’t even know.

It’s a burning ember of feverish desire as he parts himself open and open, tongues slowly rolling against each other until a moan slips out of you. “You like this? Don’t think it’s weird or anything?”

“M’fine.”

“Tell me to stop — fuck — and I’ll stop.”

“No.”

You can feel Steve pressing against your back, the pads of his fingers digging themselves into your flesh, marking the spots where Eddie’s lips can’t reach as the metalhead dips into your collarbone and sucks. Hard. He leaves you purple and aching, your neck craned as the lighter-haired brunette dips your head back and gazes down at you.

“Christ, she likes that.”

You sigh in bliss, slowly unraveling at the seams.

And oh, your whole body fucking stutters when Eddie dips his hand between your legs, causing you to lurch for Steve’s mouth in order to stifle the whiny gasp of surprise knocked out of you. His palm envelops your jaw. He’s warm. Wet. Lids moony and lips silky with an indiscernible impatience you can’t recognize.

More. Give me more of you.

You jolt as Eddie’s hands carefully push the fabric of your shirt up, his nose nudging against the valley of your breasts before he’s cupping you in a lazy grasp. He mouths at your nipples and he savors it. He thanks you. He thanks you with a twist to one of the hardened buds, soothing the area with his tongue before his teeth climb up the front of your neck and he makes you whimper.

“Fuck, I love how whiny you get.” He hums. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? S’just my favorite part about you, Y/N. I’m sure Harrington agrees, seeing as… I’m not the only guy you do this kind of shit with.”

A bite. A bruise. An apologetic kiss even though he’s far from sorry. He’s calling you a slut without even saying it.

And while Eddie traverses his way up to your mouth, Steve dips down to nurse a path all over your back. Your shirt gets lost along the carpet somewhere, your shoulders bare and waiting as he takes your flesh between smiling lips and leaves a glistening trail of wet, open-mouthed pecks on your flexing muscles.

Then Eddie… oh, Eddie, the dirty-minded fucker.

Eddie gives you another hungry kiss, only this time it’s like you haven’t kissed in years. He kisses you like he doesn’t already have you yearning and yearning for more. He bites your bottom lip, drawing a raspy gasp from the back of your throat. His nose smashes against your cheek as he moans into you, the taste of cigarettes lingering on your tongue.

“You’re so pretty. You’re so pretty, baby…” Steve ruts against your tailbone, collecting your hair into a careful fist and tugging until you’re pulled away from your deepening kiss. “You must’ve been so empty back there, aching. I can’t imagine how awful you must’ve felt, Y/N. Were any of those guys even any good to you?”

“No. Not even close — not like you.”

“Mm, shame.”

You don’t take your stare off of Steve at all, scared that if you looked away, scared that even one second would take this away from you. He kisses the sides of your socked feet, grazing his lips over your ankles and clothed calves until you shudder at the close proximity to your core.

Anticipation is coursing through your veins. Your chest is heaving, eyes wide like a baby owl. There’s an unmistakable throb that you recognize between your thighs. Burning you from the inside. Burning you at the stake. Burning you until you’re nothing but ash and a brandished vessel of blooming hickies.

Fucking fuck.

“You hear that? Harrington’s right, bet Matt didn’t even eat you out if he couldn’t even get his cock in.” Eddie grits out unfiltered while you part your legs for Steve, inviting him. You exhale sharply — nuzzling your face into the crook of the metalhead’s neck as he wraps you in his arms. He can feel the soft, warm puffs of breath against his jaw as Steve finally tugs your sweats down. “Your pussy’s tight, Y/N.” A kiss to your belly. A suckle to where your pelvis meets your hip. A brush of tongue against your clothed clit until you jolt upright. “But not that tight.”

You melt. You fucking burst. You don’t fucking know anymore, but either way, it’s a new area of bliss. Eddie can quite literally feel you go rigid in his grasp, sliding deeper and deeper against him until he has no choice but to tuck you under the nook of his elbow and hold you close.

You’re burning, hand clenching around Eddie’s bicep as Steve drags the squishy tip of his nose between your folds through the cotton fabric.

“Pretty cunts like yours deserve to be treasured.”

“Please, Steve…” His brown eyes flicker up to you attentively, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your mound as your hips impatiently stir against the bed. “Fuck — just… just take me right now. Please. Eddie, tell him, please.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Eddie purrs, palming at your tits teasingly. He blows cool air into your face, brushing away your bangs as his lips hug the shell of your ear. “Thought all your begging would be so much better given what Harrington’s told me. Unless he’s a liar? You wouldn’t call him a liar, would you? Beg Steve to give it to you. Beg him the way you would if it was me down there.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

They are filthy in the fucking head. They have already stripped you of your pride. You may as well just follow. You may as well turn yourself in, play along with them and this fantasy that may or may not be real. Oh, but it has to be real. It has to, when you can feel Steve’s fingers dip past the decorative bow of your panties, shimmying and shimmying until you’re bare and open for him.

You squeeze around nothingness.

“You wanna stop?” Steve runs his palm up your stomach, fingers splayed so unbelievably wide and long across your skin. It makes you lightheaded, a fixation on his smooth digits and reddened knuckles in contrast to his rose-pink complexion. “We can stop right here, whatever you want, whatever feels comfortable, baby.”

He’s being nice. It should make you feel warm inside, giddy even, that given the circumstances, he still regards you in a way that makes you feel nothing short of safe. Comfortable. But that sick, wronged part of you — the side you happen to share with your two best friends — wants him to drop the gentleman act.

Take me, take me like you have all those times before.

Why hold back now?

“I don’t wanna stop.”

Eddie leans over and nips at the tip of your ear. His deep whisper leaves you tingling, almost trembling at how bad you need them in you, on you, just here. “Then beg.”

“I…” You whimper, cheeks growing hot as you feel their eyes study you. “Steve, I just… please? Please, I don’t…”

“You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“No! No, please fucking touch me.” You gasp shakily, biting your pride back and digging your nails into your calves before you’re spreading your legs farther to satisfy him, entice him. “Please touch me. I need it, need you s-so bad. Steve, please?”

He hums. You aren’t sure if it’s a sound of approval or one of uncertainty, but either way, your pathetic manner of begging does the trick. For now.

And you’re thankful that you’re home alone because the moan that’s ripped right out of your throat is almost animalistic, maybe even concerning, when Steve dips his face between your thighs and finally puts his mouth on your throbbing sex. Your head lolls back into Eddie’s neck, his fingers coming to stroke the strained vein in the column throat as you arch against him and rut against an unmistakable, very-acute pressure on your tailbone.

He’s hard.

Meanwhile, Steve is gently swiping his tongue over your folds, suckling at your clit before he’s dipping the muscle in and out of your fluttering hole.

“That’s it, Harrington.” A deep chuckle erupts from Eddie, his breaths growing deeper with each moan that leaves his companion. “Go to town on her.”

You’re basically panting for air, pulled under as Steve drags a heavy palm down your outer thigh, slapping where it rounds into the shape of your ass. It stings harshly, a burning bloom of irritation before he does it again and it stings even more.

But, fuck, does it feel good.

Steve’s nose presses against your bundle of nerves as he stretches his tongue into you. His expression is pulled into a concentrated scowl, knitted brows and muffled moans while he decides to stroke the pad of his finger against your entrance and gapes at what he discovers.

“You’re so fucking wet right now… Christ.” Agonizingly slow, Steve pushes a digit inside your cunt, curling it so that it hits that spongy desperate part of you that makes you croon and twitch in Eddie’s arms. You nearly gush at the sensation.

“There we go, princess. Mmm, fuck, you take good care of my girl, don’t you, Harrington?”

Eddie is exceptionally fucked and twisted in the head. You think it’s a power play, him enjoying his one-up, best foot forward against Steve because he had you first. My girl. My girl. It’s warranted, valid — wrong in all the right ways — but he’s not lying, because Eddie took the initial bullet that was his desire for you.

“Play nice, Munson. Sharing is caring.”

“Then stop messin’ with her like she’s a plate of mush.”

Quite frankly, you feel like a plate of mush.

It stirs him, competitively pushes the brunette to go harder and before you know it, his fingers are squelching down there. It’s wet, erotically messy, probably would’ve been gross to any other guy but it’s Steve and Eddie, your best friends who happened to be fucking perverts with a soft spot for you, so who cares?

Eddie does not mean to claim you. Especially claiming ownership over someone who, obviously, isn’t his if there’s easily another man inside you. But Eddie knows your body, he knows no other body like yours because it didn’t just stop at graduation night.

Maybe Harrington hasn’t caught on, but you’ve always been Eddie’s first love in all the ways that count. It’s truly unfair.

It’s even more unfair knowing that you’ll always favor Steve over him.

But it’s okay. The bed’s big enough for three.

Your hand grips Steve roughly by the wrist, forcing his hand down the drenched seam of your cunt even more.

“T-there… right there, just… want it hard, and — and fast… don’t need you to be gentle.”

“She’s blushing, Eddie.”

You blubber, eyebrows creasing with confusion as your voice gets caught in your throat and you rasp brokenly in immediate defense, “I don’t blush.”

Steve laughs. Loud. Shocked. Eyes-wide and mocking as he repeats your words under his breath and smirks up at Eddie. I don’t blush.

At this point, you’re just annoyed. “Oh, well, not you, honey.” You yelp in surprise as Steve scissors his thick fingers knuckle-deep, coating his skin in creamy arousal. “I was talking about your pussy.”

Instinctively, your smaller hand darts out to grab Eddie’s thigh, but instead, you’re met with something very hard, very much not his knee nor his leg — but his cock. The silky feeling of it in your hand turns you flustered. His red, heavy balls spill out from the waistband of his haphazardly-tugged boxers pooling below his taut hips.

The barbed-wire tattoo that wraps across his thigh taunts you, the faded bat wings on his abdomen just waiting to be tasted. You salivate at the thought of… fuck, nevermind. You can’t even think straight.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but in the context of all this, it’s a sight that unhinges your jaw and causes you to try to squeeze your legs together — Steve feels the change in pressure around his head, how your thighs press harder against either ear, clenching and clenching till he has no choice but to lap at your cunt till you let go.

“F-Fuck, Steve… I’m… fuck, your mouth, it’s…”

A shared moan from Eddie and yourself cuts your blubbering short as you give his long shaft an experimental tug, running your thumb over his shiny slit till he’s hissing at you.

“Jus’ like that, Y/N.” Eddie groans, a hand coming to stroke the back of your head till he’s grasping the nape of your neck and making you watch yourself stroke his cock. “Shit, sweetheart… see what you — you do to me? God, fuckin’… you fucking slut. Christ… fuck, your hand just feels so… oh, baby.”

His chin tilts back, eyes rolling into his skull as you crudely lick the palm of your hand and reach for his balls, coating him in a glistening film that has you drooling beneath the surface. “Let me make you feel good, please?”

“Yeah? That what you want?” He grits out, sighing as you drag your tongue along the ink on his pelvis.

“Please?”

“Since you begged so nicely,” Eddie hums, leaning back on his elbows as your tiny fist instantly reaches for his heavy cock. He nods at it, dropping his look from your clouded eyes to where his cock rests against his lower stomach. “It’s all yours. Go crazy. You know how I fucking like it.”

Messy. Loud. Disgusting.

Fingers covered in saliva as you pump him in your grasp, massaging the sensitive ridge under his tip with each upward stroke. A squeeze to his shaft everytime Steve pumps his fingers out of you and rubs your clit just the way you need him to. Eddie’s hands wander over your hips, gripping you flush against him until you’re leaning over to take his cock into your mouth.

Stuffed full of Steve’s fingers and stuffed full of Eddie’s dick. What a predicament.

“Shittt…” Eddie hisses as you take him, lips suctioning around the aching head of his dick before you’re dragging your tongue down the velvety, wet base of him. He shudders visibly once again. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re g-goddamn divine.”

You try to suck him in deeper when Steve adds another finger, his tongue lapping at your needy clit as Eddie instinctively pushes on the back of your head and shoves you further down his cock. He holds you there, mewling at the way saliva and cum dribble down his ruddy shaft, pooling around his balls.

You gag disgustingly loud, retaliating with a heavy swat to his arm before you realize your own orgasm is approaching hard and fast once he finally lets off and gives you air.

“Fuck. Fuck. Steve, b-babe… I’m — oh, shit… m’gonna cum if you keep…”

“If I keep doing this?”

You sob into Eddie’s neck as Steve scissors his fingers in and out of you, the naughty squelch of your cunt overpowering the white noise of your childhood bedroom. It’s lewd, how your knuckles glisten with Eddie’s thick pre-cum, Steve’s fingers serving as a direct mirror to that when you find release and gush around him.

“Fuck, Y/N! That’s hot. That’s really fucking hot. Shit, I just made you squirt.” He exhales shakily, a shy laugh falling at the end of his ramblings. “Always wanted to do that. S’just so sexy when you do it — fuck — I wanna watch you do it again.”

Steve’s cock throbs intensely beneath you as you christen his mouth with your arousal, his jaw wet and chin shiny as he languidly moves his mouth side to side against your clit.

“O-Oh, god… s’too… m’too sensitive, I… Steve…”

Like a starving man, his strong hands keep you pinned down when he wraps them around your hips, feeling for your ass and spreading you wide while you soak his face.

“Whose cock do you want inside you first, sweetheart?” Eddie rasps, his free hand resting over yours as he drags it up your ribs, the swell of your breasts, brushing over your hardened nipples before he brings it back down to your stomach. Stroking and stroking, teasing you as your other best friend peppers the insides of your thighs with gentle kisses. “Thinking about how tight you probably are right now, even if Steve fucked you open with his fingers, I bet that little cunt of yours is still just as tight as that night in the garage, yeah? Yeah, it is.” He chuckles, drawing hearts on your hip bone. “Are you gonna let me fuck it? In front of Harrington? Let him watch me stick my cock inside it for the first time? Let him watch the way your eyes just… droop all sleepy and fucked-out when I cum in you?”

Steve laughs, smiling to himself as he wipes the slick from his mouth, collecting it with the pad of his fingers before he’s wiggling the digits in front of Eddie’s mouth.

“Taste her,” He says without shame, eyes moony and half-lidded as Eddie slowly wraps his lips around them. Eyes locked on Steve’s, he fucking moans at the flavor of you. “Sweet, isn’t she?”

He releases him with a pop, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, she’s the sweetest.” He drawls, tongue darting out to lick the space between Steve’s fingers. “You wanna watch me fuck her now, Harrington? Promise you can stick it in her pussy later.” Eddie’s hand cups your jaw, lolling your head back against his shoulder so he can smirk down at you. His doe-eyes swirl with some sick form of tenderness, and the crude denotation of his next words almost fly right over your head when his gaze flickers back up to Steve. “As long as I get her ass.”

A gasp rips out of you when Eddie pulls you up by your underarms, your tender cheek falling against the mattress while Steve lingers at the foot of the bed, arm propped up against the post — where he stands now fully nude.

Your eyes shamelessly rake over his length, admiring the groomed bush of hair around his base, his athletic frame, the girth of his arms. He pumps his cock in front of you, your attention fully directed to him as Eddie undresses himself behind you.

“Staring is rude, y’know.” Steve quips, breathless as he runs his thumb over his meaty tip with a cocky grin. He nods down at his prick, the shaft darker than the rest of him. “You think you can take it, babe?”

“I… I think so. It’s — you’re just so…”

“Big?”

“Perfect.” You gulp out, palm coming up from the mattress to reach for him. “You’re just perfect, Stevie.”

And you swear that Steve blushes. His cheeks tinge pink, freckles prominent on the bridge of his nose as a faint smile lingers across his pillowy lips. But before you can even let your nails excitedly skim across his abdomen, Eddie yanks you back by your hips, ass arched up into the air as he pries your legs apart with his knee.

The action takes you by surprise, your neck twisting to look helplessly over your shoulder up at Eddie. “What are you—“

He leans over you, caging your body with his. You gag when he shoves his fingers past your lips, clutching at his wrist while Steve’s darkened eyes meet his. “Spit.”

Fuck. Okay.

Maybe you really should’ve been patient and lost your virginity to one of them when you got back.

Eddie pulls away; strings of saliva connect to his palm, to which he uses as makeshift lube for his ruddy cock. You study the way he languidly spreads the thick glob up and down his dick, the filthy wet squelch of it causing heat to pool into your belly.

You jolt when you feel his fingers skim over your entrance. “E-Eds…”

The aftershocks of your previous orgasm still linger, evident due to the tremble of your thighs and the deep furrow in your brow as you take a moment to brace yourself.

“Sensitive, sweetheart?” Eddie’s curious voice crackles, the tip of his finger dragging along the backsides of your thighs, tracing the curve of your ass. “S’okay, Y/N. I’ll go slow. At first.” He quips, sincerity and amusement dripping from his tone all at once. His mouth dips down, kissing the planes of your shoulders, your spine, the dip of your tailbone. “Don’t get in your head about it. I’m gonna take care of you.” Eddie whispers, taking his cock into his fist and running the tip along your cunt. You choke on a moan, feeling him slowly split you open. “I a-always take care of you, don’t I? Fuck. Fuck. Shit, you’re — Y/N, baby, you’re already… already squeezin’ me, fuck. S’okay. Fuck. It’s okay. K-Keep clenching my dick like that and this’ll be over so… fast.”

“Eddie!”

You make a move to look at him, but Steve’s hand finds your jaw, pulling your gaze back. “Eyes on me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s…” You clutch at the sheets, syllables lost on your tongue as you mewl scandalously. “I can feel his cock s-stretching me out. M’just… just so wet for him.” You sob as Eddie bottoms out, his balls grazing against your clit. His lips meet the crook of your shoulder as he stills inside you. “So wet for it. Please. Please. Fuck, I need… need more. Need, oh, to m-move.” The sheets wrinkle beneath you as Eddie’s hips roll back, his cock slamming into you in deep, agonizing thrusts. “Oh, yes… yes, just like that…”

“Christ, Harrington.” Eddie lets out a grunt, thrusting in and out of you. He watches the way your folds grip around him, asshole puckering as he thumbs at it. “She’s… Jesus Christ, she feels amazing. You hear that? Shit, that’s just her pussy. Makin’ all those wet sounds like a goddamn – fuck – like she’s a little cocksleeve. Fuck yes, but you’re the real thing, a-aren’t you, sweetheart? God, I could jus’ live in your pretty cunt.” He rambles, a harsh spank landing on either of your ass cheeks.

“Fuck, Eddie!”

“I love this pretty pussy. Fuck. I fucking love it — so good. M-Mindblowingly good. Jus’ got me m-melting inside you. Fuck, Y/N. How am I ever supposed to go without this cunt? S’fucking dream, that’s it. You’re a fucking dream.”

Steve’s head falls against the intricate bedpost, face scrunched up into pleasure and agony just watching Eddie spear his cock into you. You fall further into the mattress, sweat beading off of your brow as you take in the sight of Steve’s cock dripping with pre-cum. His balls hang heavily between his thick thighs, his abs rippling under the orange glow of your lampshade.

Each stroke leaves Eddie’s creamy shaft glistening and wet, your arousal sticking to his skin and the bush of hair at the base of him as he fucks you deeply. A fist tangled in your hair, the other glued to your shoulder, his mouth pulled into a lewd ‘O’ that mirrors Steve’s handsome expression of bliss.

You whimper, eyes welling up with tears, “I’m gonna… oh, fuck, baby… m’gonna c-cum.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on this cock?” Eddie snarls, hips quickly snapping into you. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, I can feel you tensing up for me. Yes, cum on it, sweetheart. S’okay, you can cum for us. Do it, Y/N.”

“So good. So — I’m cumming!”

Your whole body goes boneless against the longer-haired brunette, his arm generously scooping you up from under so that he can pull you flush against his chest. Your tits heave with every tremble of your thighs. Your cunt convulses around Eddie’s shaft, milking him as he keeps your hips firmly planted in place against his skin.

“Oh, honey. Yeah, that’s it.” Steve coos with a sweet chuckle, reaching over to cradle your face in his hands. “Came a little hard, huh? You did so well. Look at you, still so fucking hot.” He chuckles, brushing the hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. “Atta girl. Cumming on her best friend’s cock.” His thumbs prod at your bottom lip. “Who woulda thought?”

“Christ, Steve. She’s even — even tighter.”

“Yeah? Think it’ll fit?” Steve pouts, pumping himself as Eddie pulls out of you.

“Mmm, maybe. Maybe not. Can always butter you up some more, Y/N. Make sure there’s enough room for Harrington.” He snickers, “I call him big boy for a reason.”

You can only whine, too fucked-out from your orgasm to even properly respond.

Fuck. Really, that’s the only word on your mind right now.

“Hey, you with us?”

“Just…” You laugh, cut off by your own wince. “Fucking hell, just gimme a sec.”

Steve raises a brow at his friend, studying the way you roll back onto the bed, back arched against the sheets as you stretch your arms over your head and look dreamily up at him. “That good, huh?” You nod, biting your lip as he crawls onto the bed, “You think I can do better?”

A boost of confidence surges through you, the words leaving your lips airily and teasingly.

“Dunno. How about you show me, King Steve?”

“You’re gonna absolutely kill me, you know that?” The freckled brunette whispers, mouthing up your thighs before he’s rolling you on top of him, tucking your hair behind your ears as Eddie comes to kneel behind you, kissing the nape of your neck. “Calling me King Steve like it doesn’t turn you on when you say it,” He chuckles, rubbing up your thighs. “You rode Brad’s cock?”

“No. And his name… is Matt,” You grin, splaying your palms over his chest. “Play nice, tiger.”

“This is nice.” You guide him into your entrance, moaning as you sink down past his tip, the head of him catching on the swell of your clit. Steve’s head falls back against the bed, plump lips parting with a sigh as you take him to the hilt. “God, but this cunt is even nicer — shit, Munson, you weren’t lying.”

“Fuck, Steve. It’s… fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, my god.” His thick cock spreads your folds open, the pink tint of his cock turning slick with your cum as you shakily pull yourself up and down his length. “Feels so good. Oh, your — please…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your hips, his finger coming to circle your clit while his free hand spreads your ass apart, his dick nudging against your tight hole. “Do you trust me?”

Your jaw lolls back against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes fluttering in pleasure as Steve meets your thrusts. “Y-Yes, please. Just — fuck, need both of you. Need it inside m-me. Put it in, Eds. Please, put it in.” You beg tearily, resting your hand against his taut stomach.

“I’ll go slow.” He whispers, kissing your cheek before taking a hold of your neck. “So slow, you won’t even know I’m here. Jus’ focus on the way Harrington breeds that cunt, yeah? Guy fucking loves that shit. You tell me to stop — you tell either of us to stop and we will, understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good girl. You have lube for me?”

Your jaw falls open as Eddie slips a finger into your ass, the ring of muscle sucking the digit deeper and deeper inside as you fuck yourself on Steve.

