#it will go up on ao3 when i’ve had the time to proofread this but as things are rn we just fuck around and ignore typos

[flowercrowngods]

shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides

part 1 / 7 | or: read on ao3

The fog rolls in like a heavy cloud that morning, leaving the city in eerie darkness as Steve hurries toward the heavy door to the steel manufactory, scarf wound tightly around his neck to keep out the cold so uncommon for late September.

“Thanks,” he mutters to the gruff, broad man who holds open the door for him. He sees him every morning but has never had the chance to ask about his name. The question is on the tip of his tongue when, with a nod and a touch to his sturdy-looking hat, the man walks down a different corridor than Steve.

Where outside the fog was so thick that all noise seemed dulled, like cotton in his ears, the manufactory is a cacophony of banging and clanging, hissing and whirring, and Steve needs a moment to breathe the polluted, heavy air that’s always just a tad too hot for his lungs.

He doesn’t mind the work, is good with his hands and enjoys the single-minded focus it provides on a good day, the deafening noise loud enough to drown out most of the comments the other workers throw his way; comments about his father, his upbringing, and his rather sudden downfall when Richard D. Harrington decided to disown his eldest son three years ago without rhyme or reason.

Steelwork, engineering, intricate cogs that work massive machinery — they fascinate him, they keep him busy fourteen hours a day, and they leave him dead to the world when the shift is over and graciously let him sleep through the dreams that have been haunting him ever since he can remember being haunted.

It’s always the same dream, in the fall more than in the spring. A lighthouse trapped in the sea, waves rolling and crashing, water rising so high that it might as well swallow the lighthouse whole. And through it all, a beacon. And through it all, a voice he cannot make out. And through it all, a ticking that echoes through his skull even long after he gasped awake with a lungful of water that Robin says might be Tuberculosis.

He blinks away the gloom that has laid over his heart like the fog over the city, shakes off the trancelike feeling that overtakes him every time he tries to think about the lighthouse when he is wide awake, and rubs away the headache that comes with sleep deprivation. It’s fall again, which means he spends his nights haunted by ghostly images of a lighthouse he’s not even sure exists, robbed of all chances at resting if he doesn’t work himself to the point of absolute exhaustion.

They are earlier this year, the night terrors. Everything is a little earlier this year.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder as Emerson arrives behind him, leading him to their station with idle chatter about the weather and the horrible, horrible fog that Steve has not the patience to partake in today — which is just as well for Emerson and his sunny disposition, he’ll simply talk enough for the both of them. Steve is fond enough of him to let him be as he falls into the routine of working steel and breathing overheated, coal-stained air.

They work in unison until noon, the headache dull enough as long as he keeps busy, but almost blinding when he stops for even a second. A booming voice makes him look up from his station, though, as he is being summoned to the office.

It’s never a good sign, and Steve can feel the blood draining from his face, pulling the ache with it as it travels down his spine and settles in his centre in a pit of nausea.

“Oh no,” Emerson murmurs under his breath, even managing to sound genuine about it. “What did you do?”

Images assault his mind. Prison, if he’s lucky. Asylum and electroshock therapy if he’s not; if his father changed his mind about making it public that his eldest son and heir deserves punishment, or treatment for moral insanity. Steve tries not to think of that too often, tries not to look at men like that anymore — tries not to look at anyone anymore until the public forgets about him.

But every time he is reminded that he exists is another time of fear. Fear of being found out.

“I… have no idea,” Steve says after a while, looking up to where the door to the office looms above all of them, leaving them to feel like prisoners in a panopticon.

“Better not keep ‘em waiting, then. Probably too late to run, eh?”

“Probably,” Steve says, dazed, not really listening to Emerson as he kicks into motion and walks briskly up the stairs, pretending not to feel everyone’s eyes on his back.

It is out of a nervous habit that he pulls the watch from his pocket, its silver chain linked to his vest. It springs open in his hands as he takes the steps one by one, providing comfort for no reason other than it’s his. It doesn’t show the time, never has, but after losing everything at his father’s whim, the pocket watch stayed with him.

“Keep it,” Richard had sneered. “The blasted thing isn’t worth a penny!”

The fingers only ever moved incrementally over the years, and backwards, but still there is something about the watch that makes him keep it close at all times. Collecting himself, he closes his hand around the light metal and filigree ornaments and mentally counts to three before putting it back in his pocket and knocking on the door.

