#but when the eggs are all here his plan will finally mean something again and he'll be able to go through it

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 4 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | other parts here

— pairing: nate jacob x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: nate & you have breakfast together, made by you. he then takes you grocery shopping, & later in the week, he finally asks you to be his!

— tags: cute lil domestic moments, you wearing nate's jersey, meeting the parents day 1, first kiss

— tw: dollification (mans isn't even trying to hide it anymore, he straight-up is tying bows in your hair now), eating, snooping, it being implied that nate has already thought about one day baby-trapping you if push-comes-to-shove, misogyny (he's so mean to cassie), threatening, f receiving oral, emotional manipulation, possessiveness

— word count: 11,661

— a/n: reader uses pads bc i use pads & we are all about self-inserts around here (i never learned how to use tampons, don't judge me). honestly, idk how nate would feel about pads. like, on the one hand, i can see him as seeing them as more "unsanitary", but also preferring it if reader is still a virgin. tbh, he prob just tries to pretend periods don't exist, & doesn't want to hear about it if you're on yours, apart from a slight heads-up & being informed once everything down there is back to normal.

i hope this doesn't seem like things are moving too fast in reader & nate already getting together, but tbf, nate & cassie had hung out for what? prob at most a couple hrs when fezco beat his ass, & then the boy is lying in the hospital thinking he's in love & wants to have babies with her. i say it's on-par for his character lol.

The next morning after your day together is the first time Nate ever shoots you a text. 

A simple Good morning, sweetheart.

You stare at it for around ten minutes, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You type up a reply, then delete it. Then type up another and backspace the entirety of it as well.

Finally, you press send on a simple Good morning. (:

Nate: Any plans for today?

You: Might clean the house a bit, then go grocery shopping.

You watch as three little dots dance on your screen, then suddenly disappear. You then suppose you’ve not supplied an incredibly interesting answer.

You toss your phone down on the bed, deciding to finally get up for the day. It’s nearly fifteen minutes later when you check your texts again and see that Nate replied…ten minutes ago.

Nate: How do you get your groceries home?

You: There’s a store not too far from here. If I don’t have very many, I usually just carry them as I walk. If I have quite a few, sometimes I take the bus.

Speaking of which, you need to check the schedule for it today and plan accordingly. That is, until Nate replies. 

Nate: I can drive you there and back. I don’t mind.

You begin to type, telling him that’s completely unnecessary, but you’re not fast enough.

A text from him pops up: omw

You throw yourself back on your bed, groaning. You’ve just woken up.

You hadn’t planned to go to the store for perhaps a few more hours. You want to at least wake up first. Eat something, then clean. Even if the house is already essentially spotless, but you have a cleaning schedule you try to adhere to to keep it that way. And to give yourself something to do on the weekends in your spare time.

Which is, apart from tutoring, all you really have.

You decide to just stay in your PJs—a pair of soft blue shorts with clouds on them and a white t-shirt.

You’ve already washed your face and brushed your teeth, as well as your hair—which is now in a bun atop your head.

You make your bed, opening your curtains, letting the morning sunshine into your room before you go to the living room and flip the lock on the door to let Nate in.

You then head to the kitchen to decide on what to make for breakfast. You’re torn between eggs and bacon, or waffles, with perhaps a small side of French toast, when you hear a truck roar into your driveway.

You’re torn from your debating over breakfast by a knock on the door.

“It’s open!”

Nate enters the house, slipping off his shoes, closing the door behind him. 

“I’m in the kitchen,” you call softly.

He comes to stand in the entryway. “Want me to give you a few while you get ready?”

He surely hopes you’re not the type who goes to the store in her pajamas, at least.

You turn around to look at him, leaning back against the counter behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “Actually, I was planning on going later this afternoon. After cleaning. And eating… I haven’t had breakfast yet,” you say sheepishly.

“Shit,” he hangs his head for a moment, then looks at you again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck up your plans for the day. I just didn’t have anything to do this morning, so I thought I’d run over and help you out.”

You shake your head. “It’s ok. I appreciate it. You don’t have to stay if you have somewhere else you need to be.”

“I don’t. Not until this evening, at least.”

His dipshit dad wants everyone to have a family dinner together, while Nate wants to do anything else.

Like be here with you.

“Have you eaten yet?”

He has—a breakfast burrito maybe an hour ago. “No, do you want to go somewhere and get breakfast?”

“I could make us something instead?” You turn back around, opening the fridge again. “Any requests?”

He’s quiet for a moment, just taking you and this moment both in. You, still in your pajamas, having just rolled out of bed a little while ago, standing in the kitchen in the early-morning light, offering to cook for him. It’s all so…domestic. And a warm feeling forms in his chest at it—imaging this as his home with you. Imagining you’re both married and your kids are still asleep in the other room. 

You glance back to him.

He shakes his head to clear it. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never done—had this before.”

“What?”

“My-” he stops himself before he can say ‘girlfriend’. “A girl cooking for me.”

Your brows furrow. “Really? Neither Cassie or Maddy ever did?”

He chuckles. “I honestly don’t think of either of them know how.”

“That’s sad,” you state simply, before turning back around. “So, do you want bacon and eggs, or waffles, pancakes…I can do French toast?”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He likes that you know how to make so many things. That you want to do so for him. He’d chosen right with you. 

You turn around yet again. “You’re my guest, so you get to pick.”

He smirks, shrugging. “Bacon and eggs is fine with me.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled works.”

You nod, then start pulling out cookware.

Nate had stood to the side, watching as you worked, occasionally sipping on a mug of black coffee—you’d put some on just after having gotten up. He’d asked more than once if you wanted help as he watched you flit about the kitchen, but you’d only smiled and shook your head.

Finally, once breakfast is ready, you make the both of you a plate and carry them into the dining room, sitting his plate on one side of the table and yours on the other.

You take your seat before he can bother pulling it out for you. He tries not to let it irk him. He tells himself it’s because it’s a habit, since you’re in your own home. You’re not used to being catered to. But neither is he.

Thankfully, Nate had gone for a run after eating earlier, so he’s able to clean his plate. He doesn’t want your feelings hurt—for you to feel insulted—by him not eating every last bite. And it had been rather good, actually.

“You’re a good cook.” 

You look up to him, beaming. “Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. Do you want anything else?”

He leans back, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can fit anymore.”

You nod, standing, taking both your plates into the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher.

You return to the dining room and remain silent as Nate types a message out on his phone, looking up to you as he tucks it back into his pocket.

“I’ll get dressed and then we can head out.”

He stands. “It’s warm out.”

You smile. “Thanks for the forecast.”

He smirks. “You could—if you want to—wear the skirt and top I bought you.”

You’d hung everything up to dry last night and had truthfully forgotten about all of it until his just-now reminding you.

“Unless you don’t like them?”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I just…I wish you had asked me first.”

“Would you have let me get them for you if I had?”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “Probably not.”

“Then I made the right decision to make it a surprise.” 

He heads in the direction of your bedroom, then, and you trail after him. “I just don’t understand why.”

You feel stupid, speaking to the back of his head.

He comes to sit in the swing-chair in the corner of your room. “Why what?”

“Why you bought me everything you did. I looked up the necklace, how much it costs…”

He’s unphased by it, knowing he’d spent well over a grand on you yesterday. But in truth, it hadn’t been nearly the amount he’d wanted to spend.

He'd wanted—more than anything—to take you into a lingerie store and blow a ton of cash on you there, watching you try on everything he asked you to. But he knew better. For now, at least.

“So I wanted to get you a few nice things. You act like it’s some sort of terrible thing for me to have done.”

You sit on the corner of your bed, facing him. “I’m very grateful. For all of it. I just…I hope you don’t think you need to buy my friendship, Nate. I’m not going anywhere.”

It has nothing to do with friendship. But he can’t tell you just how much it turns him on: spoiling you, buying you expensive things, the idea of you being covered in him—from shoes, to clothes, to jewelry, to perfume and more. It gets him off—makes getting off easier, in truth. Until he has your body to do that with, that is, at least.

He leans forward. “I’m glad to hear that. But you don’t have to worry—I never thought I did.”

He glances to your closet. “Do you want to get dressed?”

“I should probably check to make sure everything is dry. I hung everything up last night.”

You leave your bedroom, heading in the direction of the laundry room. 

Meanwhile, Nate stands, finally having a moment alone in your room. He wrenches open the drawer on your bedside table and is met with a couple remotes, a book, a few hair ties, a charging cable…nothing of interest. So he closes it.

Heart pounding, he peeks out your bedroom door—you’re nowhere to be seen—and he then opens the top drawer of your dresser next. Ever-organized, your panties are all in individual cubbies—all cotton, some solid colors, others with patterns printed across them, like small flowers and stars. He picks up a bra. White, with a bit of lace, a small bow in the front, another sage-green. Everything utterly virginal. He digs, but finds not one sex toy.

Perhaps you have them elsewhere. 

He jumps when he hears a door close. He steps into the hall a moment and sees the bathroom door is now shut. 

He returns to your room, getting on the floor and looking under your bed, where there’s only a couple vacuum-sealed bags full of clothes. He then quietly opens your closet. On the top shelf are a few boxes. He pulls down a shoe box, which, unsurprisingly, has a pair of brand new tennis shoes inside. He puts it back, pulling down another.

And it’s full of old Polaroids. They’re all from when you were younger. You and your dad, another of the two of you, a photo of a butterfly, another of a dog looking up at the camera, and he nearly drops the box when he finds a picture of the two of you. The pair of you can’t be more than six or seven-years-old, both of you smiling toothy grins up at the camera.

He flips it over. Written in faded blue ink on the back, it reads “Nate + Y/N ‘05”. He pockets the picture, putting the lid back on the box and setting it back in your closet. 

He stops snooping and sits back in his previous seat, unable to remember the picture ever having been taken. He wonders if you do.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Nate is still sitting in the corner of your room, his head leaned back and eyes closed, hands folded in his lap.

You silently sit on the edge of your bed, folding your legs over one another, draping your new pink skirt over them. You don't want to wake him, so just as you begin to consider changing back, closing your door and cleaning the house while he rests, he slowly opens his eyes.

"If you'd like to take a nap, you can."

He shakes his head, looking you over. You look perfect. For the most part. "Don't want to wear your necklace today?"

You glance to the robin's-egg colored box on top of your dresser. In truth, you're a bit paranoid about wearing something so expensive. What if the chain breaks and by the time you realize, it's long-gone?

You then look back to him, watching as he stands, opens the small box, then removes the necklace inside.

He comes to sit down behind you, slipping the chain around your neck, fastening it into place.

He then begins to tug the hairband from your ponytail.

You half-turn your head back toward him. "What're you-"

"Do you mind if I do your hair for you?"

You're starting to wonder if Nate has some hidden interest in hair-styling.

"I...I guess not."

He slips your hairband free, it coming to rest on his wrist along with the one he'd taken from you yesterday.

You sit there silently, enjoying the feeling of someone else's fingers in your hair once again, your cheeks growing warm as you feel him pull one side of your hair into a pigtail—something you're not quite sure about, but you decide to only make a judgement once he's finished.

He then does the same with the other side, smoothing some hair down your back, before gripping both your upper arms. "Done."

You stand, walking over to the mirror set atop your dresser and expecting the half-up, half-down style. One pigtail on either side, the rest of your hair against your back.

"I think you look really pretty like that," he says from the bed behind you.

Who knew the star-quarterback had hidden hair-dressing talents.

You turn back around to him. "So when do I get to do your hair?"

He raises a brow.

"I could put clips and bows and ribbons-"

"Do you have ribbons?"

He...he can't seriously want you to put one in his hair...

"Yes."

He stands. "Where?"

"In the bathroom, the second drawer below the sink."

He leaves you standing there as he goes to rifle through them, returning a moment later with two that match the color of your skirt.

"Nate-"

"Turn around."

You're not sure that you appreciate his demanding tone, but do as he says nevertheless.

Once you have bows tied around either pigtail, Nate puts his hand against the small of your back. "Let's head out."

When the two of you arrive at the store, you go to get out, until Nate stops you by grabbing your left hand. "Wait for me to get it."

You sit back in your seat and wait for him to come around to your side. Once the door is open, you speak. "You don't have to come in with me if you'd rather wait here. I know grocery shopping, well, shopping in general, can be tedious."

He shrugs. "I don't mind."

He takes your hand, helping you down and shuts the door, leading you inside.

Nate stays close to your side as you toss various items into your cart—paying acute attention to each thing you do. You don't get a terrible amount of junk food, but he wishes you'd forgo the cereal. He'd already told you from here on out he'd be bringing you breakfast every morning.

He studies what kind of conditioner you use, what kind of lady razor, even your morning facial-wash. He briefly daydreams about getting you ready for the day—the detailed process he would go through to make you look like his own perfect living doll.

It's when you're in the frozen foods aisle that you briefly pause as he pretends to look over the frozen pizzas, when he's actually watching you. Watching you stare at a couple across the way, giggling and kissing each other, the girl's hand resting over her swollen belly, that is.

Hurt flashes across your features and he briefly grows angry, wondering if it's jealousy—if you know the man.

He steps over to you. "Do you know them?"

You jump in surprise at his presence, having been lost in your thoughts. You shake your head, throwing a bag of frozen vegetables in the cart. "No." You're quiet for a moment. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

You look at the happy pair again. "What that must feel like."

He places his palm against the small of your back, refusing to remove it for the rest of the shopping trip.

Nate of course takes it upon himself to not only load every single grocery bag into the bed of his truck, but also unloading and bringing every one into the kitchen once you're home. He simply watches from a kitchen island stool as you put them away.

He eventually excuses himself to your bathroom, deciding to finally cross the boundary of going through your medicine cabinet.

He locks the door, turning the faucet on as he first goes through the cabinet under your sink first. Some toilet paper, a box of pads, some pantiliners, cotton balls, cotton pads—basic bathroom paraphernalia.

He then starts pulling open drawers. One he's already familiar with, it's filled with small baskets which hold elastics, hair bands, bows, clips, headbands and the like. Another houses hot-tools: a curling iron, which looks barely-used, a straightener, which has clearly been well-loved—the company name all but rubbed off of it, even an old crimping iron, and a blow-dryer.

He moves onto the last drawer, which just has extra toothpaste, toothbrushes, some lotion, triple antibiotic, extra shaving gel, and some other odds-and-ends.

Finally, he opens the medicine cabinet, curious if you're on birth control. If so, that will be coming to a stop immediately. Not only does he hate the horrid list of side effects that come with it, but once the two of you start fucking, he wants to be in complete control of your reproductive options.

Needs to be if... Well, if he eventually decides he can't live without you and has to resort to drastic options to keep the two of you permanently connected for the rest of your lives, he'll have that option.

But all he finds is some Tylenol, Advil, expired allergy pills, an old prescription bottle with your dad's name on it, a bottle of mouthwash, a small cup of bobby pins, some q-tips, and a couple—of course—clean makeup brushes, a few other items here and there.

He quickly searches the shower and just finds a few bottles of various kinds of soap.

Finally, he flushes the toilet, turns the water off, and comes to join you in the kitchen.

Nate had left not longer after you'd finished cleaning the house, him offering to help, but you telling him you could never ask a guest to do such a thing, so he'd instead sat on the couch, idly watching football, fantasizing once again about you being his perfect little housewife. Cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping for him, allowing him to dress you up and show you off.

It's in the moment as he watches you humming to yourself as you dust off the mantle that he decides this Thursday you'll finally be his.

Nate continues on with the studying ruse to continue spending one-on-one time with you.

Monday, you'd done exactly as he'd asked: you'd worn the white dress, a pair of flats with it even, your new necklace, a hint of blush, and you'd even curled your hair, which had made him hard near-instantly.

It had taken everything in him not to hold your hand as the two of you walked into school. As soon as he spotted Lexi—the ridiculous look on her face as she watched the two of you—he pulled you in the other direction before you could see her yourself, seating you with him and his friends. When you had brought up going to find Lexi, he'd merely told you he thought it might be nice for you to meet some new people that morning.

He knew by their expressions that his friends had wanted to say something—anything about you—perhaps throw around some vulgar jokes, but the death-glare he greeted them with instead kept them talking about football and some party that had gone on this last weekend, which he'd been unaware of, too concerned with filling his time with you.

As the week went on, the two of you began to text more and more. You woke up everyday to him and went to sleep to messages from him. He'd even called you once, and the two of you chatted for almost an hour about everything and nothing. He would've been content to stay up all night listening to your voice, until you had gotten off the phone, telling him you were going to sleep and you would see him in the morning.

You had no idea he was outside of your house that night, watching your bedside lamp flicker off.

Thursday after school, once the two of you are finished studying, Nate finally takes the plunge, praying to fucking God he gets what he's been dying to have for the last two weeks.

He pulls out his extra jersey from his bookbag, handing it to you.

You look up to him, confused.

"I thought you could wear it tomorrow to school, and the game that night."

You look down at it, the metallic number '18' on the front, then back up to him once more. "Isn't...isn't wearing a player's jersey to school something girlfriends usually do?"

He scoots the least bit closer to you, his legs on either side of your chair. He reaches up, gently gripping the back of your neck, light enough that it seems just a sweet gesture, but he knows what he means it as: him touching what is about to belong to him.

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

You blink once, twice. "What?"

He takes one of your hands in his free one. "Listen, the last few weeks," even if he knows it's only been two, but so little time together sounds...not the best out loud, "spending time with you has been a welcome change in my life. I know it started out as just tutoring, and we can keep doing that, of course. But, Y/N, I really, really like you. Being around you is just...so fucking easy. You're easy to talk to, to hang out with, to text with. And you're incredibly beautiful. And kind. And smart. Honestly, I could go on for the next hour, if not longer, about all your admirable qualities. Suffice to say that I'm very-much interested in being with you. And if you feel the same way that I do, then maybe we can give this a shot."

A strange, uneasy feeling comes over you. You tell yourself it's because you've never been asked out before. Never had someone show such blatant interest in you before like this. You're used to being alone, so of course the idea of being with someone—anyone—but especially Nate Jacobs, star football player, his dad's name being a household name in East Highland, and the guy every girl at school seems to want—seems unthinkable.

"I...I didn't think I was your type."

So does that mean you have thought about it? Being with him?

He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I didn't think so either. But that's precisely why I think you're so good for me. You're not attention-seeking. Dating girls like that in the past has caused me nothing but trouble. You're not superficial. You care about shit—see things—in ways others just don't. Not at our age, at least. Not at our school. You're mature, responsible, know how to take care of yourself..."

He trails off, wanting you to reply. To just say yes. To give yourself to him.

"I don't know about this..."

His grip on your hand tightens just the smallest bit. "What's your concern?"

"How do I know you're not rebounding, from Cassie or Maddy?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not. I should've been done with Maddy a long time ago for the way she treated me. What she did at McKay's...I can never forgive that. And Cassie was a mistake from the first moment. We had both been drinking. And I just...I wasn't thinking clearly. But I am now. And I know what I want."

You look down to your lap. "And what if I screw things up? I've never dated someone before. I'd have no idea what to even do."

"Nothing here has to change. Not really. Us being together just means spending more time together." He fights back a smirk. "And me finally getting to kiss you."

Your head jerks up.

"Once you're ready," he adds on, knowing you'll be ready when he deems you so.

"And what if I'm just one more person to hurt or let you down?"

He feels like with that one question alone—you being so concerned for his wellbeing—he falls in love with you.

He releases your neck, now cupping your cheek. "You won't be. Do you think I haven't thought the same thing? You were abandoned by your mom. Your dad, too, essentially. The last thing I want is to be one more person to leave you. So I don't plan to.

"Listen, I'm not saying everything is going to be like a picture-perfect fairytale all the time, but I think so long as we're both happy, give each other our all, and consistently work at what we have, then we'll both be happy.

"Just in the time we've spent together, I've already opened up more to you alone than I have to anyone else in I can't tell you how long. I trust you."

He brushes the pad of his thumb over your lower lip and you want to cry from how gentle and sweet he's being—has been—with you.

Finally, you resign yourself to the likely fate of your first heartbreak.

"Okay."

His brows raise. "Yeah?"

You nod, a small smile on your face, your eyes filling with tears of joy. "Yes."

He stands, picking you up, wrapping your legs around his middle and your arms around his neck before spinning you around. "Oh, baby, I am going to make you so fucking happy."

You look down at him, and you believe it.

When you wake the next morning, you only get so far as brushing your teeth and washing your face when you hear a truck outside.

Still half-asleep, you wander to the front door and look through the peephole to see Nate coming up to it, one of his arms behind his back. You briefly wonder if you'd overslept as you flip the lock and open the door.

He comes in, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead. "Morning, angel."

You look up to him with sleepy eyes. "Am I running late?"

He smirks, thinking of the things he'd love to do with you while you're still half-asleep like this. It'd be too all easy to take control in bed.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm early," he says, pulling a bouquet of a dozen white roses out from behind his back.

You gasp lightly, taking them from him. "They're beautiful." You look up to him. "You didn't have to bring me flowers now that we're together."

It feels oddly strange to say.

He presses another kiss to your forehead. "I wanted to. It's something I want to do for you, bring my girlfriend flowers, take her on dates," he shuts the door behind him, backing you up against the wall, the flowers clutched against your chest as he places his palms on either side of you. "I hope you know I intend to spoil you fucking rotten."

Your eyes widen. "Oh."

He smirks. "C'mon, let's go get you ready."

Once you've put your flowers in a glass vase near a window in the kitchen, Nate takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom.

"Sit," he says before stopping himself, nearly opening the drawer to your straightener. He doesn't need you knowing he'd been snooping. "Straightener?"

"Uh...top drawer," you reply, seating yourself on the toilet lid

He retrieves the device, plugging it in.

As it heats up, he grabs your hairbrush from atop the sink and comes to stand behind you, running the bristles through your hair.

"You...you don't have to do my hair."

"I want to."

In truth, he wants to shave and moisturize your legs as well, then dress you in his jersey—picking out a bra and panties, too, before doing your makeup.

"Did you do this for Maddy and Cassie as well?"

He'd bought Maddy clothes, but she would've never let him dress her. Would've most-likely mocked him had he so much as given her a ponytail. Cassie was obviously a different story. "No. And we don't have to talk about them anymore. They're in the past now."

You fidget nervously with your hands. "Isn't that important—addressing our pasts to get to know one another better?"

Once your hair is free of tangles, he sets the brush down on top of the toilet tank. He then comes to stand in front of you, kneeling down to make the two of you level. "It is, but I don't want you to worry about either of them. You're the best thing for me now."

He sprays some heat-protectant on your hair before beginning to straighten it.

Nate gives you some privacy as you go over your legs with a razor one more time before getting dressed, even if you'd shaved the night previous. When you're finished, you come to stand in front of the mirror, and you simply stare.

Your hair is like it was the other day when you went grocery shopping, only, instead of ribbons on either side, he'd used hair bands that have two small balls on them that match the color of the numbering on his jersey. He'd actually done surprisingly well in doing your hair.

When you step out of the bathroom, he's waiting for you in your bedroom, his extra jersey, which you'd had hung up in your closet, now resting on your bed.