“In my — my luggage.”

“Tsk tsk, naughty.”

You lose yourself in the tangle of limbs and shifting of blankets, your knees knocking against the mattress as Eddie finds his way back to the pair of you.

“Can’t believe you — you’re riding me right now. Holy shit, you look so… so beautiful.” Steve gasps out between wet strokes, worshipping your body with an open mouth, “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting this? Wanting to be inside you? Oh, and I get this pussy all to myself?

“I’ve always — fuck — always wanted to know how big you are. How it feels to be… to be filled up with my two favorite people in the world — oh, harder.” You growl, feeling a cool liquid squirt down your skin. The lube is warm, slippery as Eddie drenches everything in it, the sloppy squelch of his fingers working into your ass are enough to make your face heat up and hide in Steve’s shoulder. “Harder.”

“You really want this?” Eddie rasps, scissoring them in and out. “You think your virgin ass can take me? I think you need more time, baby. Gotta ease you into it.”

You reach around you to grasp his cock in your hand, panting against him while Steve continues to fuck the slick channel of your cunt. It’s devastating, how he hits every part of you, the crude squelch of it all, how Eddie grips and grips at your ass till you’re basically laying over Steve’s chest.

“I want it.”

“Breathe, then.”

It feels like hours before Eddie really does anything, just the cruel fingering of your ass accompanied by the pounding of Steve’s cock into you. Then eventually, there’s the sliminess of the lube, the glistening of two well-endowed ruddy cocks, happy trails and velvet skin slowly being swallowed by your cunt and ass.

The first few moments of Eddie’s tantalizing press of his cock against your puckering hole is enough to have you jolting forward in Steve’s arms, a comforting shush lulling you to a calm as the boys kiss down your body — worshipping you, soothing you, enticing you.

“Oh, my god!”

It’s… it’s too fucking much. The titillating burn of it. The building pressure. You feel like you’re being pulled under and under, endlessly being filled up by him until he’s drawing his hips back and pushing into you all over again.

“Relax, Y/N. You gotta relax, or I can’t — fuck, I won’t be able to take care of you.” Eddie kisses along the slope of your shoulder, his inked thighs entangling with Steve’s bare ones as he leans over your backside. “Okay?”

You nod and exhale sharply, letting yourself become mush between Steve and Eddie’s bodies as he drives into you from behind, using your ass the same way he had used your sopping cunt. Their cocks drive into you, bone mashing against bone, skin slapping against skin, warmth oozing out of you until you feel like you’re on fire.

“Does it feel good, honey?” Steve grunts from beneath you. The look on his face nearly makes you cum — hair tousled, eyes half shut as he groans deeply. His aching arms ripple, holding you against his chest as Eddie sloppily ruts into you from behind. “You want us to go faster? Make you squirt over both of our cocks? Fuck, taking it in the ass makes you so tight.”

You lose yourself in Eddie’s kisses, the way he drags his lips across your jaw and down your bruised neck, the way Steve sits up to toy with the peak of your breasts, his tongue swiping over the sensitive nubs.

Numb. Boneless. You can’t think.

“Think she’s gonna cum, Harrington. Just look at her.”

Steve cooes, flicking his finger over your swollen clit.

“You gonna cum, princess?” You gasp loudly as Eddie draws his hand across your ass, spanking you brutally until your face is buried in Steve’s collarbones. “Fuck, Eddie’s right… this cunt is — fuck — such a dream. Shit, you’re close. Think I’m gonna cum, t-too. M’gonna fill y-you up, Y/N. Fuck...”

“Yeah? Gonna breed my pussy?”

“Oh, that nasty mouth.”

“I want you to cum inside, Steve.”

“Fuck!” His warm seed fills you up quickly, shooting right against your walls as his hips snap into you over and over again. Relentless. Unforgiving. Your cunt fluttering and leaking with his own spill as Steve just fucking stares and watches you become one with him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, princess. It’s — oh, you’re… m-milking me. Oh, shit. Shit!”

They’re both balls deep inside you and yet all you can think about is how you’re one-hundred percent never walking again after all of this is over.

Your own brain melts before you can even get a word out, turning you into a broken record of strangled moans and incoherent begging.

Princess, you like it when Eddie fucks your ass, don’t you?

Just wait till you give Harrington a turn.

You’re gorgeous like this, letting us stretch your little holes out just ‘cause we’re best friends — god — you dirty, wet girl. I’m never getting enough.

So pretty. So fucking p-pretty.

You cum instantly, your orgasm sneaking up on you from behind and swallowing you whole. Your release has you convulsing shamelessly in the boys’ arms, your mouth claimed by each of theirs as you switch between Steve and Eddie, then Steve again, and Eddie once more until your body refuses to recognize whose skin is whose and who tastes like what.

“Christ,” Eddie grits out. “Christ, your cunt is — you’re strangling my cock, baby. Baby. Oh, fuck, baby.”

Everything comes in a rush. Words lose their meaning, their formation and elegance (if you could even call dirty talk elegant) as Eddie’s ramblings get strung together and Steve’s hands roughly find solace on your thighs. The warm bloom in your ass almost makes you cum again, and you moan wantonly as Eddie jerks and vibrates against you.

You wince when they pull out at nearly the same time — almost as if they had coordinated it — and you wince when you feel their spend trickle down your thighs.

Your cunt clenches around nothingness as you sputter with their cum, your asshole puckering against Eddie’s face while he watches you gape between his hands. You whine when his finger prods at you, a hiss leaving your lips when he eats the cum from both of your holes.

Then, he slurps. Loud.

Definitely going to hell.

“Fuck.” You let out a breathy chuckle, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop seeing the fucking stars that keep pulsing in your vision.

Unable to support yourself, you lazily collapse between the lanky bodies of Steve and Eddie, long limbs tangling with yours.

Steve kisses your temple, nuzzling his face under your chin. “Better than Brad?”

Silly boy.

You laugh again, harder this time, almost forgetting how sore your lower muscles are when Steve presses the curve of your nose against your neck and Eddie casually slings an arm over your stomach like he hadn’t just fucked your ass. “Better than Brad.”

“Thought his name was Matt.” Eddie huffs, tracing the blossoming hickey on your hip.

You glance at either of them, bringing your hands up to stroke their flushed cheeks before you’re giving them a gentle peck on the buttons of their noses. “I could give less of a fuck about Matt.”

“Good.”

“Can we please go get dinner now? You know, to celebrate my return and everything.”

Steve and Eddie collectively groan, burying themselves closer against you with sleepy eyes and sweaty skin.

“Just a little longer.”

“Eddie…”

“Meh.”

“Steve…”

“Nope.”

Theirs. Theirs. Theirs.

And it’s then — between your best friends’ naked and warm bodies, freckled skin and D&D-themed tattoos, soft long hair and thick romantic curls, moles and scars, the sun on your left and the moon on your right, the lingering kiss to your shoulder and the swirling fingers on your thigh — that you realize that maybe, they missed you more than you missed them.

And that maybe, you’re okay with this strange, insatiable dynamic of friendship. If you can even call it that.

After all, what are best friends for?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steddie x reader #steddie x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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4ngel-inc · 24 days

Text

࿔*:･ BUNGO STRAY DOGS — WITH A VERY TALKATIVE S/O ࿐

notes / warnings — fem reader, pet names, just fluff !! ᰔ i am 10000% calling myself out wahhh i talk so much :')

DAZAI loves attention, so naturally, he loves when you talk to him. you could talk about anything, really—the yummy breakfast you cooked for yourself that morning, the weather, your favorite book—it's all music to his ears. he also loves when you ask him questions about himself, like how his day went or what's new at work. if you reach over while you two are relaxing and gently stroke his cheek, asking what's on his mind, his heart melts into a little puddle. you really want to know what's running around in his head? most people wouldn't dare—though his thoughts have grown far brighter in the time he's known you, he's still surprised you're interested. dazai also loves when you ramble on about things—he just thinks you're so gorgeous when your expression lights up from something you're passionate about, eyes sparkling as you go on and on.

CHUUYA loves how excited you get about small things—it makes his day much brighter to hear the tone of your voice when you're hyped up about something! you're just so damn adorable—he wishes he could see the light in everything like you do. if you're shopping and see a pretty necklace in the store window, he'll let you go on and on about it for half an hour, about how you wish you could afford it, even though he knows he's going to return later and buy it for you. he just loves the sound of your voice, even on nights when he can't keep his eyes open after work, his head resting on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair, he convinces you to keep talking. "chu, you're not even listening, you're sleeping!" you laugh. "nuh-uh, pretty girl. 'm still awake, just keep talkin', makes me happy."

FUKUZAWA honestly, takes a while to get used to how much you talk, though he doesn't particularly dislike it. as someone who appreciates silence and tranquility, it's difficult for him to understand why you're so eager to talk about random things when the unspoken silence between the two of you is so valuable to him already—however, over time, he comes to realize it's part of your love language. you love him so much, of course you'd like to know how his day went, how he's feeling, if he liked what you made for dinner. you're always so excited to see him, practically talking his ear off the second he walks through the door, and after a while, he comes to appreciate how nurturing and doting you are. after a few years together, he simply can't imagine his life being any different—your voice is his greatest source of comfort during hard times.

SIGMA absolutely adores how talkative you are, he's so flattered you want to talk to him! your relationship makes him feel lighter and more playful, and after a while, he realizes you've taught him so much about how to enjoy the little things in life. he absolutely loves watching your eyes light up and hearing you rave when you try new food, when the snow falls, when you try your hand at a new cookie recipe for him that turns out to be so delicious. he could listen to your voice forever, but his favorite thing to talk about is how you're feeling. sigma is a true gentleman, always ensuring you're happy and asking what he can do to make you feel more loved. although he usually prefers most of the attention to be on you, he feels so special when you ask him how his day went or if he finished that one stressful project at work. overall, your voice simply gives him butterflies every time he hears it, no matter how long you've been together.

AKUTAGAWA actually really appreciates how much you talk, since he isn't often a man of many words. he's the quiet, stoic type—and the stark contrast between his reserved nature and your more outgoing, bubbly one is what makes you meld so well together. similar to chuuya, akutagawa loves hearing your voice when he's tired—in particular, if he's had an especially exhausting day at work or when he's been haunted by thoughts of his past lately, your voice soothes him, gently nudging all pessimistic thoughts out of his mind. after listening to you talk about your day for a few minutes, he can't even remember what was bringing him down to begin with. in general, the sound of your voice and an occasional kiss to his hand are enough to keep him content—if anything, he's grateful he is the one who gets to listen to you talk every day, your voice is his favorite sound.

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fukuzawa x reader #akutagawa x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #bsd x you #bsd x y/n

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f1byjessie · 2 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part nine.

INSTAGRAM.

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tagged: yourusername

mclaren As we get closer and closer to the start of the 2024 season, we thought we’d take the time to introduce new fans to the team that works behind the scenes! Starting us off, we have Y/N L/N, our personal paddock photographer! Y/N has been here with us at McLaren since 2019, and is the genius mind behind many of the photos we’ve posted throughout the years. She’s an important part of our community and helps tremendously in not only capturing our drivers in action, but also in getting the other behind the scenes members of our team the recognition they deserve. We’re glad to have her back here with us in Bahrain, and we can’t wait to see what beautiful concoctions she comes up with this year! 🧡

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user if there is 100 y/n fans, i am one of them. if there is one y/n fan, it is me. if there are no y/n fans, i have died.

user love love LOVE that mclaren takes the time to recognize the hard work of everyone who supports the drivers

↳ user i feel like f1 promotes the racers, team principals, and pit crew so much and forgets about everyone else that makes sure these teams are able to function so seamlessly

user CAN WE GET A MEET THE ADMIN POST TOO??? 👀👀👀

user i bumped into y/n back in silverstone 2021, like literally bumped into her, and she was so sweet!!

user she’s my photography inspo 🤩

user her dedication to the mclaren team is so apparent when you think about the fact that she DOESN’T get the same recognition as the drivers, but she has chosen to work for them for what will be 6 years as of this season. she could have easily move to a different formula 1 team or even another sport entirely, but she still comes back and that’s a dedicated artist

↳ user the fact that she did a little stint over at manchester city fc and STILL chose to come back to mclaren even tho i imagine f1 has a much harsher and stricter schedule with the intercontinental travel than football does

user this is who we have to thank for all those beautiful shots of lando??? cuz if so, bless her omg 🙏🙏🙏

user in this household we appreciate the crew that works tirelessly to keep us entertained

user so tired of seeing ppl disregard her skill as a photographer just bc of who she’s dating

↳ user OMG SAME

yourusername glad to be here, can’t wait to travel the world with these amazing people 🧡

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 214,051 others

tagged: mclaren

yourusername locked in and ready 😎

view all 1,514 comments

oscarpiastri so glad you’ve gotten over your temporary obsession with blue 😁

↳ yourusername so glad you haven’t lost your ability to get on my last nerve 😁

↳ oscarpiastri so glad you’re still insufferable even on your best days 😁

↳ yourusername now that’s a comeback i can be proud of 🥹

user MISSED THESE LADS OH MY DAYS

user ONE DAY UNTIL TESTING GUYS

user oscar looking fine asf these days 😩 that winter break treated him well

mclaren The boys are back in town!

↳ yourusername dare i say my milkshake brought them to the yard?

↳ mclaren It certainly called us 😍

↳ yourusername you flatter me mclaren admin 😌

↳ mclaren Only the best for our best 😘

user that’s some pretty intense eye contact from lando in the last image…

↳ user he ain’t even looking at the camera

↳ user nah bruv is def looking at y/n 👀👀

↳ user I NEED THEM TO GET OVER WHATEVER HAPPENED AND GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS CUZ I MISS THE BANTER IN THE COMMENTS

↳ user i think we should probably respect their privacy and understand that something happened (presumably in the off season) that we weren’t privy to. so long as they can both maintain professionalism around one another, they don’t have to do or “get over” anything. does it suck to see two very close friends no longer get along in the way they used to? absolutely. but we don’t know what happened or if anything even did happen. in the event that something did, we don’t know who’s involved or who, if anyone, is at fault. they’re both justified in choosing to end a friendship due to a falling out, or even if they just grew distant. but even as i say all of this, it’s still speculation.

↳ user we don’t actually know if they aren’t friends any longer or if they’ve just moved their friendship off of online platforms. it should be noted that y/n is very publicly dating someone, and idk about you, but i know firsthand how delusional fans can be. her bf’s fans could easily attack her over banter with another man, and lando’s fans could just as easily start reading into that same banter which runs the very real possibility of putting all three of them in an awkward situation where y/n is being shipped with a man that ISN’T her bf.

↳ user what about the banter she has with the mclaren admin? 🤔

↳ user context is super important here. the flirting between y/n and the mclaren admin is very obviously fake. it has been from the beginning, and when ppl “ship” the two of them together it’s for the bit and to play along with their fake bromance. lando and y/n have both been legitimately shipped together since they both started working with mclaren, which changes the undertone of the shipping comments bc ppl often genuinely misconstrue their banter as REAL flirting.

user why do comment sections related to y/n always turn into debate sessions

↳ user REAL like ain’t no way i’m reading all that

user oscar’s hair sticking up in every picture is my roman empire

user I’VE BEEN MISSING THE ORANGE I’M SO GLAD IT’S BACK 🧡🧡🧡

user wait i didn’t even realize until now that this is the first post in like a month that’s actually had public comments turned on

↳ user probably bc her bf’s loser fans have finally stopped harassing her

jackgrealish must be nice having all that sun 😒

↳ yourusername it really is, bet you’re jealous

Testing goes fine, until it doesn’t.

“A drain cover?” Lando’s voice echoes across the garage. “Another fucking drain cover?”

You purse your lips.

Yesterday, he’d been upset on Oscar’s behalf when they’d cancelled the remainder of the morning session after only a couple hours to solve the problem of the track’s dislodged pieces. He’d complained and cussed out the incompetence, and then reassured Oscar that things would be better for the third day.

But the third day is here now, and he’s even more upset now being told to pit after a measly thirty minutes for the same issue.

“This is the second fucking time━” he cuts himself off with an angry huff and runs his hands roughly through the curls of his hair, letting his fingers catch on the tangles and yanking through them in his frustration. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow. His cheeks are still flushed from the heat of the car.

It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him since you’ve come back.

The time you’ve already spent in Bahrain has been stilted at best. Lando continues to stick with his attempts at avoiding you, but it’s harder to do so here when your hotel rooms are on the same floor and you’re limited to the confines of the garage for most of the day. Even when he isn’t in the car, there’s not a lot to do wandering around the paddock and even if there was they’ve encouraged him to stay where he can easily be reached.

You’re trying not to be smug about it, but every time you glance over your shoulder and catch him watching you━ catch him quickly looking away when your eyes meet and he realizes he’s been caught━ you feel pleased.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Lando, it’s that he’s always got a limit.

If you wait long enough, stand your ground and prove that you really have no intentions whatsoever of giving in and breaking the ice between the two of you, eventually he’ll cave. When he realizes he won’t get what he wants, that he’ll have to actually put in the effort to repair what he’s broken rather than having it magically fix itself, he’ll have no other choice but to do so.

“They might not cancel the session,” Oscar chimes in, attempting to placate his aggravated teammate. “Since they already had to yesterday, I doubt they’ll do it again today.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t actually calm Lando down at all. If anything, it just reminds him again of the fact that this is the second time this same complication has happened which has him huffing angrily again and running his hands through his tangled curls even rougher.

You wince at that.

Andrea, McLaren’s team principal, steps forward. “Take a breath,” he orders, resting a heavy hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Go walk a lap around the garage or something, whatever, but I need you to calm down.”

You’re prepared for that to be the end of it, but then Andrea looks over and catches your eye. “Y/N,” he says, nodding his head towards Lando. “You go with him. Keep him out of trouble.”

Well.

You like to think you do a much better job at keeping your emotions off of your face than Lando, which isn’t hard when his features scrunch up into a pained scowl at Andrea’s words, but you can feel the pinch of your own eyebrows furrowing and the smile you send towards the team principal probably looks more like a grimace if Oscar pursed lips in your peripherals is anything to go by.

Lando storms out and you follow reluctantly after him.

He can’t really go very far, not if he wants to be within a reasonable distance when━ if━ they call him back to continue the morning testing session. So he paces back and forth and back and forth just outside the garage’s exit out into the paddock.

Your phone tells you that ten minutes pass like this. It’s the longest you’ve been alone with him in a while and his distraction lets you focus on the finer details that you’ve missed when he’s going out of his way to avoid you.

There are deep, dark, bruise-like circles that hang heavily beneath his eyes. His skin is sun-kissed and tanned from his time out catching rays during his travels, but there’s a pale pallor beneath the added color that makes him look sick. Despite his current anger and the tension coiled in his muscles just waiting to lash out and strike, his shoulders seem to droop beneath the invisible weight of whatever he’s carrying with him.

He looks small.

Lando’s always been on the shorter side, but he’s never before looked small. Not like this. Never like this.

The longer you watch, the more the back and forth pacing starts to transform into the anxious stride of a cornered animal.

You aren’t arrogant enough to assume he’s like this because of you entirely, but it does occur to you that maybe he’s having just as rough of a time as you are with the newfound distance between yourselves.

You watch him silently, for a little while longer, observing the way his stride hitches every few steps and he just barely manages to stop himself from stumbling over his own feet. He’s still running his hands through his hair. By the seventh time he practically claws his fingers through his curls you heave a sigh.

“Quit that,” you snap.

“Quit what?” He fires back with just as much bite.

You roll your eyes. “You’re gonna rip your hair out if you keep pulling on it like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you with a sneer. His words drip with sarcasm. “I forgot you must be used to Grealish now, right? And I bet he’s got at least a ten-step hair care routine. I wonder, does he use unicorn sweat and essence of rainbow to keep it that smooth and bright? There’s no other possible way!”

“You’re being an asshole, Lando.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he says. “How could I ever think Grealish would use unicorn sweat of all things? He uses pixies tears, my mistake.”

You’re not sure how a few words managed to turn into this━ you’d just wanted him to stop pulling at his hair. It looked painful and he’s always been a bit tender headed. Now, instead, you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you and it seems like Lando’s frustrations about the testing delay, and your friendship with Jack apparently, have made things worse.

Like throwing gasoline onto a flame.

You scowl, “Seriously. You’re being a fucking prick.”

He throws his arms up into the air, “Why not just run off to Grealish then? Since he seems to be your new best friend and you tell him everything.”

If your life were a movie, this is the moment in time when the stars would align and fate would force everything to position itself perfect in place. Like the pieces of a puzzle, it would all work out and you’d calmly explain to Lando what happened back in January with Garrett and Manchester City, and he’d understand immediately and apologize, and you’d hug it out and then both return to the garage just in time for them to announce the testing session would re-commence.

But your life isn’t a movie, and reality feels significantly different to the scripted perfection of fiction.

The precarious security of the perch you’ve settled yourself upon comes crashing down, and the tentative balance you’ve managed to maintain since the start of February when you were back in papaya again shatters with it. Something inside you snaps. The dam has burst and everything held back comes rushing to the front like a torrential wave.

“At least he was there for me when some prick blackmailed me into a relationship at the threat of my livelihood,” you snarl.

Lando pauses for a moment. He makes a couple different faces before settling on a mix between pissed off and confused, and his arms cross over his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Garrett Ward, Lando!” You exclaim. “He threatened that if I didn’t pretend to be his girlfriend, he’d fake some misconduct rumor and ruin my career and I was too afraid to say no because this is all I have!”

This isn’t how you’d wanted it all to go down. You’d always imagined you’d get the satisfaction of an apology, and that Lando would get drunk on cheap wine with you like old times, and you’d explain what all happened with the confidence of being a little tipsy and you wouldn’t feel ashamed because Lando’s your best friend and he’d reassure you that you did what you had to, and then you’d listen to him shit talk Garrett for the rest of the night. In the morning, he’d have some idea of how to fix it all without ruining your career, and then you’d be able to put it all behind you and go back to how things were before the winter off-season ever started.

This is far from that, but there’s a sense of relief that comes nonetheless from getting it all off your chest to Lando━ to the person you’ve wanted to talk to from the very beginning

You feel tears burning your eyes, blurring your vision. “I can barely pay my rent as is, and I’m only actually living there for a few dumb months out of the year anyway. Do you know how much worse it would be if I got kicked from McLaren too? Nobody else in the country would hire me if he followed through with what he was threatening.”

“Well,” Lando shrugs his shoulders, looking properly chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I fucking tried, you muppet!” You throw your arms up in exasperation and then wipe at your eyes in frustration when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I called you every day for a week and you ignored me! I sent you text after text after fucking text━” your voice breaks, “━and you didn’t even read them! Did you know I locked myself in the bathroom and cried every single day I had to work there?”