“Ah, Harrington,” the superior manager says, his voice sounding like gravel as per usual. The man has a habit of competing with the steel manufactory’s chimneys, only he smokes cigars instead of coal dust like his workers. Steve remembers the smell of fine cigars, and this office smells like the best among them.

It only helps to strengthen his disdain for the man.

Still he nods and aims for a pleasant smile. “You asked for me, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” the man says, leaning back in his thick leather chair and motioning for Steve to take a seat at the sturdy, delicately engraved mahogany desk. “Sit down, sit down, time is money and I give you more of that than you deserve anyway. I have a proposition for you and you are in no position to decline, yes?”

“Yes?” Steve says dumbly, taking his time to sit down just to spite him.

The man, however, is not as easily perturbed. “That’s what I want to hear, I have to admire your morale, Harrington. Here,” he turns and reaches for a cabinet, rummaging around for a minute before—

The blood in Steve’s veins freezes, leaving him cold and too hot all at once.

Underneath the beefy hand, he makes out a photograph — or possibly a postcard — showing a stark white lighthouse trapped in the sea, gigantic waves crashing into it, threatening to tear it down and carry it along to wherever the tides lead. The beacon of light is steadfast and stubborn, guiding and pointing at something that’s out of the frame, but what Steve can only assume is absolute nothingness out in the open sea.

He slides it over the table to lie in front of Steve, and he fights every urge to recoil, only gripping the arm rest far too tightly.

“See, we got a telegram earlier today that they’re having problems with the lighthouse up north. They say it’s something with the generator, not fit enough to last in the cold, where the air is made of saltwater more than oxygen.”

Steve nods, though he is only halfway listening, his heart hammering in his chest at the picture of the lighthouse, etched onto the paper like it has no idea it is also etched on the very forefront of Steve’s mind — has been, for almost three decades now.

“And since you’re the only one here traditionally educated in reading and writing,” the man continues, either unaware of Steve’s dizziness or delighting in it, “and you know your way around a machine or two, fixing the generator and handling the light shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

It’s not a question. It’s not even an offer.

Steve wonders if maybe he fell down the stairs and hit his head, if maybe the sleep deprivation is finally leading to hallucinations like Robin keeps warning him.

“You want me to fix the lighthouse?”

“That is precisely what I want, yes. Stay there a while, find out what seems to be the problem.”

He’s getting up, walking over to a cabinet, pulling out a half-empty bottle of what Steve can only assume is whisky. A biting, earthy smell floats through the room, thick enough to cling to his clothes if he stays here much longer.

“You’ll find yourself familiar with the equipment, as it is us who supply them. In fact, you have built generators and fixtures and engines like that. You’re a bright spark, Harrington, I can admit that. You’re the best fit. And I’m not asking.”

His jaw clicks shut, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table as he meets those dark eyes head-on.

“When do I leave?”

An ugly grin spreads the man’s face, gaining too much joy from other people’s powerlessness down the food chain.

“Tomorrow. If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you do not have much business to attend to, and even fewer things to pack. I trust you will find your place at the train station at five tomorrow morning. Emerson will know to fill your shoes in your absence.”

How long will I be gone? he wants to ask, but is too afraid that the answer will only be another cruel smirk and a sip of whisky.

He gets up, certain that he is being dismissed, and getting no sign that he’s wrong.

“Oh, and Harrington.” He stops with his hand on the door already. “Perhaps this is a good time to mention that the lighthouse is without a keeper. I have offered your services for the time being, seeing as you will already be there. The salary, of course, will be thrice as much as your usual.”

The daze is back, smelling of saltwater air and whisky, rushing in his ears like waves bursting on the cliffs.

“What happened to the old keepers?” he dares to ask.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Yes, it does. What happened to the old keepers?”

“I think you shall find out soon enough.” A beat of silence — horrible, tidal silence. Then, “You’re dismissed.”

***

The train ride is blessedly pleasant, the first class ticket providing the luxury of comfortable seating and relative silence, the wheels occasionally clicking along the railway loud enough to drown out the near-deafening rushing of the ocean in his ears — or perhaps it’s not the ocean, perhaps it is his own blood, pumped with fear and apprehension.

The only upside to all of this is the telegram he’s been gripping tightly all morning so as not to lose it, not to forget about it, not to think it was a dream. A childish, hopeless dream, a longing for company to battle the fear of the dark.

I’ll meet you there. 3 days.

Signed: Robin Buckley. She never took his name, said she did not want to be associated with Richard and the Harrington wealth that came with the Napoleonic wars — never mind that they happened almost a century ago.