You nearly want to pinch yourself, everything seems so unreal in this moment.

He picks up the blush he'd gotten you, along with a makeup brush from your hardly-ever-used vanity and he dips it into the fine powder before gripping your chin, swiping the brush over the apples of both of your cheeks once, then twice.

You giggle nervously. "I'm starting to feel like a living-doll or something."

He smirks, snapping the compact shut, setting the materials back where they go. "I just like taking care of you."

He picks up your diamond Tiffany necklace, one more sign of his ownership over you, and clasps it around your neck.

He nods down to the jersey. "I'll let you get dressed."

Nate fights back a raging erection every mile to school. Here you sit, completely fucking covered in him, in the passenger seat of his truck. He'd done your hair, your makeup, bought the piece of jewelry you're now wearing, and his jersey hangs from your frame like a dress—he'd also picked out the white pair of tennis shoes from your closet that you're now wearing. Even eating a muffin he'd stopped to pick up for you.

He wants to pull over in a secluded spot somewhere and claim your virginity—one more part of you that will now belong to him—but he tells himself that will come soon enough.

If his plan works, you'll be in his bed, a whimpering, crying, whining, begging mess under him, sooner rather than later.

Your pussy will be his to fuck whenever and however he pleases.

He'll finally be back to no longer having to use his hand.

His fucked-up sexual fantasies of the two of you will finally get to come true

When Nate pulls into the lot, he 'accidentally' steps on one of your shoelaces after you've gotten out of the truck. He lifts you back up into your seat, setting your foot atop his knee—just like at the bowling alley—and people watch from their cars as he ties your shoe for you.

Finally, he takes your hand, firmly twining your fingers together, before locking his vehicle behind the two of you, as you walk into school together.

And you feel yourself begin to sweat nervously with every pair of eyes that turn your way, some people clearly not thinking much of it—bless those few—while others react with shocked expressions, whispering amongst themselves, eyeing you up and down, making you want to crawl inside a hole.

You look up to Nate and he looks nothing short of confident and unbothered.

You then glance over to Lexi's table and Lexi's expression somehow looks...sad? Disappointed, maybe?

Cassie, however, is shaking she's so enraged.

You quickly balk and look away from her before sitting down beside Nate, thankful you had worn a pair of black bicycle shorts under his jersey.

You drown out Nate's football friends chatting with him about tonight's game as he places his hand on your knee, then slowly moves it higher, then higher, until it's on the middle of your thigh.

You can feel your face growing warm out of mortification. What if someone sees? Thinks that the two of you are...well, already doing that.

You're torn from worrisome thoughts, thinking perhaps you'd made a mistake—you're not sure exactly what choice to consider as much—by Nate squeezing your leg.

You blink up at him. "What?"

He nods toward his friend. "He asked you a question."

You look at the young man across the table, who's maybe a year younger than the both of you, with black hair and hazel eyes, braces still on his teeth.

"I'm sorry, I guess I didn't hear you."

"I asked if you were going to be at the game tonight, since you're Nate's new girl."

"Of course she is," Nate replies for you. "She'll be in the stands cheering us onto victory. Right, baby?"

You give him a nervous smile, then nod.

He's pleased with your agreeable response.

When you get into second period, Cassie is already there, in her seat, which is just behind and diagonal to yours. You don't look at her as you lie your books on your desk, afraid to meet her eyes.

Then you hear her whisper "bitch" as you take your seat.

You slowly turn back to look at her, filled with hurt at the cruel name.

She gives you a nasty look. "What are you looking at?" She asks in a snide tone.

You turn back around without another word, fighting back tears for the rest of class, unable to think of anything else but how she'd always been so nice to you, and now despises you.

Once class is over, you go out to your locker, so distracted that you don't see Nate leaning against the one next to it with a smile meant only for you.

A smile that immediately disappears when he sees the sullen look on your face, and your bloodshot eyes.

You fumble with your lock twice before finally getting your locker open.

"What's wrong?"

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice.

You shake your head, setting your books back on their shelves with shaking hands. "N-nothing."

He leans down closer to you and speaks gently, quietly. "Something happened. Tell me."

He isn't going to take no for an answer.

You shake your head and he feels his fuse growing shorter. "Did someone say something to you?"

You look up to him. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

He delicately laces his fingers through your hair. "You won't. Just tell me what happened, sweetheart."

You shift from one foot to the other, clutching one of your textbooks to your chest. "Cassie. She-"

His tone grows hard. "What did she do?"

"When I got into class she called me a bitch. I wasn't...I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly. I turned around to look at her and she just...she had such a mean look on her face and asked me what I was looking at, so I just turned around."

He clenches his jaw so hard he's sure it will break. If that stupid whore ruins what he'd just gotten to finally happen with you—making you his—he'll fucking kill her. Actually kill her.

He wants to make a scene right in the middle of the hallway, wants to show you just how far he's willing to go protect you, even just your feelings, but he knows it will only frighten you away. Showing his devotion to you in extreme measures is something that will have to come in time.

He presses a firm kiss to your forehead, staring down Cassie across the way, who's watching the both of you with a devastated look on her face. He then looks down at you, lifting your chin until your eyes are looking into his own. "Just ignore her. She's jealous. That's all it is. Eventually she'll get over it and move onto her next flavor-of-the-month."

You nod, grabbing the rest of your things for third period.

He smiles down at you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. "I'll be there in a minute. I'm going to run to the restroom first."

You nod, heading to class.

Once you're out of sight, he makes a b-line for Cassie.

And the dumb bitch is stupid enough to actually smile at him.

When he reaches her, he slams her locker shut with one hand—causing her to jump—keeping it firmly in place against it as he stares her down. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She shakes some hair off of her shoulder, looking up to him, back straight, eyes pensive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's complete fucking bull. Y/N told me what happened in second period." He lowers his voice so only she can hear. "Let's get one thing straight, you desperate whore, if you screw this up for me, you won't like what happens to you. You have no idea the things I'm capable of—the lengths I'm willing to go to—when someone tries to destroy my life or take someone I love away from me."

She flinches at that—him admitting it—his feelings for you. And after such a short time...

"We had our fun, now I'm done with you, just like the other half of the male student population here. The fuck did you really think was going to happen with us? Did you think we'd...what? Get married, have kids, and live in a cul-de-sac in some fantasy where you're actually a good person that any man would deem worthy of marriage? I got exactly what I wanted and threw your ass to the curb when I got bored and you started acting fucking psychotic."

He points his finger at her face and she shrinks back against a locker, tears stinging her eyes. "Stay the fuck away from me, and even further away from Y/N. If I find out you've said another word—so much as come near her... Just try me, Cass."

With that, he steps away, heading to third period.

After school, Nate drops you off, promising he'll be back that evening to pick you up before the game, and you give him a soft kiss on the cheek before he leaves.

Once you're alone, for some reason, you feel like you can finally breathe. Like some weight had been bearing down on your chest all day and has suddenly lifted.

You blame it on the crowded halls and your noisy classmates.

You leave your hair the way it is, but change into something more comfortable before finding something to eat and sitting down to do homework.

In the middle of finishing your math homework, you begin to think of what had happened with Cassie. It had hurt your feelings, but you aren't angry. If anything, you feel sad on her behalf. While she was, of course, partly to blame, she'd still lost her best friend and boyfriend both, as well as earning herself an even worse reputation around school. You tell yourself the anger isn't necessarily directed at you. That's she's just lashing out in general due to being hurt and alone, and you're an easy target.

You're not sure trying to make nice with her is a good idea, however.

Your phone buzzes, ripping you away from your worries about Maddy trying to come after you next, even if she seems to have far less interest in you and Nate—minus that day in the parking lot—when you check it. You see that it's from Nate.

Nate: Be by around 6 to pick you up.

You: See you then. (:

Nate: Make sure to wear my jersey. 🏈

You grin at his finally using emojis.

You: I will. ❤️

You're left with a little over two hours to yourself before he'll be there to pick you up again. So you take another shower, knowing you sweated a bit more than usual today, then lie back on your bed and try to distract yourself with a movie.

Shortly before six, you dress in Nate's jersey again, and a fresh pair of panties and bicycle shorts before going out to sit on the swing in front of your house to wait for him.

You can't help but smile when he pulls up, butterflies in your stomach.

He comes around, opening the passenger door to the truck. Once you're seated, before you can buckle yourself, he does so for you.

You don't manage to say anything, such as telling him that him doing that really isn't necessary, before he shuts the door.

Nate rolls down the windows, blasting upbeat rap music on the way back to the school. You smile, thinking he looks cute when he's excited. He doesn't seem to exhibit that emotion a lot.

Then again, apart from winning at bowling, neither do you.

Perhaps the both of you are too serious for your age.

You lean back, a smile on your face, and he rests his hand on your upper thigh. You tell yourself you're fine with him touching you there.

That it doesn't make you uncomfortable.

That he's just trying to be a sweet boyfriend.

Once the two of you pull in, the parking lot is only sparingly filled. But the game also doesn't start until after seven.

Once Nate has helped you out of the truck, disliking that you'd already unbuckled yourself before he got a chance to, he takes your hand in his—his duffle bag slung over his other shoulder—as he heads in the direction of the field house. One you're around the backside of the school, he drops his bag on the ground, turning back to you.

He cups your cheek in his large palm. "Can I get a kiss for good luck?"

You hesitate for a moment. Then, "Yes," you say with a shy smile.

He smiles down at you in return before pressing you up against the brick building, then lowering his lips to yours.

He fights back a moan at finally getting to be this: your first kiss. The first one to taste you. The only person to ever have this intimate moment with you.

He opens your mouth with his, gently flicking his tongue against your own and he feels your body stiffen, until he does it again and you relax.

He stays like that for a good few minutes, his tongue tasting you, the sun beating down on his back as his form shadows your own, both your eyes closed as you, after seventeen years, finally find out what it's like to be kissed.

And it's slow and gentle and passionate. And you feel heat pool between your thighs.

You whimper against his lips and his cock hardens at the sound.

He pulls back just the least bit, his lips hovering over your own, which are now red, a bit swollen. "What was that?"

"I dunno," you say, gripping his t-shirt, pulling him back down to you.

He grows impossibly harder at the fact you want more.

He easily obliges.

He wants to move his lips down to your neck, wants to give you a hicky before you go sit on the bleachers for the game, but doesn't.

Finally, he pulls away, both your breathing labored. "Alright, I have to go get ready, my little good-luck charm."

You laugh at that.

He presses one more soft kiss to your lips before reaching down and grabbing his bag.

"Oh," he says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. "This is for your ticket." He hands you a five dollar bill. "And this is incase you want anything from the concessions."

He hands you a fifty and your eyes widen.

"I don't think a pretzel costs that much, Nate."

He shrugs. "Maybe you'll want a souvenir of your first game."

You stand on your tiptoes and he smirks, leaning down again as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press a soft kiss to his cheek, before whispering in his ear. "Good luck. And thank you."

He kisses your lips again before stepping away. "I'll look for you in the bleachers."

He begins to walk backwards toward the field house.

"I'll be there cheering you on."

He smiles at the image of that. "Maybe we can do something after."

You nod. "Good luck!"

Surprisingly, when you go to sit on the bleachers, Cassie, who's gathered with the rest of the cheerleaders, doesn't look back at you but once, shortly after you first sit down. It'd only been a glance, and then her completely ignoring you, which you're beyond okay with.

You'd bought yourself a water before finding a seat, the day still hot with the sun out, even if it's beginning to slowly set.

A sense of thrill fills you when the players run onto the field, your eyes immediately honing in on number eighteen.

You feel your cheeks grow impossibly warmer when you remember your kiss from earlier.

You watch as the players gather around their coach, Nate removing his helmet as they—you assume—strategize. He glances up to you and gives you a wink and you smile in return, blowing him a kiss.

Once they break, Nate pretends to catch it, pressing it to his chest before putting his helmet back on.

You can't help but admire him in his uniform.

You've never liked sports before tonight. But with Nate now being your boyfriend and out there on the field, you're completely engrossed. You sit on the edge of your seat the entire game, just watching him running this way and that across the field, blushing when you think about the two of you wearing matching jerseys.

And every time he scores a touchdown, which turns out to be a lot, you hop up from your seat, clapping and smiling, feeling proud of him.

In all honesty, seeing him plowing through the other players and tackling and just...playing the game...actually turns you on a little. Okay, perhaps a bit more than a little. It just makes him look so strong.

You wonder what he would think of that fact.

Once the game is over, the Blackhawks having unsurprisingly won, Nate removes his helmet, yelling and laughing in victory with the rest of his teammates. You smile, glad to see him happy.

He looks into the stands, searching for you and finds you in the same spot you've been in all night.

He waves his hand for you to come down and you do, coming to stand on the other side of the fence from him.

He rests his forearms atop it. "So, what did you think?"

You grip a few of his fingers. "I had fun, which I didn't expect." You giggle to yourself.

"What?" He asks with a smirk.

You shake your head.

"Well, now you have to tell me."

You look up at him from under your lashes and he can already tell he's going to fucking love whatever is about to come out of that pretty little mouth.

"You look really good in your uniform."

He leans forward. "Oh, yeah?"

You nod. "Mhm."

He reaches forward, gripping the one you're wearing, bringing you a bit closer to him. "So do you."

You kiss then, the taste of him now mixed with sweat and grass and fresh air.

He pulls away. "Climb over here."

Watch me fall or hurt myself, you think as you wedge your tennis shoe in the chain-link fence. Once you're halfway up, Nate lifts you the rest of the way over, and you wrap your legs around his middle, running your fingers through his slick hair.

"Sorry, I'm all sweaty."

You shake your head. "I don't mind," you say before kissing him.

You wait for Nate outside of the field house, leaned back against the red brick stones, staring up in the millions of stars littering the night sky, feeling so completely happy for the first time in you're not sure how long.

Once players begin to file out, you watch for Nate to be among them. When he exits, he glances in your direction, coming over to stand in front of you, offering you his hand. "Ready?"

You nod.

Once you're in his truck, he stands in the passenger side doorway, one of his arms resting against the top of the truck, his other hand against your left calf.

"I've had a really great night, and I don't really want to just drop you off at home, and then it ends."

You just look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"If I ask you to stay the night at my place, will you?"

You shift in your seat. "Doing...doing what?"

"Just sleeping," he states. "Maybe we can watch a movie in bed or something."

You think about it for a moment, not sure you're comfortable with moving this quickly.

"What about your parents?"

"What about 'em?"

"They won't mind you bringing a girl home late at night?"

He shakes his head. "I mind my business and they mind theirs. If I want to invite someone over, they're not going to tell me no."

You think that's a very unconventional way to parent, especially when it comes to him having a girl in his room—in his bed.

"You don't think it's a little early for me to be spending the night?" You ask gently, using a kind tone to try and prevent hurting his feelings.

He's quiet for a moment, now looking away from you. "I'm sorry. I guess I got too excited to spend more time with you tonight. It was a stupid idea. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. Just forget I did."

He goes to pull away and you suddenly feel bad. You'd hurt his feeling anyway. Something you had told him you didn't want to do just yesterday.

You quickly grab his hand. "No, I'm sorry. I just...I don't-" you scramble for some excuse that isn't 'this makes me uncomfortable'. "I don't want you to get the wrong impression about me."

He softens, stepping closer to you again, his hand sliding up your thigh. "Like what?"

You relax at the tension quickly dissipating. "Like..." you bite your lip. "Like I'm easy. Or...or a slut. Or-"

That same hand comes up to caress your cheek. "Baby, you'd never even had your first kiss before tonight. I could never think that about you. You're probably the most innocent girl—person, even—at this school. And like I said, we'll only be sleeping."

You look at him for a moment. "I don't have a change of clothes. Or a toothbrush or-"

"You can just wear something of mine. And we have extras, I'll just give you one."

Finally, you cave. "Ok."

He gives you a gentle smile. "Ok."

When you and Nate pull up to his house, you suddenly feel inadequate at the large home that looms before you. Two stories tall and very, very expensive looking.

You're so busy studying the extravagance of it that you don't notice Nate unbuckling you.

"Your house is-"

"Obnoxious, I know."

He helps you down, taking your hand in his before grabbing his bag and heading inside.

You glance around the foyer, but not for long before Nate begins pulling you toward the stairs. And then you hear his name being called from down the hall.

He stops in his tracks, rolling his eyes.

"Is that your mom?" You whisper.

He drops his duffel bag, which thumps against the floor. "Yeah."

"Nate, come in here, I want to tell you how great you were tonight!"

You take one of his hands in both of yours. "Can I meet her?"

He pulls his hand away without answering. Only, instead, giving you a 'wait here' before walking away.

You stand there, unsure about the sudden shift in his mood. It was like it had happened gradually on the way over and only became more extreme the moment her voice called to him.

Does he really hate being here that much?

When Nate enters the kitchen, his mom is making a salad at the island, his dad grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Marsha walks around it, gesturing for Nate to lean down to give her a hug, which he does, and she plants a quick kiss to his cheek. "You were so great tonight, honey. Your momma is very proud of you."

He nods. "Thanks."

He glances back down the hall, and then his dad speaks. "You left yourself open too much in the first quarter. I've said it before and I will again, you need to work on that, son."

Nate's fists tighten at his side.

He glances back down the hall again and immediately regrets it.

"Do we have company?" His mom asks.

"No. I do." He takes a step away.

"Wait, hold on. Who is it?"

He rolls his eyes. "Does it fucking matter? I need to get back to her-"

He lets out a low swear. He just had to say 'her'.

His mom crosses her arms, now interested. "Her? Did you bring a girl home?"

"I think your mother means 'another girl' home."

Nate glares at his father as he takes a swig of his beer. Finally, he looks back to his mom. "Yes."

Her brows raise. "Well, do I get to meet her?"

Nate sighs. He steps out of the kitchen, and you look up at him, now full of nerves. He jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen.

You walk up to him. "Is everything ok?" you whisper as he takes your hand.

"It's fine." Is all the reply he gives you before pulling you into the kitchen with him.

Your eyes look this way at that, taking in the lovely décor and the beautiful island and appliances, then looking to his mom, then his dad, who seems to be watching the two of you with no more than idle amusement.

"Mom, dad, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my parents."

His mom steps forward first, pulling you into an unexpected hug, but you quickly embrace her in return. You don't want to admit how nice it feels to be held by a mother, even if she isn't your own.

Finally, she pulls back, holding you in place by your upper-arms as she looks you over. "Well, don't you just look adorable in Nate's old jersey."

You flush a shade of crimson. "Thank you."

She releases you, placing her hand over her chest. "I'm Marsha, the mom. And this is-"

"Cal," His father finishes, stepping up to the island, reaching across it to shake your hand.

You nearly tell him you already know his name, but refrain, knowing doing so will only make this moment more awkward.

Once introductions are through, you step back to Nate's side.

"It's nice to meet the both of you."

"Oh, she's polite!" His mom chimes in. "I already like her a lot better than Maddy. Not that that's hard to achieve." She takes a bite of her salad, swallowing. "She was a truly awful girl."

Nate wraps his arm around your waist, but before he can pull you away and get you upstairs and locked away inside his room with him, Cal speaks. "Going through 'em awful fast, aren't you, Nate? That's what, three girls now, in almost as many months?"

You feel nothing short of embarrassed, perhaps even a little ashamed, at his comment.

Nate's grip on your hip tightens painfully for a moment, and you're sure it'll leave a bruise, but you don't speak, instead just bearing witness to the now-taut silence enveloping the room.

Nate steps away from you, going over to the fridge.

Nate grabs a beer, Cal going to grab himself another, until Nate speaks so low only he can hear. "Not nearly as fast as you, though, am I?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're such a fucking asshole. Leave me," he glances to you, then back to his dad, "And her alone. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours like we usually do."

With that, Nate comes over, firmly gripping your hand, and leading you upstairs.

Once Nate has shut the door behind the two of you, locking it, he throws his duffle bag down, then grabs a pair of boxers and sweatpants from his dresser before going into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

You seat yourself on his bed, wondering what, exactly, had been said between he and his dad to make him so upset. Unless it was the comment about him going through girls? On the one hand, it was kind of a shitty thing to say. On the other, parents sometimes give their kids a hard time. It comes with the territory.

A few moments later, Nate emerges from the bathroom, shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his hair damp and tousled.

You feel that same heat from earlier when he'd kissed you settling between your legs again. Then you tell yourself now is not the time—he's upset.

He walks over to his closet.

"Are you ok?" You ask softly.

He hands you a plain black t-shirt. "Here, you can wear this to bed after you've showered."

So he's not ready to talk about it just yet. "What about bottoms?"

He lies back on the bed, one of his arms slung over his eyes. "Nothing I have will fit you. The t-shirt is fine."

You accept that, padding into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

When you emerge, it's in Nate's shirt, a fluffy towel wrapped around your wet hair.

He's still lying on the bed in the same position from earlier.

You rub the towel against your hair a few times, then drop it in his hamper before coming to sit with your legs crossed beside him. You're silent for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally, you just make a simple offer.

"Do you want me to leave?"

He shakes his head, his other arm coming to rub up and down your spine. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He lowers the arm from over his eyes, which are now open, staring up at the ceiling. "There's nothing to talk about. I told you: he's an asshole."

You shrug. "He's your dad. Picking on you is kind of part of his job."

"That's not why he said it. It's not why he does any of the shit that he does. It has nothing to do with him being my dad."

"Maybe he just-"

He looks at you then. "Can we just not talk about my dad while we're in bed together?"

You withdraw into yourself a little at his sudden irritation. And how he had worded it. Like you're doing something other than just talking.

"Ok, I'm sorry."

He notes that your tone now sounds slightly frightened. He sits up, leaning on his arm, his free hand coming to grip your waist. "No, I am. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just him. It's always fucking him."

"Have the two of you ever considered sitting down and just having a heart-to-heart?"

He snorts, then looks at you like that's the stupidest idea anyone has ever come up with.

"Lie down with me," he says, pulling back the covers, which you then crawl beneath.

He pulls you against him, his arm under your neck, fingertips lightly tracing the tip of your shoulder. "Thank you for being here."

"You're welcome. I'm very proud of you tonight. It sounds like your mom is too."

He bends the arm that's not holding you behind his head.

"I'm glad you stayed."

"Of course I did," you say, resting your hand over his chest. "I thought I hated sports until tonight. I had a fun time watching you."

He looks at you. "Good."

He then slips his arm out from under you, your head falling back against a pillow which smells of cologne and him. He hovers over top of you, scooting you lower before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You panic. "Nate..."

He looks down, but you grab his chin, which he doesn't expect.

"Don't look."

His brows furrow.

"The t-shirt sort of rode up."

He bites back a smirk. So you're half-naked underneath him, then.

He lowers his body onto your own. "There, now I can't see."

You remain staring up at him.

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek. "Is this ok?"

You're quiet for a moment. Longer than he'd like. Until, finally, "I guess so."

That's all the permission he needs before he starts kissing you. He teases you with his tongue again like earlier, since you had seemed to like that so much, before he eventually moves lower, pressing hot, wet kisses to your neck.