You glare at him.

“The only thing that made it better was Jack fucking Grealish coming into my office and telling me I could at least go to him if I ever needed anything,” you snap. “So fuck off with this whole holier than thou bullshit. You left me, and Jack took your place because I was drowning!”

“Y/N…”

Crying hadn’t been a part of your plan, but the tears won’t stop now that they’re going. It’s embarrassing. You’re already worried about just how many people heard you shouting, and now you’re even more worried about someone coming back to look for you both and finding you sobbing your eyes out.

“I’m sorry━”

Lando’s arms wrap around you, warm and strong and sure.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks. lando is finally back in the picture! this part was a lot of fun to write, because i've been waiting for this moment since the initial fallout in the beginning. on that note, i finished getting it all whipped up this morning while watching the qualis, so if there are any mistakes that i haven't caught that's why. i was a bit distracted, so please pretend they aren't there haha!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Magnus to Alec

Dear delectable muffin of love,

I hope this perfumed letter finds you well, and that you and R and M are having an excellent time in your exotic journey to…well, I believe the term you used was “upstate.” I have heard legends of this Upstate, but never did I know that my family would see for themselves its mountains, its twee farm markets, its River of the Son of Hud.

More to the point, I hope the kids are enjoying their visit with Grandma, and I hope you are referring to Maryse as “Grandma” as often as possible because I enjoy the face she makes when we do. On a less pleasant but more urgent note, I hope you’ve had a chance to talk with Luke about the Cohort/Idris stuff.

But do not tire your beautiful hands with a written reply. I will be heading to this “Upstate” myself to join you later this afternoon, as I am relieved to report that the business with the Blackthorn kids’ cursed house is more or less resolved. Although it was touch and go, let me tell you.

I don’t think I even showed you the note Jem sent, which said, “Emma and Julian are trying not to bother you about their house, and that is very nice of them, but unlike them, I feel absolutely no compunction about bothering you, and so this is me, now, in this note, bothering you. We are in need of a warlock and you are the best one I know for this. We would all really appreciate your help.”

As is often the case, I was both mildly annoyed and mildly impressed with Jem, who managed to be both very kind and also to remind me that I am a sucker when it comes to him and Tessa and will rush to their aid when I can. Because I am a sucker when it comes to him and Tessa, I wrote back quickly saying I would come.

I know what you’re thinking: “How could Tessa need a warlock when she is a warlock?” But different warlocks have different expertises, as you know, and while Jem was flattering me that I was the best choice, the reality is that I have dealt with a lot more curses than Tessa. That’s what comes of spending the past decades hiring your services out to any miscreants who come by, instead of more intelligently living a calm life as a magic researcher in the Spiral Labyrinth. Tessa always was the smartest of us.

Anyway, I must give Emma and Julian credit. I expected to arrive and find them banging the cursed objects against one another or something, but they had set up a decent enough protective circle and even found a spell. It was an old, kind of generic spell that I have found to rarely be of much use with actual curses in the modern day, but still.

Rather stupidly I set up a basic workaday curse-breaking circle of my own, and gave it a try. “Stupidly” because I had forgotten who did the curse in the first place. Your worst ancestor, Benedict Lightwood, all-around demon enthusiast and dilettante necromancer. How in bed with demons was Benedict? He literally died of demon pox — which if you do not know, because you are beautifully pure, my Alec — is a sexually transmitted demon disease.

But I forgot that in the moment, so I was surprised when the curse put up an impressive resistance. It writhed and thrashed and struck out, like Max being lowered into a bath. The cursed objects were all glowing, kind of neon green, where they were tied to the magic, and eventually I realized I was going to have to carefully unknot each object from the curse, one at a time.

I managed the flask, the dagger, and one of the candlesticks (don’t ask me to explain how THAT happens), but after that I was stuck.

It’s not a great look for a warlock to strike a big magic pose and then nothing happens. I am sure I looked ridiculous, like a mundane magician who couldn’t understand why the rabbit wasn’t coming out of the hat. Julian and Emma are very polite and only waited patiently but I felt quite silly.

And then I lost all my focus temporarily because the door opened and Kit walked in. He sort of looked around at the scene and finally said, “Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick, I see.”

“Purple is always an appropriate color for a warlock,” I said. “It is the decorative color of magic.”

Emma, of course, said, “Your magic is blue,” because she is an inveterate smartass.

“Maybe he meant me,” said Julian. “I’m wearing a purple hoodie. Also because it is the decorative color of magic,” he added with a nod in my direction, which I appreciated.

“Maybe you could put the objects on a purple tablecloth instead of a white one,” Kit said, and while he was talking he walked out to get a closer look.

And when he got close to the circle, Alec, I felt the strangest sensation. A feeling of…power, I suppose, kind of humming in Kit. You know the way your body kind of vibrates when there’s a really really low sound? That rumbling feeling? It was like that, but silent. I’ve never had that experience any of the times I’ve seen Kit before. I could also tell that Kit didn’t feel anything unusual. Or if he did, he was surprisingly casual about it.

So I suggested he come join us around the circle and add his focus to the magic. “Especially since Jem and Tessa have snuck off somewhere rather than helping out with this round.”

“They’re out in the garden with Mina,” Kit said, a little defensively.

I redirected everyone’s attention to the objects and established a somewhat souped-up version of my go-to curse breaker. I went for the other candlestick and BANG. No resistance anymore! There was a big burst of blue and all the knots of magic tying the objects to the curse broke into pieces.

Everyone blinked a bunch. Eventually I said something like, “Well, that was more what I was hoping for. I guess four people made the difference.”

I checked. The curse seemed…gone. I was actually a little shaken. I haven’t mentioned it to Tessa and Jem, because I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but I think it worked because of Kit. Not because we needed a fourth person. Something is going on with him, some magic that is totally outside his awareness. I assume it has something to do with being a descendant of the First Heir, but I’ve never been an expert on that kind of faerie enchantment. (And do burn this letter, after you get it — very few of us know about Kit being the First Heir, and it’s best if we keep it that way.)

It makes me sad to think of it. Kit is a good kid who deserves a good, ordinary life. I know that’s what Jem and Tessa want for him, more than anything, after the chaos that was his growing up. But I am not sure he will have a choice in the matter. Fae may not let him choose.

Julian reached out and took hold of the flask. He held it for a moment, frowning.

“What?” said Emma.

“Nothing,” Julian said. He looked up at me. “Is that it? No more curse?”

“No more curse,” I said. “I hope.”

And then down from the ceiling drifted Rupert the Ghost. I never met Rupert Blackthorn when he was alive. I don’t know what to think of him. On the one hand, he seems to have been an innocent who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a spirit trapped in a house he never lived in because of evil he never knew about while he lived. On the other hand, he met Tatiana Lightwood and thought that lady seems like marriage material, so there must have been something weird going on with him.

Rupert had been hovering and he descended until he was right above the table. He was staring at something on it.

“What is it, Rupert?” said Emma. “What are you looking at?”

Kit followed his gaze and started pushing the objects out of the way. “It’s the ring,” he said.

Emma said, “What ring?”

Indeed, what ring? There wasn’t a ring among the cursed objects. But there was a ring on the table now. Kit picked it up. It was a silver ring, etched with a design of thorns and set with a black stone.

“Blackthorn family ring?” Kit said.

“It’s not how family rings usually look,” Emma said.

“Wedding band?” said Kit.

“Shadowhunters don’t use wedding rings,” said Emma, but Julian had that thoughtful look he gets.

“I am bound here by a silver band,” he said softly.

“Shadowhunters can exchange wedding rings,” I said. “They just aren’t expected to. But they can if they want.”

Whatever it was, it was Rupert’s. He had followed Kit’s hand as it picked up the ring, and now he was reaching out for it with a thin ghostly hand. He wrapped it around the ring, which did absolutely nothing since he’s a ghost – Kit just kind of held it there for him. Then his eyes closed (Rupert’s, I mean) and he got this expression on his face of relief and gratitude and peace, and he just…faded out, right there. Just slowly vanished and was gone. No more Rupert. On to hopefully not being reunited with his wife, since she was also his jailer for over a hundred years.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Emma said quietly.

“That’s for the best,” I said. “He was never supposed to be here at all.”

“Well, Rupert, if you can hear me,” said Emma, “it was nice being haunted by you.”

“Five stars,” said Kit solemnly, putting the ring back on the table. “Would be haunted again.”

And all the candles went out in the room at once. Which, if it was Rupert, was a nice touch. Though it may have just been a draft.

We all filed out of the room quietly. “It’s different,” Julian said. He was looking around at the hallway. “I can feel it already.”

I could feel it as well. There was a lightness that had not been there. A kind of pleasant hominess that a good house conveys and that had always been absent from Blackthorn Hall in the time I’ve known it. It’s hard to describe, but all at once it felt like Julian and Emma’s home, in a way it hadn’t before. I’ve always known it as a forbidding place, and then as a hideous ruin, but for the first time I thought, this was a place the Blackthorns could fill with joy.

And I’m certain they will.

See you very soon, my love. I shall kiss you until a toddler forces us apart to pay attention to him. So plan for a kiss of about 30-60 seconds, based on previous experience. But I wish, as always, that it could be endless.

Love,

Magnus

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #rupert blackthorn #magnus bane #alec lightwood #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #kit herondale #made a change to the ring

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artistsfuneral · 8 months

Text

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #witcher #mini fic

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txmxkis · 2 months

Note

Rinii, what do you think kuroo would say or react when reader starts feeling self-conscious about readers body, like if reader asks "am i getting fatter" or "do you think im fat?"

ohhhhhh i did not plan to do this but this is something that is so personal to me

warnings. gn!reader, fluffy and probably cheesy as always, chubby!reader is implied but i tried to keep it as inclusive as possible, reader is insecure. again, apparently i can only write self indulgent things my bad

you were supposed to be ready to leave the apartment half an hour ago. you weren't usually one to be late to anything, in fact it made you incredibly anxious when you were. however, today your insecurity outweighed your need to be punctual, and you just couldn't leave while looking like this.

actually, today you couldn't leave looking like anything. pieces of clothing lay strewn across the room, hangers discarded on the floor next to the closet. you had tried on every single one, and still there were none that looked flattering on you.

"oi! are you ready yet? i mean, take your time 'n everything, but technically we're late."

kuroo's voice calling from the other room pulls you out of your thoughts momentarily. he never rushes you, which is something you appreciate greatly. it helps that he knows you well enough to know that you would never be late without good reason.

"is there something i can help with orrrr?"

you could hear his voice getting closer and you really didn't want him to see you in this state right now.

he pokes his head past the doorframe and makes a noise of astonishment.

"a tornado go through here while i was gone or somethin'? or are you just trying to spontaneously reorganize things again."

you roll your eyes at that second thing.

"noooo, i just can't decide what to wear. nothing looks good on me today."

he's standing fully in the doorway now, hands in his pockets as he raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

"then wear nothing, it looks great on you."

he smirks and you make a futile attempt not to crack a smile as you feel your face start to burn. suddenly you're even more self conscious, so you grab the nearest piece of clothing to hold in front of you.

"tetsurou, i'm being serious! we needed to leave like forty minutes ago and i can't wear any of these clothes without looking-"

you stop yourself just before you could say fat. you hate giving the word a negative connotation. there's nothing wrong with being fat, nothing that should make you feel like this, anyway. like you wanted to crawl out of your skin. usually you were pretty neutral about your body, on very rare occasions could even love things about it. sometimes, it all catches up to you, though.

all the whispers in your head that come from no one but yourself, degrading you and making you feel worthless because of how you look. logically, you know those thoughts are complete and utter bullshit, but it's so hard to continuously fight against them. today, you're slipping a little.

"i know exactly what you're thinking over there. something about your clothes not fitting quite right and that somehow it makes you unloveable."

you don't even have time to pretend to be shocked that he knows you so well before he just keeps on going.

"well i've got news for you, babe, i've never seen you manage to look bad. i actually think it's impossible for you or something."

for a few moments too long, you just stand there gaping at him. he takes that as his cue to walk towards you, remove the sweater that you've been using as a shield, and toss it off to the side.

"there. better."

you finally snap out of it and smack him on the arm, but before you can pull away, he catches your wrist. he brings it up to his lips slowly, and kisses right where your pulse is probably hammering away at the moment, locking eyes with you as he does.

how are you ever supposed to argue with him if he keeps stunning you into silence?

"i don't think you'll ever understand how much i love you, doesn't matter if you change physically or not. and it doesn't matter what you wear either, so can you pleaseeee put on something so we can go. we both know you'll look perfect in anything."

"ugh, fine! but you get to help me pick."

he rubs his hands together with a devious grin, and you know he'll be grabbing the most revealing thing he can find. you know him well, too, after all.

"something appropriate."

"awww, damn."

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fatuismooches · 6 months

Note

FOR THE HARBINGERS

Reader telling them "I love you", and they either smile, fluster or say ilyt BUT reader is like " no you don't understand ". Grabs them by the shoulder, looks them dead straight in the eye and says it slowly once again. " I. Love. You." And proceed to say the most devoted, loving words about them and how reader is so in love, loyal and just. UGHHHH

Take it easy! Just bask into this idea, hope you don't stress over answering a bunch of (my 😭) asks!! Mwah mwah 💕💕 /p

OH I AM MORE THAN BASKING INTO THIS BECAUSE IT IS SO REAL!!!! We love a reader who is completely and utterly in love with their Harbingers <3 Pierro and Capitano are the ones who stay silent as you go on a whole tangent about how much you love them. Pierro retains his usual serious look, but you're so caught up with your words you may not notice how his face turns softer at your blatant declarations of devotion. Sure, he has a mountain of work to catch up on, but what kind of lover would he be if he didn't let his love rant their feelings out to him? He's not the most verbal or physically affectionate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. I imagine he's been betrayed and such in the past, you know with Celestia and Khaenri'ah and all, so he deeply appreciates your words. Capitano... well, you can never really see his expression with that big helmet of his, so it's a bit hard to tell what he's thinking but don't worry!! His heart is beating quicker than usual and his mind is racing as to what to reply with!! Since when did you become so romantic and affectionate? He hasn't read enough romance advice books to respond properly yet! So Capitano just... pats your head and thanks you so sincerely it makes you giggle. He attempts to formally respond to your feelings via writing but he can't find the right words, unfortunately.

Dottore (that's who you're here for, I know) merely bursts into a laugh. No, he's not laughing at you, but he simply finds it a bit amusing. The idea of true devotion, of genuine loyalty, of real love... he still toys with those concepts a bit. He does feel these things toward you, but he won't verbalize them. Yet you don't seem to care about admitting those feelings toward him in the slightest... in fact, it seems like you jump at the chance to tell him how much you adore him... it's a bit funny to Dottore. Of course, he won't ever stop you, he does enjoy being worshipped and loved by you. Akademiya Zandik, on the other hand, would probably fight you off and then storm away to hide his blushing cheeks. How dare you say such idiotic things to him and how dare you make his heart thump hard at such stupid words. Pantalone too, except it's less of a laugh and more of a few chuckles. He's the kind of person to smile and nod at everything you say, completely enamored by you. He'll stop you in the middle and ask you to elaborate on a specific part and you happily do, he's stroking his own ego at this point but how can you blame him? His darling is being far too cute for him not to want to tease them a bit!

Columbina and Childe are very excited and blushy over it. They adore it when you're so open with them! Columbina's smile is even larger than usual as she hums in agreement with everything you're saying. Yes, please keep adoring her like this. She loves hearing about how much you love her. She's quite open with her feelings toward you too, so to hear it reciprocated so plainly? Pure bliss for her! Childe too is similar, you can literally see how he lights up and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks when you flatter him with such praise. But not for too long, because he'll pick you up and tease you ten times harder. Trying to get on his good side, hmm? Well, he'll have you know he loves you far more than you ever cold. Occasionally, he gets worried about whether it's right to be with you since he's in the Fatui, so these kinds of messages are secretly quite reassuring to him.

Arlecchino and Signora are very elegant and smooth about it. They watch you with a knowing smile, hands tracing over your collarbone and up to your neck and chin... a finger combing through your hair. Arlecchino is still a quiet and reserved woman, she still doesn't say much after your confession, but she is very pleased. Kisses you and gives you a sincere thank you. In her line of work, it's not often she find someone as loyally passionate as you are. Much less someone she loves to the deepest depths of her heart. She knows that you'll never betray or stab her in the back, and she shall never do that to you either. Signora is more smug and teasing about it. Oh? You truly love her that much? How about you show her it too? She ends up flustering you despite you being the one throwing all these sweet words at you. She truly loves being pampered by you, she needs it after all with all of the heartache she went through with her last lover, who she was abruptly cut off from.

Scaramouche and Sandrone short circuit for a few moments before springing back to life, stuttering and berating you for such stupidity and hurriedly breaking free from your grip. They can't deal with such loving words being directed towards them, especially unprompted. Scaramouche's expression is one that you have imprinted in your memory, the uncharacteristic redness and slack jaw, before he becomes his usual Scara self and launches into a long speech about how clingy and strange you were and that you should never do that ever again lest he actually get mad (this is a plea for you to confess all of that again, despite his adamant protest... you know he loves being loved, a feeling that always seemed to slip away from him. He's hesitant about it but he can't deny the rush of his "heart" when he hears your sincere words.) Sandrone's face is just blank. Blank like a robot. She opens her mouth to speak and then closes it, and then opens it again but she's at a loss for words. She finally gets out a half-hearted insult and ends up stuttering halfway through, so that's already not a good look for her. It seems even her usual bad attitude can't keep up when assaulted with such genuine affection...

And... Papanella can get a little platonic kiss on the cheek while you thank him for being the best grandad.

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #harbingers love notes <3 #giving them all a little kiss....#and giving u a great big hug kai <33 devouring your ideas for all my meals

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vilz · 3 months

Text

hello obviously there isn't anything i can really do to control this (unfortunately i deleted a bunch of posts BEFORE turning off reblogs on them) but i would prefer that people did not circulate my posts from this blog any more... i appreciate that people are kind to me about my art, but that is just my request i suppose. this blog is unprivated now, and if you'd like to see what is still up you can look at them here. my ask box is also open but i will not be making any art posts here from now on. here is a little preemptive faq:

why did you leave?

i didn't feel comfortable or happy posting on this blog any more!

do you still make art? do you post it somewhere else?

yes. but i've been pulling away from posting very much online, and the things i'm interested in drawing nowadays are generally more private, so i won't be directing anyone there or anything. i don't consider my new blog to be a continuation of this one.

i know your new blog!

that isn't really that surprising since i didn't honestly put great effort into concealing it or anything. we are probably not friends, so i hold no sway over you, but i would still prefer you did not share it or treat me as if i am still "vilz who posts fnaf art". i'm just a whatever blogger who blogs about whatever things. also to be frank i do not think my new blog has anything that interesting for people who followed for the kind of art i used to post here. this is not an invitation to say "it is interesting!".

we are friends!

if we have not been in direct, mutual conversations i highly doubt that. i'm sorry if that hurts anyone's feelings.

why did you delete all your self ship art?

people seem to enjoy my self ship art a lot, which is very flattering, but i don't want people to be looking at them any more. i realize that they are still rebloggable and are still circulating around, which is nobody's fault but my own, but i would prefer they were not shared any more. i can't really do anything about it and i also don't blame anyone for reblogging those posts since it's obviously not something they would know, but yeah.

i saw your art on pinterest!

i did not and do not consent to my works being put on pinterest. the art from "vilz" has not been uploaded by me to any other website besides tumblr. if someone is posting my art from here on a different platform, they are doing so without permission.

i saw you on magma!

i still join magma boards sometimes lol. it's a fun site.

what about your ocs?

they are still my ocs. sometimes i still draw them. currently, i do not have any plans of posting my oc art online ever again. i would prefer that people did not reblog the oc art i have posted to this blog.

what about your fics?

all of my fics are still up on ao3 anonymously. they are: small mercies obscura floriography baying of lambs scrape bitch, bastard, bullshit almost human a dream, recurring countdown i'm very flattered and happy that people have left kind comments on these. thank you very much for reading the words of an amateur and for sharing an experience with me.

are you going to finish your uncompleted fics?

i would really like to say yes, because i care a great deal about aspects of them, but it's looking pretty unlikely. i lost all my files (and my calmlywriter key !!! always save your emails and receipts, everyone!!!) and also it's hard to feel motivated about them now. i guess i will leave this up in the air just to soothe my own feelings but in reality the answer is Probably Not.

are you going to post new fics?

i might, because i've been in a writing mood lately, but please don't expect anything. if i do, they will be anonymous on ao3. i will not post about them here or on any other blog.

i really liked your posts and blog!

thank you. i'm glad that people could feel that way about the things i made and thought about stuff i care about. irregardless, i would prefer that people did not share my old posts from this blog.

i will do it anyway.

i cannot stop you, so there isn't really any point in pleading. i just thought i'd make a little info post for people who are inquiring. after this, there won't be any "posts" from me. if there are relevant questions or messages i might reply to them or just update this post.

thank you for reading and for enjoying my blog. goodbye !!!

#this has been a missive from ur friend valentine #sincere regards #vilz

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centipedelightning · 1 year

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a skeleboys x reader whose gut reaction when the get spooked is to sort of pull their boy back to them not caus they don't trust him their just used to being a protector.

(I request undertale and underfell plus dealers choice :D)

Thanks love your stuff by the way

Waaaa how cute! Ugh I love dealers choice it just means I can write my pookies (today that means the swapfell bros). Yk I always feel bad bc I feel like I write too little. I am used to writing research papers where I just get to the point so creative writing is so painful.

| Ut/Uf/Sf Skelebros x protective reader || super vaguely romantic for a few || fluffy |

Cw/Tw: None

Sans

He’s blushing

I imagine this would be the kind of situation where you two were near some people that got in a physical altercation and you pulled him back. That kind of unconscious instinct both surprises and Greatly flatters him.

He’ll go all wide-socketed and just look at you like you’ve grown extra eyes.

Once the y’all are away from whatever situation spooked you, he’ll start making little jokes non-stop. It’s terrible.

“what was that?” “Wdym what was that?” “were you trying to protect me??” “Tf are you talking about??” “you need a new nickname. i didn’t realize you’re such a guard dog.” “Sans what are you talking about”

Sans tries to keep the energy equal in a relationship. Not one-to-one type of stuff where if you do one chore one day he’ll do it the next, as much as if you put in a lot of work he’ll try to treat you or do something that shows that he knows you did it and appreciates it. So now that he knows you’ll jump to his defense at the drop of a hat, he makes it his mission to Not let you do that. He is flattered of course but he just doesn’t want you to get hurt.

In smaller situations where you just got spooked by something he’ll try to calm you down with jokes and puns.

Papyrus

BLUSHING AND STUTTERING AND AND AND

He’s so flattered he’s just a mess.