Blood money isn’t wealth, Steven, she’d said to him on many occasions, and he loved her for it all the more.

Maybe it will be fine if Robin is there with him. Maybe they won’t end up succumbing to madness like people are wont to do, subjected to the endless loneliness of lighthouse keeping. Confronted with a darkness so deep it needs human invention to remain habitable. Maybe, he wonders idly and with shortness of breath, the world will end if all its lights are gone. Maybe all that will remain is nothingness and the ruthless sea — maybe, until the sun rises again and the light returns. But up north, the sun doesn’t stay all that long. Up north, they say the darkness is different. They say it’s sentient. They say—

A servant offers him some tea or coffee if he pleases, ripping hit out of his obsessive spiral of apprehension and fear.

“Yes, thank you,” he breathes, miming quiet politeness to cover up the lack of air in his lungs. The servant nods, not at all perturbed by Steve’s rather horrific disposition, and moves along.

The tea helps a little. It’s hard to think horrible thoughts when there is a steaming cup in your hands smelling comfortingly of herbs and just a hint at something spicy. It feels almost primal, his fear of the lighthouse — but just as primal is the comfort he finds in the warmth spreading from his hands all the way through his body. The shaking stops after a minute, and breath has returned to his lungs in a way that doesn’t leave him scared to let it out.

It will be fine. The sea will lose its terror, and so will darkness. He will read, and fix what needs to be fixed, and laugh at it all with Robin by his side, who will teach him about birds they will never see, about authors that don’t live anymore, and about the stars they get to watch.

It will be fine. He will be fine. Always, with Robin.

***

He arrives at the seaside town just before nightfall, and the first thing he notices is not the rushing of the ocean, but the crispness of the air that feels vastly different in his lungs to the grey and brown, polluted city air. It’s like he’s a babe taking his first breath in this world; and just like a babe, he is overcome with the urge to cry. He doesn’t, only pinches the bridge of his nose and grabs his bags — two of them, filled only with clothes and books to pass the time.

The walk to the next inn is a long one, and by the time he arrives there — guttural laughter coming even through closed doors and windows — he is frozen to his bones. If he’d thought that fall was quick to arrive in the city, he might as well have entered an arctic winter up here. The half suspects, though, that the cold comes from his empty stomach and the bitterness that replaced the fear just as well as the actual, biting cold.

And to think it’s only just early September.

He pushes the door open and finds it blissfully warm, a large fire roaring in the fireplace and in the hearth, leaving the food steaming on the plates. Silence settles almost immediately, and Steve freezes on the spot. Being perceived in a situation he has no control over has never been his strong suit, and he wonders just what these people have heard about him. If they heard anything at all.

“Come in or get out, but leave the cold out there,” a large lady says from behind the bar, an apron wrapped around her skirt and a towel in her hand as she eyes him with wary but not unkind eyes.

“Forgive me,” Steve says, stepping further into the inn and letting the heavy door fall shut behind him.

“Ahh,” someone says from where he’s sitting on a round table with six other, quite burly men. Fishermen, Steve assumes, or harbour workers, if their sun-tanned skin and general muscular build are any indication. He places his jug of beer on the table and eyes Steve rather closely. “You’re the boy they sent. Who will fix the lighthouse, aye?”

“Aye,” Steve says stupidly, internally cringing at himself. Then, turning towards the woman, “Have you a room to spare?”

“Have you money to spare?” she retorts, clearly mocking him for his odd choice of words — it’s hard, laying down his aristocratic upbringing, especially in a town auch as this.

“Of course,” he says. “For food, drink, and someone to bring me to the lighthouse in three days.”

Another man of the group snorts loudly, shaking his head and studying his ale like it would tell him the future.

“No way, boy. Ain’t no one gettin’ close to that thing.”

“She’s haunted. Has a mind and a life of her own, and she’s made it clear that no one is welcome to get too close. ‘S what lighthouses are for, eh? No getting too close. You get too close, you die. Simple as that.”

Steve takes it in, the pale faces of the men all nodding along, the thousand yard stares they all have in common — and his fear is back. But greater than his fear is his annoyance with men who insist on calling him boy and decide to speak in riddles instead of making sense.

“Haunted?” he asks, taking one of two spare seats at the table, nodding at the woman in thanks as she brings him an ale that only barely smells like piss. “How?”

“Haven’t you heard?” a fourth man, the oldest of them, speaks up. “There’s a curse on the lighthouse. No one gets out alive. We only ever bring her new stock, like cattle to the slaughterhouse. She takes. She takes and takes, boy.”