He moves from one side, and when he gets to the other, you jerk underneath him and whimper.

So he kisses that same spot again and your breathing quickens.

His cock fills with blood, knowing he's found a sweet spot.

And so he kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin, until your hips have risen up against him, your arms around his neck and you're panting. He flicks his tongue and you moan in the back of your throat, your control slipping more and more with each kiss. He doesn't stop until he's sure you're soaked and he sees that he's left a purple bruise in his wake.

When he looks down at you, your face is flushed, your lips slightly parted, your hair a mess. It'd be so fucking easy to have his way with you right now. But it would ruin everything to do it this soon.

"Did you like that?" he asks, smoothing some hair from your face.

You nod.

He wonders just how far you'll let him go tonight, short of him breaking your hymen with his cock.

He grips your hip in one of his hands, then moves it higher, to the curve of your side, then higher, until you reach down, firmly grabbing his wrist, his hand now underneath his t-shirt that's barely even covering you now.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I-" you shut your mouth.

In truth, all you want is to touch yourself. Or maybe let him. No. You can't do that. Not this soon. God, what are you doing? In his bed, nearly naked—nothing covering your bottom half, which is now so wet your thighs are slick from it—and wanting nothing more than to tell him to keep going.

You've never felt like this before. But you've also never had any form of intimacy with another person before.

Only ever yourself.

He gives you a look of understanding. "I don't give a shit what society expects of you. What you think you're supposed to do. I want to know what you want, right now, in this moment."

Finally, after a beat of silence, you release his wrist.

He slowly pushes up the t-shirt higher, then higher, until he can see the bottom swell of your breasts, then he pulls it over your head, tossing it on the floor.

And he just marvels at you. Your naked body lying back against his dark sheets. He still has his lower half covering your own, but knows he'll get to see every inch of you before the night is through.

He leans down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and you throw your head back.

He grips your hips, trailing his tongue over to your other breast, now sucking on it. He looks up to you. Your eyes are now closed, head thrown back, mouth slightly parted.

He rolls a nipple between his teeth and your hips lift, which he pushes back down into the mattress.

He moves back to your other breast, doing the same, willing a whimper or a cry from your lips. Even his fucking name. Instead, you're so damn quiet. Maddy and Cassie had both been vocal—sometimes overly so. This he's not used to.

Finally, he lifts his head and your eyes pop open, wondering why he's stopped.

"Are you not enjoying it?"

Your brows furrow. "What?"

"You're not really making any noise. Are you this quiet when you touch yourself?"

You wait a moment, then nod. He just tells himself that he won't stop until he's changed that fact, then.

He dives back down, devouring your breasts again, then kissing between them, gradually moving lower and lower, until he's right below your belly button.

You suddenly sit half-up, leaning back on your forearms.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asks.

Your heart is pounding, and there's an incredibly strong pulse going between your thighs. A million thoughts race through your head. The most prominent one: is this why he'd given you attention in the first place? To make you another notch in his belt?

"This...this isn't all you wanted me for-"

"No. I want you. All of you. Being intimate with you is just one part of it. I don't plan on having sex with you tonight. When I take your virginity, I want it to be perfect. For your sake. There's just something I want to try."

He releases one of your hips, twining his fingers between yours for reassurance. While he understands your hesitancy, he wishes you'd lie the fuck back down and spread your legs for him.

Until, finally, you do.

He kisses down your stomach, then is pleased to see that you'd recently shaven your pubic area.

He makes a mental note to start setting you up appointments, which he'll be paying for, so you can get waxed regularly. At least he won't have to worry about stubble or ingrown hairs at that point.

When he's finally eye-level with your pussy, his throbbing erection grows impossibly harder. You truly are fucking perfect in every way.

He lowers his mouth onto you and, finally, you cry out at the unexpected feeling.

He quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, spearing his tongue, burying it in the heat between your thighs. He flicks your clit and your fingers tighten around his.

God, you're already so fucking wet. He blames it on your being a virgin—not that he doesn't absolutely fucking love it.

So he does it again. And again. He then swirls his tongue this way and that, sliding up your soaked folds—God, you taste fucking amazing—then back down again. Finally, he pulls back the least bit and he hears you whine in response as he begins to kiss your inner thighs.

At least he'll have this to use against you when the time comes: a bit of oral sex, leading you right up to the edge, and then denying you an orgasm unless you do what he wants will be a perfect weapon against you.

Finally, after wiggling your hips more than once, clearly wanting his mouth back on your pussy, he gives you what you've silently asked him for.

He kisses, licks, sucks, bites—lightly—until he focuses solely on your clit.

He hopes you scream when you fucking cum just so his dad has to hear it.

Instead, that fantasy is broken when you release his hand, pulling one of his pillows over your face as you finish against his mouth, your hips lifting, which he once again pulls back down as he continues eating you out.

He only hears your muffled cries—he can swear he hears you say his name—until you finally drop the pillow on the floor, trying to catch your breath as he presses a few kisses to your now-pulsating pussy.

He rests his chin against your pubic area, watching as you slowly begin to calm, your legs still over his shoulders.

"How was that?"

You feel dazed, your legs like jelly, even a bit sweaty. "Good."

He raises a brow. "Just good?"

You tangle your fingers in your hair, the pulse of your pussy just now beginning to calm. "Really, really good."

"You liked it that much, huh?"

You nod.

"How much?"

You sit up, your muscles now feeling weak. "I loved it, Nate. T-thank you."

He studies you for a moment, considering. "Do you want me to do it again?"

"Really?"

He notes just how eager and excited you sound. Almost desperate for it—for him.

And in that moment, he knows he finally has you exactly where he fucking wants you.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader) #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs x reader #euphoria x you #euphoria x reader

[demodraws0606]

Honestly with things going the way they are and the whole symbolic aspect of the desert, I'm pretty convinced q!BBH is gonna have some kind of rebirth however not in the way people think.

We know he still has his plan at play, and we know that he said to q!Niki that he needs the Eggs to all be there for it mean anything.

That's why his memories seem to be getting better around Dapper but he is still "missing something".

He needs for the other Eggs to wake up to finally gain purpose again : acheiving his plan

Whatever that plan might entail

#qsmp #q!bbh #q!badboyhalo #bbh #badboyhalo #because if you think about it would make sense he would just be a shell when the eggs are gone because he basically lost his purpose #but when the eggs are all here his plan will finally mean something again and he'll be able to go through it

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 8]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Words: 3.9k

There is a pigeon perched on the streetlamp that sits on the north corner of the block. It's got some sort of stick, most likely, and has been unsuccessfully trying to make a nest for the past hour. Given that the streetlamp is curved, this is a very bad idea, but the bird doesn't know that. The poor things weren't meant to be in the wild and a single stick is not going to save its egg from falling off if it chooses to lay it there. But it keeps at it, picking up the stick and putting it back down at different angles. 

Matt very much understands the dumb bird's struggles. He has no idea what the hell he is doing, either. He felt, finally, after many a year, he actually had his shit together. And sure, maybe it was held together with duct tape, a lot of ibuprofen, and multiple prayers, but it was stable and balanced. He had a handle on things, for the most part. 

He was doing what he loved, in all aspects of his life - defending people with the law and with his fists. He had Foggy and Karen, and he was working more with the Defenders, and he could be in Frank's presence without a fist fight happening. There was a drop in crime in Hell's Kitchen - he'd stopped the last two crime families who had tried to set up shop here before they even had a foot hold. 

Then everything in his universe changed and Matt is now the human equivalent of a pigeon trying to lay an egg on a streetlamp. 

He never thought he would be a father. It was something he dreamed about, in the deep recesses of his mind, but he never thought it would be a reality. Not with Daredevil. But, oh did God love to yank on his chain and remind Matt he had no clue what His plans were for him. 

Matt wouldn't change it for the world, though. Something fundamental in him changed the moment the words had left your mouth and when he met Minnie for the first time, he knew he was a goner. 

He would happily throw himself into the pits of Hell if it would make his daughter smile. 

He wants so much to be a good father. Everything in him aches to be half as good as his own father was to him, but he doesn't know how, and he is terrified of fucking it up. 

Because if there is one thing Matthew Murdock is good at its fucking things up. Especially when he thinks he means well. 

So, Matt is taking in all the lessons God has taught him over the last few years and going against his instincts and he is going to ask for help. 

Foggy and Karen should be at his door any minute, if they stop pausing to talk on the stairs, and Matt is going to tell them everything. 

He hasn't been this nervous in years and he can't stop pacing. He's pretty sure he's going to wear his path into his floor if he keeps going, but he just adds it to all the other damage the apartment has incurred over the years. It's not like he's getting his security deposit back anyways. 

He wants to open his front door and yell at his friends to hurry up, but he doesn't want to alarm them. They know something is up with him, Matt apparently wears his emotions on his sleeve, but they don't know what. He suspects Karen might have an inkling because Karen has an extra sense when it comes to detecting secrets, but Foggy is clueless and Matt doesn't want to worry him. 

He allows himself to stop pacing once they reach his landing and tells himself to walk calmly once they knock on the door. 

He prides himself in not wrenching the thing off its hinges from his nerves and gives his friends a beaming smile, "I thought you'd never make it up the stairs." 

"Oh good," Foggy chimes, clapping Matt on the shoulder as he walks by, "He's still being weird."

"I'm not being weird," Matt counters quickly, only for Karen to pat his cheek when she passes him.

"You're being weird."

He shuts and locks the door before following them into his main living area. Foggy goes straight for the fridge, browsing his beer options while Karen takes residence on the couch. He doesn't need to be able to see to know she's staring at the two big binders sitting on the coffee table. 

"Buddy," Foggy starts, popping three beers open with a hiss of the bottles, "the past few weeks you have been Grade A weird. You keep getting this dopey look on your face and spacing out. And usually," he continues, walking leisurely to the couch and handing Karen her beer first, before giving Matt his, "I would suspect a woman, or a man, because the heart wants what the heart or dick wants, but I know Matt Murdock falling for a girl weird. This isn't that type of weird. And this isn't Daredevil weird, because you get broody when it's that. This weird? I don't know this weird. So, spill Murdock, why are you being weird."

"And don't tell us it's nothing," Karen adds. Her beer sloshes in the bottle, indicating she's pointing it at him. "Because I agree with Foggy. We don't know this weird."

Matt deflates just slightly. He guesses he's been way less subtle than he thought he was being.

"Fine, I've been weird, BUT," he says with emphasis, "It's for a very good reason and I want it on the record that I was not hiding anything or keeping it secret. I was confirming all the facts before presenting my case. I.." he pauses to choose his words carefully, "didn't want to get ahead of myself." 

"You didn't want to get ahead of yourself?" Foggy confirms and he gives a nod. 

The response is for both Karen and Foggy to take long sips of their respective beers. Matt's nerves are too riled up to drink his, yet so he starts to scratch at the label to get the energy out. 

"So, this is Devil related?" Foggy asks. There's a hint of disappointment and exhaustion in his voice and it makes Matt's heart hurt. He has really put his best friend through it, hasn't he? 

"No. Well, yes, but no. It's complicated." Because the Devil is involved by default because it is Matt and it will be something that needs to be addressed down the road, but for right now, no. Not Devil related. 

"That's not very reassuring," Karen points out. 

"Just tell us, buddy. Whatever it is, we're here for you."

That makes Matt's lips turn down, "It isn't a bad thing, Fog." 

"Well, we wouldn't know that because you've told us nothing," Foggy counters.

His instinct is to keep bantering with Foggy and he knows they can go at it for another hour, but he reminds himself of his resolve and settles back into the couch. 

He's practiced his speech about a dozen times but all of it dies in his throat and the truth comes out on its own, blunt and to the point.

"I am a father."

Foggy has the more intense reaction, confirming Matt's suspension that Karen had an idea at the truth. His best friend inhales sharply, heart starting to beat harder in his chest. His body is sending all sorts of signals, and this is one of the times Matt wishes he could see - just to know what expression Foggy has. 

It feels like hours before Fog finally says something.

"You're going to be a father?"

"No," Matt corrects, "I AM a father. I already am."

Karen leans forward, her spine creaking and her hair swishing, "The little girl. From last week. That's her, isn't it?"

Matt nods, feeling a smile start to pull at his cheeks, "Yeah. That was her."

"Oh my God, Matt!" He hears her weight shift as she pushes herself across the couch and right into Matt, loosely throwing her arms around his shoulders. He leans into it, hugging her back with the arm not holding his beer. "She is adorable!"

"She is, isn't she?" He preens. 

Foggy's brain finally seems to process the information and he sits on the arm of one of the chairs, like he needs the support, "Wait, no, that was a toddler, wasn't it? That child was like five."

"She's three. And a half." Matt says as Karen pulls away from him to go back to her spot.

Foggy's bottle of beer sloshes and Matt imagines he's holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "Sorry, three and a half. Plus, nine months that would…Jesus, Matt, that's before we started the firm. The first time."

"Blasphemy, Foggy. And.. Yeah, the Christmas before we started the firm. When we were still at L and Z," he allows himself a sip of beer before diving into his explanation, "That Christmas party we went to, the one good one we ditched the L and Z one for."

Foggy shakes his head, "I was with you that whole night, Matt." 

"Until you ditched me for the French woman," he gently reminds his best friend. 

Foggy goes quiet and he must be trying to remember. Matt can tell Karen is watching like a hawk, keen eyes and ears trying to unravel the whole story. 

"I forgot about the French woman. She ditched me and I guess I assumed you left and…" Fog trails off.

"Well, I did leave, to be fair," he reminds them. "Just not alone."

"Jesus, Matt," Foggy repeats and he lets it slide this time. He'll say an extra Hail Mary for him. "Did you not wrap it up?"

Both Karen and Matt give a bark of laughter.

"Of course, I did. And she was on the pill, but you know that is not a guarantee." 

"Why come forward now?" Karen asks, redirecting the conversation. 

"She didn't know who I was. She says she tried to find me, and she wasn't lying. Then she saw that interview we did and recognized me," he tells them. 

He hears Foggy rub at his jaw and Matt just knows his brain is going into lawyer mode.

"But why did she tell you," Karen pushes, and he can tell she's looking for an angle that isn't there.

He ducks his chin just slightly and goes back to playing with the beer label, "It's not like that. It's not. She wants what is best for Minnie. She wanted me to be aware and have the option to get to know her. She was fully prepared for me to turn her away. She had already signed the forms waiving her right to ask for child support. The only thing she wanted was to know my family medical history."

"Her name is Minnie?" Karen cooes and that warms Matt's heart. He suddenly very much understands your need to gush over your daughter.

"It is. Winifred Love. She goes by Minnie or Mouse," he knows he's smiling like an idiot, but he can't help it. 

"That is such a sweet name," Karen hums and he can hear her smile.

"It is," he agrees, then he tilts his head towards Foggy, his voice dropping to something almost apologetic. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to be sure. She wasn't lying when she said I was the father, but that could have been because she believed I was. And I am. We got a paternity test and I wanted…I wanted it to be official. Real. Before I told you. And now it is. My name is going to be added to her birth certificate. I filed the paperwork and everything."

He can't nail down how Foggy is reacting and that scares him. He doesn't want his best friend to be upset with him, again. He was really, really trying to do the right thing this time. 

Foggy finally, finally pushes himself off the chair and steps around the coffee table before enveloping Matt in a tight hug. Matt hugs him back, just as tightly.

"I'm so happy for you, buddy," Fog breathes against him. The corners of his eyes start to sting, and Matt tells himself he is Not going to cry.

Foggy holds him for a good thirty seconds before letting go and stepping away, "Okay, before we jump into the whole Daredevil -"

"I'm going to tell her," Matt cuts his friend off. He puts his beer down and leans forward to put his elbows on his knees, "Not right now, but I completely intend to. If I can trust her. I think I can, but we've only just really met again. But I've learned. From both of you. I want to do this right. I want to tell her about my senses, first, and then we can build up to the other stuff. Once I am completely sure I can trust her."

Neither Karen nor Foggy respond to him right away and he has the feeling they are having a complete conversation with just their eyes. He waits. He doesn't want to rush them either. Matt wants to go into this with all of them on the same page. It's important to him. 

They are his family, too. 

"Tell us about them," Karen finally says and Matt doesn't even try to fight the grin that spreads across his face.

He tells them your name, then reaches for the first of the binders - the one that is twice the size of the other.

"She's…she's Good. You'll like her. She, uh, made me this, kind of big guide to our daughter. Everything I need to know and it's…in Braille. She knew I couldn't read print, so uh, all of Minnie's life she's been requesting copies of documents in Braille for when she found me." He pushes the binder towards Karen, and she picks it up in a flash, starting to flip through the pages. 

"This is pretty detailed," she hums, before cooing again, "There's pictures. Look, Fog." 

Foggy walks around the couch to stand behind Karen. Matt can tell that even though they are both Happy for him, they are worried, and he more than understands. He knows once he tells them more, that worry will fade. 

He just needs to drop the final off the bombshells. 

He licks his lips, clears his throat, then throws himself into the open, "Minnie is like me. She has my senses." 

They both go as still as they can, taking identical sharp inhales. 

"Not as…intense as mine, I don't think, but she has them. I.. Confirmed it. She could hear an ice cream truck four city blocks away."

"Matt…" Foggy starts and Matt shakes his head.

"We had a conversation, Fog. Clear across the park. I was whispering. She's…she's like me. She was born with it, but she's adapted, for the most part. Her mom just thinks she's sensitive, and she is, and she…she.." he motions with his hand, trying to convey what he wants to say, "Her mom helps. She gets her these headphones to block out sounds and all these things to help her. She just does it, she's doesn't question the why. All those little stupid things that make my life more annoying - the smell of cleaning supplies and how food tastes like the sewer or that certain fibers feel like sandpaper - Minnie deals with those and her Mom does her best so that she doesn't have to suffer. And that's…I need your help." He taps the second, smaller binder. "She made me a guide, so I want to make her one. I just…I don't know how." 

He deflates a little. Over the past two weeks, he's done his best to type things up, things he thinks will help, but he has no clue if any of it makes sense to anyone but him.

"Oh, Matt," Karen hands the big binder off to Foggy, then leans forward to take Matt's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly, "Of course we will help you." 

"We will make the best how to deal with your bat radar guide that has ever existed, bud. You can count on us," Foggy adds, starting to flip through the binder himself.

That evaporates Matt's doubt, and he huffs out a laugh, "I don't think there is another guide, Fog."

"Then we will set the standard for human bat radar guides," Karen counters with mirth. 

"I'll drink to that," his best friend says, once again moving so he can grab his drink. He raises the bottle in a toast, "To the best damn bat radar guide there will ever be, and to Matt, whose man whore ways have blessed us with another him!"

Matt scoops up with beer with a laugh and clinks his bottle against Foggy's, Karen's joining a moment later. 

"To Minnie," Karen adds and that makes Matt beam.

"To Minnie!"

"To Minnie!"

They all take long pulls on their beers then set them down on the table. 

Matt can practically feel Karen grinning at him, "What?" 

"I want stories," she says, reaching over to shake his arm, "You've told us the big picture, I want to know about this little pumpkin. How many times have you gotten to meet her?"

"A few times," he says, unable to hide his own smile. "She calls me Mister Matt. We haven't told her who I am yet. We want her to be comfortable and I…want her to want me to be her father, you know?" He hears both of them nod and he keeps barreling on. "She's…she's perfect. She's so sweet - she loves to use her manners, you know? Please and Thank yous. And she just wants to help, with anything. She's pretty good for a three year old at being a Guide. I'm learning a lot about what she thinks is important."

"What is important?" Foggy asks, and Matt can hear the underlying happiness in his voice and that makes Matt giddy. 

"Colors. How soft something looks. If it has a name and how it's feeling." He grins and adds, "At the park she was telling me how we can't walk in the grass because it's rude and hurts the grass' feelings. And that we can't pick flowers because it takes them away from their families and makes them sad."

Karen cooes, "That's the sweetest thing."

Foggy huffs fondly, "She wanted to pick flowers with you?"

He shrugs and ducks his head a little, "Kinda? She was talking about how to make flower crowns and bracelets."

"Is she going to make you a flower crown?" Karen asks, and Matt can sense her leaning towards him. The teasing in her voice has him guessing she's got her Mischievous look on. 

"Maybe."

"That's so sweet."

"It's so 2014," Foggy adds with his own teasing.

Karen throws one of the throw pillows he's somehow accumulated at Foggy, "She's a baby, leave her alone."

Both he and Foggy laugh and Matt can't help but get his own dig in, "Like you would deny a flower crown from her."

"Damn right, I wouldn't," his best friend bites back. "I'm accepting all flower crowns, hair braiding, nail painting, and tea parties. I am going to be the best uncle she could ever dream of - wait, does she already have an uncle? Do I need to do research? I'll out Uncle anyone."

Matt shakes his head, "No, it's just the two of them. No other family. It seems like a sensitive topic, so I haven't.. Pushed. She hasn't either, but my background is a little more…public?  I haven't told her about Maggie, yet."

The couch groans as Karen leans back into it, sipping again at her beer before humming, "Well, it will be easier to keep your late night activities under wrap. Less people to question things?" 

"That's a way to put it," is the response from his other friend. Matt shakes his head at both their words.

"I told you I want to tell her, once it's safe. I need your help with that, too," Matt pushes himself up and starts to pace behind his couch, "With everything we've been through, all the things we've been working on as a team - and I know most of that is me with all my bullshit and issues." He stops his walking to rub at his jaw, "I know…I know I'm going to be bad at this. I know I'm going to fuck something up. I've done it to both of you countless times. And I can't give up on being the Devil, we've seen how it goes when I try to go either way, so I need to find the balance quick but I can't.." He trails off slightly as the emotions swell in his chest at his self sabotaging this and he has to inhale deeply to keep himself from getting too worked up. "I can't lose them. I can't."

"Oh, Matt," Karen whispers. 

He's so caught up in his own emotions he doesn't hear Foggy get up and actually starts when he's clapped on the shoulder, "Matt, let me say this with my full heart, and I know Karen will one hundred percent agree, and I'm pre-facing this with I love you and you are my brother and best friend, and I think this is exactly what you need me to tell you. If you pull any of the bullshit you did with us with them or anything similar, I will personally drop you into the Hudson. After Karen is through with you."

It catches him off guard, but his best friend is right and it is exactly what he needs to hear. 

"There would not be anything left to dispose of," Karen cheerily adds and Matt doesn't need super human hearing to know she's telling the truth. 

He nods in understanding to both of them, "Thank you." He needs to properly thank them for so many things, but he doesn't know how and all he can do is repeat the words. 

"So," Foggy starts again, squeezing Matt's shoulder before shaking him a few times. "When do I get to meet my newest niece?"

"Once we tell her the truth about who I am to her. I'm going over for dinner tomorrow, to try and be in more everyday things to get her used to it all." He wonders if his excitement about the dinner is showing through. He gets to visit where you and his daughter live and that always says so much about a person. He wants to be let into that bubble. 

"Wait!" Karen gasps, turning more in her seat so she is facing towards the two of them, "If Foggy gets to be Uncle, does that mean I'm an Aunt?"