Papyrus is the type of person that will jump to anyone’s defense immediately, so you reciprocating the energy means everything to him.

He doesn’t spook very easy, so you’ll probably be the jumpier person. No matter what gets you, big or small, you just randomly pulling him behind you has him blushing hard enough to glow.

Emotional bioluminescence never works in a skeleton’s favor.

I fear that you don’t realize what you brought onto yourself though.

If you weren’t already, Papyrus is staying up planning you an incredibly detailed workout plan to make sure you are capable in combat.

“YOU SHOULD BE PREPARED TO FIGHT IF YOU ARE SO DESPERATE TO DEFEND MY HONOR NYEH-HEH-HEH”

The finalized workout regimen is planned exactly to your physical limitations. Almost to a concerning degree… did he do a secret medical exam or something??

No for the record, but he wouldn’t say no matter what the answer.

Red

Red is pretty jumpy himself so his hackles are already raised as he is trying to drag you behind him, but You dragged him back first??? You want to protect Him???

Swoon

He’s swooning

He still wins this nonexistent battle for the right to protect the other, so he manages to get you close to him. Sorry not sorry but Red’s protective instincts are hard to match, let alone beat.

If the situation was severe enough that you two would need to leave, once y’all do he’s all over you. Laughing and joking about how you’re trying to play guard dog.

He does try to check in a make sure you know you can depend on him yada yada. Please reassure him that you know and whatnot.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or feels insecure of course—hell one of his many types is strong and forthcoming—he is just also used to being the protector and wants to make sure you don’t burden yourself.

Edge

Utterly flabbergasted.

That’s all.

Confused even

Situationally you have two options: either you startled at something he also recognizes as a “threat” or you jump at something that just happened to scare you. Both of these options end with him looking at you like you are some combination of a deity and an oddly shaped cat. Confusion, wonder, adoration, a touch of horror—you get the picture.

More specifically, for the smaller option he will just straight up ask you wtf, but for the “big threat” option he gloats. Loudly.

He is about to get very loud.

Imagine something along the lines of “NYAHAHA YES FEAR ME AND MY HUMAN HAHAHA”

Edge is a skeleton that loves his theatrics what can I say.

You will also be put through a training regimen btw. It’s about the same as Papyrus’ just with more sparring. You did this to yourself.

Indigo

I’m so sorry but Indi picks fights.

He does

He’s shameless

Maybe you can try to physically pull him away from needling randos? Then again you jumping to his defense might just make him more confident and Worse.

You won’t get a workout regimen out of this guy though! Little victories.

for literally any other time where something just makes you jump and you grab him instinctually, he’ll play into it. You should tell him as soon as you can if that’s something you don’t want.

But he will dramatically jump into a fighting stance the second you start to tug him towards you.

He is always ready to defend his human’s honor.

Cash

He let’s you drag him back with very little resistance.

In all honesty he finds you jumping to his safety quite amusing, especially if it was from something small that just happened to make you jump and grab him with you.

If there’s ever a situation where you aren’t in immediate danger but near some (like some strangers getting into an altercation) Cash will absolutely allow you to do whatever you want.

He’s never gonna let either of y’all get into real danger, so as long as that doesn’t happen you are free to your instincts to try and protect him.

Hell, you might not even need to grab him with how much he loves to touch or hang off you. No sense of personal space truly.

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scarletsaphire · 8 months

Note

TUCKER DANNY JACK AND SKULKER

"Ok, you're gonna need to run me through this one more time," Tucker said, trailing after Danny towards the Fentonwork's lab.

"You remember that Skulker is like, a tiny little blob thing in a mech suit, right?" Danny asked.

"Of course! How could I forget, I still have the pictures."

"Well," Danny said. "Apparently, if he gets hit hard enough in like, five different specific spots, he can't pilot the mech suit anymore? Like it just doesn't move."

"And let me guess," Tucker said. "You hit him hard enough in those five specific spots and now, he's what? Sitting on the table in the lab?" Danny scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Tucker sighed. "I don't know why you think I can fix him. Like, I appreciate the confidence in me, I am pretty great, but there's a big difference between building a computer and fixing a whole guy."

Tucker's feet hit metal as they made their way through the door into the basement. Sure enough, as soon as they made it to the bottom, Tucker saw Skulker. Or rather, Skulker's empty, broken suit. "Jesus, dude, did you put him through a garbage disposal or something?"

"That is, in fact, a thing that happened," Skulker's real, high pitched voice came from Tucker's left. "It was right after I threw him into the sewer!"

"And I stand by my decision," Danny said. He made his way over to where Skulker floated and lifted himself onto the only clear spot on Jack's desk. "Have you ever seen the sewers? They stink. Almost as bad as your aim."

"You insufferable whelp, just wait until my suit is operational, and I'll show you aim!"

"Nuh uh, you agreed one month no hunting if I fixed it up," Danny said.

"Of course," Skulker said. "Every great hunter knows that you don't hunt in off season."

"Hey now, I don't see you trying to fix this, so why do you get to make the deal?" Tucker protested while gathering together tools. The Fenton's lab was a mess, as it always was, but Tucker had puttered around there enough with Danny to know the not quite organized chaos. "What am I gonna get out of it?"

"Um. A theoretical month of extra time with your best friend?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of an all expenses paid round trip on the Phantom Express to that Tech EXPO happening in a few weeks," Tucker said. "You remember the one."

"Dude, that place is like, 500 miles away!" Danny argued. "It'll take ages to get there if I carry you."

"It will not. We've clocked your flight speed at well over 150, it'll just be a few hours."

"I don't know if you know this, but carrying someone for a few hours while flying a hundred miles an hour isn't what most people would describe as easy."

"You're not most people," Tucker said. "But if you don't want my technological expertise, I'll just be on my way. I'm sure you'll figure out how to get this together." He turned to walk back towards the stairs.

Danny groaned. "Fine. But you're paying for my ticket."

Tucker turned back around with a smirk, cracking his knuckles. "Deal. Now, sit back, relax, and watch the master at work."

---

It ended up being only Danny who was sitting back and relaxing. As Tucker had predicted, a giant ghostly robot mech suit was, in fact, very different to anything Tucker had worked with before. Skulker knew much more about it than he did, so the ghost had taken to hovering over Tucker's shoulder, directing his work and shouting threats at Danny. And occasionally Tucker. (He was somewhere between creeped out and flattered that Skulker thought he was worthy to insult, if not fully hunt. That was one of the details he was never going to mention anywhere within a hundred miles of Jazz.)

"Could you grab me that laser wrench thing?" Tucker asked. "The one your parents use for small scale ectoplasm constructs."

Danny grabbed one of the many tools off of Jack's desk. "This one?" Tucker glanced over quickly, not willing to take his eyes off of the suit when he was quite literally elbow deep in machinery.

"No, the other one. I think it glows purple sometimes?" Danny made a noise of acknowledgement before holding up a similar looking device. "That's the one."

"Hey Jellybean, go long," Danny said before tossing the device at Skulker. Tucker couldn't help snorting at the indignant squeak Skulker made when he caught the device.

"One day, ghost child, I will have your head hanging from my wall, and you will never be able to fling around childish insults ever again," he grumbled, passing the device to Tucker.

"Yea, I've heard that before. Maybe one day you'll be able to actually follow through on your threats."

Tucker already knew what Skulker was going to say, or at least had a pretty good guess. Despite how frequently they threw each other through buildings, Danny and Skulker were friends, at least in a ghostly sense. He'd heard their banter both in and out of combat enough to let the comments fade into background noise, focusing instead on fixing the part he needed the tool for.

This part of the suit was delicate, to say the least. Skulker's suit fed almost entirely on ambient ectoplasm, whether that be excess produced by Skulker himself or by the environment he was in. This part was a regulator of that energy, allowing for the suit to store excess power for use later, like when he was blasting twenty seven different missiles and a laser canon at Danny. If Tucker fucked it up, there was a lot of different things that could happen, all of them bad with a capital B, and most of them ending in some kind of explosion. Minor explosions, admittedly, and ones that would take a while to build up, especially outside of the ghost zone, but an explosion nonetheless.

Luckily for Tucker, the system was pretty simple. A couple of wires and a designated compartment that held the filtered ectoplasm. All Tucker needed to do was reconnect the wire here, seal off the leak there, and-

Tucker jumped as the door to the basement slammed open, followed by loud heavy footsteps. He pulled the tool out of the cavity in Skulker's arm quickly, throwing the tool to the other side of the room, and spun around to try and hide Skulker's suit from Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny doing the same for actual Skulker, despite the fact that Skulker had gone invisible.

"Danny boy!" Jack called from the stairs, still out of view. "I thought I heard you and your friends down here!" Jack's head poked out from the top of the stairs. Tucker met his eyes, watched as it flicked from his face, to Danny, to Skulker's suit. Tucker covered his ears preemptively. "GHOST" Jack bellowed, grabbing an ecto-blaster from wherever he stored them on his hazmat suit, and opening fire towards Tucker.

It was lucky that Jack's aim was so bad; Tucker might've gotten better at dodging ectoblasts, but at such a close range, there was no way he'd get out of the way in time. And ectorays stung, and the residue it left never came out. Instead the ectoblasts hit against the back wall, leaving a green, smoldering mark.

"Dad, stop!" Danny called, dashing towards Jack a little too quickly.

"Danny, what are you doing? There's a ghost in our basement!" Jack shouted, but he didn't fire the ecto-blaster again. Not with Danny so close.

"A ghost that is completely and totally still with both me and Tucker down here?" Danny asked. Jack narrowed his eyes, visibly processing the information. Then his features lit up and he grabbed Danny in a bear hug. "Ok uh what are we doing now."

"You caught the ghost, isn't that right Danny-boy!" Jack said, not putting Danny down. "That's that one ghost hunter that's always showing up to try and hunt down the ghost boy. as if he would ever be able to catch the ghost before we could." Tucker saw Skulker reappear over Jack's shoulder, small mouth opened to protest, before Danny's hand clamped around him. He couldn't see Danny's face at this angle, but the faint green glow indicated that Danny was using his Scary Eyes. It worked.

Danny let go of Skulker just as Jack set him down. "Uh, yea! It uh. Wasn't too hard?"

"Wasn't to hard!" Jack said. "We've been trying to track this ghost down for nearly as long as the ghost boy! For you to catch him, why, you must be some ghost hunting prodigy! C'mon, let's check out your catch!" Jack practically dragged Danny over to the suit, and Tucker reproached at his insistent waving. He couldn't see very well around the brick wall that was jack Fenton, but he was able to see enough. Enough to make him duck under Jack's arm to get a closer look, and start swearing.

"Is everything ok, Tuck?" Danny asked.

"Of course it is!" Jack answered in his place. "I'm sure he's just realizing how incredible this all is!"

"We might have a code potato," Tucker whispered so just Danny could hear. "Definitely gonna need help to fix it."

Danny's face sharpened in the way it always did when he was dealing with superhero stuff. "Hey, Dad, do you think we could get something to eat first? All that ghost hunting really works up an appetite."

"You bet it does! You go get something to eat, but science waits for no man! I need to make sure the ghost is secured for experimentation later. Don't want to risk him blowing up the house!" Jack reached out to grab the arm connected to the panel Tucker had been working on.

"Stop!" Tucker shouted, throwing his whole weight into Jack's arm to push it out of the way.

"What has gotten into you two?" Jack asked, brows knitting back together. "I feel like I'm missing something..."

Tucker met Danny's eyes. It had taken a long time, for them to be able to communicate just with a look, but over the years of near death (or post death, in Danny's case) situations, they'd gotten pretty good at it. Danny's ghost based empathy thing helped. Danny knew that Tucker was being very serious, life and death kind of situation. He could probably guess by Tucker's reaction to Jack that this was something incredibly delicate. Danny also knew that the game plan was still up to him; it was his secret, his half-life on the line.

"Dad, do you trust me?"

Jack turned his confused expression to Danny. "Of course I do, son."

"Then I need you to promise me something. You won't ask questions, you won't start a fight, and you won't get in the way," Danny said.

"Danny," Jack said slowly. "I don't understand. What do you-"

Danny cut him off. "Just promise me. Please?"

Jack was silent for a moment, before he nodded. "I promise."

"Tuck, what's going on?"

"I nicked the regulator when he came downstairs," Tucker said, adjusting slightly to the side so Danny could see. "It could be nothing, or it could be a very volatile explosion waiting to happen."

"Definitely an explosion," Skulker said, materializing above the suit. "That's a nasty one." Jack yelped in surprise, but put his hands over his mouth to silence it.

"How do we fix it?" Tucker asked. "I'm assuming we can't just throw it back into the ghost zone and be done with the problem."

"That's probably the worst thing you could do," Skulker said. "Unless your goal is to blow up the realms."

"Been there, done that, already stopped it from happening," Danny said. "What else do you got?"

"Could we try to reroute it somehow?" Tucker asked. "There's gotta be more of them in here somewhere, right?"

"There is, but they are located in distant locations. There would be no point of having them in the same area," Skulker said. "If you connected them, my suit would be completely unusable."

"Yea, but it would solve the literal ticking time bomb, wouldn't it?" Tucker asked.

"Perhaps," Skulker said. "But I wouldn't be able to get it back to my lair, and I would rather not have the whelp stinking the place up again."

"And yet you keep trying to get me there," Danny retorted.

"Yes, as a pelt. Not as you," Skulker said.

"Danno, what's going on?" Jack said, his voice significantly higher than it normally was.

"No questions," Danny replied. "I'll explain after. So, reconnecting to a different regulator is a no go. What about shutting down the power input in general."

"Impossible," Skulker scoffed, the sound odd in his tiny jelly bean voice. "If you could just shut it down that would be a massive overlook."

"You don't have any kind of shut down switch at all?" Tucker asked. "It seems like your style."

"Please, I'm not Technus."

Danny and Tucker laughed. "True that. So shutting it down won't work either. I'm not even going to bother suggesting letting it explode in an explosion proof place, so I'm out of ideas."

"I'm pretty much out too," Tucker said, staring into the hole in the side of the suit. "I'll keep thinking."

It was Jack who spoke next. "You're looking for a regulator for... ectoenergy?"

The three others turned to look at Jack. "Yea," Tucker said slowly. "It needs to hold filtered ectoplasm from the surroundings, and be able to expend it. Without exploding."

"Without exploding when I don't want it to!" Skulker amended.

"I could do without that," Danny mumbled.

"And it needs to fit in there?" Jack asked, gesturing to the suit. Tucker nodded. "Some of our ectoblasters have a regulator that functions like that. Would that work?" He was looking at Tucker, who looked at Skulker.

Skulker was thinking. "It may work temporarily, at least long enough for me to get back to the lair and fix it properly."

"What blaster is that in?" Danny asked.

"The bigger ones, but not as big as the Fenton Bazooka. Any of those should work," Jack said, and Danny ran off to grab the weapons. "You are...comfortable working with these types of things?" Jack asked Tucker after a moment of awkward silence.

"Not really," Tucker replied with a shrug much more nonchalant than he felt. "I know enough, and Skulker isn't a bad teacher, at least when it comes to this."

"So you're... Skulker?" Jack said to Skulker.

"I am Skulker, the greatest hunter the ghost zone has ever seen!" Skulker said.

"Wait, I thought this ghost was the greatest hunter?" Jack gestured to the suit.

"I built it as a tool to use during my hunts!"

Tucker could see the gears turning in Jack's head, but any other questions were cut off by Danny running back downstairs, a number of different weapons cradled in his arms. "Will any of these work?" he asked, setting them on the floor in a crash.

Jack nodded, and grabbed one from the pile. "This one will work." He dismantled it expertly, and removed a small piece. "If you hook this up to the regulator it should work." He held it out to Tucker, who took it with a nod.

"On it," he said. Tucker worked in tense silence, with Skulker hovering above him, and Jack and Danny a few steps behind. Finally, he wiped the nervous sweat off his brow, and resealed the whole on Skulker's suit. "That should do it. Give it a spin?"

Skulker climbed back into the face hatch, letting it seal around him. The display came to life, and Skulker rose to his fake feet. "It's rather stiff, but nothing that I won't be able to fix!" he said, back to his regular voice. "I do not believe this is worth a month without hunting, whelp."

"Two weeks and I'll do something nice for Ember," Danny replied smoothly.

"Deal. I will see you in two weeks, ghost child!" he called, and began to make his way to the portal.

"I'll cherish every minute I get to go without seeing your ugly mug," Danny called back. "Seriously, you got to decide how you look and you chose that?"

Skulker's retort was washed away by the whirring of the ghost portal. His departure left Jack, Tucker, and Danny standing in the basement without a possible life threatening situation to mediate the conversation.

"I guess I owe you an explanation," Danny said.

"You do," Jack said. "But it can wait until I've made some fudge. I think we'll need it for this conversation."

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #ask game #danny fenton #tucker foley #skulker #jack fenton

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day-drawn-blog · 6 months

Text

Part V: I feel your heart beat in my soul, our futures bound, our bodies known. - I want to live

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

This is part 5. The rest are linked below.

Tags: angst, fluff, eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV: There is more to do and I still want to live

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: Your blood like wine, I wanted in.

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

_____

The day after, you all wandered through the mountain road. You were feeling better. Halsin had ensured you were healing. So did Shadowheart. Laezel looked at you with pride in her eyes. You walked slower than the others. Supported by karlach sometimes. Sometimes Shadowheart. Sometimes carried by karlach.

Astarion would turn to look at you every now and then. You would look away if he did. It made you blush.

Did he really tell you those things?

You wanted to talk to him about last night. But there had been no opportunity yet. Everyone was wary. Everyone was tired. everyone was covered in dust and blood. Yesterday had taken a lot out of all of you. You all prayed for a safe journey and looked forward to setting camp. It felt like you had been walking for an eternity.

So when you found a place at sunset next to a pool of water, everyone was collectively overjoyed. Not only could you all rest, you could all finally feel clean. Karlach and Wyll volunteered to clean everyone's clothes, you were all very grateful. Karlach said she he can dry them real fast. You were curious.

You were looking forward to getting into water.

At nightfall. Laezel dragged you to the pool. Halsin was already there. Everyone had stripped down to minimum inner wear. So you did too. Embarrassing at first but quickly you went in and all was okay. Laezel was very close to you. Lately she has been. It was both flattering and intimidating. But you didn't mind. You liked being liked. Maybe everyone was warming up to you. You enjoyed the feeling.

Shadowheart appeared with Astarion.

She was always beautiful. She looked like a goddess right now. Her long dark hair emphasized by her pale bare skin even more. Her body was immaculate. So was yours, you knew. You were all warriors after all. But something about being wanted, made her more attractive you thought. She was confident. She did not yearn. She had it.

Astarion got into the water as well.

He went to the other side - a little away from you. To join Halsin. Gale joined them too. Shadowheart came next to you and La'ezhel and smiled. "I'm slightly afraid of water. Did you know". Her voice was so melodious. You thought. No wonder she is loved so much.

"Then shouldn't you not be here. I mean, what if you drowned?" Laezel joked or maybe not. You could never tell. "Oh come now. Waist deep water doesn't scare me". Everyone chuckled at the banter.

You stole a glance at Astarion.

He was looking at her, smiling, as if proud that she got in the water. Your mistake. What did you expect. Just like any of the other countless times. The only difference was that shadowheart was on your side of the party. She had her arms around you. Maybe they all, got worried yesterday. You appreciated the loving gesture. You felt included and wanted.

You decided to be kind to her too.

You would not take away, that which belonged to her. That would be cruel. She was your friend. And ally. And like the others on this journey to salvation, needed your help too. And so you would not turn your back to her. No matter how much it hurt. And it did. It hurt just thinking about it. Familiar pangs. Sharp. Cutting.

You didn't realize how sad you looked right then. But Astarion did. And he frowned.

Soon after, among the chatter, you decided it was time to leave. You needed rest. Your aching body was catching up. You expressed that, and got up to leave. Halsin called you out. "let me put the medicine on your wounds before you sleep. Let's get Karlach." You turned to look at him and noticed Astarion looking at you. What was that stare? It was not nonchalant. Searching... fixating.

Odd.

You suddenly felt acutely aware of how little you were wearing. You felt really vulnerable, and you hurried away. To get Karlach.

Back in your tent, after Halsin and Karlach had gone, you were finally able to take off your wet clothes. You decided it was a warm enough night to sleep with no clothes under the covers. So you did.

No one in camp went in anyone's tents without knocking first so you were certain you could get away with such wanton abandon for one night. You could still feel the tingling from the cool waters. You were almost asleep.

"I got your dry clothes karlach sent"

Astarion came traipsing in carrying warm dry clothes that karlach had tasked him to take to you. You jolted up. You grabbed the covers and clutched them hard around you. How could you forget?! This guy comes and goes to your tent as he pleases. And that's your own doing!

"Could - could you give me a moment!!"

He stopped, stared, shocked, blushed and turned around. "Oh yes! Terribly sorry! My apologies. That was very impolite of me" he stood with his back to you "where do you want these?" You gestured to next to him, he placed them down still looking away. You pulled the covers all around.

"My apologies, again. I will see you later".

"Wait"

"Hmm?"

"Last night... You said .... "

He turned to look you in your eyes. Very solemn. You couldn't understand his piercing unwavering gaze.

"I will.... I promise"

"Are you really... That grateful to me ...?"

"More than grateful." His voice was low.

"You don't need to be. I... don't expect anything in return. I do it because I want to help, you. Everyone".

"And I want is to repay your kindness."

You looked down. And smiled a little. It was just that. You helped him. He returned the favor. It was sweet. You should be happy with this. Very happy. This is what you wanted after all. To be needed. To save someone. To help.

There was silence.

He approached. "How do you feel, today?" And he took your hand in both of his and kissed it. The way he usually does. A reminder. Of your unspoken contract. You thought.

"Almost as good as new".

He was waiting. You knew. You sat down. To get comfortable. He sat in front at the foot of your bed. He kissed your hand again as if he was impatient. Then he kissed the palm of your hand and looked at you. Straight in your eyes, with his lips on your palm. He will not wait anymore you thought. His stare was somewhat threatening. Or maybe you were timid. When he was concerned.

You decided to tease him.

You said nothing. He kissed a fingertip of yours and you bit your lip. Enough. You could feel yourself tense up. Down there. Throbbing and pulsating. Curse him. He is truly the devil. But you persevered. You wanted to test yourself.

When it failed to get the permission he wanted, he decided to make a move.

He leaned forward and moved closer to you. You were so startled you fell backwards. Down on your bed, propped up by your elbows. He put one arm next to your head and pinned you down while looking down at you. You stared at his beautiful face, blankly.

What is happening?

"You know", he smiled, seductively, "if you keep teasing me like this, I might want.... more ...". He said the last word very softly. But it rang through your body. You felt a pulsation. Another throb. You stared at him in your shock and surprise. Unsure what to do. This was not your plan. Who is this man.