“So you do bring them,” Steve points out, far too tired and irritated to listen to a ghost story before he’s even had a proper, warm dinner.

The men still, and Steve places a tower of money in the centre of the table.

“It’s yours,” he says, looking at each of them, one after the other, “if you take us there in three days. Four, if the weather decides to play.”

“Us?”

“My wife,” Steve says.

“Fine,” one of them, the one who first spoke to him, grumbles, reaching for the money. “Now go. This table is for grownups, boy.”

With an eye-roll and an air of arrogance, Steve gets up and finds a seat at another table closer to the fireplace. Soon after, fresh stew is placed before him and he dives in.

***

The lighthouse towers on top of the cliffs and Steve watches, mesmerised, as he makes out its shape even in the pitch black darkness. It’s eerie, the power it emanates, the myths and legends that weave around it and its kind. Legends that would be fascinating learning about them in the safety of one’s bed, but which are horrifying to remember days before the nameless fates could be one’s own.

The darkness of the night really is endless here without the lights of the city, and he can only imagine how the lighthouse would help, how it would bring back hope and security, a promise of safe passage. It’s brings him a sort of peace; a purpose, imagining this town in the lighthouse’s beacon. Safe for the night, safe until the sun comes back.

Still it doesn’t ease his night terrors, filled with whispers as they are, growing in urgency and almost clear enough to make out.

Three days pass. Four. Five. There is no sign of Robin. Anxiety grows within him, because Steve knows Robin was going to take the seaside route from the Cunningham estate — well, one of them, at least.

She has a mind of her own. She takes and takes, boy. She’s haunted. Has a mind and a life of her own, and she’s made it clear that no one is welcome to get too close.

What if…

No. No, there is simply no way. Haunted lighthouses taking lives. There’s no— no way. He won’t fall for their ghost stories.

Unfortunately, however, they don’t fall for his charm either, and on the seventh day, when the sea is calm and the sun steady above them, the man who took they money — Old John, apparently — approaches him.

“We’re leaving now,” he says, shoving Steve ahead of him, deaf to his protest that they have to wait, they have to wait. “Your sweetheart ain’t coming, kid. Don’t think she’ll be coming anywhere ever again if she really took the ship. They talk of a ship that got lost in the storm, burst on the cliffs because there was no light. I’m sorry, kid, but I won’t risk waiting any longer.”

A ship lost in the storm?

But… No. No!

“No,” he whispers, letting himself be shoved onto a tiny boat and rocked this way and that, feeling nauseous for more reasons than one.

He’s wrong, Steve knows; feels it in his very soul. Robin is not dead. She’ll come.

She… She will come. She won’t leave him alone, all alone, in this place that has been haunting him for years and years.

She’ll come.

The lighthouse towers above them, perched on top of cliffs that make Steve understand why nobody wanted take him here. There’s no safe way of getting close, let alone climbing up the stairs carved into the cliffs, leading up to the door with no railing, no rope to hold onto. One large wave crashing into him, and he’d belong to the ocean.

He wants to cry again. Wants to curl in on himself and weep as the reality of everything begins to settle in the deepest, darkest places of his heart.

If he leaves the boat, he’ll be trapped with no way of getting out, no way of contacting the land they’ve left far, far behind. Supplies are said to last several months, he knows, he studied the file he got. Several months without human interaction unless Robin magically, wonderfully appears in a few days after all.

“Good luck, kid,” is the last thing he’ll ever hear of Old John as he pulls himself onto the cliffs, reaching for his bags from the old man’s hands. The sea is deafening here as waves crash and burst relentlessly, and he can’t hear what else Old John is saying, but he thanks him and salutes, which the seaman returns with an air of melancholy.

Steve climbs the stairs, soaked to the bones by the splashing water, but somehow — miraculously — malign his way up. As he turns around, fog is starting to gather above the water, but he can make out the tiny silhouette of the boat.

He watches, and it’s meant as a last goodbye, one last glance at his one way out. But terror fills him as he watches, helplessly, powerlessly, as Old John’s boat keels over and disappears. He keeps his eyes fixed to the spot, not daring to look away until there’s proof of life. But Old John doesn’t break the surface again.

And Steve is left filled with horror and the absolute certainty that he might not make it out if he sets foot inside the lighthouse.

Behind him, the door opens with a horrible, terrifying creak, and the beating of his heart is too loud for any other noise to exist in Steve’s world right now.