"Do you want to be?" He asks, because it is obviously a 'yes' in his mind. 

Karen considers this, Foggy narrating, "She's debating on her head, doing the whole tilting it one way and then the next." 

"Oh, hush, Fog! Of course, I want to be!"

This quickly dissolves into playful bickering.

"Aunt Karen has a good ring to it."

"Oh, like Uncle Foggy is much better?"

Matt grins and finds his way back to his seat and his beer. He grabs the bottle and takes a long sip, listening to two of the most important people in his life bask in the glow of their little family getting bigger. 

Maybe, just maybe, he isn't as helpless and lost as he thinks he is. 

Maybe it will all be okay. 

He just needs to have faith. 

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@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then I met you

[xlpoww]

GUTS

love is embarrassing

Anonymous asked: okay okay i just read your sanji imagines and maybe make a part where the roles are reversed? like the reader gets flirted on by someone else and she flirts back and sanji doesn’t understand why he feels jealous all of a sudden? this is part two to this original request, which can be found here: SOUR and the finale: LOVE

thank you for taking the time to read my silly little stories :)

warnings: jealousy, sanji and zoro get into a physical fight

word count: 1209

opla! sanji x f! reader

the moon is high in the sky when you return to the going merry that night. theo’s sweet words echoing in your mind, what a charming boy. no matter how great a time you had; he couldn't even hold a candle to your ship’s resident flirt. no one could worm their way into your heart like sanji vinsmoke had.

the resident blonde of the going merry is in a foul mood. 

what reason did he have to wake up on the right side of the bed? he’d gone to sleep before you’d even come home last night, and woken up to see you missing from your usual morning reading spot. the eggs made this morning were over whisked and undercooked, and sanji couldn't find room in his brain to truly care. 

“good morning sanji,” nami walked into the kitchen with a yawn. she’s covering her mouth as she shuffles towards the island. when she reaches it she leans on her elbows, looking at sanji’s back as he moves about around the stove.

“good morning mademoiselle, how did you sleep?” there was a robotic feeling to his flirting, the redhead frowned at the sound; with a raise of her eyebrow she spoke

“what’s gotten into you?” sanji turned to look at her with a smile, placing a plate with eggs and bacon in front of where she stood leaning on the countertop. he wipes his hands off and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

“nothing gorgeous, i’m quite alright! especially since i have the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face so bright and early.” before nami can push him any further, luffy comes barreling into the kitchen nose first. 

“sanji! i knew i smelled something good cooking!! i am starving.” nami is forced to drop the subject as she quickly snatches up her plate before luffy can steal a piece of bacon straight from it.

—

by the time you walk into the kitchen for breakfast, the crew has assembled and luffy is on his third plate of eggs. everyone greets you kindly, except your favorite blonde. the silence from his causes a stinging feeling in your chest, and as you sit down you notice he’s staring intently at the wall opposite of you. ‘why wont he look at you?’ 

it stings, of course it does! you considered sanji a very good friend of yours, for him to suddenly start ignoring you. you can't deny the pang you felt in your heart. ‘did you do something to upset him?’

"how was your night y/n?" nami turns to look at you, there's a ghost of a smirk on her face. you face lights up like a fire engine, you're looking bashfully down at your plate of eggs when you reply.

"it was nice, he was very sweet." 

"i'm glad to hear that, do you have any plans to see him again?" she's leaned her elbows onto the table and placed her chin in her hands. her question is finished off with a wink.

"well actually-" your reply is cut off by an abrupt slamming sound that makes you jump. sanji has slammed his hand onto the table and stood up, his chair making a loud noise as he propels it backwards. he snatches his empty plate off the table, grabbing nami and zoro's as well before stomping over to the sink. he takes the time to light a cigarette and stick it in between his lips before starting to clean the dishes.��

the rest of the crew sitting at the table with you are staring at sanji's back with confusion (zoro with frustration) but no matter how piercing your gazes are. he wont turn to meet a single one. 

"what's your problem waiter?" zoro speaks up, looking so very over the cook's jealous antics.

"whatever could you mean my friend?" sanji speaks up, plastering a smile that doesn't meet his eyes on as he turns to look at zoro. you subconsciously tilt your head in confusion, and when sanji sees it out of his peripherals he cant help the way his heart swells. you make it impossibly hard to stay mad. you're so naturally adorable.

"you've been in a shit mood ever since we left the bar last night." zoro crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"i'm not in any kind of mood. why don't you mind your own mosshead?" sanji's words are practically spit out of his mouth.

"why don't you quit acting like you're not jealous, waiter." sanji turns off the water, forcefully placing down the plate he'd just washed on the drying cloth. he turns around and begins to roll up his sleeves. 

"it would be wise of you to shut your stupid mouth, now wouldn't it."

"you think i'm scared of an idiot who can't even tell his best friend he's in love with her?" it feels like your heart has jumped out of your chest and into your throat. before you can even begin to process the words that just left zoro's lips, he's standing up to face sanji as the blonde walks over. 

"you don't know shit." and sanji's legs has gone flying up into the air, aiming for zoro's head. the green haired man catches it with his hand and pulls it, knocking sanji off balance.

'holy shit. they're fighting.' 

"guys, stop it." nami has stood up from her place at the table, but her words fall on deaf ears. usopp is looking at you sadly, but has to quickly dodge a stray kick from sanji. he stands up and back away from the table. 

"woah hey guys, maybe it's time to cool down a little yeah?" the sniper raised his hands next to his head and slowly backs away from the scene.

"guys!" nami's next shout is fractic, zoro had drawn two of his swords and sanji had kicked usopps chair far away. the two men show no sign of stopping, apparently this argument had been building for much longer than you would've known. 

you're still frozen in place in your chair as zoro's accusations, sanji's weird behavior towards you this morning starting to make sense. he had feelings for you, and you had left with another guy last night. you only can begin to wonder how heartbroken he must have been, had he stayed up to see if you would come back home to them, to him?

'you felt awful'

you're broken out of your train of thought by a sickening cracking noise, and when you turn sanji is on the floor covering his nose. you can see blood flowing from underneath it, and you jump up in worry. 

"sanji!" you rush to his side, kneeing down besides the broken man on the floor and placing a hand on his shoulder. you can hear the sound of a sheathing sword behind you, but your eyes don't leave sanji's. he looks so, defeated. you had never seen his eyes so sad.

he brushes you off without a word, standing up and walking out of the room. there’s a heavy silence in the air, and you slump down on your knees. with tears in your eyes you turn to glare at the swordsman.

“what the fuck zoro.”

Taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @shuujin @untoldshortsofthefandoms

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #sanji #xlpoww #one piece sanji #ronoroa zoro #opla cast #opla zoro #nami #opla nami #opla usopp #opla luffy #jealousy #part 2 #requests #GUTS #SOUR #SORRY ITS LATE OOPS

[rufflesandbows]

Made of Fire

Aemond X Reader (Rhaenyra Daughter)

Promises had been made. Maybe as children, but it would appear Aemond has not forgotten them. Not through the passage of time and not through the pain and the hate. The feud is coming to its sharp edge, and now he means to fulfil that promise. Claiming it is for duty and devotion, both of which you doubt.

Warnings: Incest, kidnapping, non/dub-con touching and heavy kissing Word Count: 2400 (Part 2/Final)

The sharp whip of winds chilled your cheeks and rushed past your ears. Most of your body was ice cold, except your back and around your waist, a firm grip keeping you upright. Your hips ached a little, and the world seemed to waver lightly, as if on calm waters. To rub your face, you attempted to lift your hands only to feel a harsh yank around your wrists. Your head snapped up, looking at your hands and in the night you could make out ropes binding you. In a panic you pulled again when a dragons deep rumble startled you, feeling the vibrations through your legs.

You were flying high in the full moon sky, tied to a dragon. In a gasp your heart jumped up your throat and you pressed back at the warm wall behind you, pulling on the ropes.

A sly shush came beside your ear. “Easy now.” You recognized that voice, a trembling sigh came from you. Gods above, just what did Aemond think he was doing!? “I had a difficult time convincing Vhagar to let you up here. She remembers what your brother did to me.”

The great dragon tilted her head to look behind herself, hearing her name, showing all those jagged teeth to the moonlight with a growl. It took a moment for you to catch your bearings, taking in the clouds against a twinkling sky. The great wings gave slow but heavy beats you could feel pulse through your body. You began to tremble all over, the fast winds, the darkness below, this was the first time you’d ever ridden a dragon. The egg that never hatched still sitting on your shelf back at Dragonstone. “Aemond. Think this through-”

Aemond pulled his face into your neck, taking a deep breath in and sending you on high alert. His arm didn’t tighten on you, he caressed you. Running his touch up and down your side. Your breath hitched, nervously shifting on the saddle. “It is as you said. You and I should have been wed ages ago.”

Quite the devoted claim. If only he meant it. You anxiously tried twisting your hands free of the ropes. “We should of been; to unite our families and put the petty feud behind us. I’m not a fool. I know you care nothing for me. You’re only taking me to upset my brothers.”

“Is that what you think?” He chuckled. In frustration you tugged the rope and Vhagar gave a lurch. She growled and shivered, the saddle swaying as if she might toss you both off. You cried out and gripped the bone of the saddle, panting hard with panic.  Aemond however remained relaxed, adjusting the reins in his one hand and soothing his beast. “She knows you’re trying to escape. It would be in both our best interest if you stopped fighting. Besides, where will you go? You shove me off she won’t follow your command. She’ll kill you.”

“Where do you intend to take me?” All the resolution in your voice was gone, still frightened from your near plummet to the ground. “What do you plan to do?”

If he wanted to take your virtue, leave you humiliated he didn’t have to take advantage of your use of poppy milk to steal you away on dragonback. 

“We’re going far from both our families. To Harrenhal, where we will wed as we should have been long ago.”

It didn’t make any sense. His words were plain but they couldn’t be simple. Why now? What did it matter to him when he’d done nothing but mock you and your brothers at dinner? You couldn’t help but think the worst. That he had something truly horrific waiting for you. That he meant to keep you as his plaything and break your body and mind. Even now his hand on your hip was roaming your body. Crossing your stomach, running up your chest, grabbing your breast through the thin night gown and placing a kiss on your jaw. He wouldn't stand less than five feet from you during the visit to Kings Landing, where was this coming from? The wind whipped away your tears before they could fall. “And then what?”

“We’ll be married. You will live with me. You will bear my children.”

And what else? What was he not telling you? “Aemond, I don’t understand-”

He laughed, his breath hot on your neck, his hand dropping back down to your hip, holding you steady against his lap. “Do you desire me no longer? Do you not remember all our long talks at the library? Our kiss under the weirwood?” His voice dropped low into a tease. “Do you think I didn’t catch you watching me train this morning, or sneak glimpses at the dinner table?”

You remembered all those events clearly. They all meant nothing in the wake of a kidnapping. With a thick swallow down a dry throat, you admitted, “I’m frightened.”

He gave pause before asking softly, “You think I’d hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” You gestured to the ropes around your wrists, keeping you tied to a beast that hated you. Looking into his face brought you no clear answers, only that whatever was in his mind was felt intensely. You felt his hand begin to move again, raising up to curl around your shoulder, to softly touch your cheek, to keep your eyes on him. 

“When I take you to bed, you will know.”

You took back, parting your lips to speak when his mouth crashed to yours. Aemond buried you in his heat, pressing into you, fingers digging into your jaw to keep you locked to him as he delved further. You could taste a spiced sweetness on his tongue as it ran along yours. Could feel his chest rumble at your back as Vhagar’s did beneath your legs. Heat jumped down your spine, awakening your whole body to the winds chill. Your knees rose up on the saddle, trying to not pull on the ropes as he had his way with you. You squirmed and whimpered, helpless against his eager exploration.

When Aemond finally released you, you were both left gasping. You could feel his arousal against your backside, and unfortunately, the wind made you very aware of the dampness beneath yourself. Of the blood thrumming with life through you. You licked your lips, tasting one last time that spiced sweetness, gulping it down. His free arm wrapped around you again, tightly pressing you against his chest, growling in satisfaction. 

He whipped the reins, Vhagar weaving up before diving lower. You could see the lake of the Gods Eye glittering, shocking you that you could see all sides of the great lake from so high up. As Vhagar drew closer, she began to pick up speed, descending faster and faster, your stomach crawling up your throat. You held onto the saddle for dear life, feeling yourself lift without the proper harness reserved for Aemond. 

At a certain level Vhagar beat her wings and slowed, lowering herself into an open field a short distance from Harrenhal. Quickly the old dragon settled, but she had her head tilted just lightly, watching you and Aemond. 

“Are you ready?” Aemond asked as you were still trying to catch your breath. 

As you spoke, your voice was shivering. “Surely there isn’t a Maestor waiting at this hour.”

Aemond scoffed, “No. We’ll be staying at Harrenhal for the night and wed in the morning. That is, if you cooperate.”

Cooperate. Meaning you didn’t make a fuss about being kidnapped. That you play along as a woman madly in love with the prince, ready to take him to husband, take him to bed. The pregnant pause of your hesitation agitated Vhagar, her impatient roar amusing Aemond. You had tensed and he gave you what was supposed to be a comforting squeeze. “Hm? How about it, beloved?”

Neither Aemond or Vhagar were giving you much choice. Worse yet was thinking how it would unite the two bloodlines once again. Something both your mother and his had been desperately avoiding. Was it then your duty to the Realm to quell the mounting tensions on the edge of destruction? What was the price you were willing to pay to make that happen? Letting out a slow sigh, you nodded, “Alright. I’ll play along.”

“I knew you’d see things my way.” He pulled a blade from his hip and sliced the rope, freeing your wrists. You felt Vhagar’s gaze the entire decent down her side. You didn’t know a dragon could hate so personally. When your bare feet touched the ground, you gave a small cry at how cold it was, looking down at the instant chill seeping into your joints. 

“Here.” You didn’t know where he produced them from, but he handed you a pair of your slippers. Uneasy, you slipped them on and let him take your hand. Aemond kept you locked tight by his side as he led you to the looming silhouette of Harrenhal, the pale moon touching the melted stone of the towers. 

When the gates came into view, it was Lord Larys himself who greeted you both with a small bow. “Prince and Princess, it is an honor to house you both here.”

He could see the state you were in. The nightgown, the trembling, the clear fear in your eyes, yet he smiled back when you said nothing. 

Aemond asked, “The rooms are ready?”

You looked between them, feeling ever more trapped as Larys nodded, “Oh, everything is ready, as you requested. The wedding will be underway first thing in the morning.”

It was clear they were working together, that it was planned for longer than your visitation. That no one would be sending you help, not even if you screamed and cried. Aemond nodded, pulling you along deeper into the cursed fort. “I apologize that it won’t be a grand wedding befitting a prince and princess, but we don’t want to draw in too much attention before the union can be consummated.” 

A flush of fear sapped all the heat from you, making you shiver. “Then why not do it now? Get it over with?”

Aemond looked at you, a softness in his gaze. “Because you deserve more than that.” Still, you couldn’t understand him. A soft curl of his lip came as he stopped in the hall, “You’re not a concubine, or a whore to me. You might doubt my intentions, but I do intend to make you my wife, and give you every respect as such. You’ll have a wedding, a proper wedding and a feast. And when we return home, our houses will be united, as is our duty.”

You shook your head, “Then why didn’t you ask me? Why take me against my will? Why mock my family if you intend to share in our name? If you think I am nothing more than a bastard?”

“I only mock your brothers to rile them, the truth of your parentage matters nothing to me.” In spite of your very serious questions, he leaned in with a growing smile. “And you did promise yourself to me, once.”

You were not amused. Aemond however was tickled as his chuckle bounced off the stone walls and he led you further in. He stopped before a door at the very end, opening it up for you and for the first time, let your hand go. 

Timidly, you walked in, looking around the properly decorated room for a noble guest. Your eye fell on the bed and you stiffened, spinning around quickly to watch Aemond. He stayed by the door, a wicked grin playing on his lips and a glitter in his eye. “Don’t you worry, I am no scoundrel. I will wait properly for the consummation. When you are my wedded wife.”

The word consummation made your stomach drop, pooling low at your waist. When you didn’t respond, just clutched yourself as wild thoughts of what was to come invaded, Aemond stepped forward. His movements were gradual and assured. He reached up and cupped your cheek, running his thumb along the still chilled flesh. There was such a daze as he looked at you, his eye roaming every detail of your face. His gaze fell on your lips, lingering there a long while. You gulped with anticipation, thinking of that kiss mid flight. It was far from the first between you, but it had been years ago that you two practiced in secret, with all the flair of amateurs. The very last having been under the weirwood, giving a promise to one another that you were made for each other. That was before Driftmark.

Aemond moved forward and you flinched, but didn’t pull back. Your heart was racing wildly, your body growing hot with uncertainty and inaction. Looking into you, the air was heavy, his intense gaze boring into you. More slowly he closed the distance, his eye not leaving yours for a single second as his lips softly placed on yours.

It was at the touch of your lips that his eye rolled to a fluttering close. His grip tightened, locked you against him, Aemond nodding deeper into the kiss. A whimper slipped from you, your hands planting on his chest. He was burning under your touch, Aemond breaking the kiss only to swallow you up again. A gasp parting your lips and allowing him to taste you once again. 

His hand dropped low on your back, crushing you flush against him. It was suffocating being between his hungry embrace. Your choked breathing turned into panting, fanning his mouth between his lavishing dive into you. Aemond moaned, nearly picking you up off the floor as he gripped you again, eager to have you hop onto his waist.  

A loud wet smack parted you and you took the split second moment to chide him, “Aemond.”

His breath hitched, stopping himself. “You’re right. Of course.” His words were rough with quick rapid breaths. He licked his lips, as if starving for more of you, savoring what little he could get. Slowly, his body trembling, Aemond set you down and pulled his arms from you. There was a pink flush in his cheeks, his lips glistening. Swallowing thickly, he dipped his head and stepped backwards toward the door. “Sleep well.” 

The door shut behind him, and a moment later you heard the lock turn on the outside.

___ Let me know if you enjoyed the read! ♡ Art by Daniel F. Gerhartz

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #my writing

[aclowntiny]

woo congrats for the 700 followers babe (i hope you don't mind me calling you that!!) i was wondering a reaction of any group that comes to your mind about y/n kissing them and then running away maybe cause they're shy or being playful idkk!! that's the first thing that came to my mind

Of course not babe 😘😆 this is such a cute idea!!! I like this idea for multiple groups tbh but I’ll start with Ateez of course hehe~ Hope this is what you meant!

Ateez When Their Crush Kisses Them and Runs Away

Hongjoong

“I really like this one. Here, listen.” Hongjoong placed the set of headphones in his hands gently over your ears, the rustling sound tickling them before the click of the play button.

Music filled your ears, upbeat sound enveloping you as if you were surrounded. It brought a smile to your face and motion to your head, the joyful bob mirrored in amusement by Hongjoong. He shook his head fondly, watching with interest at your response to the song. You felt shy suddenly, head falling to no longer meet his intense eyes.

When the song ended, you removed the headphones, setting them carefully upon the desk’s slick surface. “Let’s listen to the next one together,” you suggested quietly, still a bit flustered from the way Hongjoong stared at you. Sure, you’d liked him for some time, but you hadn’t gotten that many signs before he looked at you like that, and suddenly you didn’t know how to act.

“I have the perfect one up next,” he agrees with a nod, unplugging the cord of the on-ears and queuing up the following song on the computer.

Upbeat music faded in favor of something soft and glittery, something that almost would’ve been like ASMR had you still listened in surround. The words started, and you could tell it was a love song. The perfect song, huh? What did he mean by that?

Hongjoong’s face was illuminated purple by the room’s LEDs, all his piercings shining lavender and even the deep brown, almost black, of his eyes getting tinted. His gaze was once again fixed firmly upon you as the desperate lyrics swam through the room, and it sent lightning through you.

As if yanked forward by a puppet string you closed the gap between your seated figures, capturing his lips against yours. It was hard to tell if he was responding, though, your brain working despite the soft warmth sending you spiraling. Your chest sunk. Maybe you’d been wrong. Oh, no.

You had to leave. With one final glance at Hongjoong’s deer-in-the-headlights face, you rose from your seat’s padding, feeling it roll away at the sudden push.

"(y/n), wait!"

Gritting your teeth, you swung back around at Hongjoong's bidding, seeing him half-standing with a hand out.

"I'm really sorry I froze up, I'd been planning to make a move at the end of the song for so long, that completely threw me." His look of worry rose into a smile. "In a good way. Can we try again?"

All you could do was nod, prompting him to stand all the way, glancing down and taking your waist when he received a nod from you before pressing his lips to yours, music still swirling around your heads.

Seonghwa

Everything you did was adorable.

You swayed your hips lightly to the music on Seonghwa's speaker as you cracked another egg into a bowl. You two were baking together, a simple, domestic activity that had Seonghwa's heart full. He could barely focus on his dry measurements, his mind full of you, you, you. What could he say? He was head over heels.

You passed by each other in sync, with you grabbing the milk and him the salt before returning to your respective mixing. Maybe he should try and make things more romantic.

When you beckoned him to bring the dry bowl over, he acquiesced immediately, proverbial light bulb going off above his head. "Alright, let's mix together."

You smiled that gorgeous smile. "Sounds great."

Standing behind you, Seonghwa took a hold of your hand, gaze falling shyly from your smile as you turned back toward the bowl, his hand guiding yours in swirls as you gradually added his half of the mixture to yours. Far too soon in Seonghwa's mind, though, the batter started to look incorporated.

"Does that look..." You turned, inadvertently pressing closer to him as you peered innocently into his eyes, face inches from his as the last part of your sentence came out quieter. "...good?"

Seonghwa's lips parted, but before any reply could leave them yours were pressed sweetly against them. His eyelashes fluttered and his chest soared, but a mere second later you were pulling back away, sinking down against the counter on bent knees.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me! That just looked like a movie scene, and- and I-"

Bending down to eye level with you, Seonghwa nodded encouragingly. "Don't worry, I felt it too. Do you want to do it again or is that just me?"

Yunho

From the peripheries of your vision, you saw Yunho tugging at the thick blue blindfold around his eyes. "No peeking," you chastised.

"All right, but how far do I have to go for the center?" Yunho responded, one hand tightly holding yours.

"Just a few more steps," you replied, tugging him a bit further, "in fact, I think that's good. Everyone ready?"

The rest of the group called out affirmatives, spreading for the game of blind man's bluff. Yunho was 'it', the one who would grope along after you all as you darted away from his hands.

Of course, that's how it should have gone, but Ateez was no normal group. Jongho had climbed onto the table and Yeosang was under a chair. The rest kept running up to tease him with actions ranging from speaking right into his ear and running off to slapping his butt. And that gave you a great idea. Well, not the butt thing. Not yet at least...

You'd wanted to make a move for some time now. You and Yunho were always so playful with each other, joining in on each other's antics and having giggly slappy fights you couldn't help but see as breaks to the touch barrier. So what better opportunity to push your luck than when the man was blindfolded?