Is this what he does to Shadowheart at night?

"More?!" Your desire to play the game had heightened.

He smiled again - a beautiful smile, charming and happy.

"Why yes, darling. I'm talking about that lovely neck of yours, of course".

What?!

All this time, all he wanted...was to bite your neck?! Your neck.... His lips would be ....to your neck...you would feel...his face, next to yours.... It was very... frighteningly.....tempting....

What happened to your aversion of being bit in the neck? Why do you crave it now? What has this man done to you? Robbed you of yourself and your reason it seems.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"May I"?

"I promise to be gentle. I promise....it will feel good."

For you!!! You thought. What?!

But you were losing yourself in the honey from his words. He is too close. Breathing on you. You could smell him. Feel him. He was slowly getting closer and and closer. You may be getting used, but perhaps you may get something out of this after all! You bargained.

The opportunity to touch him.

You could touch his hair, his face, maybe even his back.... You felt lust overtake every part of your body as you closed your eyes and looked away, exposing your lovely neck to him. Praying he wouldn't hurt you.

He lowered himself. One leg between yours. His face fit closer to yours. And you felt his warm breath on your skin. The anticipation was painful. He touched your skin with his lips. You sucked in air and gasped. He kissed your neck lightly like he would your hand. Shivers ran down you. Was this really happening? Your pulse quickened. You were throbbing.

He kissed it a few more times. Soft, gentle, as if savoring it. You bit your lips to stop yourselves from moaning. Why is he doing this? You clutched the bed and the covers tight. You had stopped breathing.

Then he gently pierced his fangs in you. Very slowly. And settled in. You moaned. You knew it no longer matted - he would not notice anymore. Bliss. Because you could now let go of the covers. You grabbed him with both hands. Clutching the shirt on his back.

Fair exchange. You thought.

As he drained you, you let you several breathy quiet moans. And you arched your back. You so wished to be touched. But you knew, he was not making love to you.

You lifted your leg at one point. And realized, as it grazed him. He was, very hard. He was a man after all, and this was very intimate. Or maybe, feeding made him so happy. You didn't care... your brain was fuzzy. It was pleasurable. You couldn't believe that it was him you were sharing such a pleasure with. You wished this would last a bit though not much because you did love your body.

Eventually you tugged his hair sharply. And he finally stopped. He let out a sharp gasp of air. Then proceeded to lick the wound. Like he always did. It was not helping. Several times, your throbbing self, your leg brushed past he hard self. It only made you want him more. You tugged at his shirt with both your hands now. He kept kissing.

His kisses got wetter, louder, till he was obviously just a man savoring his lover and no longer a vampire savoring his prey. He kissed and licked under your ears. Then kissed your ears. Too much. Too close. His face was too close. He kissed your cheek. And licked it once.

Stop. What are you doing.

But he didn't. He held your face and licked the other side. Kissed your other cheek. It was as if he was so euphoric he had lost control. You moaned louder and louder. Stop. You begged him mentally.

But also, not to.

He continued to kiss your other neck, and ear, down to your collarbone now. And came back up to your chin. Your head was tilted all the way back. You dared not open your eyes lest you lose control too. You were in his complete embrace at this point.

But then, he finally did stop.

He paused and looked at you. Searching for something in your eyes. You looked at him then his lips. Then his eyes again. He was so close. His nose was almost touching yours. You must be going crazy. You didn't want him to leave yet. And he was right there. You had to. You just did.

You reached up and kissed him.

Surprised at first, he kissed you back. Hard. Your head was back in the pillow. He took charge. Moved your hands away and dragged your cover away. Your nipples were probably very hard and visible you thought.

He paused. As if something had just brought him back to reality. He then looked at you. your uncovered half, your nipples. He looked at your naked half body for a second. Then sat back up. Covered his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he got up and ran out.

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #astarion fluff #astarion smut #vampire love #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #fanfic #romance fanfic #smut fanfiction #smut #angst #fluff

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autumnshighlady · 4 months

Text

Wildest Dreams (Feanor x Reader x Fingolfin)

summary: you've been caught in the middle of a competition between Feanor and Fingolfin's, and you can't imagine having to choose between the two. Thankfully, they make things easier

warnings: SMUT (kinda incest/y i guess since they're half brothers but nothing happens between them I swear), oral sex (m and f recieving), dirty talk

word count: 6k

requests: I’m not sure if you write for threesomes in this fandom (and if you don’t, please feel free to discard this ask): requesting Feanor x reader x Fingolfin, smut, where both of them are in love with the reader but reader doesn’t want to offend one by choosing the other, so she chooses to keep her difference, and Feanor and Fingolfin seduce her and agree to share her? Turn pleasuring her into a competition to see who is the better lover once and for all?

professor tolkien I am so sorry for this ily

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You wandered down the paths of the gardens, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of the flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. The air was sweet, something which you normally would have cherished on such a fine afternoon. But not today. No, today was different. Instead of appreciating the beauty of the nature around you like you usually did, your mind was far away. It was swimming in the afterthoughts of the dream you had last night, one that sent a blush to your cheeks at the mere thought of it.

That morning, you had woken up with a thin layer of sweat on your skin and a flush on your face. But it was not the product of illness, nor the result of a nightmare. No, it was from a dream filled with lust and pleasure. In this dream, your deepest, most shameful desires had come to light. You had been at the mercy of the princes Fëanor and Fingolfin, the two eldest sons of Finwë himself, as they performed acts on you so sinful that the mere thought of them sent shivers down your spine.

You could still feel their mouths on your skin, their fingers working magic and tongues hot against your body. The sensation of the princes inside of you lingered as if it had actually happened.

It had almost felt real.

You had dreamed of them before, but last night was the first time it had turned that sexual. For weeks Fëanor and Fingolfin had been competing for your affections, each trying to outdo the other with flirtatious comments and gestures. It had begun when Fëanor interrupted your lunch with Fingolfin, stealing you away from his half-brother to show you his work in the forges. The next day, Fingolfin had appeared at your door to personally escort you to dinner, gently placing a flower in your hair, claiming it complimented your eyes. Their competition had grown less and less subtle, and was beginning to irritate you. At first, it was flattering, but now it had become more of an inconvenience. Truthfully, a small part of your heart had always harboured a crush for both princes, and up until now, you had thought it easily concealable.

And so you continued your path down the garden, head in the clouds and paying no attention to the world around you as you savoured the sensations lingering on your skin from last night’s dream. Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your daze as you collided with a tall figure, your head smacking into a very muscular chest. Startled, you stepped back and looked up at the living obstacle, only to be met with the amused gaze of Fëanor himself.

“My Lord,” You stammered, dipping your head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”

Fëanor snorted, “Clearly.” He said, obviously finding the situation rather entertaining. You dared to look up at him, but regretted your decision immediately. His lips were smirking with their usual arrogance, his grey-blue eyes piercing your very soul. His dark hair was loosely hanging around his face, which was not covered in ash from the forges for once. The mere image of his face looking down on your much smaller frame only brought back the images in your mind from your dream, and it sent an instant blush to your face. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping Fëanor would not notice.

Unsurprisingly, he did, as his smirk only grew more arrogant. His hand grazed your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. You bit your lip, desperately trying to force the sinful images from your mind.

To make matters worse, Fëanor moved his hand from your chin to your face, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek. “Are you alright, my dear?” He said, the curiosity in his voice obviously feigned. “Your face appears rather flushed.”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m fine.” You said, much harsher than intended. The arrogant asshole knew exactly what he was doing. You hated the effect he had on you, how a simple touch could make your body react in such a strong way.

And Fëanor knew that. He removed his hand from your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost your collarbone has he brought them back down to his sides. “Perhaps you did not sleep well enough…” He mused. You stiffened at the mention of your sleep, and Fëanor noticed immediately and cocked his eyebrow. “Or perhaps, you slept rather well…”

The both of you knew what he was getting at, and at this you squirmed even more, mind racing as you tried to think of a response. Usually you were much more composed than this, but not today. Much to your annoyance, last night’s dream continued to cloud your judgement. He extended his arm and you took it, and the two of you continued on your original path through the garden.

“Did you dream of me, dear Y/N?” Fëanor inquired as you walked, noting the blush that had returned to your cheeks.

“I do not remember.” You stated, hoping that would be sufficient enough to make Fëanor drop it.

Oh how wrong you were, for your vague answer merely encouraged the prince. “Or perhaps you dreamed of my brother,” He sighed dramatically, but continued to watch you from the corner of his eye, studying the every reaction you produced.

This only made you squirm even more, as if he was reading your mind, delving into your deepest desires that last night had uncovered. You felt ashamed at your current state, how Fëanor was able to read you as if you were an open book.

“Uh…” You stammered. “I… I do not think so, my Lord.”

At this, Fëanor hummed, looking straight ahead. “So your dreams were not of me, nor my brother, then who? If you hold affections for another, Lady Y/N, I would have you tell me…”

“It’s not that.” You snapped, interrupting him mid-sentence.

At this, Fëanor stopped you both, turning around so that he faced you. He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, my dear, perhaps you dreamed of us both…”

You breathed in sharply. It was all too much for you, his lips whispering things into your ear just as he had in your dream, his presence so close and threatening to consume you. You stepped away before your body could react further. “I… I am sorry,” You stammered, bowing your head with as much dignity as you could muster. “I must go.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walked away as quickly as possible. You knew it was rude, but you did not care. You hurried away before anyone could see your flustered state, mentally cursing at both yourself and the arrogant prince.

*************

You spent the rest of the day avoiding both Fëanor and Fingolfin, knowing that if Fëanor continued to further inquire about your dreams, he would end up with a broken jaw, and the guards would almost certainly throw you into a cell. You had skipped lunch, sneaking out into the forest through the kitchens and grabbing a loaf of bread from your friend on the way out. You chose to spend the next few hours under your favourite tree where you knew the princes would not look for you, letting your mind drift off again once more. Desperately, you tried to keep your thoughts civil, planning out your next letter to your mother and debating whether or not to continue the song you had been composing. But your consciousness would simply not allow you to focus on such trivial matters.

After a few hours, you finally surrendered to your thoughts, tilting your head back and resting it on the tree as you closed your eyes. You let out a sigh almost immediately, letting last night’s dream replay in your head over and over as you let the world around you fade away.

Unbeknownst to you, Fëanor was watching you from a distance. He had known of your favourite spot in the forest for some time now, but dared not disturb you. Normally he did not particularly care for the boundaries of others. He was a prince, and may inherit his father’s crown and titles one day and could do as he pleased. Fëanor would never admit it, but a small part of him feared that if he approached you in your secret spot, you would lose respect for him and become distant, which was the opposite of what he desired.

So he instead grew content with simply observing you from a distance, something which had become a daily occurrence for him. He noted the content on your face, and the hint of a blush on your cheeks, reminding him of your earlier state in the gardens.

Fëanor relished in the memory. Normally you were much more composed, but he liked the way you squirmed beneath his gaze, unable to hide the obvious thoughts that were racing through your mind as his lips brushed your ear. At this point he was almost certain that you had dreamed of sharing your bed with him, and possibly his half-brother, and that was why your encounter in the gardens had been so unusual. But the prince was not quite prepared for what he would hear and witness next.

It was faint, barely audible even to his elven ears, but you let out a breathy whisper: “Fëanor…”

His name coming from your lips in such a manner sent an all too familiar sensation down Fëanor’s spine. He held his breath as he saw you ever so slightly press your legs together, chest rising up and down intensely. Countless times Fëanor had imagined you beneath him, his name spilling from your mouth as his hands explored your body. He had thought about the ways he would claim you, and while part of him wanted to take you from behind and fuck you until you screamed, the other part of him wanted to see you beneath him, receiving the most satisfaction and pleasure you’d ever had in your life.

He bit his lip, relishing in how blissfully unaware you were of your surroundings until you whispered another name, “Fingolfin…”

Under any other circumstances, hearing your sweet lips whisper Fingolfin’s name would have sent Fëanor into a murderous rage frightening enough to make Morgoth cower. But not this time. Instead of being filled with jealousy, a brilliant idea came to his mind and he smirked. Your whispers were all the confirmation he needed to know exactly what you had dreamed of last night. Satisfied, Fëanor turned away and headed back to the palace.

He needed to talk to Fingolfin.

**********

After a while, you finally opened your eyes and sat up straight. You did not know how much time had passed since you had drifted off into your haze. You felt a cold breeze, realizing it was about to get dark soon. Collecting your skirt, you stood up, shivering slightly at the cold as you headed back through the forest.

When you arrived inside the palace, you did not bother to see if there was any food left in the kitchen. Instead, you elected to return to your chambers, where you hoped to have a hot bath and go to sleep. You arrived at your door and pushed it open, but nearly shrieked in surprise at the sight before you.

Fëanor was lying on your bed, legs crossed as he casually fiddled with the corner of one of your pillows. He was not dressed in his usual fancy robes, but rather a simple pair of trousers with a loose white shirt. He gave you a smirk as you entered, noting the surprise on your face.

“Good evening, my dear Y/N.” Fëanor said innocently. “What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if you got lost on your way to bed.”

After a few moments, your shock subsided. “What the fuck, Fëanor?” You snapped, not bothering with your usual polite greeting. “Why the fuck are you in my chambers? You can’t just walk in whenever-”

“Oh, but I can.” He interrupted, dismissing your outburst. “But that matters not. Perhaps now you will tell me more about your dream, little one.”

At this, you rolled your eyes, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. This time, Fëanor and his half-brother’s competitiveness had gone too far. “Seriously?” You said in an exasperated tone, your hands defiantly placed on your hips, all sense of embarrassment gone. “That’s what you came here to ask? Are you not capable of just dropping the subject?”

Before Fëanor could answer, a deep voice came from the darkest corner of the room. “I, too, would like to know about this dream.”

You practically jumped out of your skin. Out of the shadows emerged Fingolfin himself. But it was not the Fingolfin you had grown accustomed to seeing - the noble elf who always had a stoic expression on his chiseled face, consistently dressed in robes more elaborate than that of his brother’s. No, this Fingolfin was clad in similar attire to Fëanor, his toned chest showing behind the thin fabric. His dark brown hair was smooth, making you want to run your fingers through it. His eyes were even more silver than his brother’s, making contact with yours as he stepped closer to you.

“Okay….” You stuttered, beyond confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

Fëanor sighed dramatically, kicking his legs off the bed and standing up. The sons of Finwë walked towards you like predators stalking their prey. You felt your heart race, trying to step away only for your back to meet the wall behind you and you gulped. Simply seeing the princes like this was enough for all your sinful thoughts created by your dream to surface at the front of your mind. You pressed your legs together as they drew closer, stopping less than a foot away from you.

“The thing is, my dear,” Fëanor said, reaching out and brushing your fingers against your wrist before slowly dragging them up the length of your arm. “I have come to the conclusion that the reason your head has been in the clouds all day is because of the dream you had last night. It only took one touch from me in the gardens this morning to figure out all I needed to know about it…”

“My brother tells me that you dreamed of the two of us.” Fingolfin said, his voice feigning innocence just as his brother’s had earlier today. “And what do you presume we did to our lovely Y/N in her dream, Fëanáro?”

Fëanor chuckled, his movements on your arm not ceasing. “I think we fucked her into oblivion.” His voice dropped an octave. “Is that correct, meldenya [my love]? Did you dream of being at our mercy as we worshipped that pretty body of yours?”

By this point, you could resist them no longer. All day you had been fighting the sensations and emotions that stemmed from your dream, but between Fëanor’s teasing touches and Fingolfin’s lust-filled gaze, you finally caved.

“Yes.” You muttered meekly, face flushing with embarrassment. You felt arousal pool between your legs, and for a moment you hated yourself for reacting to the two noble elves so strongly when they had not really done much.

Fingolfin chuckled lowly, reaching up to cup your face with his left hand. “Do not be ashamed, my dear,” He soothed. “We only wish to give you what you desire.”

Fëanor leaned in, as he did earlier in the gardens, but this time his teeth gently grazed along the outside of your pointed ear. That sensation alone sent shockwaves through your body, every nerve in the sensitive area screaming that it was too much and not enough at the same time. “What is it exactly, darling, that your dream revealed your desires to be?” He murmured against your skin. “After all, we are generous elves — tell us exactly what you want, and you may have it. So, my dear, please do reveal exactly how that little dream of yours went down.”

Everything was spinning. Any sense of composure you had was gone under their touches. Fingolfin’s left hand trailed down your neck, brushing against your breast before settling on your waist and giving it a firm squeeze. You sighed, allowing Fëanor to continue his ministrations along your ear as you let your head rest against the wooden door. The air felt hot, your clothes too tight - if you could only just slip your dress off…

Your thoughts were cut off but a sharp squeeze by that large hand at your waist. “Your prince asked you a question,” Fingolfin all but growled, his voice full of dominance and leaving no room for debate. It was akin to the tone you had heard him use when giving orders, only this one was dripping with heat. “Answer it, darling, before we take matters into our own hands.”

The image was tempting — to allow the two elves to make the choices for you, doing with you as they pleased. But then the reality of the situation set in: here you were, a common-born elf with no noble family, with two of the most desirable elves in Arda ready to comply with your every wish. They held such control, such respect everywhere else, except for at this moment in your bedroom. In this space, you made the decisions.

They were yours to command, to wield like a sword.

You smirked. “Well, in my dream you both took my clothes off and carried me to the bed,” You began, hearing Fëanor hum his approval. “You took turns tasting me, as if I was your last meal on Arda. I dreamed of you both on your knees, allowing me to get lost in the pleasure of your fingers and tongues. Then Fëanor took me from behind, while Fingolfin claimed my mouth.”

The words tumbled out of you like a river bursting free from a dam. So long had you contained your desires, but no longer. Evidently, your words had an effect on the two princes. Fëanor’s breathing had become more noticeable, his attention on your ear diverted to your neck in the soft spot beneath your jaw, making you see stars. Fingolfin’s right hand had come up to knead your right breast, his left hand migrating to your ass with a firmness and assurance that made your knees go weak.

“See?” Fëanor purred. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now let us take care of you, darling. Let us give you everything and more.”

You whined as he pulled away, but it was cut short as the two elves began working in tandem to remove your dress. Fëanor pulled your arms out of your sleeves with a shocking tenderness, while Fingolfin’s thick fingers worked at the laces on your back. Within seconds, your chest was left bare. Instinctively, your arms went to cover your breasts, but strong hands clamped down on your wrists.

“Now now, let’s not be shy,” Fëanor mockingly chastised. “Let us see you, princess.” Before you could even comprehend a response, your arms were back at your sides. You almost sighed with relief as you were free from the constricting top of your dress. But what happened next nearly made you climax on the spot.

Fëanor got to his knees, pulling your dress past your waist and down to your ankles along with your panties. Fëanor, son of High King Finwë, the Prince of the Noldor, was kneeling before you as if in worship. His grey-blue eyes, which normally were clouded like the sky of an oncoming storm, were clear and looking up at you — still arrogant, but with a newfound awe as they surveyed your figure. You stepped out of your dress, moment of awe cut short as Fingolfin, determined not to let his brother have all the attention, swept you up into his strong arms.

He carried you over to your bed, placing you down on the mattress as if you were a piece of glass threatening to break under his strong arms. Almost immediately, he was on top of you, his muscular frame so close, but not close enough. Fingolfin leaned his head down as if to kiss you, but instead put his lips to your ear.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His deep voice was like velvet, a silky fog wrapping around all your senses. “How many nights I have pictured you under me, those starlit eyes staring into mine as I enter you? How I have nearly dropped to my knees just to beg you for one taste of you? How I’ve pumped myself dry imagining those lips around my cock? My sweet Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“To us.” Came the other male’s voice. Fingolfin’s confessions had you reeling, to the point you had almost forgotten Fëanor was there. You turned your neck to the right, allowing the elf on top of you to press warm kisses down the left side of your neck, nipping and sucking as he went. In turning your head you were faced with Fëanor, who had discarded his shirt. His muscles looked like they were sculpted by Aulë himself, each one toned and defined in ways you didn’t know possible from countless hours spent in the forges. Parts of his loose hair hung over his shoulders, framing his angular face as he stared at you.

Naturally, the eldest son of Finwë almost preened at the lust-filled look you gave him. Under normal circumstances you would have mentally smacked yourself for so easily stroking the prince’s already inflated ego, but it mattered not in this moment. All you cared about was that he touch you with those strong, practised hands. You whined as Fingolfin’s teeth grazed a sensitive spot along the column of your throat before moving down to your collarbone, sucking and biting gently as he went. One of his large hands had come up to your breast, kneading the flesh and causing you to gasp.

“You look so exquisite,” Fëanor purred as he approached the bed, looking down at your flushed form unabashedly. “Just laying there for us to ruin you. You are lucky Fingolfin is much gentler than I. He shall warm you up for me so I can make you scream loud enough for all of Arda to hear you.”

You yelped as Fingolfin harshly bit down on your nipple while boldly cupping between your legs with his free hand. “Do you think me unable to make her scream?” He growled, a dark glint in his eyes that sent chills through your body.

Fëanor smirked. “Not as well as I can.”

“Challenge accepted.” Fingolfin said boldly as he swiped a finger up your slit, collecting the ever-growing pool of wetness there. Your responsive noise was cut off as Fëanor’s large hand wrapped around your throat, his mouth swallowing your gasp and claiming your lips. He tasted like spiced wine and embers, encasing all your senses at once. The Prince groaned into your mouth, squeezing your throat harder. Your head spun between the dominance of Fëanor’s lips on yours and Fingolfin’s mouth slowly descending towards your core.

“Watch it,” The younger elf growled, lifting his lips from your stomach. “You said we’d take turns.”

Fëanor removed his lips from yours, rolling his eyes as he released your throat. “Get over it.” He said. “If you get to taste her pussy first, then I get to taste her mouth first. Fair is fair.”

Fingolfin huffed, but didn’t argue. With a new level of determination, he placed his lips back on your skin. You moaned, the sensation of his lips on your stomach making you tingle. The Prince’s hot breath fanned over your core, causing you to inhale sharply. “Ask me nicely.” He said, the closeness of his lips to your wetness making you squirm.

“What?” You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Fëanor, who had sat himself on the bed and was stroking your hair. Every so often, he tugged gently.

“I said, ask me nicely.” Fingolfin repeated, more sternly this time. The authority in his voice went straight between your legs, slick tracking down onto the soft sheets below.

Fëanor’s grip on your locks tightened as he chuckled again. “We’ve barely touched her and she’s already incoherent. Perhaps she cannot handle us and we should stop—“

“No!” You cried out, embarrassingly fast.

Fingolfin rested his cheek on the inside of your thigh, and you peered down at him. The sight of the towering, noble elf on his knees with his chiselled face mere centimetres away from your pussy made you dizzy. You had fantasized about this moment more than you cared to admit, alternating between the two princes most of the time. “Well, my love, if you want me to taste your sweet pussy, you have to beg for it.” He said lowly.