🌊 part 2 (coming 26 October)

tagging (trading tags for kindness): @klausinamarink @vampeddie @steviesummer @sharpbutsoft @auroraplume

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #spooky lighthouse au #dio words #this is so long i’m so sorry 😭😭 i’ll try not to let the other parts be so extensive with exposition hdhdh #it will go up on ao3 when i’ve had the time to proofread this but as things are rn we just fuck around and ignore typos #*​frantically scrambling* does any of this make sense so far???

[ncteez]

Pretty Boy. (m.l)

Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. 

or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it. 

wordcount― 9.3k

pairing― mark lee x fem reader

content― shy and needy mark, openminded and playful reader, college au, the majority of this is smut, mark has a thing for girls who look exhausted from studying

note― just wanted…no, needed, to write mark being totally hypnotized by someone wanting him between their legs for once.This is not proofread as i’ve given up on using a beta. 

smut tags under cut:

smut tags― mark is...big. he is also a pervert and smells ur towel lmao, mentions of food and detailed popsicle eating,  reader is very vocal and talkative, slight  use of the pet name “baby” and “pretty”, a lot of cum, cream pie, unprotected sex, mention of bc pills, mark has a huge cock and he didn’t even know it, inexperienced mark, experienced reader, finger sucking, nipple sucking, grinding, oral (f receiving) , mark gets on his knees, making out, sex on a table

~

             It wasn’t shocking that you were failing but it was shocking that not a single one of your friends was failing with you. They somehow managed to keep their grades up while partying as often as possible. You don’t know how the hell they did it and you also don’t know why the hell they refuse to help you study now that they’ve seen your failure.

            Not the greatest friends, you think. They won’t help you study because they only have time to study their own classes and to continue partying without you. You knew you had to come to terms eventually that these people aren’t your friends. They’re just people to party with, people to have fun with, and apparently, people that will watch you struggle.

            It’s frustrating to walk home from classes by the run-down houses with booming music already playing. Without fail, every time, you wish you could be attending instead of studying. It’s even more annoying when you give up on your studies because you’re just not fucking getting it, and you probably would be fucking getting it if you were at a party talking to potential boyfriends or fuckbuddies. 

             Fairness in the world is so hard to grasp. Someone else always has it, but never you. The worst part about all of this is that you’re very aware of how lucky you actually are, you wasted away in college and allowed yourself to get this low simply because you were lucky enough to be well-liked. You prioritized the pointless things over the important things, and now you’re suffering for it. Complaining that you can’t attend parties, looking like a bore to your friends who pity you and are embarrassed by you for not being able to multi-task like everyone else.

            That’s right. You can’t party and study like everyone else, so maybe now it’s time to focus on the task you’d pushed aside for so long.

            Studying. 

 ~

             You don’t know Mark past the fact that he is in at least three of your classes, extremely quiet, and constantly in the library when you pass by to leave the campus. You’re a little bit ashamed to admit that the majority of people you are well-liked by are the people who are ignoring you right now. The only choice you have is to find someone that can help you catch up on all of the studies you’d blatantly abandoned. You could go through the student center and “officially” attend tutoring sessions with someone who would likely scoff at you for not getting it, or you could find someone of your own choice to help you. 

            That’s the only reason Mark comes to mind. Again, he is in three of the four of your classes. Every semester, without fail, you’ll look for your name on the dean’s list knowing that it’ll never show up, but you have seen Mark’s name on that list more times than you care to remember. 

            Mark knows of you as well. The girl who cut in front of him in the cafeteria to grab coffee with her large group of friends, making him ten minutes late to being early for his class. The girl who loudly slammed a book down in the library, the girl who came into class stumbling and giggling with one of the guys, clearly still tipsy from the night before. 

            You were everything that Mark isn’t. You were everything he avoids when accepting friends into his life, and his interest in you didn’t really go past the point of having a stubborn, pretty girl, to look at. He is a man after all. A man who is finally away from home, surrounded by hormonal women and men who can’t see past their brain fog of sexual fantasies in class. 

            Mark has those fantasies too, but it isn’t his focus. He is dead set on being a top student, one that people recognize on the academic end rather than the partying end of it all. So, here he is, sitting with his nose in a book, glasses sliding down every few minutes as he munches on a pack of crackers. He’s been here for three hours already and finds comfort in the silence of the library. It’s such a vast place with so many corners to hide in if someone were to come and disturb his peace. Today was like any other Friday, where few students choose to study and instead opt for one of the various frat parties or bar hops. 