Running up at his side, you stood on your tiptoes and crashed your lips against his, smiling even as he jumped back a bit, startled. It took everything you had to suppress laughter, but his next words helped.

"That better have been (y/n)," Yunho remarked, head tilted.

"Who else would have done that?" You shot back. too incredulous to overthink if you were about to be rejected.

"I dunno," he shrugged, still blindfolded, "Wooyoung or something?"

"Does he ever-"

"No!" Yunho cut you off, nose wrinkling beneath the fabric across its bridge. "Gross! And he knows I like you! Which I can say now given my optimistic assumption my feelings are requited."

"Yes," you stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder and moving your face inches from his, "yes, they are."

"Good!" He exclaimed, grinning. "But also..." His hands snaked tightly around your middle, lifting you off the ground. "I got you! You're it now!"

Yeosang

“Here we go- one for you and one for me.” With a bright smile, Yeosang handed you one of the ice cream cones in his hands.

It was a beautiful day, the perfect day to take a walk, and of course it didn't take much persuasion to get Yeosang over to the ice cream stand with you. Having time together like this was rare, so you wanted to milk it for all it was worth, drawing out what could be a simple wend through the park with the man who gave you butterflies.

Butterflies indeed, you thought as he dug happily into his ice cream like an eager little boy, continuing his description of the last book he'd read.

"But was it sad though? I don't want to read it if it's really sad."

"No way! The ending was perfect in my opinion. The characters went through everything they needed to." Another smile into the sunshine. Another bite of ice cream.

That time, though, the cone cracked and a little bit of the sweet dessert dribbled onto his lip, which stuck out in a little pout. Yeosang looked so cute, your brain blanked. Complete zero thoughts, head empty, just Yeosang. Without you even realizing it, your lips had fallen onto his, kissing the ice cream off of them.

It wasn't until the butterflies buzzed again, begging you to let yourself get even more carried away, that you even realized what you'd done, backing away immediately with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you gasped, turning and walking away, butterflies now stabbing into your fluttering heart with shock and shame.

"D-do you like me?" You heard Yeosang's voice at your back, but you couldn't bear facing him again, just nodding your burning head, eyes squeezed shut and ice-cream-free hand covering half your face.

His hand on your shoulder almost made you jump. "Why are you getting shy now, huh? You're so cute."

Your hand shot up all the way, burying your whole face. He thought you were cute?

"How can I see your face again? Do I have to kiss you, too? Alright, gladly," Yeosang whispered, kissing your cheek.

San

San felt lucky that day- you two were at the arcade together. He'd liked you for a few months now, but couldn't tell how you felt. Making a move felt too risky. What were the odds you felt the same? Probably not great, especially since you were friends with all of Ateez. You easily could have liked another member, but no matter what San was eternally grateful for your friendship, the easy feeling he got when he was with you. Even though his heart raced every time you smiled, it was never stressful when you talked. You'd made it clear that he could talk to you about anything and even confided in him, too, which just proved it.

It was healing to see you so happy and excited, practically yanking him over to every game you wanted to play. You’d already kicked his butt at whack-a-mole, though his victory at the shooting gallery was clear. None of it was about winning, though. Not for him.

That was until the pair of you stumbled upon the claw machine, your eyes sparkling with excitement and lips curling widely upward in joy. Two little squishmallows of your favorite animal sat amongst the cuddly rainbow of prize options, and anyone with eyes could see it was love at first sight. San would have given anything to get you that plushie, even every last game credit he had.

“Your wish is my command,” he remarked dashingly as he swiped the play card, lighting up the crane’s lining.

“Oh, San, these things are usually rigged, though. I don’t want you to run out of play over it!”

“Then I’ll just have to win it right away, huh?” He shot back with a dimpled grin, deftly angling the gripper over your beloved squishmallow. Pressing the button, he sent it down, plucking the adorable round plushie up…

…and back down, this time considerably closer to the prize depot. Fire blazed in San’s eyes as he swiped his card again. He heard you giggle at his intense expression as he leaned closer to the smudged glass of the claw machine as if trying to become one with the mechanics of it. He twitched the claw back and forth a bit, then with a nod of satisfaction sent it back down, securing your prize and dropping it right through the plastic square trap door of victory.

You leapt for joy, giving that smile that made his heart leap as you reached through the prize door and cuddled your gift to your chest, repeating thanks to San again and again.

He smiled, opening his mouth to day you’re welcome, but was cut off by your lips on his. He froze, every thought and command flying out if his brain until he saw you flush and step back, uncertainty written all over your face as you still held your prize.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head, “I just got excited. But I really appreciate-”

“No, no, wait!” Waving his hands, San panicked, words falling clumsily from his lips. “I’m sorry, that was so terrible, I’ve liked you forever so I just got really nervous! Kind of ruined that, didn’t I?”

Your lips parted again in shock, several heartbeats passing before you smiled and shook your head. “It’s like the claw machine, right? Practice makes perfect. I like you, too, San. Well, obviously,” you giggled, and just like that San’s heart picked up again despite that feeling of comfort and rightness returning.

Looks like you guys had both won the jackpot that day.

Mingi

“Give it back!"

Mingi had snatched your phone, which you’d made the mistake of leaving lying flat atop the coffee table in his shared apartment, and ran with it, leaning into the boon of his long legs. He turned back even as he legged it, giving you a wide, boyish smile before sticking his tongue out.

“Come get it,” he giggled in response, breathy from the clear exertion of how hard he sprinted, tearing tightly around a corner.

Smirking, you turned on your heels, running back the other way to cut him off. The look on his face was priceless as you emerged into the room he barreled towards simultaneously, facing one another. His jaw dropped and hands waved, but your triumph didn’t end, not even when you collided, toppling to the floor.

Heat rushed to your face. You had a crush on Mingi, and though you didn’t know if it was returned, the tension of the day’s flirting welled up in your chest, spilling over as you leaned in from your position on top of him, connecting your lips.

The moment you parted, though, you saw how wide his eyes were and panicked, feeling like you’d overstepped. Scrambling off of him, you made to leave, muttering an apology, but his hand closed around your wrist gently. His strength was still enough to stop you in your tracks without yanking you back over.

“Where are you going?” He smiled at you, stars in his eyes. “I need to kiss you back, right?”

Wooyoung

Prey in sight. Target locked.

Wooyoung was the victim of many prank attempts by you, the latest one being sliding up behind him and stealing his phone. Creeping up toward him, you rose up on your bent knees, hand sliding slowly toward the piece of technology in his hand. His hand that immediately reached behind him and slapped yours out of the way.

"Ha! Caught you again!"

"No fair," you pouted, "how did you even see me?"

"I know your M.O.," Wooyoung countered, smiling triumphantly and then sticking his tongue out at you, "there's nothing you can do that surprises me."

Frustration of multiple kinds ballooned in your chest as he smirked at you, challenge glinting in his eyes. You would do anything, anything, to wipe that look off of Jung "Smug" Wooyoung's face. You know what? Great idea, you realized.

"Oh yeah?" You challenged, stepping closer.

"Yeah," he dug his heels in, crossing his arms.

You stood up straight, lunging forward and crashing your lips against his. It was your turn to smirk into the kiss as he returned it immediately, almost desperately. Well, shoot. Guess all that flirting he'd done had been for real. Good to know.

Right as Wooyoung started picking up the pace, though, you separated again, running back down the hall you'd initially snuck down.

"Hey!" He protested.

"Guess I did surprise you after all, huh?" You fired back as you ran, turning to see with great satisfaction that Wooyoung was chasing you. No way he was going to let you get away with that.

Jongho

You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were dreaming. One of the best dreams you’d ever had, you would later reflect.

Choi Jongho, the handsome, stoic, effortlessly funny man you’d fallen head over heels for, had just confessed to you, pulling you into a kiss that had your head spinning harder than any prior fantasy had. The dream was vivid, too, full of sight and sound and sensation so much that it pushed you a bit past perception of reality.

So, when a hand upon your shoulders gently shook you awake, a voice you recognized even in half-sleep as Jongho whispering your name, you responded how you thought was in kind.

By leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Sleep left you further as he hummed in confusion, pulling away and repeating your name, this time questioning, inquisitive, faintly scandalized. Some of the added gravity to his voice had your half-lidded eyes fluttering further open, veil lifted as you blinked at Jongho’s wide eyes, pursed lips, and red ears.

What had you done? Every neuron in your brain called out for you to flee, bury away your shame and scandal forever. Each muscle in your body agreed, but had trouble following suit as you clumsily wrestled with the blanket that had been draped over you upon the couch, fabric catching your feet until you flung it to the floor, pushing up to a seated position and up, swaying to run away.

“Whoa, whoa!” Jongho held out a protective hand. “You just surprised me is all. Let’s talk about this, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, unable to look him in the eye, “I was having a stupid dream. That’s all.”

“Is that what you call stupid?” Jongho asked, tone still even as always, but colored with the faintest hint of incredulity. “I would call something like that a very good dream.”

Your eyebrows shot up, gaze returning to his. “You would?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “felt pretty good to me. But I suppose it wasn’t me in the dream, was it?”

Your chest ballooned at the actual palpable disappointment you saw in his face, heard in his voice. You…actually had a shot here?

“Ok, so you’re not gonna believe this-”

Not exactly the most romantic start to your next kiss, but hey, it sure did the trick.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong #seongwha #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #gender neutral reader #fluff #requested #jacobbaeluvr #moots 💕

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Holiday Recs

Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve - click below for my favorites.

I Don't Know About You, But I'm Feeling... by IBoatedHere. T, 794 words. Four birthdays in Alex's life.

kiss me, and tell me that i’ll see you again by fxckingeyelashes. T, 2k. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but are you into guys perhaps? I’d like to know if I have a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Alex raises his eyebrows. It’s only then that he notices the rainbow G A Y under Henry’s name.

“A chance to be your new year’s kiss.”

(you can start) a family who will always show you love by @waterloolovers. T, 2.1k. “Confetti eggs.”

“Cascarones, but yes,” Alex grins, “I’ll give you a pass since your Spanish is a bit tragic.”

“Rude.” Henry rolls his eyes fondly. “So you just… chase each other around and try to smash eggs on each other? Seems rather messy with confetti going everywhere.”

“It’s very messy, but that’s the fun part of it. It’s meant to bring good fortune for the rest of the year."

The Spirit of Giving by @cha-melodius. T, 2.3k. His practice tamales come out pretty damned good, if he says so himself, and the ones for the holiday party are going to be even better. Alex is confident now that there’s no way his won’t be the best dish a the whole potluck; he’s definitely going to win (and no, he doesn’t care that you can’t ‘win’ a potluck, June).

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: “My holiday dish is better than your holiday dish.”)

Speaking my Language by HMS_Chill. G, 2.3k. Prompt:

"Alex always saying sweet things to Henry in Spanish but won't tell him what any of it means, and he's always google translating them and awe-ing at how cute Alex is and then like maybe he learns how to say something adorable to and says it to Alex and Alex just like melts or something"

one of your girls. by seafloor. M, 2.4k. New Years Eve; three years later. An hour before midnight.

Santa, Tell Me by @harrysglasses. G, 2.5k. Henry receives a very special gift from his office Secret Santa and is determined to find out who it's from.

we play all day (and spread holiday cheer) by headabovethewater. E, 2.5k. Nora guffaws. “You fucked Santa’s Elf?!”

“I mean,” Alex pauses and shrugs, “not with the costume on, obviously.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Nora exclaims, her hands cupping her own face in disbelief. She looks over Alex’s shoulder and cocks an eyebrow, before she lowers her hands and her tone, and asks, “Since when do you have a thing for blondes?”

I'll Have a Flu Christmas by @three-drink-amy. G, 2.7k. Plans go awry when Alex comes down with the flu right before Christmas while Henry waits for him to fly over and meet him in England. Prepared to spend Christmas sick and alone, Alex doesn't expect Henry to take matters into his own hands.

i think i'm falling for you by WaterlooLovers. T, 2.8k. Henry blinks at the man. He’s thankful the rink is fairly dark, only disco lights and black lights surrounding them, so the man can’t see the blush on his cheeks. The man is gorgeous, and still holding his waist, and Henry might be hallucinating. Maybe he did crack his skull on the hard rink floor. “Um.”

Trick or Kiss by ronans. NR, 2.9k. Henry’s been here for ten minutes and he’s already causing Alex to feel some feelings. He supposes Henry has made him a bit scared with his costume, but not in the god given Halloween way he should.

Or, Alex is throwing the Halloween party of the year and can't quite figure out why the Prince of England is haunting his every thought.

May Your New Years Dreams Come True by chamel. T, 3.1k. “In fact, I’d wager money my date will by far be the hottest there.”

Hunter scoffs, which honestly Henry doesn’t understand. It’s not like Alex hasn’t pulled in some real lookers to previous years’ parties, much to Henry’s chagrin. “Really? You want to bet?”

Alex shrugs. “Sure.”

“Henry,” Hunter says suddenly, finally—and unfortunately—acknowledging that he’s actually been standing there the whole time. “You want in on this?”

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: "Competition to see who can bring the hottest date to the New Year’s party")

you and me, forevermore by @theprinceandagcd. T, 3.1k. "He pushes up on his toes to kiss Henry, who returns the kiss immediately, greedily, tongue brushing against his in a way that makes Alex's brain short circuit just as much as it did a year ago.

A year ago.

It still does something to him, stirs something deep inside him that makes his entire body feel like pure mush. It's a memory burned so bright in his mind - cold air, a buzz in his veins, a tree in a quiet garden, fingers gripping his face, soft lips against his.

The night his world turned on its axis and shifted toward Henry, altering his path and forever tilting him closer."

Or, Alex and Henry on New Year's Eve, one year after their first, and Alex wants it to be special.

don't let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic. E, 3.1k. Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

Merry Christmas, Darling by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 3.2k. Alex and Henry's first Christmas together as a couple. Just some good ol' fashioned Christmas smut

Wherever you are, as ever I remain by gallifreyandglowclouds. M, 3.4k. 'It’s transparently a lie, and he shouldn’t lie to Alex, but he can’t help it in the moment. He so badly wants everything to just be fine, to love this new life without a foot stuck in the old one.'

Henry can't help but feel a little homesick during his first Christmas in Brooklyn.

stars by the pocketful by weather_stained. T, 3.7k. Henry is having a terrible Halloween, so terrible that he completely forgets it even is Halloween until Alex shows up at his door asking to borrow a prop for June's costume.

Though Henry opts out of June's Halloween party, Alex makes sure he doesn't spend the holiday alone.

Call It Even by @smc-27. T, 3.7k. Alex shrugs. “I’ll go with you.”

Terrible, terrible, no good idea.

Too bad his mouth works faster than his brain. Which is…another thing he wishes to not think about. His mouth, and Alex, and all the things he could do to that man.

“All right.”

Fuck.

(aka: henry needs a +1 for a holiday party. his roommate offers.)

Help Yourself to Happiness by ronans. NR, 3.8k. ‘So you’re taking the post down, I assume? Now we’re both sober and in control of our impulses?’

Pez barks a laugh. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘I know we discussed the very real possibility that I would cry myself into oblivion without you here singing horrendously off key Christmas carols, but… isn’t this a little… desperate?’

‘I’m willing to see where this will take us, aren’t you?’ Pez asks, raising an eyebrow.

‘Says the man who would be safely out of the country after setting his best friend up with a potential murderer.’

Pez levels him with a look and then picks up Henry’s phone. ‘How many polos did he play?’ Pez turns the screen around so Henry can see the comment. ‘Does that sound like a person with murderous tendencies?’

Henry snatches the phone back. ‘This is a terrible idea.’

Or, A drunken night leads to Pez posting on Reddit, calling on any singles in the area to help Henry be a little less lonely this Christmas.

I'm not gay, but my apparel is by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 4.5k. “I’m not a salesman,” Alex points out, coming out from behind the counter and rolling up his sleeves. “I’m a purveyor of oddities, curiosities, and intrigue.”

“Yes, I saw your sign.”

“And now here we are,” Alex says, gesturing grandly and expansively to the space around him.

“Here we are,” the man says softly, then pulls one hand out of his coat pocket and holds it out to Alex. “Henry Fox-Mountchristen. I would like to purchase an oddity, curiosity, or an item of intrigue.”

you bring blue lights to dreams by headabovethewater. E, 4.5k. When Alex pulls him a bit closer and kisses him again, he thinks he sees a flash of blue peek through the opening in Henry’s shirt, but he ignores the thrill that travels down his spine and shrugs it off. Wishful thinking, he’s sure.

Or, Henry surprises Alex as they celebrate New Year's Eve together.

baby, be mine by strwbrryfox. T, 4.8k. five times alex asks henry to be his valentine and one time henry beats him to it ♥️

many times, many ways by @littlemisskittentoes. M, 4.8k. The thing is, Alex knows he can’t replace the bittersweet wave of memories that swarm Henry’s head at the sight of snow flurries and smell of peppermint in the air. He doesn’t want to. He wants Henry to keep those close, even if it is through the sepia tone of melancholy.

But Alex can’t help but wonder if maybe he can find a way to balance poignancy with something a bit easier. Something a little bit lighter. Something Henry can revisit to understand where he belongs, how he fits into the “happy” of it all any time he needs.

He looks over to Henry, finally asleep against his chest. He takes in the gentle slope of Henry’s nose, the fluttered fan of eyelashes against moon-bathed cheeks. He fixates on the subtle canyon, the soft part of Henry’s lips, the phantom wind of a silent snore, and Alex knows: the very least he can do is try.

or, holidays have always come as a reminder to Henry of what he’s lost. But Alex always manages to remind him of everything he’s gained too.

Ink it in on my skin, sign me up, make it last against the time by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 5.2k. “Okay, then,” Alex says, and Henry can’t help but smile at the hint of mischief creeping into his voice, “there’s two weeks until Valentine’s Day. We each have that long to make it happen, and we’ll do a big reveal that night. Deal?” Flecks of gold are shimmering in his copper eyes. Henry leans forward, catching Alex’s lips to seal their accord.

“Agreed.”

OR

Alex and Henry both decide to get tattoos.

I must tell you what you will not ask by @lizzie-bennetdarcy. E, 5.3k. Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. T, 5.4k. When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

You and Me, Forevermore by milowren. NR, 5.6k. When Henry gets sick a few days after Christmas, he and Alex end up celebrating New Year's together in a different way than they planned.

where every wish comes true by @hypnostheory. E, 6k. “Locked out?”

“I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.”

Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?”

Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

The Honeymoon Suite by clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.1k. Henry's plane is grounded, which is absolutely fine, and not at all the worst possible outcome on Christmas Eve when he should already be on his way to London. Alex's plane is also grounded, but fortunately for his leggy British co-worker, he's a generous soul who's happy to share the room he managed to bag at a local hotel while they wait for their new flights.

So, so generous.

Baby, it's Halloween and we can be anything by sheisraging. E, 6.3k. Alex is furious. More furious than he should be about the whole thing, but still. Plans were made. Money was spent. Costumes were purchased—not even rented—purchased!

it's in the stars, it's who we are by @indomitable-love. E, 6.4k. 'Henry pulls back with wide, startled eyes, releases him roughly and staggers backwards. He lets out a mumbled curse and turns on his heel, and Alex has just enough of something still firing in his brain to reach out and catch Henry’s wrist. Just enough awareness of the fact that Henry is about to run, to say, ‘No, wait,’ before he can disappear through the snow.'

or, the AU where Henry doesn't run after the New Year's Eve kiss.

Re: Inappropriate Festive Party Conduct [Sent with High Importance!] by @largepeachicedtea. E, 6.5k.

Alex has changed his suit into something soft-looking and appropriately red, though the white shirt with the holly pin is still there, now accompanied by a trail of sparkly tinsel around his neck like a festive scarf. He’s holding a whiskey glass in one hand, leaning into something Nora is saying, and looks positively lethal. “Christ,” Henry mutters through a gulp of cider. “He looks good,” Pez agrees through a cheshire grin. “He always looks good,” Henry says. “Right now, he looks–” “Henry! Pez!” “Fuck.” “Alexander!” Pez hollers. “Babes!”

—

An office holiday party AU where Alex and Henry ignore the first rule of corporate festivities: Don't hook up with your coworker.

Ho for the Holidays by @whimsymanaged. E, 6.8k. “Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“

“Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?”

Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.”

Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?”

Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27. T, 6.8k. Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much.

He should investigate.

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge. E, 7k. “I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.”

Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.”

Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.”

“And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

You're the Perfect Gift for Me by @cha-melodius. T, 7.2k. “Twenty-one-year-old Scotch,” the man says with a low whistle, looking more impressed than anything else. “Special occasion or just expensive taste?”

Alex can’t stop his grimace. “Came up here to propose,” he says, even though this random stranger doesn’t need to hear his woes. “Found out my girlfriend’s getting back together with her high school sweetheart.”

“Ouch,” the man replies, the word sounding slightly absurd in his rounded, posh accent. He looks at the bartender. “Leave the bottle.”

(Dumped two days before Christmas by his girlfriend, Alex meets a British writer who's spending Christmas on his own in generic Tiny Town, USA, and together they discover something new to celebrate.)

Snowed In? Snow Problem by @rmd-writes. E, 7.3k. The challenge: to write a fun college AU for the queen of college AUs (though she’ll probably be mad at me for saying so). Bonus points for also including the only one bed and getting caught doing something sus tropes.

The result: hopefully all of the above, plus they’re snowed in for the holidays.

AKA Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

It's Not Thanksgiving Without the Turkeys by allmylovesatonce. M, 7.5k. Thanksgiving 2020, Alex invites Henry to join the Claremont-Diaz family for Thanksgiving. More than anything, they're excited for another excuse to be together.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by @happinessofthepursuit. E, 7.7k. “Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond.

Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift…

“Which one?” Alex asks.

“I think that’ll immediately be clear.”

Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

you make it look so easy, i know it's not by @anincompletelist. T, 7.9k. Bea’s to his left, speaking frantically on the phone with who Henry hopes is the fire brigade or someone else trained to deal with these— situations. In front of him, Pez is fumbling frustratedly with the water hose, showcasing his colorful vocabulary with a flourish of jerky hand movements and chaotic pacing. On either side of the fence, his neighbors are peaking over the sides to ask if everything’s okay, and Henry feels the resolution to make a good first impression crumbling and slipping rapidly out of his grasp. Even David watches on from inside the house, his sage eyes and patriotic bowtie appraising the scene and looking back to Henry as if to say I told you so.

And the fryer — the fryer itself is up in flames, thick gray smoke swirling up into the air and soaring high above the tree line now. In the distance, the echo of sirens. Henry may faint right here, in the middle of his backyard at his new home before he's even unpacked, with all the neighbors and his family and friends watching on, on his first official American Thanksgiving. It is, by all means, not what he’d envisioned for the day.

everything ever written about love by greenandmoss. E, 8.4k.

“Bet you’re glad you knocked on this door.”

“I am, actually.” Smiles should not be this disarming. It’s disconcerting.