You whined, pouting a bit. You were a proud elf, and begging was not your strong suit. Sensing your hesitation, Fingolfin smirked, and began snaking his way down the bed towards your feet. He grabbed your ankle and lifted your leg up, placing feather light kisses along the inside. Slowly as ever, the prince made his way down your leg, kissing and nipping as he went. Right before he met your core, he pulled away and repeated the pattern on your other leg, causing you to whine.

“Poor thing.” Fëanor said in mock sympathy, stroking your face with his calloused fingers. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he bent down and whispered in your ear. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll throw him aside and show him how it’s done. You won’t need to beg, I’ll give you whatever you want, sweet thing.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Fingolfin said sternly, drawing your attention back to the elf between your legs. “Focus on me. Once you ask, I will be yours to command. All you must do is beg for it.”

“She won’t break.” Fëanor snorted impatiently, clearly waiting for his chance.

Fingolfin responded confidently. “Yes, she will.” Lazily, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue around the edges of your core, centimetres away from where you needed him most. You let out a shaky breath, toes curling as your eyes squeezed shut. It was torture — blissful, but excruciating torture. It wasn’t long before you felt your pride begin to crack, the tough facade you thought you had slowly crumbling.

“Please.” You mumbled, voice breathy and barely above a whisper.

The Prince smirked in satisfaction, kissing your mound lightly. “Please, what?”

“Please, Fingolfin,” You gasped, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around him and drag him closer. “Please use your tongue on my pussy. Please, my lord.”

Satisfied, Fingolfin finally lowered his mouth to your cunt, licking a bold stripe up your slut. You cried out, nearly in tears at the overwhelming pleasure as the prince began to skillfully devour you. Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in his hair, earning a heavenly groan from the male. He was taking his time with you, each movement confident and strong and eliciting an intense reaction. Your head spun, legs weak already with the pleasure Fingolfin was bringing you.

“Open your eyes.” Fëanor’s strong hand tangled in your hair again, tilting your head down and forcing you to look down at the sight before you. “Is this what you dreamed of, darling? Being our little plaything, begging for us to make you feel better than any other male could? How many nights have those little fingers taken up residence between your legs as you imagine this very scene, trying to find relief but never quite scratching that itch?”

You garbled something of a response, but you weren’t even sure what. Fëanor growled, tightening his grip. “I asked you a question, pet. How many times have you touched yourself imagining this?”

“Many nights…” You managed to gasp, ensuring to keep your eyes on Fingolfin, who took your clit between his lips and sucked.

“Good girl.” Fëanor purred. “But I bet your fingers aren’t nearly as satisfying as our tongues, or our cocks, are they?”

“No.” You arched your back, feeling that tightening buildup inside your body as you approached your orgasm faster than you’d care to admit.

“Naturally.” Fëanor loosened his grip on your hair. “Now look at Arakáno as you cum on his face.”

You obeyed without thinking, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as Fingolfin’s tongue tipped you over the edge, sending shockwaves through your entire body. Fingolfin moaned with you as you tugged on his dark locks, the animalistic sound echoing throughout the chamber as you rode out your climax.

Panting, you caught your breath as he pulled away, leaving your legs trembling. He climbed up your body, his massive form towering over yours as he leaned down and kissed you. You felt in a trance, body a trembling mess. You wondered how you would endure multiple rounds if you were this weak already.

You didn’t even realize how Fëanor had slunk down to take Fingolfin’s place until firm hands snaked under your thighs and gripped your hips firmly. Without a warning, he dove into your still sensitive pussy like a man starved, loud slurping noises filling the room. You cried out, trying to squirm away, but Fëanor’s grip was like iron and you couldn’t move.

“That’s it, darling.” Fingolfin purred. “Let us hear you. Let the whole palace hear you.”

You no longer attempted to bite your lip and conceal your noises. Your moans sounded throughout the room as Fingolfin firmly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. You whimpered, almost completely immobile. You were overstimulated from your first orgasm, yet the older prince had no mercy on you as he continued to devour your wetness. While Fingolfin was like the water’s current, calculated and steady, his half brother was akin to a hurricane of fire. His movements were fast and unpatterned, designed to send you towards the edge as fast and as ruthlessly as possible. A single tear ran down your cheek as you pleaded — not even sure what you were pleading for.

“Ease up, Fëanor.” Fingolfin said sternly, noticing your tear.

The heir lifted his head for a moment and scoffed. “She can take it. Can’t you, pet?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, I can take it. Please, just don’t stop.”

“Thought so.” Fëanor smirked triumphantly before delving back between your legs, doubling his efforts. Two of his thick fingers found their way inside your tight walls, causing you to cry out even louder. Quickly, they found that spot deep inside you that made your entire body jolt.

You could practically see Fëanor’s ego inflate at your reaction, feeling the satisfied smirk of his lips on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your release approached at light speed within minutes, but just as you were about to fall over the edge, Fëanor pulled away.

“No!” You cried out pitifully, wanting to kick him in the face at your loss of an orgasm. Before you could protest further, those strong hands on your hips flipped you over onto stomach. Fëanor yanked your hips back so you were up on your knees, and Fingolfin released your wrists, allowing you to push yourself up onto your hands.

“Are you going to take our cocks like a good little slut?” Fëanor cooed, unlacing his breeches and pulling them off. Fingolfin had also begun removing his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor to reveal his toned body. Your mouth watered as he began removing his breeches, his large cock springing free. He smirked with pride as you drank in the sight of him, giving himself a firm stroke as he walked towards the edge of the bed.

You gasped as Fëanor pressed his thick cock into you, rutting back and forth and caressing your ass with skilled hands. “We’re going to stuff both ends of you, pet. I’m going to fill that tight pussy of yours with my cum, and you’re going to take every drop of it with pride Understood?”

You nodded, pressing your ass eagerly into Fëanor’s cock. He chuckled, slapping your ass one last time before pressing the head into you. You moaned at the stretch, forcing yourself to relax as the Prince slid himself into you with surprising slowness. “Gods above,” Fëanor groaned behind you. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Your toes curled at the thought of the Prince fantasizing about this moment just like you did. Your thoughts were interrupted as Fingolfin brought his cock to your lips, gently tracing them with the head. “Open.” He commanded, gently but sternly.

You obliged without thinking, body responding to his orders on its own. Eagerly, your jaw stretched to wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. Fingolfin sighed deeply, the noise sending pleasure down your spin. You inhaled through your nose, opening your throat as best you could to accommodate his massive size.

“Good girl,” Fingolfin praised as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. It was a sight that took your breath away — the noble prince with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered shut in bliss at how you made him feel. “Look at you, taking me in that smart mouth of yours so well. It’s like you were made for this, weren’t you?”

Fëanor grunted, beginning to move his hips and thrust in and out of you. He swore, picking up the pace. Fingolfin did the same, gently fucking your face. You were in heaven, the two elven princes filling you up as they found a rhythm that made you see stars. Your body jostled between them like a rag doll, your arms fighting to keep yourself upright as they increased the pace.

The room was filled with the sounds of sex as they mercilessly pounded into you for what felt like hours. Tears spilled down your throat as you gagged on Fingolfin’s cock, taking breaths through your nose whenever you could. Fëanor gripped your hips so tightly you knew there would be colourful bruises the next day — bruises you would be proud to stare at in the mirror.

Your body crescendoed to the release you were denied earlier, beginning to shake as you approached it fast. You began to clench around Fëanor’s cock, and he moaned. “That’s it, pet.” He growled, ploughing into your cunt. “Cum all over my cock like the slut you are. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, screaming around Fingolfin’s cock as one of Fëanor’s hands reached down between your legs and firmly rubbed your clit. That was all it took for you to explode, shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm took over. You saw white, Fingolfin letting out a loud groan as the vibrations from your noises consumed his cock. Fëanor moaned fiercely, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you.

Fingolfin followed a few minutes later, and you eagerly swallowed every drop he spurted down your throat. Your jaw ached and every bone in your body was spent, but you were in heaven. A thin sheen of sweat covered the Princes, their long hair clinging to their muscles as they panted. You collapsed as they pulled out of you, landing on the soft bed as you caught your breath. Wordlessly, the princes began to tend to you. Fingolfin grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and gently brought it to your lips, smoothing your hair as he did so. Fëanor brought forth a damp cloth, gently wiping you down. They murmured gentle praises, and you basked in the glow of their attention. They settled you under the sheets, each prince taking up residence beside you and caressing your body.

“So…” Fëanor hummed as you began to drift off into sleep. “Who won?”

Fingolfin’s quiet but stern scold was all you heard before you let yourself slip into unconsciousness.

#feanor #fingolfin #feanor x reader #fingolfin x reader #feanor smut #fingolfin smut #tolkien #the silmarillion #the silmarillion x reader #middle earth #jrr tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #middle earth smut #elves #noldor

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weemsfreak · 9 months

Note

One shot with Jane Murdstone where she's being sexualy harassed and reader, her childhood friend, steps in and stops it. The two go to readers house and start talking, eventually confessing their feelings for each other which leads to a long session if love making. Sub!Jane?

Magnetic

Hello! I'm happy to say that this is my first Jane Murdstone fic! I've always wanted to write her, but I didn't know much about the Victorian times, or how to write a lady so metallic yet make her soft at the same time. Anyway, I tried my best to make it Jane as we know her, but in an interesting part of her life. Any tips are appreciated as I'm still not the best at writing smut, enjoy! :)

Warnings: Sexual harassment/assault, knives (no real violence), mention of blood, smut, Sub!Jane, Dom!fReader

(Also, apologies, this became big very fast ~9k words)

You found yourself at a saloon one Friday night, not that you didn't find yourself at one often. Your job was rather, well, emotionally scarring and energy depleting, you would say. Regardless of the fact that you had been doing this job for years, everyday took a toll on you. What was worse than your job, though, was that you felt alone. You felt so alone in this job and in life, and you couldn't talk to anyone about what you did or how you felt, so you didn't really talk to anyone, you didn't connect with anyone.

"Good evening sir, how may I assist you?" a woman asked strictly, staring with a frown at a man who was making his way over to her table.

"I have to admit, you're absolutely stunning, I can't keep my eyes off of you" the man mumbled, as he leaned on the back of the woman's chair.

The woman's face grew red with embarrassment. She was flattered by his statement, but taken back at how forward he was being.

"Well, thank you…I suppose" she said a little quieter.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here alone, waiting for someone? Perhaps me?" the man grinned and spoke in a flirty tone. The woman's face grew colder.

"Sir, I appreciate the compliments, however, I believe you are being far too forward."

The man chuckled, "Come on now darlin', there is no need to be so uptight, loosen up and enjoy the night. I'm not harming anyone." The woman had grown tired of this man the second he walked her way. It seemed that at times she attracted people easily, for this wasn't the first time an unwanted man was this forward with her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stood up from her chair and faced the man, towering over him. "Now listen here you scoundrel, if you cannot contain yourself like the gentleman you claim you are, I have no other choice but to remove myself from this situation" she growled, as a lady would. The man was not phased by her words as he moved closer to her and grabbed her waist.

The woman was caught off guard at his bold action, and her stern demeanour dropped slightly, she was nervous. She was always so confident and so sure, she was never one to back down. She was known as the metallic lady, not to her knowledge, though. She was strong and kept her iron walls up, she would never let anyone, let alone a low life man, get to her. Lately though, she had been struggling, she had been faltering.

"Let..me..go" the woman said, trying her hardest to sound unphased as she pushed at the man's arms. He didn’t let go, instead he stood tall and whispered in her ear.

"You are a tall, feisty woman, I like that in the bedroom."

The woman was absolutely disgusted by the man's behavior, and she tried even harder to shove him off of her.

"How dare you speak to me in such a way? I'll have you know that I am a respectable lady of higher society. Now, I said let me go!"

She desperately tried to pull away from the man, but she couldn't move very well. He didn't look very strong, but apparently he was stronger than her. Her blood started to boil at the mans audacity, and a low growl crept up her throat.

The man crept closer to her and whispered again, "Such a shame that an attractive lady like yourself has to play hard to get."

Suddenly, the man moved from the woman's ear to her lips and reached up to kiss her, not giving her a chance to say or do anything. The woman's eyes went wide as she felt the mans lips on hers, and she tried so hard not to gag. She was furious that a gross man would ever think she would want him, let alone take what he wanted without permission.

She pulled away from him with all her strength and hollered, "Enough!"

She lifted her foot and kicked the man in the groin, hoping he would back off. The man was somehow unphased by her kick, and he pulled her back towards him, determined to get what he wanted. Her kick was not hard enough it seemed, and she felt hopeless as she struggled to get away from him. She nervously looked around the saloon. It was a busy spot, but nobody seemed to be paying attention, or maybe they just didn't care. The woman felt helpless and terrified, which she had only felt a handful of times in her life. She wanted to cry as she thought that she may have to do something drastic.

You were lost in your drink, swirling it around and taking a big gulp. Your eyes panned around the saloon, ugh, there were too many intoxicated men. Halfway across the saloon, you spotted a tall woman dressed in black, a woman that you couldn't miss, as if your eyes were drawn to her and were unable to move elsewhere. She was wrapped in a mans arms, but you remembered seeing her sitting with a different man earlier, and then at one point she was sitting alone. Your face knit in confusion. She looked familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place why. She was pale with raven hair, dressed in all black. She had a stern looking demeanour and a confident stature, and yet she looked like she was scared. She reminded you of someone from your childhood. Could it be? As you were lost in your thoughts, the woman's eyes met yours. They were big, blue, piercing, and, terrified? You fell out of your daydream and landed back into reality, hard, as you watched the woman try to push the man off of her. You finally concluded that the man was not wanted by her, it was obvious. He brought his hand up to the woman's mouth and muffled her words, just as she tried to say something. The woman looked to you again with pleading eyes, and you knew she needed help. You abandoned your drink, patting a secret pocket in your dress to make sure you knew where your weapon was, just in case.

You walked over to the woman and the man and looked up at her, then at him. He didn't notice you, but the woman did, as she tried to mumble something to you. You reached up and grasped the mans hand, removing it from her mouth.

"Let the lady talk, sir" you said sternly.

The man turned to you, a shocked and angry expression falling over his face.

"How dare you interrupt me and my lady's fun!"

You heard some men in the back who were witnessing the situation, laughing over the man's actions.

"Your lady?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

The man smiled, "Why of course. We're having a good time tonight, isn't that right, honey?"

The man looked to the woman again, still holding her close. You also averted your gaze to the woman's. Her eyes were now watery, but she wasn't one to ever let someone see her cry, you knew that. She didn't say anything, and she wouldn't look at him, only at you. Her eyes pierced yours, as if she could see inside of you and knew your whole being, perhaps she did. Those eyes brought back memories, joyful memories. You nodded slightly at the woman and proceeded to dig your nails into the mans hands, pulling them away from her waist.

"Ah! What the hell are you doing?" the man gasped loudly.

You stood in between the man and the woman, peering up at the man.

You almost growled at him, "The lady does not want to be around you, sir. Please leave."

The man's expression turned enraged again as he stood taller, he looked like he wanted to fight. He huffed and averted his gaze back to the woman, a smug look on his face.

"Your little lady friend here was enjoying my company" he mused.

Again, you heard people in the back laugh at his antics.

Your fists tightened by your sides in anger, "The lady doesn't want to be in your company" you growled.

You felt the woman's gaze on you from behind, there was a bit of relief and gratitude on her face.

"I think she was very much enjoying her time with me" the man smiled. Your jaw clenched, how stupid was this man?

"Sir, are you oblivious? Or do you perhaps enjoy assaulting women?" you asked.

The man's smile dropped, "Look, it was just one quick kiss! There is nothing wrong with that, ladies love some attention."

Your eyes widened as he confessed to kissing her against her will. You also found his comments to be incredibly insulting.

"Not all lady's like a man's attention" you grit at him.

The man looked at you with a smirk on his face, "I know plenty of ladies who enjoy attention from a gentleman. Are you not taken, pretty one?"

You had had enough, this was so insulting, so tiring, and so god damn annoying.

You rolled your eyes at him, "I'd never let a man touch me, pretty one."

The man laughed as he stumbled towards you, "Please, let lose and have some fun, woman."

A smirk crept up on your face, oh, you'd have some fun.

"I am quite enjoying myself now, actually" you sarcastically replied.

The man, who was clearly way too intoxicated, smiled and winked at you.

"Glad you think so, little miss."

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him as you turned around to face the woman.

You craned your neck to look up at her, "Shall we go, my lady?"

The woman fought back tears as she looked down at you and nodded.

Somehow, she spoke with composure, "Yes, I do believe we should."

You nodded back at her and went to lead her out of the saloon as you saw the man move closer to her in your peripheral vision.

"And where do you think you are going, sweetheart?" he asked hastily.

You moved fast to stand in between the man and woman again, staring up at the man with fire in your eyes.

"Oh, am I interrupting something here?" he asked sarcastically.

"In fact you are" you spat at him.

The man laughed again and smirked at the woman, "I'm sure your lady friend would like to stay."

The woman didn't hold back on giving him a disgusted look, she never would.

You smiled at the man, "Ah. So you are just straight up stupid" you mused.

The man frowned down at you, "You are the stupid one. Clearly, my lady here is enjoying my presence." Your eyebrows quirked up, "and blind" you muttered.

The man chuckled dismissively as he reached to grab the woman by her waist again. You immediately grabbed for your coffin handled bowie knife and pulled it out of your dress, forcing it against his neck before he could reach the woman. The men in the back ceased their laughter as the man froze and slowly looked down at the knife.

"I wouldn't touch her if I were you" you seethed.

The man's face was now filled with hesitation and fear, it made you happy. He looked over at the woman, then back at you, and he slowly retracted his hand.

"I guess I will be leaving now." You held your knife against his neck until he turned and walked away.

You spun around to face the woman and she looked down at you with her mouth open, as if she could not believe what had just happened.

She stuttered, "I… I cannot thank you enough my lady. I do not know how to repay you for protecting me."

You smiled and bowed, "No payment needed, my lady."

You couldn't help but notice the woman blush a bit as a small smile crept up onto her face.

"Well, you are just too kind" she spoke joyfully, but quietly. You looked around the saloon, men were still staring at you both, surprised at the turn of the show.

"Care to take a walk, my lady?" you said, reaching out for her hand.

You could see something in the woman's eyes as she looked into yours, hopefully it was relief.

"I would like that very much, yes" she smirked.

The woman took your hand and you lead her out of the saloon, finally.

You and the woman walked down the dark, dimly lit street in silence. You lead her to a bench under a tall, beautiful filled out tree. You gestured for the woman to sit down, and you followed. There was silence for a moment as you both looked up at the night sky, then you heard her speak.

"Thank you, for everything you did. You were incredibly brave, I cannot thank you enough. When that man kissed me I just, I felt so scared."

She sounded so timid, but rightfully so, she just went through something traumatic. You found it odd though, the girl you knew from your childhood was so cold looking, so serious, so stern, so sure, so metallic.

You couldn't believe that the man had kissed her, oh, you should've put your knife right through him!

You looked at the stunning woman, "Of course my lady, it's my pleasure, truly."

The woman nodded and averted your gaze as she looked up at the beautiful tree, full of small blossoms and the night sky, full of many far away stars.

"I must ask, what is your name?" the woman spoke, unsure.

You had kept your gaze on her, and she finally looked back at you. She had so many questions, you were a mystery to her.

"You can call me Silla" you smiled.

The woman's brows knitted, and she looked away.

"And what is your story, Silla?"

You took a deep breath, pondering over what you wanted to tell her, more like what you could tell her. Although, if she was who you thought she was, she already knew you.

"I go to saloons often, my job is very draining. I'm not very personable, I have my reasons. I live to protect people, it is my duty."

The woman pondered, that didn't tell her much about you, but still, she was incredibly grateful. She looked you up and down, an unreadable expression on her face.

"What is your job, if I may ask?"

You chuckled as you looked down at the ground, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

The woman's face fell at your words, and you couldn't help but laugh.

You continued, "May I ask why you were at the saloon alone?"

You watched the woman's lips perse, before she looked down at her lap.

"I was with my brother. We were talking about…well, something that he doesn't approve of nor want to deal with. So, he left."

Your eyebrows knit together. Something he didn't approve of? That sounded like Edward.

"I see" you said quietly.

You took in the woman's face as she was silent. Her face was long with high cheekbones, she had a high hair line, and she was white as a ghost with a scar on her upper lip. Her hair was darker than the night, she was truly beautiful. You could say that she was magnetic.

You smiled, it was funny really, how you had reunited with a long lost friend in such a way.

The woman caught you staring at her and straightened up in her seat, "What?" she asked.

You smiled wider, "I missed you, Jane."

Jane looked at you like you had two heads, she was so utterly confused. Had you been stalking her? Why would you know her and she not know you?

In her defence, you looked a lot different than you used to. Your hair was light when you were younger, but it had darkened over time. Your build was much more defined than it used to be, and you were way more tired looking than you were at one point.

Jane stuttered, surprised, "You- you know my name?"

You chuckled, "I do. We were such good friends when we were children."

Jane tilted her head at you, eyebrows knitted together.

"Drusilla Hartman" was all that you offered.

You watched as Jane's mouth opened and eyebrows raised slowly, her eyes scanning your face.

"Drusilla?" she said in question, hardly believing that it was really you.

When you were children, you two lived next door to each other. You used to play in the gardens and with the animals everyday, you used to be very close. Jane was always bossy, dominant, and kept most things to herself, but she was a great listener, and you had a better connection with her than anyone else you had ever met. One day, your parents decided to move suddenly, never telling you why. You had a hunch that it had something to do with you, but you never knew what.

You smiled, "Yes Jane, it's me."

Jane licked her lips in thought as she looked deep into your green eyes, yes, yes, it was you. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her. You startled at the contact, but didn't hesitate to embrace her.

"Oh, in such a horrible way we had to reunite" she mumbled.

You took a deep breath, "No worries Jane, I'm just happy that you're safe."

She pulled back and smiled at you, still holding on to your arms.

"Jane" you heard a man call out, and your hand flew down to pull your knife out again.

"Jane Murdstone" a man yelled, and Jane whipped around to find her brother.

"Edward" she said in a shocked tone.

"Jane, I was searching for you. Why are you out here?" he asked in a controlling manner.

She took a deep breath, "I grew tired of the saloon, so I came out for some air."

Edward didn't say anything, then he glanced over at you and back to Jane.

"I'm retiring for the night, do you wish to come?" Jane looked at you, then back at him.

"I will be home shortly, brother." Edward nodded before looking at you again.

"What are you doing out here with her?" he asked, gesturing to you.