            You wish you could be one of those people, truly, but instead, you’re making your way to the Library in search of Mark. The one student who you assume may actually take you up on the offer of study sessions. You imagine his shocked face when you sit in front of him, and you try your best not to imagine a look of disgust rather than approval. Needing Mark now, for the first time in your life, more than ever. His knowledge of the three out of four classes you have will surely work wonders on your GPA, you will probably have to admit how much you’d be relying on him to accept your offer.

      The library is so deafeningly silent when you walk in. You can’t hear even the slightest of a whisper as you walk around and peek into the many empty study rooms and cubicles. After several minutes of searching, the anxiety bubbles up inside of you. What if he decided to do something else? Of all days? The one day where he is needed to be studying? 

     Just as you turn to leave, ignoring the entire second floor of the library, you nearly walk straight into him. And by ‘nearly’ you actually walk directly into him. 

     Books clattering to the floor, Mark sighs as he looks down without making eye contact with you. It’s not the first time he’s been walked into and it probably won’t be the last. He is forever wishing that people could just watch where the fuck they’re going. 

“Hey, I’m sorry–” You go to say as you lean down to help him pick up his books, he still doesn’t look at you and you note the AirPods in his ears. 

            When he does take note of another person helping him retrieve his things, he looks up. You’re not shocked that all he does is nod at you when he takes the book from your hands and makes his way back towards his study space. 

            In an awkward way, you follow him. You feel dumb and kind of lost in this world of books and good student(s). Up the stairs, towards the floor you’d not even bothered to check, Mark unintentionally leads you to his little corner that already has papers and books laid out. 

            You swallow hard when he takes his seat and looks up to see that you had followed him. Mark is quick to swipe one of his AirPods from his ears and you can kind of tell that he instantly went from relaxed to nervous.

“Uh–” You look around, feeling awkward standing there. “I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Mark questions with a soured look on his face. He doesn’t really do it intentionally, it’s just, like, why are you looking for him? “Why?”

“Okay, just hear me out.” You start, taking a few steps forward and inviting yourself to sit at his table. There is absolutely no arm space on this side, but that doesn’t entirely matter. You begin your pitch.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but, I’m failing.”

“That’s not weird.” Mark mocks, shaking his head and moving to put his airpod back in his ear.

“Wait! Just, please hear me out.” You ask, a little frustrated that he’s already refusing to help you.

            He looks around and then lets out a deep sigh. Rubbing his temples, he nods.

“I know we aren’t the type to like, help each other or whatever– but I’ve asked all of my friends, and they kind of blacklisted me…you were my last resort, I swear.” You say, pleading with your eyes. “Can you please just help me study for like, a day a week?”

            His body is stiff and his face is unimpressed by your pitch. 

“An hour a week?” You adjust, clapping your hands together to plead even harder. You very nearly start to grovel on the ground before him. “Mark, please. I need to get my grades up.” 

“If you had just given yourself a day a week, you wouldn’t have to be asking someone you’ve never even spoken with to help you study.” Mark comments, still mocking and appearing a bit cocky at the sudden power he’s been given. “How many classes are you failing?”

“I’m failing three classes and have a C in another…” You shamefully admit. “Just an hour a day, please.”

            Mark eyes you over, shifting a bit in his seat before letting out another sigh. 

“Finals are barely a month away.”

“I know! I’ve already got extra credit lined up so I can at least get my grades up a letter but– I,” You look down, more shamed than before.

“You don’t know how to do the extra credit.” Mark finishes for you and is, for some reason, shocked when you nod. 

            He can see the panic in your eyes, and he noticed for the past week that you’d been looking incredibly tired around campus. Not the hung-over type of tired either. He noticed you move your seat closer to the front in one of the classes and even noted that you’re actually taking notes during your time spent there. Maybe he should help you out. If not for the fact that you genuinely seem to need it, but also maybe because he’s like, incredibly aware that he is attracted to you. He always has been.

“Okay, you can come study with me whenever you want then. I usually study here because I have a roommate who isn’t the quietest person in the world–” He goes to explain. 

“I have an entire apartment to myself, you can come study at my place. Really, I’ll make food and everything.” You panic, still trying to sell the idea despite him already accepting your offer. 

            Mark is a little shocked and offended that you have your own apartment, and yet you’re failing your classes. No way in hell are you paying for that yourself. This only prompts him to want to help more. Because? An entire apartment to study in? Where a pretty girl makes his food? 