It’s like they’re in a movie, where all the lines are pre-written, and the smiles and the looks all mean something. The couple are scripted to catch eyes, and fall in love with each other the second their lips touch. But that’s fucking ridiculous. Henry sits there like some kind of James-Bond-Jude-Law heartthrob, and Alex’s life is not a movie. This is not how real life plays out.

Or: The Holiday au but it's just that one scene where Cameron Diaz meets Jude Law

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by @affectionatelyrs. E, 8.6k. “I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?”

Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?”

Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.”

Alex nods dumbly. “Right.”

Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202. M, 9.1k. "Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.” 

His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him. 

Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.

 

He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back. 

Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

more than you could ever know by indomitablelove. T, 9.5k. He watches Alex’s bright smile as he talks to Bea and Leo, the way that Ellen and Catherine have their heads bent close together and how Nora is talking with Pez, Oscar and June. He feels something catch in his throat, something blooming in his chest with such strength that it threatens to burst its way out. He never, in a million years, thought he would have this.

this year i will fall by @rmd-writes. E, 9.8k. Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits.

But what if fate has other ideas?

Ye Merry Gentlemen by allmylovesatonce. M, 9.9k. Across three different years, at different points in their lives, Alex and Henry celebrate Christmas together.

On My Mind (Let's Go) by @sparklepocalypse. E, 10k. Pez blows into his hands and rubs them together to warm them. “Listen. Just… whatever happens in there, say yes, alright?”

“I don’t follow,” Henry says, his brow furrowing. “Say yes to what?”

“Whatever opportunity comes knocking,” Pez says breezily. “You forget, I’ve seen your messages. The booze is flowing tonight, and everyone’s got their best fit on – so opportunity will knock, and you will say yes.”

(A movieverse New Year's Eve fix-it that started as crack and turned into crack taken seriously. With dancing. And smut. Like... a lot of smut.)

Someone Special by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 10k. "That was Shaan," Henry explains as Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his nose to his neck. "The blizzard hit early, apparently. Too risky to fly."

"So Christmas here?" Alex says in that sleepy drawl of his that Henry will never get tired of. "Fuckin' sweet."

Happy NY by @myheartalivewrites. E, 11k. “Hi,” he says, and Henry looks into his eyes, taking in the brown colour and little flecks of black and gold that give it depth; the tiny freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones, only a shade or two darker than his deep bronze skin. “Uh, sorry about that,” the man says, but he doesn’t step out of Henry’s arms. Instead his eyebrows go up, and his expression changes, from one of embarrassment to something Henry thinks is surprise, and maybe, ever so hopefully, a little bit of interest.

would you wait for me? by smc_27. T, 11k. Henry Fox has made Alex nervous from the second they met.

Now it’s different. Now Alex has to try and find a shirt to wear to a party where he’ll inevitably see Henry for the first time in a year. For the first time since Alex’s heart was broken and he’d made what felt like the brave and smart decision and left.

Coming back might be a mistake.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) by @affectionatelyrs. E, 11k. Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?”

But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except—

Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with.

Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand.

Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by myheartalive. T, 11k. Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

(Secret) Santa Baby by @indomitable-love. E, 11k. "When it comes to Secret Santa, Alex really does have a reputation to uphold. Everybody wants Alex to get them. Nobody actually wants to get Alex, which is why he usually ends up with novelty socks or a political biography, but he doesn’t care. Ultimately, everybody wants Alex to get their name. And right now, Alex is seconds away from finding out who his new mark is. The person that he’s going to spend the next few weeks learning inside and out to ensure that he gets them the perfect gift."

Alex gets his work nemesis, Henry, in the office Secret Santa and realises that he doesn't know nearly as much about him as he thought...

Trim my Christmas tree by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 12k. Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway.

Ho ho ho.

i'll be home for christmas by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 12k. He books a tiny cottage in a village called Little Snoring (not to be confused with the nearby Great Snoring) somewhere in Norfolk and tries to tell himself Christmas by himself in a foreign country is going to be an adventure from which he will have an adorable story to tell his friends and family, and not just totally depressing. At the very least he can take a cute picture of his snowy cottage and pretend he’s not totally fucking jealous of his entire family gathering in Austin without him.

If he ever fucking gets there, that is.

Or, Alex's first Christmas in the UK gets ruined by the British weather. A handsome stranger invites him to spend the holiday with his family instead.

The Holiday by @dracowillhearaboutthis. E, 13k. Henry is in no mood to attend his family's holiday gathering this year. So when June Claremont-Diaz asks him via a Home Swap website whether or not his house is free over the holidays, he jumps at the opportunity to escape the country and his family for the holidays.

He did not include Alex into the calculation - June's charming and gorgeous brother who suddenly appears at her doorstep.

Airplane Mode by clottedcreamfudge. E, 14k. Getting into an argument with someone in the airport lounge had probably been a mistake, in hindsight; Alex knows this. But with so many fucking delays and the fact that the signal on his phone is currently making it about as useful as two paper cups joined by a piece of string, he’s kind of on-edge. It’s not entirely his fault that he snaps.

Attractive people with perfect hair who take the last almond croissant before Alex can get to it probably just need to understand this. Alex is at the end of his tether, and he will not be swayed by, “Well, I was here first,” in a British accent so smooth it could butter bread.

Home for the Holidays by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 14k. “How would you feel about maybe spending Christmas in Texas with me and my family?” He bites his lip after popping the question.

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. But before Alex can regret asking, a soft smile blossoms on his face.

“I want you there with me. I- I wanted you there this week, too-” Alex starts to ramble. “And, like, it’s totally ok if you want to go to England to be with your family, duh, but I’d love to show you Austin and introduce you to my family and teach you the Claremont-Diaz holiday traditions and kiss you on Christmas morning and-”

He’s cut off by the hard press of Henry’s lips against his own.

“Yeah?” Alex beams.

“Yes, love. Of course yes.”

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon by @villiageidiot. T, 14k. He falls asleep on the loveseat, Nora and June curled up on the couch across from him, as a terrible Hallmark Christmas film plays in the background. It’s the fourth night of sleeping alone—Henry taking care of some business back in the palace—and he’d rather wake up cold and cramped across from the two of them than alone in his own bed.

That’s how Alex falls asleep.

That is not how he wakes up.

A Fine Line by indomitablelove. E, 15k. Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Whatever is inescapable. In the worst way possible. He’s always fucking there. Alex turns up for his shift and Henry is there behind the coffee machine, apron tied around his waist and stupid, tight white T-shirt clinging to his biceps. Alex turns up for open-mic night at the cafe and there he is again, reading his fucking poetry. Alex goes to the grocery store, or the bookshop, or the fucking campus library, and who does he see? Henry. Always Henry.

Always Henry, always with a different guy.

Alex hates Henry. He's only letting Henry and his stupid long limbs and his overly symmetrical face stay on his couch because he has to, because 'tis the season not to be a massive dick, because it's Christmas. Isn't he? -also coffee shop/roommates

12 Days of Christmas with Alex and Henry series by @coffeecatsme. E, 16k. "It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle."

"Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch.

"Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

(Dil)Do It Yourself by @happiness-of-the-pursuit. E, 16k. “Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.”

Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages. M, 17k. Henry was dead to begin with. That much you must understand, or nothing that follows will seem strange or wondrous...

Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn't believe in ghosts. And he really hates Dickens.

But that's not going to stop a very unusual Christmas Spirit...

Henry Fox is on a mission. Once a year, he finds a soul in need of his help. (Too bad this one's such an utter berk.)

When two lost souls find each other on Christmas Eve, they may just find everything they never knew they wanted.

The Christmas Guest by @omgcmere. E, 17k. Alex is looking forward to a relaxing winter break catching up with his sister after her semester abroad, but June's gone and ruined everything by inviting her insufferable international student friend to stay with their family for a real American Christmas experience. Henry is irritatingly gorgeous with a completely obnoxious superiority complex, and Alex is prepared to hate every single second he's forced to spend in his presence. As Alex starts to get into the Christmas spirit, however, he finds that maybe there's more to Henry than meets the eye - and maybe, just maybe, this will actually be the best Christmas ever. - also college

Four Christmases by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 19k. From Washington to Austin, London to New York, Alex and Henry spend Christmas with different members of their families from 2020 - 2023. Funny couples' Christmas sweaters, festive swimsuits, statement-making ties, and family pajamas all bring lots of laughs, some tears, and a bit of fun to be had by all along the way.

A Year in the Life series by milowren. NR, 19k. Alex and Henry are coworkers, Henry has a crush, and they end up at a haunted corn maze together a few nights before Halloween. Shenanigans ensue! And - When Alex's flight home is canceled at the last minute, Henry invites him over for Thanksgiving - despite never having hosted an American Thanksgiving before.

and you would be there too by smc_27. M, 20k. It’s mostly dark out here, just the lamp poles in the parking lot casting a warm yellow glow across the packed snow.

“We’re closed.”

Henry spins around, heart racing, and sees the beautiful man from the café and from earlier at the shops. He cuts a stunning image, swinging one leg over the wooden fence rail and stepping into the parking lot as he pulls a red and black plaid shirt over his shoulders, his tan pants tight enough across his thighs to make Henry blush for noticing.

This Hell of a Season by Chamel. E, 21k. (Nova, Baby follow-up) “The first few years, it was a relief to get away from all the stupid family drama,” Alex says, blowing a long sigh. The hand that’s not holding Henry’s slides onto his stomach, a warm, comforting pressure. “Then I started to resent it. It hurt to be stuck out on a mission while everyone celebrated without me.”

“And now?”

A grin slips onto Alex’s face as he walks two fingers across Henry’s bare chest. “Now I have you.”

(Or, 3 times Alex & Henry spent Christmas on missions and 1 when they didn't; or, A Very Nova Christmas Special.

Love on the Menu by berrybluefae. M, 23k. Henry Fox has a side hustle at his job as a host in an upscale restaurant. He loves setting up romantic moments for guests who want a little something extra for their night out to dinner. A bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne for the couple celebrating their 50th anniversary? Easy. A special table with candles and a dessert with a surprise for the woman about to propose? Child’s play. But despite playing Cupid for the restaurant’s guests, Henry has never been on the receiving end of a grand romantic gesture. So imagine his surprised delight when anonymous gifts begin appearing just for him.

Who is Henry’s secret admirer? Only Valentine’s Day will tell.

You Make Every Day Feel Like It's Christmas by allmylovesatonce. T, 25k. Burned out on work, Alex goes to visit June who is on assignment in a sleepy Vermont town called Snow's Landing. June is determined for him to see where she's been living for the last six months and to love it as much as she does. The most intriguing part of it all is June's best friend there, a man named Henry, that Alex believed was a jerk at first but is starting to discover a new side of as they spend more time together.

Paper Chains by @myheartalivewrites. E, 25k.

DAY 751

(Alex)

Henry is… Well, if Alex is being honest, Henry is everything to him.

But it’s kinda hard to explain.

DAY 1

.

.

.

———

I have no idea how to summarise this one, folks. The best I can do is… Alex and Henry's journey from awkward beginning as colleagues, to best friends, to spending time apart and finally to finding each other again.

But it’s not as straightforward as that.

Every Day's a Holiday (When I'm Near to You) by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 29k. I know this is a long shot, but if anyone’s going to Texas/anywhere south for the holidays and is crazy enough to drive there instead of fly, I’m looking for a road trip buddy. We can split gas money and snacks if you pick good ones. DM me if you’re interested.

And Henry knows he's about the make the most idiotic decision he's ever made in his life.

Or, Henry impulsively tags along with Alex on a road trip to Texas with absolutely no plan. Surely this won't backfire.

in a holidaze by @tedddylupin. E, 49k. Alex didn't mean to spend his New Years Eve thrown together with a perfect stranger at an airport. He didn't mean to offer up to share his hotel room with a very attractive stranger. He also didn't mean to find the man insufferably perfect either.

Or: the one where Alex and Henry find each other during different holidays throughout a year's time.

When I think about you by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 50k. Dream sharing is absolutely not a thing, even though Alex would very much like it to be.

The magic of soulmates, however, means that someone you’ve never met – someone whose soul is tied to yours, in whatever way that manifests – can appear in your dreams, like an extra character who keeps popping up over and over again. They won’t be having the same dream as you, and you won’t actually meet, but whatever you remember from the dream can start to take shape in your waking hours; you can figure things out, bit by bit, dream by dream.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

[tightjeansjavi]

4 is perfect for horse dad joel!!! you could do a blurb of one of their morning phone conversations 🥰

Somethin’ Stupid

horse dad! joel x f! horseback riding instructor reader

A/N: thank you for sending in this request my love 🫶🏻 #4 things you said over the phone. 𓃗

~word count: 565~

Summary: one of horse dad! Joel’s and reader’s many cute ass morning phone calls ♡

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta tooth aching fluff and flirting of course ;) +18 only because my entire blog is not suitable for minors so dni!

“I’m sorry, who the hell actually enjoys putting ketchup on their eggs? I feel like that’s a fucking crime. Ketchup on eggs? That’s blasphemy right there!” You said with a light heartfelt laugh.

“Well, ouch. That hurts my feelings darlin.’ I am one of those people who likes ketchup on their eggs. You’ve gone and broken my heart into a bunch of lil’ pieces!” Joel deeply chuckled through the receiver.

“Gasp. So you actually are not flawless after all? Gotta say, Joel. I think this is gonna make or break it for me.” You let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh c’mon now sugar. Don’t go and sayin’ that! Bein’ all dramatic on me. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He grumbled.

“I knew this day would come. Whatever will I do? Oh, Joel! You have wounded me so!” Your tone was playfully dramatic and you could picture his little eye roll already.

Joel was in fact rolling his eyes as he took a large sip of his coffee. “Alright, Shakespeare. You’ve had your fun sweetheart. Now tell me I’m handsome.” He was grinning over the rim of his mug.

“Handsome? Now who the hell told you that you were handsome Hm? I don’t remember ever letting those words leave my mouth.”

“Believe you did last night. Or maybe it was some other pretty girl at the bar? Hmm.” He teased.

“Okay, okay. You’re handsome. Very handsome. Ezra’s got you beat though I’m afraid. He’ll always been the #1 man in my life cowboy.”

“Oh geez, now you got me out here competin’ with a damn horse? He’s gorgeous, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m just messing with you Joel! C’mon now. You’re a real cutie. There’s no competition, trust me babe.”

“A real cutie, huh? That’s sweet of ya t’say darlin.’ Now, where were we? Oh, right! What’re you wearin’ sweet cheeks?” He could picture your face, the little glare you would give him before swatting at his shoulder playfully.

“J O E L.”

“That would be me.”

You let out a light sigh, an apparent grin on your face from your Texas tall glass of water being his cheeky self. You pulled the phone away from your ear just so you could talk to your boys, who were all happily eating their morning grain. “Can you believe this guy? He’s such a flirt. Absolutely ridiculous.” You brought the phone back to your ear.

“Riding pants and a Star Wars Tee.” You finally told him.

Joel let out a low wolf whistle through the receiver as he leaned against the countertop in his kitchen. “Goddamn, that’s hot.”

“You sound like a horny teenager right now cowboy.” You giggled.

“You take that back right now.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You grinned.

“What’re your plans later?” He asked.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Oh? Well it’s me. I’m asking.”

“Well, in that case, I’m definitely free.” You didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“‘Atta girl. That’s what I like to hear.” He grinned.

“Uh huh. You’re lucky I think you’re cute. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be there at 6:30.”

“More time for us to makeout.” You felt like a little school girl with a crush.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’ sweetheart. I’ll try and not say somethin’ stupid when I see ya. Although, you make it difficult cus’ my brain goes all fuzzy when I’m near ya.”

“You could never say something stupid Joel.”

“You’d be surprised. I say a lot of stupid shit darlin.’”

“Stupid cute shit you mean.” You corrected him.

“There you go again bein’ a real peach.”

“It’s my specialty.”

“Yeah? Think your other speciality is kissin’ me silly.” He chuckled.

“You’re so cute. Please stop it before the horses start making fun of me.”

“Never. See ya tonight, toots.”

“Catch ya on the flip side, cowboy.”

Tagging people I think would enjoy: @peterhollandkait @chaotic-mystery @korynnekorynne @lovers-liability @dinsdjrn @last-girl @wonder-harley @loquaciousferret @yazsos @death-wife

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #blue jeans n’ texas dreams fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #horse dad joel #joel miller blurb

[kanene-yaaay]

In Between Feathers and Smiles

Kanene's notes: As it seems when I wasn't looking ??? Fucking Felipe Minecraft just came here and made a nest in my mind and refuses to leave so now I have a new comfort character as it seems.

Also I know that Richas and Philza didn't interact a lot but I like to think they are final bosses for each other. The day Richas adopts him as his father and Philza adopts him as his son the island explodes and life come to a full cycle.

Warnings: None! Just a tad of angst with plenty of fluff and some silly cheer up tickles. Ticklish!Richarlyson and Ler!Philza. Around 4.000 words. Richas uses all pronouns here.

[~*~]

Tio Phil had a nice place.

Richas didn’t spend a lot of time there. Important talks were usually held in other secured spaces and he would rather spend some time building with her parents or causing some ruckus somewhere in the island than constantly invade Tallulah and Chay’s home. Even if they got closer after the Egg Island, it didn’t mean that he stopped feeling awkward around his siblings.

But today… They was tired.

So they hiked to the top of the wall, turned off Philza’s collecting machine and fell in the middle of the potato crops, watching the clouds as they calmly danced around their always-perfectly-sunny sky. 

Looking at them, she wouldn’t have to think about how much she missed pai Cellbit and Pa Roier every single day, about how scared Empanada looked and the way she was always clutching her scythe now or how she and mãe Bagi barely came out of their securated base anymore. 

If he watched enough the fading forms of the fluffy clouds and the occasional birds that came and went, he wouldn’t have to think about the sharp shapes and bright colors he saw today when he woke up in his old room in pai Cellbit’s castle, full of new stinging scratches covering entirely his arms and legs, the canvas and room filled with red drops of paint and blood. Nor how it felt to burn the piece of art and bury the ashes aways before anyone could see it.

Yes. The Wall was nice. It was calm and beautiful and since her tio and siblings were sleeping like rocks somewhere well hidden he could sneak a few jumps in their trampoline before coming back to a second nap by the plants. 

From time to time he would feel something bump on his hand and turn around only to see a cute, small tortoise calmly biting and chewing on a leaf of the crop, probably a fresh fugitive from Talullah’s pond. They could respect its chaotic nature.

“Holy fuck!” A shout nearby almost made him jump out of his skin, fastly turning around, sword in hand, only to see his tio in a similar situation, hand on his heart as he tried to regain his breath amidst his surprised laughter. “Gods, Richarlyson you scared the shit out of me.”

That fished an amused crackle out of Richas, who didn’t feel much like it, but got up and waved a few times, writing a greeting for the adult. She kind of was in his home, afterall.

“Hi, tio! Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Philza answered, putting his tools back on his trusted backpack once again, now already realizing what was the reason for his machine to have stopped working out of nowhere. He instead pulled a basket out of it. 

It has been a while since he harvested his own potatoes by hand, but he had no hurry or plans today. Besides, it was quite a calming activity. 

“Were you looking for me? Sorry, me, Chayanne and Tallulah have been spending a lot of time in our… other house.” 

It was definitely a way to explain Rose’s protected sanctuary, but he couldn’t tell the kid about that.

A crossing thought made Philza’s body freeze and his eyes became wide. “Wait, is it about our trip? Is it time? Ok, I already got everything prepared but I still need a couple more minutes to leave Tallulah and Chayanne somewhere safe with someone and then we can go… Let me see who is already awake…”

A push in his arm stopped his sentence and called his attention to the dragons’ words. 

“It’s fine! :D” Another blue sign quickly followed the first, the sentences being written fast and messily. “It’s not the time for our trip yet, don’t worry. I was just passing by here and decided to take a nap.”

The small dragon, a barely nestling, crouched and let their tail drag across the soil in a calming manner. 

There was no rush today. Philza felt his muscles untense.

“Alright then. That is good.” The adult smiled, more relaxed. Richas never commented this with anyone, but sometimes his tios looked like they’re a thousand years old. “Sorry for interrupting your relaxing nap then, mate. As I said, I already got everything covered. The moment you need me, just call, ok?”

Energetic nods. Philza answered with one of his own and turned around, going back to his activity. It was already a habit at this point, to watch a kid with the corner of his eyes as he went on about his day, always aware to any danger or enemy that could appear. That is how he watched as Richas swayed in the same place when he turned around, expression falling to a neutral face as they broke their signs and threw them out of the wall before falling on the ground again, closing her eyes.

Richarlyson was a good kid. An energetic little shit rocketing from one place to the other with an adventurous and reckless spirit almost as big as his heart. Anyone who spent more than 2 minutes with him would see, clear as day how much he loved his parents and loved even more to give them gray hair, always ready for a playful chase, a harmless prank or a fun playdate with his siblings. They didn’t stumble on each other too much nowadays, but at any given time Philza would protect and take care of him just as much as his own kids if needed. 

He was a good egg (literally).

That is why it was easy to see that something was off with her. Seeing her walking around without one of his parents or Bad was rare, but not an alarming sign itself, being as independent as they was. But that together with the way that her gestures lacked their usual uncontrollable energy, how he fell the moment Philza turned away and how tiredness clung in his form and brought shadows to her eyes and a weight to her shoulders was definitely something worth noticing.

Something had been bothering the boy and knowing his family and their history on the island… Well, not a single islander had been free from the horrors that permeated every corner of the place, but the brazilians seemed to receive a special - and not in the good way - attention more often than not. 

Needless to say, Richarlyson probably had a lot to get worried and sad over, unfortunately. 

All of them, the guardians, did their best to save their nestlings the best they could from the enemies and disasters that seemed to follow their every step. However there was just so much a small group could do against gods knows how many entities before their children also began paying a parcel of the price.

It was sorrowful to see the young one like this, but Philza wouldn’t pry. If the kid wanted to come and vent he would happily lend them an ear and give his best comfort. If Richas wanted to just hang out in silence and enjoy the refreshing breeze from the top of the wall then Philza would let him be, as well.

Therefore, he kept collecting the potatoes, humming one of Tallulah’s songs while putting them in crates and organizing the crates in a pile next to the security fence together with the other thousands crates that were already there.

Maybe he should follow Pierre’s example and start selling them to the Federation. Getting paid and becoming an official provider or something like that.

… Nah, he would rather die.

Philza turned around to get another round of potatoes, this time to make more avocado toast to nibble on until dinner, where his daughter would oblige him to cook actual true food for them - which is unfair, because avocado toast is a very good, healthy and energetic, fulfilling food! - when he saw it. ‘It’, more specifically being Richarlyson, who was still around three feets away from him, just like she was after the end of their conversation. Which didn’t make any sense since Philza had moved a good distance further away from his initial spot while harvesting and taking care of his plantation.

Hm. 

Interesting.

He kept his gaze forward and his hands moving, not actively watching the kid but still paying attention for any kind of move.

A few steps away, he crouched to adjust a crop that had been almost removed from its spot, planting and firming it back on the soil before getting up again, his wings partially open to lower the sun rays hitting his back.