"I'm just reuniting with an old friend Edward. You must remember Drusilla" she smiled.

He looked you up and down before nodding.

"Yes, how do you do Drusilla?"

You offered him a small smile, "Very good Edward, and you?"

Edward nodded, "Very well, thank you."

He then turned to leave, but not before telling Jane he would be expecting her soon.

Jane was quiet after Edward left. You watched as she stared up at the stars, biting her lower lip, a worried look on her face.

"What has you upset, Jane?" you asked quietly and reluctantly, not wanting to pry.

She looked over at you, "I'm worried that my brother thinks ill of me" she frowned.

"I confessed something to him recently, and he hasn't taken it well."

Your eyebrows furrowed, "I'm sorry, Jane."

She smiled timidly, seemingly wanting to tell you more. Everything inside of her was screaming for her to keep her secret, but she knew that you must have found it odd how her brother was so concerned about you sitting with her. Her eyes told you that she wanted to tell you more, they were fearful, but in a different way than they were in the saloon. You smiled at her warmly. Jane opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

You took her hand in yours and whispered, "It's alright Jane, you're alright."

A silent moment went by and you watched as a tear ran down her cheek, before she wiped the evidence away. You knew that this wasn't the Jane that you used to know and love. Yet, she was still Jane, and you still loved her.

She wouldn't look at you as she spoke.

"Drusilla, I- I do not enjoy the company of men" she confessed almost in a whisper.

You tilted your head, you didn't either, but what did she mean by that?

"Yes, I don't enjoy their company either" you chuckled.

She shook her head, "No, I mean, I am not attracted to men Drusilla, I am attracted to women."

Your breath picked up as your eyes went wide and you stared up at her, blinking a few times. You couldn't believe what she had just confessed. She was, the same as you? Jane looked at you before she turned her head quickly, sighing and beginning to stand. You pulled at the sleeve of her dress lightly, hoping she would stay seated. She did, and you cupped her cheek.

"Jane, that's amazing. I'm so happy for you" you smiled, then you pulled her into a tight hug.

You could tell that Jane was conflicted as you hugged her, yet she hugged you back.

"It is?" she mumbled into your hair.

"Of course it is!" you beamed at her.

You took a deep breath, it was time to confess to someone besides your one past love. Otherwise, you were scared you'd be alone forever.

"Can I tell you something, Jane?"

Jane pulled back and gave you her full attention, nodding her head.

"I am attracted to woman as well, but I've only told one person before."

Jane's mouth dropped open as she looked at you in shock.

"You are?"

You nodded your head, but didn't offer anything more. Her lip quivered as she stared at you, nobody had ever confessed something so personal, something so deep and meaningful to her. Nobody she knew felt the exact same as she did.

"Oh Silla" she whispered, pulling you into her. "I'm so glad that I have you again."

You smiled into her shoulder, you were so happy to have her back. You pressed a kiss to her cheek without thinking, and she pulled away slowly to look at you. Your eyes met hers, and they reminded you of galaxies, the brightest ones you'd ever see. They were all consuming, all knowing, they screamed at you to understand. Alas, deep inside, Jane was a mystery.

Her eyes panned down to your lips, and you looked down at hers. She looked so soft, so pleasing, she looked delicious. Without realizing it, your face inched closer to Janes and you bumped noses. You let out a small gasp as you looked back up to her eyes, but she wasn't phased. Her hand moved to the back of your head to hold you close, and for the first time in a long time, you could say that you were scared.

"Jane?" you whispered, your breath warm against her face.

"Yes, Silla?" she whispered back.

You smiled, "You're beautiful, you always were."

Jane's breath hitched and you felt her pull your face towards hers. She pressed her lips to yours needily yet sweetly, a kiss of longing. You melted into her touch, you were right, she was delicious. You brought your hands to her face and kissed her back giddily. You wondered if this was what heaven felt like.

Suddenly, you were overcome with anger over the earlier situation at the saloon. How dare that man touch her, how dare he kiss her. He didn't deserve her for one second, he didn't deserve to feel this good. You pulled away from Jane, eyes going wide.

"Jane, it's not safe for us out here" you breathed heavily.

Jane came back to reality fast, "Right, you're right."

You reluctantly dropped your hands from her face, missing her touch instantly. You looked down at your lap, you wondered if she would want to stay with you for the night.

You looked up at her as she spoke, "I don't want to leave you so soon" she said with a frown.

You blushed, "I would love to catch up with you. Would you like to stay with me tonight, Jane?"

She hesitated, pondering over what she would tell her brother. A small grin soon formed on her face, screw it, of course she would.

"I would love to, Silla."

You unlocked the door to your small house and gestured for Jane to enter. You walked to the kitchen to tidy up quickly and pour yourself a drink, Jane followed.

"Would you like a drink, Jane?" you smiled up at the tall woman.

She smiled back, "That would be lovely."

You handed her a full glass as you made your way to the back of your house, hoping that you both could sit outside and enjoy the warm night. As Jane followed behind you, you heard her footsteps stop. You knew that she had stopped at the open room just next to your kitchen.

"What's this?" she asked, peering into the room.

You turned abruptly and closed the door, locking it and placing the key in your pocket. "Just…collectables" you mumbled, turning away and walking again, hoping that she would follow you.

Yes, you had a room full of collected knives and weapons and what not, it was part of your job, but that didn't mean that anyone had to know about that room. Nobody could know about that room. Your boss had taken you on even though you were a woman. Obviously, women were not allowed to do most jobs, especially highly skilled ones like yours. However, your boss thought that having you on his team was stealthy, an advantage, as nobody would ever expect a woman assassin, and he was right.

You opened the door to your balcony and sat down at a small iron table with chairs. You looked at Jane and smiled, hoping that she couldn't see the nervousness on your face. She sat across from you and looked out into the darkness. You wished that it was daylight so that she could see the beautiful flowers and pond that you were overlooking, you remembered how much she loved nature.

"So, how have the years treated you Jane?"

You thought that they had treated her quite well, considering she was still as ethereal as always, perhaps a bit more broken down.

She looked at you, "Quite well, I must say."

You studied her expression the best you could through the limited candlelight, and you knew that something had taken a toll on poor Jane.

You smiled sadly, "I suppose keeping a secret like that takes a lot out of a person."

Jane chuckled and nodded her head, "Yes, I suppose it did take a lot out of me."

You took a sip of your drink as she smiled sadly back at you.

"I never knew why you left, Silla" she stated quietly.

You looked down into your drink and shook your head, "I never knew why I left either, Jane."

A frown formed on her face, "I see."

You didn't know what to say to Jane, you had thought about her and missed her for so many years. The past few years you had thought about her less and less, but you still missed her more than anyone. You missed her comfort and her sternness, her caring demeanour and her protectiveness. You looked up at the sky and caught site of a shooting star, slowly making it's way across the sky. You reached over and grasped her hand, getting her attention.

"Jane look, it’s a shooting star! Make a wish!" you exclaimed.

Jane chuckled at you as she looked up at the star, and you watched as she closed her eyes. You closed yours as well, wishing for Jane to never leave you again, and for you to never leave her. You opened your eyes and smiled at her as you waited for blue eyes to meet yours. Part of you wanted to hold it all in, to not tell her how you felt, to not let her know that you missed her as much as you did. Another part of you was so, so happy to have her again, to have the old Jane that you knew and loved, to have someone who knew you, who loved you.

You were staring at Jane, and when she opened her eyes she looked right at you.

A smile slowly lit up her face and she chuckled at your wide grin, "What?"

You blushed, "Did you make a wish?"

Jane squeezed your hand lightly and nodded in confirmation.

You let go of her hand and placed your drink on the table. You took two strides over to her and kneeled before her. You brought your hands up to her black bonnet, untied the bow, and placed it on the table. You gently ran your hands over her silky raven hair. You looked up into her eyes and stroked your thumbs carefully over her cheeks, pulling her slightly towards you.

"I really missed you Jane. As pathetic as it sounds, I have never had anyone who I was as comfortable and free with after you, after we parted."

Despite the fact that your confession was quite sad, and the way that you and Jane had reunited was quite horrible, you were still smiling ear to ear, so content and giddy to be staring at Jane's gorgeous face. Jane brought her hands up to caress your cheeks as she averted her gaze to you kneeling on the floor.

She whispered, "I haven't either, Drusilla."

Your smile fell at her confession. It seemed that she was ashamed of that fact, when you were so happy to finally have her back. Perhaps she didn't feel the same way that you did, and you didn't know what to say. Jane looked back down at you as your smile fell.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "What's wrong, Silla?"

As you locked eyes with her again you found innocence, confusion, guilt, and maybe, longing?

"I um- I " you stumbled over your words as you started to pull away from Jane, but she kept her grip on your face, keeping you close to her. She pulled you even closer, her eyes scanning your face for answers. You didn't know if she'd find any, but you took the time to memorize her features. Your gaze ran over her hooded eyes, her thin eyebrows, her defined nose, her small chin, her plump lips, her -"I was there when you got that scar" you whispered.

Your eyes shot up to Jane's, you hadn't meant to say that aloud.

She smiled sincerely, "Yes, yes you were."

Many of your classmates picked on you. You were shorter than them, and a little bit chubby. You were quiet, and you loved talking to the plants and flowers. You also talked to the bugs and animals, and you often built them little houses out of sticks, leaves, rocks, and dirt. You and Jane had met at school, before you even knew that you were neighbours. Jane also had a love for plants, but your quiet, shy, demeanour was the opposite of hers. Somehow, she had taken a liking to you, and she took you, the 'weird girl', under her wing. Of course, Jane was bullied too. When you both got a little bit older, you had learned to stand up and fight back for her, like she did for you. You knew that Jane could fight for herself, but she didn't care very much when kids bullied her, she only cared when they bullied you. Edward was one of those kids who bullied you. Of course, him and Jane made fun of each other, but they were siblings, it was different. One day, you were in Jane's backyard, building a 'house' for the bugs and frogs that were around. You and Jane were a bit older at this point, but you both still loved nature, you loved spending time with the creatures. Jane was planting some flowers in the yard, when Edward walked up behind you. "Why are you playing with bugs, that's gross" he scoffed. You were crouched down and you turned to face him, holding a frog in your hands. "It's not gross, they're sweet, see?" you smiled, holding the frog out to him. "Get that away from me!" he spat, swatting at your hands and making you drop the frog on the ground. You gasped and looked down at the frog as it laid there, not moving. You poked at it gently, hoping it would get up and hop away. When it didn't move, tears filled your eyes and you let out a whimper. "No! Are you okay froggy? Please get up" you sniffled. You tried to stand it up so that it was on it's feet, but it just fell back down. Tears landed onto the ground as you stared at it, and Edward let out a menacing laugh. "It's just a stupid frog. Why are you crying, freak." Jane had heard you crying and had heard Edward calling you a freak. "Edward!" she hollered, standing from the garden and taking long strides towards him. "What did you do?" she asked angrily, looking down at you who was still poking at the frog. "It's just a frog, Jane" he defended himself. You had turned your focus towards them fighting, and watched Jane seethe in anger. She looked at you, "What happened, Dru?" You wiped tears away from your eyes as you spoke quietly, "I held the frog out to him and he swatted at it, knocking it out of my hands. Now it's not moving!" you cried. Jane turned back to Edward, pointing her dirt covered hand at him, "Don't you ever call her a freak you wimp. And don't ever touch her or her frogs!" Edward laughed at Jane, he rolled his eyes at her and mocked her. You turned back to the frog as you started to dig a hole in the dirt for it to lay. You heard Jane and Edward fighting behind you, but you continued to dig through your tears. A few moments later, you heard Jane scream. You quickly stood and faced her, finding her top lip cut open. She was bleeding profusely, staring Edward down with hatred. It turned out that Edward was messing with knives that his father had given him, and he was carelessly swinging them around. When Jane got mad at him, he took one out and 'threatened' her, but she knew that he wouldn't hurt her on purpose. Still, she got too close to him, and he sliced her lip by accident. Jane was in shock and just stood there, holding her lip in pain. Edward didn’t look like he had any mercy, as he stood there with a smirk on his face, not saying a thing. You lashed out at him and pushed him to the ground, ripping the knife out of his hand and throwing it into the woods.

You brought your thumb down to trace over her lip scar, carefully feeling the texture of her skin. She was so warm, so delicate, and you wanted to feel her lips against yours again, you needed to feel her lips again. Your gaze met hers and you saw her blush as her eyes suddenly averted yours, like she had been caught in an act. You giggled and placed a kiss on her nose, making her smile wider. You noticed that she actually supressed a giggle. Perhaps she did feel the same as you, and you decided to take the chance this time. You brought a hand up and tangled it in her hair. You ran your thumb over her bottom lip as you licked at your lips, and you heard Jane gasp quietly. You brought your lips as close as you could to hers without touching, and you waited to see if she would pull away. When she didn't, you let out a breath and smiled, softly pressing your lips to hers. Jane kissed you back immediately, bringing her hands to your neck and holding you close. You kissed her passionately, slowly, kissing her had been long overdue. You forced your tongue into Jane's mouth and she let out a whimper, which turned you on even more. It was so heartwarming to see Jane's walls knocked down, her stern guard dropped for a bit. You were honoured to be able to see her sweet side, to feel her give in. You had to sit up on your knees to reach her, but you brought your hands up to Jane's hair and started to undo the pins. You let her long hair fall down as you brought your lips to her neck, kissing up from what skin her dress wasn't hiding. You nipped at her neck, giving kitten licks and eliciting moans from Jane. It sounded like she was trying to hold them back, but you wanted her to be loud.

"Jane, dearest" you breathed, moving to bite and kiss at her pulse point.

"S-silla" she whimpered, as you brought your lips back to hers. Jane pulled you up from your kneeling position and sat you on her lap so that you were straddling her. She brought her hands to your waist as you continued to kiss, and you ground your hips down into hers. You weren't exactly sure how far Jane wanted to go tonight, but you would stop if she opposed to anything. You pulled away and pressed your forehead to hers, her lips were swollen and parted as she looked up at you. You figured that Jane was tired of being the stern one, the one in charge, the one who made decisions, the one who acted like she was always fine. You wanted her to relax, to feel cared about, so you took a deep breath in. Breathing heavily, you spoke, "Jane, I would like to take care of you tonight, if you want that, of course." She narrowed her eyes in confusion before she understood what you meant. Her eyes went wide and she blushed, nodding her head shyly.

"I would love that, Drusilla" she smiled.

You stood and held your hand out for Janes. When she took it, you walked her inside to your bedroom.

You searched through your clothes, hoping you would have a nightgown to fit Jane. You pulled out a black one and prayed that it was long enough.

"This may fit you Jane" you smiled as you handed it to her.

She smirked and raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean 'may' fit me?"

Your smile dropped and you stumbled, "You are, uh, you are much taller than me" you blushed.

Jane chuckled and placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning down to your ear.

"Perhaps it would be easier to sleep sans clothing" she whispered seductively.

Your jaw dropped as you looked up at her, before a sly grin spread across your face.

You shrugged your shoulders and winked, "Whatever tickles your fancy."

Jane turned and walked to your bed. She placed the nightgown down and began to undo the buttons on her dress. You knew that Jane would have a lady's maid, and you watched her struggle to reach behind herself. You walked over to her and calmly moved her hands away from the buttons.

"May I?" you asked innocently.

Jane didn't look back at you, but you saw her smile before she nodded, "Please."

You unbuttoned her dress and helped Jane take it off, then she turned to face you. She slowly unbuttoned her white collar shirt and untied her petticoat. She blushed as you gazed up and down her form, then you moved behind her again. You brought your hands to her shoulders, lightly trailing them down her arms. When you reached her waist, you began to untie and remove her corset.

"How do you feel Jane? Are you alright?"

You didn't give her any context, but she knew what you were referring to.

She sighed, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm relieved now that I'm with you Silla, and not stuck in the grasp of that slimy man." You couldn't help but chuckle at her tone, full of detest.

Once Jane was stripped down to her chemise and drawers, she sat on your bed. You were too busy staring at her breasts through her chemise, and the tempting pale skin of her long neck to notice that she had picked up the nightgown. You wasted no time as you straddled Jane's thighs and began gently kissing up her arm, to her shoulder and her collarbone. Jane let out contempt hums as you tucked her dark hair behind her ear and nipped at her earlobe, and she let the nightgown fall as she brought her hands to your hips, pulling you closer to hers. Suddenly, you felt a heat of dominance take over you, as you had asked Jane earlier if you could take care of her. You wanted nothing more than to take care of her right now. You got off of her lap and pulled her to stand. You sat on the bed and gripped her hips, pulling her to straddle you this time. She gasped as she basically fell onto your lap, and you smirked when you realized that your eye site was in line with her chest. You ran a hand through her long wavy hair to the back of her head. You grabbed a handful and pulled lightly to expose her neck to you. Jane let out a whimper as this, and you kitten licked up her neck to underneath her jaw as she began to rut her hips against yours.

"May I remove your chemise, Jane?" you purred into her ear.

She let out a hum and breathily replied "Please, Drusilla."

You brought your hands down to lift the bottom of her chemise and your eyes settled on her wet center. You could see her black hair and wet shine due to the crotchless drawers, and more heat travelled through you as you were overcome with the need to feel her against your skin. You almost drooled as you tried to focus on the task at hand. You pulled her chemise off and threw it to the side, bringing your lips to her right nipple and licking. Her breasts were on the smaller side, which was perfect to you. They were velvet in your mouth, and you moaned as Jane brought her hands up to grasp your neck and pull you into her chest further. She arched her back and ground down into your hips harder, and you closed your eyes as you sucked at her breast. You moved to her other breast to nip at her lightly, and you looked up to her face to see her eyes closed and her lips parted, chest rising and falling heavily. You tugged at her nipple and she gasped, "Silla, do that again" she pleaded.

You grazed your teeth over the sensitive spot as she shivered, and you began to kiss down her sternum and stomach, as if you had no way to oppose the gravity that was pulling you closer to her core. Jane's hands landed on your shoulders as she leaned back to allow you to trail lower. You moved down her body, your face close to her center. You looked up at Jane with pleading eyes, and she nodded briskly, pushing your head down. You smiled and stuck your tongue out, swiping it up her folds. You settled at her clit, sucking and licking for a minute as you listened to Jane whimper above you.

You brought your lips to Jane's and purred "You taste divine, my dear."

You then swiftly grasped Jane's ass and picked her up. She gasped as you stood and wrapped her legs around your middle. Jane giggled as you walked and placed her on your bed, and your heart swelled at the sound. You hastily removed your dress, taking your knife out of the secret pocket and flipping it up into the air, catching it. You heard Jane gasp from the bed and you looked down at her. She was wide eyed, staring at you in amusement. You thought you had made her nervous and red overtook your face.

"Sorry Jane, it's a habit" you chuckled. You placed the knife down on your bedside table and removed your clothes, down to your corset and undergarments, which you left on. You slid in behind Jane and let her head fall back onto your shoulder. You took her chin in your hand and turned her face to you as you captured her lips in a deep kiss. You swiped your tongue across her lips and she allowed you to enter her mouth. Jane moaned as your hand caressed her cheek, and it spurred you on to kiss her more fierce fully. You pulled away panting, letting your forehead rest against hers.

"Can I remove your drawers Jane?" you asked, hand reaching down to the waist band.

Jane nodded before helping you remove them. You pulled Jane closer so that her back was pressed against your front, and slowly trailed your hand down her creamy curves before letting it rest on the inside of her thigh. Jane parted her legs willingly and you chuckled, bringing your other hand up to squeeze at her breast.

You buried your head in her neck and cooed, "Is this alright with you darling?"

You heard Jane suck in a breath and then breath out a yes. You wrapped your legs around hers, holding them open as you swiped a finger through her folds. You brought your finger to your mouth and sucked on it, looking Jane in the eyes as you did.

You groaned, "You're so wet Jane, god you taste so good."

Jane moaned at your words and grabbed your face, smashing her lips to yours again. As your tongues slid against each other, you brought your fingers down to her center and rubbed at her clit lightly. Jane breathed heavily into your mouth as she began to squirm beneath you. As you picked up the pace, Jane parted from you and began to let out loud whimpers.

"S-silla" she moaned, and you couldn't help but tease her.

"Yes beautiful? What do you need?" you asked as you kissed behind her ear. Jane was silent besides the sound of her moans, and you figured that she wasn't used to not being the one in charge.

You slowed your pace, "Jane, are you okay with this dynamic?"

She turned to look at you, her eyes glossed over. "Yes" she whispered.

"I want you to relax and give in Jane, I just want to make you happy. How does that sound?" you asked with a smile.

Jane nodded reassuringly and grinned, "I want this, please" she whimpered. You picked up your pace on her bundle of nerves and watched as she closed her eyes and threw her head back onto your shoulder again. Jane stared letting her moans and whimpers become louder and you could feel your own wetness dripping onto your bed.

"Silla, please, I need more" Jane moaned, and you wasted no time in sliding two fingers into her. She groaned as you filled her up and you immediately set a steady pace. Soon you were curling your fingers inside of her and her legs were trembling under yours. You forced her legs to stay open and brought your lips to her ear. "What a gorgeous girl, such a good girl submitting" you purred.

"You feel so good around my fingers love, do you like that?"

"Yes, oh yes Silla!" Jane cried out as you brought her closer to the edge. You kissed her shoulder as you pulled at her nipples, and Jane didn't hold back.

"Please can I cum? God-please Silla!"

You smiled and picked up your pace, "Cum for me beautiful" you breathed into her hair. Jane's mouth opened and she scrunched her eyes shut as she screamed your name. Her legs shook and you kissed her shoulder to help her relax, then you pressed gentle kisses to her head.

Your own desire was too much to bare, so you quickly slipped out from behind Jane and rid yourself of your corset and undergarments. Jane eyed you up and down before she crawled towards you and sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled you into her by your hips and began to massage your ass with her hands. She kissed your stomach softly and you moaned. She reached a hand up and pulled you down to her by your neck.

She whispered in your ear, "You are gorgeous my darling, I need to feel you writhing beneath me." Your eyes went wide. As hot as it was, you didn't like Jane trying to turn the tables here. You grasped her thighs which squished under your touch and pulled her up to you. She wrapped her legs around you and squealed. It seemed she like to be manhandled, or perhaps she wasn't used to being the one that was carried, due to her stature.

"Do you like being handled baby?" you cooed, squeezing at her thighs harder. Jane blushed and wrapped her hands around your neck, her forehead meeting yours.

"Yes! You're so strong Drusilla, goodness you’re so enticing" she breathed.

You captured her lips with yours again, leading her to grind against your stomach. She moaned into the kiss and you felt her slick smear across your skin. You groaned and plopped her down into the bed again, more aggressive this time. You climbed on top of Jane and pried her legs open, placing one of your legs under hers and the other over hers. You lined your wet center up with hers and you let out a loud moan when you felt her heat. You bent over to kiss her neck as you rutted against her.