“Okay, that can work. What days and times can I be over?” Mark questions, noting the three shared classes and the one other you’ll probably need help with. He hopes he’s already taken the outlier class, otherwise he won’t be much help in that regard. 

“You can walk home with me after those classes if you want, and we can study until you’re ready to leave?” You offer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be every day, but–”

“We can meet up after every class and decide if you want to study or not.” Mark finishes for you yet again, and you nod with a smile. 

“What’s your favorite food?” You ask, wanting to make a mental note of keeping your end of the bargain. 

            Mark thinks hard at that because being put on the spot like this makes answering any question a bit difficult. 

“Here,” You hold out your phone. “Put your number in and you can think about it. I’ll text you so you have mine.” You can’t wipe the smile off of your face, the anxiety is practically dissolving from your body at the very idea of someone being willing to help you in the comfort of your own apartment.

            He, on the other hand, is a bit more anxious now. He realizes that now, he’s going to be studying with you. A girl who had never even looked at him twice during the semesters you’ve shared classes. He’s putting his number into your phone, and you’re going to be texting him, and spending time with him instead of going to the parties that he’s never invited to. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” You ask, sending a quick text to him so that he can save your number. He nods and looks down at his books. “Don’t forget to text me what you want to eat, okay?”

            He nods again as you stand to walk away. He watches you and notes the little bounce in your step when you round the corner. 

            Slamming his head on the desk, he, much like you, cannot stop smiling. All thoughts of studying for the remainder of the night left his head and were replaced with his new study schedule. He thinks he will try and take it easy this weekend, specifically so he is mentally prepared. He’s only talked to you for a total of fourteen minutes and he’s already lost his ability to study and think clearly. 

If he’s lucky, the two of you will pass this semester with flying colors. There’s still that tiny part of him though, that wonders if maybe you’d find interest in him, and maybe he will fail the semester with you because, honestly, you are so distracting.

 ~

             On Monday, you sat up straight in class while eyeing the back of Mark’s head most of the time, out of preparing yourself for when he makes a break for it. He hasn’t even texted you what he wanted to eat today, and part of you wonders if he went back on his promise to you. Not that it was much of a promise in the first place.

            He was a little shocked that you weren’t the first out of the room once everyone wrapped up. It was common for you to leave mid-way through class or be the first one out the door. Instead, today, you stood there awkwardly looking at him as the room continued to empty. 

            Mark nods your way as if to beckon you towards him. 

“You’re still wanting to study today?” He asks with a brow raised in surprise. All weekend he had thought about it. Thought about the possibility of it just being a joke to you, or maybe that you’d change your mind and allow yourself to flunk out like you already had been doing. His heart kind of jumped a bit noticing you looking at him. 

“Yeah? Wasn’t that the plan?” You ask, nudging him a bit once you get up beside him. “You didn’t text me what you wanted to eat so you’re just gonna have to eat whatever I have in the fridge.”

            Mark nods, opting to stay silent at this moment. He’s going home with you. He’s going to be seen on campus walking home with you. He’s not the sort to want attention, but this situation feels dangerously attractive to him. Especially when he takes note of how you’re probably going to look all. . . at home in your apartment. Like he gets to be in your space teaching you things that you should have already known. 

            It all shouldn’t be so exciting. After all, his days are filled with the typical boring sessions of reading, writing, noting, and memorizing. It is exciting for him though. Never has he studied with someone like you, or really even gotten to talk to someone that most of the men speak to, the unreachable men. You’re one of the unreachable women on campus, he thinks. The ones with standards based on fun, attractiveness, and chaos rather than charisma, personality, and knowledge. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Mark, he thinks. 

“Okay, so...” Mark drones out, avoiding eye contact with you as he packs things into his ratty backpack. “I’m not super hungry right now but–  we are going to your place right?”

            You nod with a smile, grabbing his hand as soon as he throws his backpack on. It isn’t intimate to you, but for him, it’s…something. Holding his hand is reserved for intimate relationships with family or girlfriends. He doesn’t hold hands. He’s never really gotten the chance to hold someone’s hand past his little cousin when they were crossing the street last summer. Not since high school anyway. He can’t help but buckle in on himself in a shy sort of way as you lead him from the room and out of the building. 