(With them being destroyed as they were, there was little use he could give them, but this would have to do.)

Pretending to stretch, he tilted his head just slightly amount, in the perfect angle to see that Richas, once again, had moved somehow in this short period of time and was now closer to him, laying on the ground with her eyes closed, a light snore coming out of her muzzle in a quiet ‘mimimi’ sound.

Philza held back a snort.

They kept this up for a while, almost as a game. Philza would continue his task, turn his head for half of a second and when he turned his attention back to the young one it was to see that they was already close again, “napping” with no worries, dead to the world as a rock, all across the field. There was a moment when the winged blonde could almost swear that he saw him crawling amidst the potatoes while following him. 

Philza thinks he did a pretty good job in not laughing out loud at their antics, only letting out one or two small snickers here and there fly in the air before being swept away.

He was taking the toasts out of the furnace and storing them in pots when the little dragon “woke up”, yawning and stretching, an amused grin blossoming in his face.

“Hey, king, glad that you're awake. Just made a fresh stack of avocado toast. Here, take some, take some, make sure you have enough for any emergency or attack.”

A loud wheeze was pried from his lips at watching her previous grin quickly turn into a sour face at the sight of the toast, stepping away from them in a half of second. 

Richarlyson quickly shook her head as she emphasized that he “would rather have a short and happy life instead, thanks” and that “Tallulah told me terror stories about these when we were in Egg Island 0_0 I am traumatized”, as the signs he placed on the ground said. 

Philza had to hold himself on the fence so he and the toast didn't fall from the wall with the force of his laughter.

“Alright, alright.” He quickly acquiesced, putting the rest of the food in the remaining pot and disposing them all in his backpack, planning to bring it to the pantry later. “What if we shared these sandwiches Chayanne made me this morning, then? He is trying a new recipe and it's just delicious.”

The disgusted expression quickly melted away when they heard the mention of a new snack. Philza unwrapped it under Richas’ wide attentive eyes and offered him only to have his hand pushed away, the kid shaking his head furiously.

“What? Why? Did Tallulah tell you scary stories about her siblings’ cooking abilities too?”

Richas denied, looking a tad out of the place before apparently deciding on their words.

“You can keep it, tio! Chayanne made it for you and it's no problem, I am not hungry >:D” 

Another sign. 

“Besides, if I need some I can just go to Tio Bad's house and steal his refrigerator! I still have a lot in my backpack though.”

To show his point, the small one began pulling pot after pot of cooked goodies from his backpack: lasagna, soup, candies, more candies, chocolate, a not very good looking or even fresh bread, tamales… He proudly showed his collection, bouncing on the same spot before starting to put them back from where they came from.

This nestling…

“I am not saying that you don't have food. I know you're always prepared and I am pretty sure you even have one or two illegal items in your backpack too.” He rested his back on the tree behind him, careful to avoid hitting Missa's painting, smiling as his nephew stared at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, bouncing on the same spot, not denying or confirming his suspicions. “But I still want to share a good sandwich with you, mate.”

Richas still didn't look convinced. He seemed to be listening, though. That was a good step.

“I am sure that Chayanne wouldn’t care too. He actually loves giving everyone good food and showing his skills to the island. Which is perfect. I can send him your thanks later.”

It was interesting how, even though all the similarities, every sibling was still very different from each other, in both their personalities and actions, and sometimes Philza liked to muse about it. At his words Richarlyson didn't nervously twist his fingers like Tallulah used to do when thinking hard about something or deviated his gaze like Chayanne when he knew what he wanted but thought that he should want another thing. Instead, the dragon fledgling watched him intently, looking for something. 

They must have found it, because they smiled in an embarrassed manner and let his tail wag excitedly once, breaking the signs and walking to his side on the tree.

Philza handed them their sandwich and Richarlyson began eating, satisfied, small growling sounds escaping between each bite as they enjoyed the moment. 

Without meaning to or even thinking too much about it, Philza answered back with a quiet, pleased caw, his right wing expanding to surround the little one, not locking her amidst his feathers, but creating a shield from the Sun.

(If only it could completely shield them from the dangers.)

“Do you like it?” Richas answered by taking a large bite and ripping the sandwich in half, ears wiggling in contentment. The adult chuckled.

“Good to know, king.”

They spent some time like this before a sign was placed, successfully calling the other’s attention. 

“How is it to have feathered wings, tio? Yours are so pretty! :D” 

Flashes began filling his mind. The feeling of the wind hitting your face, the sound of the birds singing and chirping when flying in flocks, the adrenaline of falling without a single fear of hitting the floor, of expanding his wings and feeling each one of your feathers bristle in the air…

A light touch in one of his primaries shook him out of his memories and his eyes automatically flew to the… mess that were his wings now, with weak muscles and feathers missing from some spots. 

Grimly, Philza could surely think about plenty of adjectives he could give them, “pretty” definitely weren’t one.

It was quite hard to focus on that when the fledgling kept carefully touching and looking at them with so much curiosity, however. 

“It’s incredible.” He sighed, a mix of longing and awe painting his voice. “They can help with so much stuff, like, I’m not even kidding. Mine are very roughed up, especially after Purgatory, but when they were in their prime they were perfect not only for flying but also for shielding, holding stuff, attacking…There is a lot you can do with them. You also will probably be able to do all of this and more when yours grows.” 

“You could attack with them? 0-0”

“Pff, yeah. Actually, you would be surprised about how many people wouldn’t be prepared to have a face full of feathers swinging with full force when fighting an avian.”

At the mention, he shook his black, glistering feathers in demonstration, finishing his sandwich with a final bite when a snorted squeal cut the air. 

Philza turned around to see Richarlyson rubbing a spot on his neck, their other hand pushing his wing away while a small smile grazed his lips.

Hm.

“Also, you see those muscles?” He purposely brought his wing down, letting all the black feathers hit and briefly wiggle on the young’s face and neck, pretending to not notice the way he squeaked and jumped away, shoulders bouncing with the uncontrollable giggles that naturally resulted from the tickles. Philza continued as if nothing happened. “Lot of people don’t think too much about them, but to be able to carry a whole person, the muscles, tendons and bones need to have a lot of strength. So, being punched by them usually hurts a lot more than attentive enemies are prepared for and gives you plenty of time to run away or finish the fight.”

Richas rubbed the buzzing, tickly tingles left by the sudden attack of feathers away, airy titters still escaping from their mouth while they squinted suspiciously at the blonde, who seemed distracted enough by his explanation to realize the onslaught of accidental tickles. 

The dragon risked a step closer. The conversation continued to flow without interruption.

“That is also why it’s important to always keep exercising your wings, especially during their initial growth or periods of recovery. Have you been building your core strength, mate?”

Brushing off the previous episode aside, Richas nodded, not helping the excited thrill that filled the air. 

“Yes! Tio Bad taught me how and pai Mike has been trying to build a machine to fly with me so he is studying a lot of mechanics about how it works and accompanying  me with the exercises. Pa Roier also said he will help me when he comes back, since he used to watch a lot of tia Jaiden and Bobby training.”

Philza tried to not visibly frown at the words. How long has Roier been sleeping, again?

He would have to ask Bagi and Fit for news later. 

For now, he had a kid to distract.

“Sounds good. If you need any help you can call me, I wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips. Even if crow wings aren’t that close to dragon ones, they still have a lot in common.”

“Can you teach me the attacks? I want to surprise Dapper the next time he tries to fight me.”

The avian laughed. “Sure, king. Come a bit closer.” 

Richas gave two more steps in his direction with wide watching eyes. “Alright, it depends a lot on your wingspan but usually you will need to be in close combat to use these techniques, so that is something to pay attention to. A good tactic you can have is to use them as a distraction.” 

With a mischievous smirk, Philza began quickly moving his wings around the kid, letting them get close and then moving them away before he could touch them, the feathers skittering freely across his neck and ears with each swipe. When Richas squirmed to one side to hide, trying to push them away while firmly pressing his mouth shut so no squeak or squeal would escape, Philza simply attacked the other side, even managing to slip a few wiggling of the fluff feathers on his belly and armpits when the shirt would move up enough to reveal a bit of the scaled skin, catching a new giggly growl every time.

“And, when the target is sufficiently confused by them is the moment that you attack.” 

Before the words could sink in the kid’s mind, Philza striked, giving to one of his sides a quick tweak, successfully fishing a loud yelp and managing to free a string of snickers that only grew louder and gigglier as he kept the soft, light feathery tickles intertwined them with more and more surprising squeezes and tweaks. 

“You can keep it up as long as you need. Remember: confuse, confuse and attack.” Swipe. Swipe. Squeeze. “Again: confuse, confuse and attack.”

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Richas gave up trying to push his wings and hands away, instead trying to hug himself to hide his most ticklish spots. However, the playful, soft and silly tickling  kept following them no matter how much they wiggled or squirmed around, totally surrounding him with those fluffy bristles that made every single patch of skin buzz with a funny kind of electricity, freeing more and more squeaks between peals of uncontrollable laughter. 

She started walking backwards, trying to put some distance between her and the tickles, almost stumbling on his own tail by how hard it was wagging in adrenaline and joy.

Philza’s eye twirkled with a gleeful shine. 

He stopped his playful attack, but the young one kept stepping away.

“Another good technique that you can use is to create a physical barrier with your wings. It can be dangerous since your enemy can get a hold of them if you’re not careful but very useful in the case you want to stop them from touching you or, in our case,” Richarlyson’s back hit something soft but immovable and suddenly the wheezy titters and snickery snickers were back in full force once again, bordering on a hysterical laughter when skillful hands began scribbling and scratching his ribs. “Preventing them from getting away.”

His fingers danced and burrowed themselves in the space between their ribs, vibrating on the spot, which made a funny kind of squeaky growl escape from the dragon, more high pitched, bouncy laughter and unstoppable wiggles taking over him when the hands kept running away and attacking all over his torso. They spidered over his ribcage to then poke his armpits, or washed down to sneak some digging and squeezing on his stomach and also even skittered across his spine, pulling all kind of yelps, chortles, snorts and high pitched, wheezy laughter over and over again. 

It took a few more minutes and a bunch more of snickering and wiggling - which was actually even worse now because each squirm made him sink even more on the tickly feathers - before the avian eventually let him go, chuckling in amusement at the way Richarlyson fell on the floor and curled in a ball, shoulders bouncing with the leftover giggles.

An amused snort was pried from the adult when they showed him their middle finger, trying with no success to frown in his direction while still smiling and snickering non stop, remnant sniggers twinkling freely in the air.

“That is a surprise tickle avian attack for you. Now you already know a few uses for your wings in a battle.”

The dragon nestling ignored him, dramatically rolling and turning around and away from the avian, still fully stretched on the floor as if he had just survived a fight for his life and not some harmless playful sillness. Philza chuckled a bit more, not resisting and giving his unprotected neck one last tickle, which immediately melted the half heartedly pout in a smile and made him turn back again and hold a tnt as a threat, making the adult laugh and pull his arms up in rendition. 

Richas showed off his tongue and then fell dramatically on the ground again.

(It was good to him in a lighter spirits, again.)

Philza then got up, stretching and shaking his wings fervently, wincing a bit when their muscles trembled a tad more than normal while holding them, probably from getting so much exercise after being kept so long hidden and immobile. 

Maybe he should follow his own advice and build more of their core strength.

Letting them rest, he went back to adjust a few more crates around before checking on his communicator to see if Chayanne or Tallulah had woken up. 

It was almost evening now, and yet it showed not a single signal of life. 

Hm. 

Well, he could give them their cookies tomorrow if needed, there was still plenty of time before the end of the week.

A light poke hit him right below his shoulderblade and suddenly a loud giggly yelp was ripped from his throat. He turned around quickly only to find his own nephew looking at him with a malefic grin in his expression.

“No.” He said, wagging a finger in warning at them, already realizing their intentions just by the slight slow drag of their tail and the step they gave in his direction. His tune tried to come out as stern, but he was pretty sure that even the kid could see there was no real heat behind his words. 

Richas answered him with an excited thrill, ignoring the threatening caw - more like a soft chip but he wasn’t about to admit it - he gave her in return.

“No. Richarlyson, you do not want to get into this fight with me, ok, mahahate?! Hey! No! Lehehet go!”

There was indeed a valiant and grandious fight. One of the most playful, silly and joyful ones to ever graze that land, they said. The winner was never revealed at the end but passing friends mentioned listening to plenty of surprised caws and giggly growls falling like waterfalls from the wall, especially when certain two other kids woke up to the lack of their father and went to investigate his whereabouts. They said that the growing match continued until the sun set. 

Who knows, who knows.

And since that day, if Richas decided to visit his tio Phil more frequently and if Philza would take the habit of turning off his harvesting machinery from time to time to watch the clouds, that is nobody’s business but their own.

#Richas: a// Philza: silly dad mode activated #qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #YOU CAN PRY. YOU CAN PRY RICHAS RECEIVING THE COMFORT HE DESERVES FROM MY DEAD COLD HANDS #Ticklish!Richas #Ticklish!Richarlyson #Ler!Philza #This came to me as I was about to fall asleep making me promptly awake and write the idea down #Which was basically: Richas sad. Potatoes. Philza's wings tickly. Philza silly dad mode awakes. #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Was sad so wrote this let's goooo fluffy soft cheer up tickles yesh yesh #Also I miss Romero Richas Lore pls bring it back pleaseeee

[orlaogden]

Mchart week: The Road Trip

They are both unusually quiet in the morning. As if they are afraid to break the peaceful silence and ruin everything, so they let their bodies speak for their tongues. Kurt fries bacon and eggs, Diane warms up bagels and makes coffee.

A light brush of hands, short timid smiles. She adverts her eyes, and he feels a sudden pang in the chest. His arms snake around her waist, he just can't help it, his lips kiss the side of her head above the right ear. Despite the short glimpse of sadness he felt radiating from her just a moment ago, she leans in his embrace readily, caresses his back, kisses his shoulder. They're bathing in morning sunlight, in the warmth of their embrace and in the smell of the coffee.

"Kurt. Let's get away from the city for a while?" Diane blurts out.

"You mean, go to the country?"

"No... Go on a trip. Spend some time in nature." She knows he would love it. She knows that she will enjoy it too and they need it.

Kurt's eyebrows go up. Diane and nature: a beautiful combination but a rare one.

"Why?"

"To make a room," she pauses and finds his left hand with hers. "To clear more space for... love. Just be simply Diane and Kurt for a while."

Kurt is almost ready to laugh. He thinks that he is always himself and that being in love with her is his default state of being. But he gets it, so he just squeezes her hand and kisses her cheek instead.

"Do you have something particular in mind?"

"Nope. We can make arrangements today and go tomorrow."

"It's a deal then." He smiles into her hair.

The silence between them sparks with anticipation of something exciting as they eat.

***

Eventually they decide to go to Starved Rock. It's not too far from Chicago and it's beautiful.

Kurt's driving the car. Lyle Lovett doesn't provoke a sudden wave of longing anymore. The car doesn't reek of incense. Everything falls right into place. They're not going to meditate, they're going to walk and see the waterfalls, although Diane doesn't even mind watching him fishing for the whole day, breathing in the fresh air and the closeness of the most important person in her life she missed so much and desperately tried to forget in the fear of no future.

"You know what. We should try an axe throwing next."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll show you my moves." She adds with a cheeky smile. 

"I always thought it's a pity that you had got over it before we could try it together." 

"Maybe you'll find that the axes are actually hotter than guns."

"I know for sure that you'd  look hot as hell with an axe. As for the technical side… Maybe I am a simple guy, but I like complicated things, you know."

"Oh, I know. You wouldn't marry me if you haven't." Diane sighs. "There are actually so many things we haven't tried doing together…"

The majority of the trip they discuss their plans for future activities they want to try, building a bridge to their life together in DC. Diane thinks that maybe her cowboy is not an artsy person but he sure knows how to have fun and make her feel warm inside. 

The playful talk only dies out when they stop at a parking lot near a gas station to buy some coffee. Somehow coffee gets forgotten pretty quick as they indulge in a not exactly silent make out session.

***

“There is something humbling about the ancient rocks. We try to be important, be heroes, make a difference, while they’re just standing here and will outlive us all…”

“You’ll be able to make a difference again when you’re back in a courtroom. Real difference for real people.” 

And you will feel better, his tender green eyes tell her. She already feels better. The earth, the rustle of leaves, water and his steady presence ground her. Baby steps are not so frustrating anymore. Finally she knows what she needs to do: go back to what she does best. Leading a law firm, fighting for clients she actually cares about. Finally she doesn’t feel so painfully alone.

She looks down at the calm water surface and muses. 

This is crazy how you start to think that a person you have mutual interests with understands you on a truly deep level, seeking his advice because you feel like drowning, only to realize later that he doesn't know you at all. And it makes sense, because he really doesn't.

And this is crazy how a person, you have so little in common with on a surface level, gets you better than anyone else in the world. It doesn't make sense at all, but it feels so right when you don't overthink it.

***

"Ouch!" Diane stumbles and almost falls but Kurt's strong hand supports her in time.  

"Are you alright, hon?" he asks gently caressing her side. Diane takes a deep breath trying to not lean too much onto him.

"I think I've twisted my ankle. I'll be alright in a minute."

"You need to sit down and rest for a bit…" Kurt looks around trying to find something suitable. Sadly, they are out in the wild and there are no benches. "What do you think about this nice looking rock?" 

Kurt helps Diane to reach the big flat rock he spotted and sit down. Then he takes three steps back, checks her out affectionately and pulls the smartphone out of his pocket. 

"You look like a princess who got lost in the woods."

"Yeah, seventy years old princess in leather pants", Diane answers sarcastically. 

"Princess SexyPantsass", Kurt says lightheartedly and gets a perfect shot of her laughing. This will be a nice addition to his growing collections of Diane's photos. 

When Kurt helps Diane to stand up again, his stomach grumbles loudly. 

"I think we should head to the picnic area. Maybe this place has a dark history, but I don't want my galant knight to starve!"

***

Kurt gives Diane a plate with a hot aromatic grilled cheese sandwich and two sausages on the side while she spoonfeeds him a pasta salad she made this morning. He feeds her grapes. She wipes her hands with a napkin and pats his knee. They clunk two beers and toast their trip. The silence they've immersed into now is comforting in all its cozyness. 

A gust of wind ruffles Kurt's hair, and Diane's fingertips tingle. He is relaxed, almost serene. He looks at her with such tenderness that her lips start tingling too. She brushes breadcrumbs from his mustache, lightly touching the upper lip with her pinkie. He smiles and kisses her fingers. She can't restrain herself anymore. One hand goes up his cheek and disappears in the thick silver hair. The other hand goes up his chest, then his neck. And they are kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Bottles fall clinking against each other. Diane silently prays for the bottles to be empty, but when they end the kiss she looks only at him. 

"Now I'm starved for something else", Kurt breathlessly murmurs in her ear, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. Diane is half turned on, half hyper-aware that they're in a public space. 

"I'm afraid we have to starve for this much longer, my love", she whispers, moving away from him. The look on his face when she says the last two words almost makes her cry. 

“Thank you for coming back to me.” She literally breathes the sentence out. Her guilty look adds: Despite me hurting your feelings again and again.

It is both an apology for how she had left things and gratitude for him finally being here for her, not on the phone with a despicable organization, not somewhere else.

“Thank you for choosing us again.” Kurt answers simply, his voice is breaking in the middle. 

Her brows form two slanting lines, her lips tremble. As though they both could go a different way. They almost did, but no, she couldn't, they couldn’t.

She just hugs him then. If she could melt into his soft flannel shirt, she would. His hands clutch so tightly on her back as if he is afraid she would disappear. 

The next moment an angry kid passes them muttering something about "gross adults". They break their embrace and laugh, probably making the kid even angrier. The unexpressed thought makes them laugh even louder. 

On the way back to the car they see a double rainbow. 

"Everything is gonna be alright", Diane thinks. Kurt opens a car door for her. Going back home doesn't seem so depressing anymore. 

_______________

The song in the edit: Love Will Keep Us Alive by Scorpions. 

Thank you @rexlockhart for organizing such a wonderful fandom event! 💗💗💗

#the good fight #mchart #diane lockhart #kurt mcveigh #MchartWeek #diane x kurt #christine baranski #gary cole #the visual pun is half-intended :D #guess who hasn't written anything descriptive in ages #and yes i need a beta

[bp-zb1fics]

hi i really loved your yujin fic and wondered if i can request a part two to it?

imagine this: it’s their first time hanging out as friends after male reader finally succeeded in befriending yujin, their first hangout is just the two of them and m!reader had the whole day planned out. PLOT TWIST yujin ends up being the excited friendly one and m!reader becomes shy because this is their first big hang out

no rush take your time, you always make great fics (also can the hang out not be at one of their houses? maybe at a park or an aquarium or something)

Shy, shy, shy pt. 2

part 1 here

Friends han yujin & class president male reader

genre: highschool au on crack, friendship

tw/tags: top tier convenience store food, the great outdoors aka the park, just teenage boy things, yujin turns out to be mr popular, ft dog mafia for comedic purposes, more adoption papers, age is messed with a little to fit the narrative

wc: 1107

summary: yujin wants to ask you, his new friend, to hang out but what happens when you end up asking him first?

a/n thanks for requesting a part two anon! I'm not sure if I was able to do exactly what you were going for but I tried my best hehe~ pls do let me know what you think! enjoy!

Check my pinned for more fics~

It’s not that Yujin is shy. (He is lol)

It’s just that he has a hard time approaching new people. 

And it’s a lot easier when someone else approaches him. (Which you did)

More than once. (Several times over the past three weeks)

With sincere and honest effort. (You literally came to house with his homework)

Okay. Maybe he’s a little shy. (Yep, that’s better, acceptance is the last stage of- wait a minute)

But you’re friends now. (That you are)

And according to his all-knowing and wise (that description is subject to opinion) hyung, Kim Gyuvin:

“Well friends can hang out too?”

So you and Yujin should definitely hang out. Because you’re friends now. (That’s right)

Except there’s one problem. (Oh no)

Yujin doesn’t really know what to do. (Of course he doesn’t)

Luckily that’s where you and your excellent planning skills come in. I mean, come on, you weren’t elected class president for nothing.

__________________________________________

“By the way, are you free this Saturday?” You ask after a brief lull in your conversation.

“Yeah?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement. 

It’s just that Yujin’s not sure whether you mean it like you two study together at one of your houses or like desperately trying to keep Gyuvin or Junhyeon from harassing your mothers with adoption papers (it’s a long story) because Gunwook is no help at all.

“Great, you wanna hang out or something?” Oh, that’s what you mean.

“Uh sure,” he agrees easily. “What do you wanna do?”

“Well I was thinking…”

__________________________________________

You meet at the bus stop near your school. There’s a little convenience store and cafe nearby so you pass by to grab some snacks and drinks with the pocket money you have.

Your first surprise is when the ahjumma at the counter greets Yujin as if he were her long lost son.

“Ah, back again so soon, Yujinie-yah? And on a weekend? Have you missed this old woman that much?”