"Shit Jane, you feel so good against me! You are divine my dear" you whimpered. Jane let out a quiet cry into your ear and dug her nails into your back.

"Drusilla, that was so hot- when you threatened that man. Shit!" Jane breathed between moans.

"He's a wimp Jane…he doesn't deserve you, love" you panted. You pressed yourself closer to her, you needed more friction.

"You're so attractive when you protect me Silla, Oh!"

Jane moaned and her mouth dropped open. You took the opportunity to stick your tongue into her mouth. She whimpered against you and you grinded into her faster.

"Fuck him!" you gritted, holding back a cry.

Jane closed her eyes and screamed, "Fuck me!"

You hid your face in her neck, groaning as you felt your release approaching. You gripped Jane's delicious hips tightly, and her moans became more unhinged. Your pace got sloppier as you whimpered, but you wanted her to come first.

"Cum for me Jane!" you cried, and Jane threw her head back as she tightened her grip on you.

"Ugh, shit!" you muffled your cries into her shoulder. Her body twitched as her wetness dripped onto you and down your legs, and you followed right after. As the both of you laid there breathing heavily, you nuzzled your face into her black hair. Jane smelled of fresh linen, your favorite, and of floral scent and old books. You smiled, she was and would always be the only comfort, the best comfort, that you needed. You crawled off of her and rested beside her as you pulled her close. Jane smiled as you met her captivating eyes, she looked so content, she looked so pure.

"Thank you for taking care of me tonight Drusilla. In more ways than one" she giggled.

You smiled and kissed her cheek, "Taking care of you is my pleasure, literally" you chuckled.

Jane's hand caressed your cheek and she pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

"You were always mysterious, Dru" she smiled shyly.

Your heart swelled at the nickname that Jane had called you when you were younger.

Then your eyebrows furrowed, "Me? I always thought that you were the mystery."

Jane looked away, grinning. "Well, you’re the one with the knife collection."

Shit. Jane saw the worry on your face and giggled, "Don't worry my sweet, your secret is safe with me."

After a long silence between you and Jane, she rested her forehead against yours.

"Sweetling?" she asked timidly.

"Yes Janey?" you breathed.

She paused, "What did you wish for, on the star?"

You smiled as you blushed, and averted your gaze from Jane.

"I um, I wished for us to never live without one another again. I wished for us to never be separated, like we did when we were younger."

Jane's face became even softer and she pouted, she looked adorable. You were so sweet. When you were younger, Jane appreciated having you around to keep herself levelled out and sane. She always felt safe around you, she always felt like she was being pulled towards you by some force. She slowly brought her lips to yours and kissed you gently again, and you thought that you felt her eyelashes wet. She didn't open her eyes as whispered against your lips, "I wished for us, Drusilla. I wished for you." You pressed your lips to Jane's cheeks as you smiled, you couldn't believe that you had Jane back. She had been your person, and you left, but something had brought you two back together. She was yours then, and she was yours now, as if a force brought her back to you and you to her. You brought your hand up and ran your fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp.

"I adore you, Jane Murdstone."

Jane's eyes fluttered open to find only truth and sincerity in your eyes, and she asked the question that had been bothering her all night.

"How did you recognize me Drusilla? I didn't recognize you. How did you know who I was?" her face twisted in confusion and shame as she trailed off. You chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'd know you anywhere, Jane. You're truly magnetic."

#gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie #lesbian #jane murdstone #jane murdstone fic #the personal history of david copperfield #fanfiction #queer #smut

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ofsappho · 10 months

Text

Heartless CHAPTER 8.5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience

You and Ghost get into a fight when he refuses to go dancing with you

Hello. I know it’s been a while 😭😭😭 I’m so so so sorry. Thank you all again for your patience. This was supposed to be one big chapter, but I thought I’d post what I have now just to make everyone happier while I work on the rest. A lot of smut in the next chapter. Hope y’all enjoy. YES THIS IS THE SET UP FOR GETTING DICKED DOWN BY COWBOY HAT GHOST. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.

If one were to go off your husband’s tone, they’d think you just walked out of the bathroom in a stained brown paper bag. “You’re not goin’ out,” Ghost says after re-locating his jaw to its natural position under his balaclava.

“Hm. Thank you for your input, Ghost, but I wasn’t aware that I’d asked.”

You spin around with a huff and march back into the bathroom to examine your appearance, flinging the door open with such force that it slams into the wall.

Before you can shut it behind you, maybe lock it just to piss him off, your husband braces a veiny forearm on the doorframe and leans in. “You’re not. Not like that.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?” You ask as you go in with more blue glitter on your eyelids.

“You know what I mean.” His voice rumbles gruff and low.

And you can see his eyes looking at your ass through your cutoff denim shorts in the mirror. “Am I ugly? You don’t like it?”

Said shorts make your legs look fifteen miles long and are cut almost indecently short, accentuating your full hips and flattering your tummy. To fit the night's theme, you have on a very nice push-up bra with a white crop top tied in a bow under your boobs. And black cowboy boots, of course.

You have a matching hat somewhere…

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’…” He sighs.

“Gorgeous, doll. Don’t pout. C’mere.” Then he reaches out and snags you by the waistband of your shorts, pulling you into his tall frame. You go easily, unable to resist him even if you wanted to.

Ghost tugs his balaclava down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen.” Please, like you can’t feel him pawing your butt with a gloved hand.

You rock yourself back, barely grinding against him. “Then I’m going out. Like this,” You tell him. You bat his hands aside to face him, your nose inches away from his mask. “You can come with me if that would make you feel better.”

Did Ghost really expect you would be content to twiddle your thumbs at the barracks and not explore London? You were pleasantly surprised to find a thriving line dance scene in this part of the world, and doing silly little dances while sort of drunk to cheesy country music sounds like your idea of a good time.

So this lovely Saturday night, you decided, ‘Why the fuck not?’ You can handle your sore back tomorrow. And now you’re trying to convince your stubborn mountain of a husband to tag along.

Ghost releases you so quickly that you stumble and have to catch yourself. “I don’t dance,” He says in a flat, deeply unenthusiastic voice.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” This might be a little cliche, but you’ve never gone on a date with him before. You’ve spent your time hanging around him and his team, wherever they may be, and yeah, you signed up for that…

But you want a date. You want overpriced drinks and holding his hand as you walk down the street. Something more. That doesn’t seem as unreasonable as he’s making it out to be.

“I don’t dance.” He turns away without looking twice and strides out into the bedroom. Ghost’s coldness hurts more than his rejection.

You don’t understand why you care so much about something so small. If he were anyone else, you’d take the L, move on, and go where you’re appreciated. “I wouldn’t even make you-“ You try, still staring at his back and wishing he’d meet your gaze.

But you don’t want someone else. You want him, just for the night. Have you asked him for anything else before? You haven’t.

“No.” Oh, is Ghost suddenly too good to be seen with you in public? Marrying you under false pretenses is fine, but God fucking forbid you go to a bar together?

“But-“

He snorts. “Fuck no.” He strips off his gloves before tossing them on the bedside table, clearly uninterested in discussing this further. “Christ, woman. Don’t look at me like that. Can’t you take no for an answer?”

You look at yourself again in the mirror. Blue eyeshadow, long, fluttery fake eyelashes. Pink lipgloss dabbed on your mouth. And glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones, like a goddamn fairy.

You’re too beautiful to be upset and too beautiful to sit around doing nothing with a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Where is your cowboy hat?

You find it buried in a suitcase. “Ugh. Why are you being such an inconsiderate asshole? Go fuck yourself,” You snap as you set the hat neatly atop your hair. Then you grab your phone and send a couple of messages. Soap might be free, and you’d even settle for Sergeant Garrick or Alejandro.

You have your IDs stashed in your bra, along with some pounds. You do a once-over in the mirror and brush some imaginary lint off your cleavage.

“Where are you-“

You cut him off. “Out. If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will.” Someone who won’t make you want to cry, whose dismissal won’t feel so awful. You’re not interested in testing out the durability of your mascara.

“Love-“ You can hear his heavy footsteps heading your way.

Unfortunately for him, you’re already in the living room, making a beeline straight for your front door.

Your phone dings.

“Alejandro is free. I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t wait up,” You call over your shoulder, too upset to look back.

Your mouth presses into a flat, pinched line. You’ll get so drunk you won’t remember this fight and exhaust yourself dancing, and tomorrow, you can go back to pretending like you don’t care about Simon.

Music pounds in your ears. A man croons over guitars and banjos and a trilling piano in a thick Southern accent as Colonel Vargas turns you around the dance floor of this American-themed pub. The place is so over-the-top that you find it charming - everyone’s dressed like you, in cowboy hats and boots, and you hear more than a few lousy imitation American accents. Very quaint.

Blue and magenta lights drape all of the dancers in a riotous rainbow of color. There’s a mix of clumsy young folks your age, out for a cheeky pint with the lads, so to speak, and older regulars who came here for the same reason you did; to dance.

Alejandro has a very respectful hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly guides you side to side, forward and back.

You relax and let yourself sway with his pace, your feet moving perfectly in time, even once you stop consciously thinking about it. “You’re good at this!” You say loud enough so he can hear you over the music.

Alejandro flashes a white-toothed grin at you from under the brim of his black hat, the band trimmed in shining sterling silver.

“I’d hope so. Back home, in Las Almas, we go dancing a lot. Rudy and I.” He falls silent to guide you past a few people conducting themselves far less elegantly than the two of you.

You feel as though you’ve just stumbled on some great secret and found worthy by the keepers.

“Rudy?”

Alejandro’s face is a sight to behold. You can see a red tinge on his tanned cheeks under the lights. “My, uh, how do you say it? Los Vaqueros. He is my… vaquero.” Cowboy. His dark eyes glimmer, and you understand. Alejandro and his Rudy are continents apart, and you can taste their chemistry from where you stand. You feel it thrumming under Alejandro’s skin, like the mere mention of Rudy is enough to bring him to life in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Back, back, there you go. Out and-“ He lets go of your other hand and pulls back, leaving you plenty of space.

Your hair fans out around you as you twirl towards him on the balls of your feet. “Spin. Very smooth, Colonel,” You compliment. One of his arms wraps around your waist, and the other folds gracefully over your chest.

You untangle your limbs from Alejandro as if you’ve been dance partners for years. “Sounds like you haven’t seen your cowboy in a while.”

“I haven’t. Our jobs keep us busy,” He says. His voice is quiet, a timid undercurrent of sound that you can barely hear over the speakers.

“He serves?”

Girls covered in dark orange tan and shimmering body lotion spill onto the dance floor in a mess of giggles. Alejandro deftly pulls you out of their chaotic path before you fall over them on your ass.

“We served together,” He says as he dips you with a solid arm supporting your back.

Rudy must make Alejandro so happy. “How romantic.” Ghost would never smile like the Colonel does. But what would Simon look like if he were so happy? Would his voice soften? Would he dance with you, even alone in your apartment?

“Sometimes.” Your dance partner catches your hat right before it slips off your head.

You squeeze his shoulder in gratitude. “He sounds like a wonderful man. I hope I get to meet him one day.”

“Stick around long enough, and you might.”

“Well, then I’ll plan on it.”

The song ends, and something less suited to two-stepping plays next.

The two of you have drinks on a table next to the dance floor. You’re not worried about anyone tampering with them; Alejandro has already scared off any fellow who so much as looked your way. “He’d like you,” He murmurs to himself.

You have your Corona with lime, Alejandro has been working on a glass of expensive tequila all night, sipping it as delicately as if he were drinking tea.

He’s looking at you funny. The way you’re chugging this beer is probably not helping. You finish it and wince at the taste.

“You want to talk about what Lt. Riley said to make you so sad, hermanita?”

You didn’t even tell Ghost where you were going. That’s how fucking mad you were. You turned your phone off once you met with Alejandro, not wanting to see any calls or messages that would’ve broken your resolve. But there’s a worse possibility - that there aren’t any calls or messages at all.

“Not really.” You let the empty bottle thump as you drop it on the sticky, barely clean table.

His disinterest isn’t supposed to be a bad thing. Ghost could be cruel, or unkind, or abusive. You’re very lucky he isn’t any of that.

Kind, handsome, and affectionate in his own way is a hell of an improvement. For a moment, you feel ashamed that you want more. So what if he hates dancing enough to curse at you over it? So what if he doesn’t know who you are, the things you like and don’t like, your favorite movies, or why you avoid your mother’s calls?

You busy yourself with looking at everyone else so you don’t have to meet Alejandro’s knowing gaze. “Sí. Whatever you say,” He sighs into his tequila. Hopefully, that’s the end of the questioning.

Of course, it isn’t. “That one is… Rudy doesn’t like El Espectro.” Alejandro’s brow furrows as he thinks over his following words. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side.” There’s more than a little respect in his voice and the kind of confidence in your husband that makes you want to be a bit more confident, too.

“Sometimes I think he wants me on his side. Then I remember that he’s a stranger, really, and I’m fucking projecting. Projecting that he’ll ever want me more than, you know, normal.” Maybe the beer is making you chattier than usual. You can feel shit you’d never say out loud just flow from your mouth.

Alejandro snorts. “He definitely wants you. We all know that. It’s very clear,” He quips, snapping you straight out of your vulnerability.

“Ugh, shut up,” You tell him as you blush a bright red under your makeup and knock your elbow into one of his buff arms.

He leers at you across the table, waggling his dark eyebrows and grinning once you start giggling. “Why do you think Soap has those new earplugs, eh?”

“Gross!” In revenge, you make a play for his drink. You don’t love anything harder than a glass of wine, but you’ll make an exception to spite Alejandro.

He laughs, holding his glass above his head where you can’t reach it. “I’m just playing!” Alejandro waits until you’re sulking in your seat before setting it down. “I won’t tell you you’re wrong, necessarily. But- but I think you’re underestimating him. Lots of people do. Ghost always gets the jump on ‘em. He might get the jump on you.” You gaze longingly at the remnants of his tequila.

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It’ll just ruin my night. I need another drink.” That will solve your problems, at least temporarily. You’re not supposed to drink on your meds, but technically you’ve already started. In for a penny, in for a pound. And those rules are just suggestions, not hard restrictions.

The very friendly bartender with a thick British accent you can barely understand and nice eyeliner hands you one lemon drop shot, then another after you down the first. It burns like lightning in your esophagus. But the burn eventually turns into a pleasant tingle, warming you from head to toe.

You’re working on your third shot when Alejandro catches up to you. “Careful,” He calls over your shoulder.

You wave away his concern, another drink already in hand. This one is a rum and Coke, way too heavy on the rum. Did the pretty bartender do that on purpose, one girl to another? You like her even more.

The next song comes on - something loud and awful, its catchy beat punctuated by dubstep rooster crows.

“Come on, I fucking love this song,” You say, just barely slurring your syllables. “I’m not gonna shake my ass alone.”

GHOST POV

Your phone is off.

Ghost is embarrassed to admit he’s checked every hour since you’ve been gone. At least three hours, now bordering on four. And he knows your phone is off because when he calls, it goes straight to your fuckin’ voicemail. Which you haven’t set up yet, so he’s stuck listening to some stupid robot telling him to “leave a message after the tone.”

It’s driving him almost as mad as you are. When you get back - not if, when, the second thing he’s going to make you do is change that goddamn voicemail message.

The first thing is something along the lines of “make you sorry.” Ghost hasn’t ironed out the details yet. No matter. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

It’s dark out. It’s been dark out this whole time. You left with the sunset at your back.

While he knows Col. Vargas is with you, London is large. You’ve never been here before. Col. Vargas ain’t half bad with a map, but he’s not from around these parts either.

Maybe you never made it to… wherever you were going. How the fuck would Ghost know? How the fuck would anyone know?

He’s even angrier with himself that he was too much of a prick to listen when you mentioned it.

In the privacy of your quarters, Ghost pulls his mask off to run his hands through his shorn hair. The hair you cut.

It’s so quiet when he’s alone. This is the first time since- since you married him that he’s been alone.

You hum. A lot. Or you listen to music on your dinky wired earbuds, and he catches the sounds of your foot tapping along.

You snore, though not loudly. He’d never tell you, and he’s certainly slept under worse conditions. But it’s… nicer to kit up for the day, to brush his teeth and roll on his socks, knowing someone there will be waiting when he gets back.

Fuck.

Did you take the Tube? Buy a ticket? Oyster cards are cheaper, but you wouldn’t know that. Ghost should’ve told you. He should’ve been at your side.

He’s watched you struggle with the unfamiliar currency. You had all sorts of odd American notions about coins and exchange rates. Ghost had to correct you twice. After that, he secretly swapped out some of your dollar bills for pounds so that you’d be alright no matter what.

He left you with more than enough for a cab there and back. But what if the cabby overcharged you after hearing your accent? What if-

It’s a major metropolitan area. Criminals abound. Kidnappers driving ‘round cabs, stalkers, nonces. Statistically, at least one serial killer or two.

God-fucking-damn it.

You could be dead in a ditch, all because he didn’t want to go dancing. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem worth the quarrel.

This place is too quiet without you in it. He can’t stand to sit here in silence a second longer, staring at the lack of notifications on his phone and seeing shadows in the corners of the room. Closing his eyes won’t chase them away - he’s tried.

Simon only sees you covered in blood, a hole in your pretty head. Or duct tape over your mouth and your clothes ripped off, or you lost and alone in some alley, never to come home. Another name on the list of people he’s-

That’s enough of that.

He slips his gloves on, then pulls his daily wear mask over his head. Ghost has been choosing the balaclava more often. It’s something softer and a little civilian for you.

Not like you’re even here to appreciate it, he grumbles internally.

He runs the last moments he saw you over in his head a few times. You said Vargas was free, implying there may have been other options, but the Colonel was the first to respond. Ghost will eat his mask if Sgt. MacTavish wasn’t one of those other options.

The front door slams into the wall with more force than necessary. It makes a satisfyingly loud bang.

As Ghost picks his way through corridors he knows like the back of his hand, he thinks he should have told you again how beautiful you were. You would have left with a smile and kiss instead of a cold scowl.

He’s only being a good husband that watches out for you. That’s it. Ghost takes pride in being good at damn near everything, other than driving, so it’s natural for him to get worked up. Worked up is the wrong phrase. That implies that he’s agitated. He’s not agitated.

Is that a trace of your perfume he smells? Couldn’t be. Doesn’t make sense. Perfume doesn’t linger that long in the air. Ghost can smell gunpowder from a kilometer away and old blood three city blocks over.

And you. The scent is too faint for his comfort. If he can’t touch you soon, can’t gorge his eyes on your face and leave teeth marks in your skin, something’s gonna break.

Ghost leaves a boot print on the door to the communal bunks as he kicks it open. “Sgt,” He calls out curtly.

Surely, man-to-man, Soap can be reasoned with?

“Ah, so you’ve decided to show your face. Well, mask.”

Apparently not.

Irritation prickles down Ghost’s spine. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

Soap finally condescends to get out of his bunk and stare Ghost down like he’s shit on the bottom of the sergeant’s shoe. “You’re a right eejit, Lt,” The other man snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ghost doesn’t have time for this. “Where’d she go?”

“Fuck should I tell you for?”

His patience and self-control and restraint are hanging by a fucking thread, and Johnny’s disdain is like the edge of sharp scissors against it. Is Ghost the only person on this goddamn planet who cares about your well-being? Including yourself?

You’d be displeased if Ghost got your best friend’s blood under his nails. Very displeased. Simon holds onto that reminder for dear life.

“You out your fuckin’ mind? She could be-, “ At this rate, Ghost will never snap at you again. One go at this circus is more than enough for him.

“Ain’t my job tae find your wife,” Soap growls as he sticks a finger in Ghost’s face.

The sergeant is wasting precious fucking time treating Ghost like he’s the bad guy, and you could be gone by now. Ghost has bigger fucking priorities.

Simon misses America - which is something he never thought he’d think. England is full of his ghosts, moments away from breaking out of their graves. In your homeland, you were safe.

“You’re supposed to be her best mate. You don’t know where she is?”

Soap gnashes his teeth, his eyes glinting with fury. “Should fuckin’ kill you, you know that? Awa’ an’ bile yer heid.”

“I’ll come back and beat you black and blue after I find her.” Ghost’s brain teems with swarming, sticky thoughts, blacker than an oil slick. He needs- he’s not sure why he can’t breathe. His heart rate picks up, and he doesn’t know why and it needs to not do that.

He needs you.

“Worry about yourself, Ghost. I won’t need tae do a goddamn thing. She’ll have you on your knees like a dog.” Soap pauses. “You made her fucking cry.” His words hang in the air like a noose around Ghost’s neck.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Simon retorts. Then he shuts his mouth and thanks God that the mask hides his face. He sounds like a whiny, immature brat and certainly feels like one. Not a man, not the kind of man he should be for you.

“I told you not tae hurt her.”

Ghost remembers. With vivid clarity. “…” On the tip of his tongue hangs the thought that Soap hadn’t needed to. Ghost took one good look at you in that dress, the simpering sweetness in your eyes replaced by razor-sharp steel in an instant, and he knew he could never hurt you.

But what Soap meant is that he’d trusted Ghost with someone precious, and today, that trust was shattered. “Aye, so ya can put a shot in some poor sucker’s head from 2,500 meters, but ya can’t spend time with the woman you married? And be fuckin’ polite to her?” The sergeant’s tone is so caustic he could use it to clean a Scorpion’s engine.

Simon is familiar with guilt. Guilt has been his companion his whole life. The kind of guilt that can never be cleaned because the people he wronged won’t come back.

This is a new kind of guilt. One with the hope of absolution. It makes him deeply uncomfortable, almost nauseous.

“…I can’t make it up to her if I’m not with her.”

That tiny concession still isn’t enough. “Useless. Absolutely fuckin’ useless,” Soap mutters.

“Johnny, you ‘bout done takin’ the piss out of me?”

“Right now, that’s Sgt. MacTavish to you, Lt.”

Dammit. “Sgt. MacTavish. Sir.” There’s blue glitter on the sink back home from where you were dusting it across your face. Pretty shade of blue. But Ghost had turned away when you stormed out, so he can’t remember how it looked on you. “Please.” Did it run when you cried? He hopes not. You shouldn’t waste tears on a bastard like him.

Soap doesn’t speak for some time.

Simon feels some odd, heart-wrenching, panicky desperation build and build, his hands grow clammy under the gloves.

His phone buzzes, and for a second, Ghost hopes it’s you. But it’s not - Soap’s sent him an address. Some shitty little pub not more than a half-hour drive.

“There. Don’t come back until you’ve proper apologized. An’ if you make her cry again? I’ll dummy-cord ya head to ya hand since you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

Under Ghost’s mask, there’s the tiniest smile.

Soap claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here.”

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