Yujin just smiles, greeting her politely and asks how she is while passing her the snacks you plan to take with you: a few triangular gimbaps, two boiled eggs, a bag of onion ring chips and banana milk.

The ahjumma tuts, and throws in a few pastries from the display, insisting that two growing teenage boys like yourselves should eat more. You both thank her.

“Really, it’s no problem Yujin-ah, come visit me more often. And your friend! Why haven’t you introduced me to him?”

Before you can say anything, Yujin is already introducing you.

“Ah, you’re the class president? Keep taking care of Yujin well and please come visit me when you’re not busy.” She chuckles at both of you maternally.

You thank her again before shuffling out the door.

“Go there often?” You ask, still floored by the interaction you just witnessed.

“I usually pass by here for a snack before taking the bus home.” Yujin says. “Aunty’s just very friendly. She doesn’t get to talk to so many people.”

“She seems to like talking to you.” You remark.

You take the bus to a nearby park, still in the district but in a more urban area. After finding a bench, you settle down with your snacks.

“You doing well with classes?” You say, peeling off the wrapper of your gimbap.

Yujin hums. He’s already accustomed to your habit of asking about school as a way of starting a conversation that would lead to other topics.

“Baek-seongsaengnim’s been nicer to me.”

Baek Kooyoung-saem was a notoriously tough but patient teacher. He had singled out Yujin the first few weeks but generally mellowed out after your friend had proven himself able to keep up with his class.

“Well I’m pretty sure you’ve shown him that you’re better at his class than his 7 year old son is.”

You say, laughing as Yujin groans at the recollection of that particular comment the teacher had thrown at him. 

“I think he knows that I haven’t just been studying that one lesson for years.”

He adds at his own expense, both of you laughing. Your conversation moves on, Yujin trying to convince you to join the soccer club he attends and you telling him about the new PC bang that opened near your place.

By the time you’ve polished off the pastries and drank the last of your milk, it’s nearly time for the sun to set.

As you walk back to the bus stop, you come across a group of street dancers who seem to be free styling.

And for your second surprise that day, Yujin jumps in all of a sudden. He’s really good, moving with a fluidity and matching the rhythm in a way that seemed almost like he’s been trained to dance.

“You should join your friend!” One of the dancers calls out to you as the rest of them hype Yujin up.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. Unfortunately, you’ve got two left feet and not too much body control.

Your friend is nearly breathless when they let him go.

“That was really fun, totally.”

“Yeah, you’re really good at dancing, Yujin-ah”

“You think so? You know they asked me if I was part of a crew but I told them that I’m just a first year in highschool and they were really shocked-“

For once, Yujin is the one who’s talking a mile per minute and you’re just here to listen.

“We should hang out again.” Yujin says to you as you wait for the bus.

“We should”

“By the way…”

“Hmm?” You turn to look at the other boy when he hesitates.

“I don’t know if it’s just me but do you maybe feel like we’re being watched?”

__________________________________________

“They’re all grown up now.” Junhyeon sobs but at a semi muted volume so you don’t overhear him.

“Can someone please explain to me why we're here again?” Gunwook asks. 

They’re all crouched behind some bushes. Considering their combined average height surpasses 180cm, they’re really not doing a good job of hiding.

“We’re here to chaperone the children.” Gyuvin hisses before whipping out a pair of binoculars. Gunwook doesn't even want to know where he got them from.

“No one asked us to chaperone them?”

“No one needs to, it’s on the papers.”

“What papers??”

“The adoption papers, you fool.”

“And in our joint custody agreement.” Junhyeon adds helpfully before going back to fake crying.

“We haven’t actually adopted them??? And I don’t ever remember making an agreement.”

“We’re working on the adoption part. And as for the agreement, you have, I have it on video.”

“What video???”

“Shhh, Gunwook, they’re gonna hear us.”

“Uh guys?” 

“What Junhyeon-ah?”

“I think they heard us.”

#boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet 999 #boys planet mnet #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 fics #zb1 scenarios #zb1 imagines #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #zerobaseone #boys planet x reader #zb1 x reader #han yujin #zb1 yujin #han yujin x reader #han yujin fic #han yujin drabble #platonic relationships #kum junhyeon #park gunwook #kim gyuvin #fic request #bp-zb1fics

[thatfreshi]

"Unsavory Purposes" (Uni AU P. 4)

No, I didn't write a filler part. How dare you ask me that? I would never write fluffy filler bc I want all my little guys to be happy. Anyways, Gale intro finally!!!! Also we get to see the only other ship I have planned for this fic series...

@justporo

You, Shadow and Lae get breakfast after shooting the shit for a couple hours. The smell of eggs and potatoes fills the air as the three of you reach the bottom floor of the dorm. It's bustling with people, all trying to get somewhere. It's Sunday, and classes start tomorrow, so people are scrambling to get their textbooks before they go on backorder. The three of you part ways to put together a plate, and eventually come back together at a booth next to a window.

"Ugh, I was enjoying having a break. Back to the grind for me I suppose."

Shadowheart sighs, moving cheesy eggs around on her plate.

"You love it, don't act like you're not a workaholic."

Before they can start arguing again, a stressed man comes over to talk to Shadowheart.

"Is it true? Did Astarion really tell your entire floor to come to me if they have an issue?"

"Oh Gale, it's sweet that you're even asking. Of course he did."

Gale puts his head in his hands.

"I'm going to kill him. Mind if I sit Shadow?"

"Not at all. Tav, this is Gale, artist extraordinaire, TA for Ms. Mystra."

"Yes, it is indeed I. Thank you for the wondrous introduction Shadow."

Finally, someone's major here has piqued your interest.

"Oh, what do you study?"

"All kinds of things, but my thesis is going to be a series of paintings."

Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"The arts. So silly, what a waste."

She stabs her eggs with her fork.

"Why, are you thinking of majoring in some kind of art?"

You shrug.

"Honestly, I don't really know yet."

Shadowheart almost spits out her water.

"You... you don't know your major? This place is going to eat you alive."

She and Gale laugh to themselves, but it doesn't bother you. She's not wrong after all, it's odd that you haven't picked a major at this point. There are just too many good options.

"Well, you could be like Lae'zel and study something boring like history."

Shadow playfully nudges her arm, to which she grumbles.

"I didn't come here for a degree idiot, I came here to run."

It's silent for a moment, before Gale solemnly speaks up.

"How is it by the way? Your leg?"

She almost seems sad, but quickly shifts her expression.

"It's fine."

And that's the end of that conversation. Gale doesn't pry any further, but it clearly has him concerned. You realize you actually don't know what's wrong with her leg, other than that it's stiff when she walks. Before you can ask what happened, Shadowheart interrupts.

"Holy shit. Who is that Gale?!"

You turn inconspicuously to where she's looking, and you see the skater from last night, Karlach.

"Oh, she just transferred. Karlach. Apparently the best wrestler we've had in years."

"She looks like she could carry me to safety..."

You smirk.

"Shadow, you're staring at her."

She quickly averts her gaze, blushing.

"Right. My bad."

It's too late though, because the wrestler is now walking towards your table.

"Hey there! Sup Gale?"

"Nothing much Karlach. The dorm treating you well?"

"Oh hell yeah. I just thought I'd come over because your friend was staring at me, didn't know if she needed something."

The woman's voice is a little playful, almost as if she knows Shadow was staring for... unsavory purposes.

"No- I... I'm sorry. You're fine, I don't need anything. I mean, I need some things, like food and water and-"

Gale turns to her, mouthing something along the lines of 'shut up.'

"Well, alright. Good to see you Gale! Off to get some breakfast."

Karlach then winks at Shadowheart, before sauntering off. You're in shock from the massive flirting that just happened in front of you, and Gale is as well. Lae'zel is ignoring it all, still stabbing away at her eggs.

"Shadow... how did you even manage to pull that off."

"I have no idea because I certainly panicked! But dear Goddess do I NEED her to crush me."

You and Gale laugh.

"What! I'm serious, she could destroy me with those thighs and I would thank her."

"You're going to scare off your new friend Shadowheart. Tav, I apologize on her behalf. She doesn't know how to act around buff women."

"It's alright! I think it's sweet. You two would be cute."

"We would be, wouldn't we..."

#baldur's gate 3 #fluff #freshiau

[blazehedgehog]

Apart from animated shorts, IDW comics and Sonic Frontiers, I don't know Ian Flynn. However, I always hear great things about him. What makes Ian Flynn so special to the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise? If you had to rate his work on Sonic out of /100, how would you rate him?

I mean, in my mind, he's one of the few Sonic writers who just... understands how to write. He's great at natural sounding dialog, he understands how to imbue characterization, he knows how to setup and pay off story arcs...

To some degree these are very basic things but when it comes to people who write Sonic the Hedgehog media it can be a surprisingly scarce thing to come by at times.

Like the thing I always come back to is when he started having to do reboots for Archie Sonic. Starting in issue #225, Dr. Eggman, after being away for a long time, suddenly turns up again. (spoilers for what would lead into Archie Sonic's "finale" follow)

But he doesn't just suddenly reappear, he launches a new Death Egg, too. Now, in 2023, you're like, "so what?" because Sonic's proclivity for nostalgiabait has seen some version of the Death Egg relaunch like, six times now. But this story predates Sonic Generations. Bringing the Death Egg back here, now, is a big deal.

The story arc that follows is basically a rewriting of the comicbook's canon. The Death Egg mk.2's big new trick this time is effectively shifting the timeline. Sort of a combination of time travel and multi-dimensional travel. The freedom fighters assault the Death Egg, but Eggman isn't playing around this time. He holds all the cards and there's no time to formulate a plan; all they can really do is storm in there and hope for the best. Sonic and Princess Sally make it to the core of the Death Egg, but before they can do anything, Sonic gets distracted just long enough for a security turret to put several shots into Sally.

Before Sonic can assess whether or not she's even still alive, Eggman activates the Death Egg.

He's won.

The next four or five issues show Sonic meeting the cast of the comics for the first time, but now everyone has been mysteriously transplanted into the universe of the Genesis games. Nobody really knows how they got there, and there's this unshakable feeling they can't really articulate. Sonic is right at home in Green Hill Zone, but everyone else... They're supposed to be here, but they aren't supposed to be here at the same time.

Bits and pieces of their original dimension slowly start to leak back into their memories. Things that used to have happened, but now apparently no longer do. There's a strange melancholy to see characters remember a particularly dramatic moment from this book's long history, even if it's only for one or two panels.

Sonic's dimension has been stretched and twisted, and like rubber, it's trying snap back into place -- but Eggman is trying to take advantage of the confusion to activate the Death Egg mk.2's other new ability: to roboticize the entire planet in a single shot. It's his hope that in doing so, he can solidify this as the new reality and prevent it from going back to normal. The only thing stopping him is, of course, Sonic, who suddenly gets a flash of his own memories and begins putting together what's going on.

Sonic makes it up on to the Death Egg alone and faces off with Eggman in a recreation of the final fight in Sonic 2. In the case of this Archie Sonic story arc, it features a moment that would go on to be referenced in the Sonic movie. (Spoilers)

Something about Super Sonic's presence is causing the old reality to reassert itself faster than ever before, not helped by the fact Sonic himself uses his rapidly returning memories to activate Chaos Control. As reality corrects itself, we're unsure of what world our characters may be returning to or who will survive. Her memories returning to her, Sally shares some comfort in that, no matter what happens, Sonic will make things right.

Everybody re-emerges in the original timeline, and it's clear that things have changed ever so slightly. Sonic and Sally are still storming the interior of the Death Egg, but little things are different. And time appears to have been rewound a few seconds; Sally hasn't been shot yet. Sonic manages to rush in and save her before the turret can get to her. Sally is confused how Sonic could have known about the turret, but he just warns her to be more careful.

The thing is, Sally seems to have some distant, far off memory of being shot. But she shakes it as they work their way deeper in to the core.

There, they meet Eggman. He may not have been able to roboticize his shifted reality, but his planet roboticizer is still primed and ready to fire on the current reality. Sonic and Sally do their best to explain that roboticizing the entire planet all at once may give Eggman a victory by technicality, but it will be an impossible nightmare for him to deal with all the side effects and repercussions. Eggman doesn't care. This is how he wins. All he has to do is give the order.

Sonic obviously won't let that happen, but Eggman has both Metal Sonic and Silver Sonic at his side. One by itself is enough to give Sonic trouble, but both at once might actually kill him. Sonic is too busy fighting for survival to even get close to Eggman.

Eggman turns to gloat at Princess Sally, but she's gone. Crawled into a nearby duct, where she's trying to use her personal computer, Nicole, to find something -- anything -- to shut down the Planet Roboticizer.

Anything Nicole can do here would take days to process. They have seconds. There is but one option: invert the roboticizer. Part of Sonic and Sally's attempt to reason with Eggman was realizing that if the roboticizer tries to convert something that's already mechanical, that thing explodes. Ergo, inverting the roboticizer into the Death Egg will cause it to explode, along with whoever inside of it.

Out of time, out of options, Sally forces Nicole to back up her files somewhere safe and inverts the beam.

The Planet Roboticizer overloads, destroying itself before it can destroy the Death Egg. But the room that Sonic, Eggman, and Sally are in gets caught in the blast.

And though Sonic himself appears to be fine...

Sally is not.

Princess Sally was always "the tactician" of the Freedom Fighters. Her ability to weigh risk and strategize a plan of attack was deeply important to their success rate. Now that mind works for Eggman -- and he quickly sets about upgrading her tech to make her faster and more deadly, turning her into one of the most dangerous threats the book had ever seen. She is cold, calculating, and ruthless beyond anything else. Not only that, but the book has also established that customizing a roboticized person makes it impossible to turn them back -- by modifying Metal Sally, Eggman is ensuring she remains his forever.

The Freedom Fighters, now without their leader, are scattered and confused. Every part of this is a worst case scenario.

It's a wonderful disaster and a hell of a story. Metal Sally stuck around for over a year, but before Ian could finish what he wanted to do with her, the legal battle with Ken Penders got more aggressive, necessitating yet another reboot that ultimately returned the Princess to normal.

If it wasn't for the fact that they did this second reboot inside of the Mega Man crossover comic, it'd probably hurt a lot worse, but that first Mega Man crossover is legit one of the best things Archie Sonic ever did. Using that as a springboard to say "Sally's fine! Orbot and Cubot are here now! Don't worry about it!" is actually totally okay.

All throughout this, the thing to keep in mind is pacing. These stories are action packed, they move quickly, they playing on long standing feelings the reader has developed for these characters over hundreds of issues, and they never feel like they're pulling their punches. Rarely are they confusing or tedious or feel like they're dragging. There's always stakes. Things are always happening for a good reason.

Ian Flynn knows how to write and spin a good yarn, and he's good at understanding the dynamics of these characters and how they all fit together. The fact that his work on Sonic got him jobs all over the comics industry should tell you that much.

He's not perfect, though, and I do wonder if this recent stint on IDW is showing that something in the writing process is getting stretched a little thin. I know IDW has been broadening their writing pool as Ian becomes more busy with things like Sonic Frontiers and other projects, but it's clear something unexpected is causing a dip in quality as of late. I wish only the best for everyone involved and whatever is happening over there.

#questions #Anonymous #ian flynn #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #idw sonic #archie sonic #LONG #LOTS OF IMAGES

[livingdeadmlm]

plsssss any Shane (SDV) content idc if it's spicey, wholesome, edgy, all of the above I need content for himmm. <3 -🫐

Shane x M!Reader

TUMBLR ALMOST DIDN'T LET ME POST THIS BC IT WAS TOO LONG ACK BUT I LOVE SHANE SO MUCH HIS CHARACTER IS AMAZING anyway this is suggestive I got carried away

This morning he woke up before you and made himself some coffee to enjoy some time on the porch

After he finishes his cup of coffee he decides to do some chores

Watering some crops and feeding the many chickens you have running around, as well as the cows, he’ll even pick some fruit or vegetables to bring back to the house for dinner/lunch that day

Sporting a shirt he stole from you at the start of the relationship, his blue zip-up sweater, a pair of sweat shorts, and slippers.

He picked up a basket you found in the many old boxes left by your grandfather

As he grabbed a few oranges from the many trees you had he saw you step out onto the porch

You held a confused look on your face as you scanned the area

Finally, your eyes caught sight of your husband nearby the apple trees now

You ran over calling his name

“Shane! Good morning honey, I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” You laughed as you caught your breath

He adjusted the basket adding a bright green apple to the bunch

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how long I was out here for.”

You stepped forward the dirt crunching under your shoes your sun hat-tipping to the side

“Aw, it’s fine darling I left you some pancakes and eggs on the table if you want some.”

You admired his face which was decorated by specks of the gentle early morning sun that poked through the tree leaves

“Oh thank you! I’ll eat it when I’m done out here, what do you have planned for the day?”

You switched weight to your opposite foot

“Well, I’m going to head to the mines and get some stone”

Shane hummed, “okay well please be safe okay? I don’t want Harvey calling me that you’re in his office again at 2 AM.”

You laughed “I’ll try.” Your hands rested against his hips

“And what do you have planned for the day?”

He squirmed slightly under your touch attempting to remember just what he has planned

“Oh well, um I wanted to pick a few more oranges so we can have fresh juice tomorrow and then I, heh I wanted to start on lunch for myself I’ll probably just make something small..”

the only thing he felt was your cold calloused hands slipping under his shirt softly caressing his plush hips

“Then I uhh wanted to get sEe robin about expanding the chicken coops! Cause a few babies are ready to hatch soon.”

His voice shook as your hands continued to rub against the soft skin on his sides going slightly higher and higher over time

The calm smile you had on your face made him feel more flushed

You leaned down and peppered kisses trailing down from his jaw to his neck

“And I wanted to have dinner at about, oh god!”

He gasped as the previously soft kisses turned into bites and you sucking at the skin

“Hmm sorry… I was thinking we could hAve stew? I know the potatoes are ready I wanna, god, use those soon!”

Your hat was completely off your head hanging from the string around your neck. his hands reached up to your hair, fingers getting tangled between your locks pulling you closer

His legs felt like they were going to give out on him. The grabbing and the hickies you were leaving on his neck made his vision blur

In a haze, he continued where he left off

“I was thinking mmm starting dinner at 7 or 8?” Your head pulled away from his neck, which caused him to let out a small whine at the loss of contact

Your hands found their place back onto his hips, “I’ll be home by 6 then okay?”

“Do you have to go? I mean the mines aren’t going anywhere! We could go back inside and um continue?”

You chuckled and briefly pressed your forehead to his, “while that sounds amazing and it’s very tempting, to stay and eat you up. Unfortunately, Clint needs about 100 stones for some project and I can’t go back on my commitments.” Your voice slightly dropped, Clint was far from your favorite person in the village but you made a promise

Shane groaned at the mention of Clint.

“Ugh, why can’t he get them himself? Doesn’t he sell stones anyway?” 

“I know you don’t like him but I told him I would by Thursday I promise it’ll be quick and I’ll be right home!”

You finally placed a kiss on his lips that he wish lasted longer

“Alrighty, I’ll hold you to that okay? Be safe in the mines!” While his voice was firm he still had a smile on his face

Your hands let go of his waist as you promised to be safe.

He waved you bye and now he was left to calm down and go about his day normally

What a start to the day huh?

#shane x male reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x male reader #shane SDV x male reader

[neverchecking]

Who’s hungry? I have another idea in place for a story, it involves our favorite boi.

So MAJOR TW: Forced Touching, Mid Choking, Mental Abuse, The usual yandere stuff. I normally don’t write like this… I hope I didn’t go to far… PSA: I don’t condone this behavior, abuse is abuse, y’all stay safe please, my mind just got stupid.

“Where are you going?” His voice remained soft and sweet when the question was asked, but the look in his eyes were anything but, this had caught you off guard. “We normally do this hun. I just gave you a kiss for the night.” Suddenly you felt the hand around your waist become tighter, as a deep voice ringed in your ears. “I didn’t wait 100 fucking years and six months for a dip in the kitty pool, Goddess.” Without a moment to waste, you found yourself flat against your back as your brain was trying to remind yourself on how to breathe through your nose. The pressure of Sage’s body being pressed against yours was too much for your mind to handle, as if you were being sandwiched between the bed and him, and you wondered if the bed would possibly break underneath you due to his roughness. Soon he lifted himself off of you and he stared sternly into your eyes, not looking away for a single second. You weren’t sure where all this tension was coming from, so you decided to use your cheekiness to lighten up the situation. “Kitty pool huh? I would have thought that you’d be in the beginners class by now.” Very poor choice of words, the grip on your shoulders became harder as you swallowed your pride. “Hey-hey now… I’m sorry. Look if you want to cuddle instead, then I’m all for it-“ A hand was placed on your neck to keep you quiet, you kept your eyes shut, feeling a little scared now to look at his eyes. They weren’t soft and sweet, they became cold and soulless. “I don’t want any cuddles. I don’t want any hugs. And I don’t want any kisses.” The hold on your neck became tighter as he spoke. “I want to drop your name and make it mine. I want to break every last egg that you have. I want to ruin your clear skin. I want to keep you here with my offspring. And I want to show everyone who you belong to.” You had to take a moment to process what Sage had just said to you. At first you thought he was angry at you, but it was the complete opposite. That didn’t help how you were feeling, so you tried to reason with him. In response he squeezed you neck again. “Look at me. Look at me when you speak.” Slowly, you did what you were told and looked at him. Sage’s face was close to yours as he could, the coldness in his eyes remained. “The only words I want to hear from you are yes. Nothing more, nothing less. Understood?” Terrified, this isn’t how you were planning for this night to end, you wanted to be soft and gentle with him. You tried to think of how to relax the tension but Sage wasn’t having that. As an not so settle reminder of the situation that you were in, he squeezed your neck for the final time, actually chocking you this time. “Not asking you again, Sun Flower. Understood?” Seeing that there was no other way around this, with the little amount of breath that you had, you nodded your head. “…yes. Yes Sage…” He quickly let go of your neck, allowing you to breathe normally, however you wouldn’t be able to get much air in as he suddenly pinned his body up against you and began to kiss you over and over. First your lips, cheeks, neck, shoulders… he went lower and lower as you tried to keep your moans to yourself. With the last amount of sense you did have, you weren’t going to reward him with your voice after what he just did. Of course, Sage didn’t care, if he wants something, he’s going to get it, any means necessary. “You might as well stop the fight my dear flower. We’re going to be here all night, it is a special one after all. So let’s celebrate our engagement together,” Sage leaned in closer as he began to take of your clothes, “Just you and me… all night… until the sun comes up.”

{also Cinder if you want to make a nsfw version of this go right ahead… I’m not innocent anymore ;-; but I never was}

ALL OF THIS IS SO GOOD?! WHAT MORE CAN I ADD TO THIS BESTIE?! I AM- IOHFIOVIOWDIODEIOD

Listen. Bestie. Everything about this is SO FREAKING GOOD. I CANT- FROM THE KIDDIE POOL BIT TO THE DOMINATION FROM SAGE

A TEAR JUST RAN DOWN MY LEG FOR THIS

#cinder rambles #EVEYRONE #READ THIS #RN #DO IT