            You’re rambling about all of the things you need to study. All of the snacks you could offer to him. All of the hours you wish you hadn’t wasted partying, yet, all he’s thinking about is how warm your hand feels in his. You seem to be a natural at talking to people. Touching them without a single worry in the world, it’s kind of nice, he thinks. The fact that you aren’t ashamed to be seen together with him, heading towards the place you sleep. Sometimes Mark forgets that this is college. No one actually cares who is hanging out with who unless they are in the middle of a raunchy frat party, seeing their love interest getting fucked against a dirty bathroom counter. 

            He smiles to himself as he finally catches up to you and allows you to stop dragging him around. He keeps pace with you now, resting his hand as if to allow you to let go, but you don't. 

“Just around that corner-” You said glancing over at him and noting the shade of color his face has become. “You okay?” 

            Mark nods, staying quiet and trying to force himself out of his thoughts. He glances down at your hand holding his and then back up at you on instinct. 

“Oh, sorry.” You say, releasing his hand and trying hard to understand that maybe you truly are too clingy with most people in your life. You think his reaction was kind of cute though, and now you’re a little determined to help him relax those stiffened shoulders. Mark can’t be as boring as he seems, right?

 ~

 “I have peanut butter and jelly, eggs, noodles, some leftover pizza and–”

“I’m not super hungry, but I could use some water?” Mark cuts you off, slipping off his shoes in an immaculate show of how clumsy he is. You can hear the clatter of your entire coat rack falling to the floor due to his weight leaning on it through that single task. 

“I’ll get you some water…” You trail off, noting how nervous he seems. He’s panicked, frantically trying to balance your coat rack back in place as if you hadn’t walked directly into him just the Friday before. 

“Calm down, it’s just a coat rack.” You laugh, hearing him mutter a sorry as he hangs one of your empty purses back onto it. 

“Thanks.” He says, reaching out for the class of water you began to extend out to him.

            Watching his eyes go from the glass of water to your apartment, you smile at the look on his face. Such a smart boy acting so incredibly stupid the moment he’s alone in an apartment with a girl. Cute.

“We can set up here?” You ask as if you’re offering a change of subject so that he doesn’t have to think about the coat rack he had just knocked over. You point over to your dining table that’s placed perfectly in a little nook against a window and look at him as he stands in place. “We can start whenever you’re ready?”

“Can you show me to the bathroom first?” Mark blurts, hyper-aware of his awkward demeanor. He needs to calm himself down. 

            Without issue, you point to the bathroom and Mark makes his way over to it in a show of not-so-confident body language. He seemed kind of cocky on Friday, but today he seems to be like jelly. 

            You sit at the dining table without thinking much more of the man in your bathroom, instead, you pull out some textbooks and lay them out on the table. 

 ~

             Mark stares at himself in the mirror, he can practically see the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he comes to terms with the fact that he probably shouldn’t have agreed to come to your apartment to study. You’re attractive. That alone was a reason in his head to avoid it, but he’s here and he’s already made a fool of himself. 

            He slaps his face a bit with some cold water and tries to will himself to stop acting like such an awkward idiot. Surely you’ll pick up on his inability to talk to women if he doesn’t get it together, right? You’re going to think he’s some weirdo, a pervert maybe, before throwing him out and avoiding him forever.

            Staring harder at himself, he waits for the color to run from his face so that way he can get out there and start the study session, but then his eyes start to wander. 

           Your bathroom is immaculately clean save for some makeup stains on the counter and a few stray hairs that must have been yanked out of your head while you attempted to brush out a night of drinking. It smells fresh and your perfectly hung towels look plush. Without a thought in his head, he leans towards the towel so that he can dry his face and hands, and that’s just what he does. Except, maybe he buries his face into the towel a bit longer than he needed to, and maybe the smell of it was so astronomically sweet that he nuzzled against it even more.

            He could tell the towel had been used at least once though, solely because he could smell a scent that wasn’t the soap on the counter. Then his eyes trail over to the actual hand towel, and then they trail a bit more to see a bra hanging on a hook.

            It dawns on him again. He’s in your apartment, smelling your towels, and staring at your bra. Coming to the bathroom in an attempt to calm down has done nothing more than make things worse, and the only option he has is to stumble out of the bathroom hoping you assume he was in there doing number two rather than planting his face into a towel where you dry off your naked body. 

            Praying to himself, Mark prepares to face you. Sure, you probably see nothing out of the norm if he does well and hides the fact that he’s hyper-sensitive just for being in your space, then again, Mark has never been the best at playing pretend.

 ~

             You offer him a bright smile once he finally makes his way back into your living space and seats himself at the table. He seems to be avoiding eye contact with you, bashfully pulling his own books out of his bag with shaking fingers. 

“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re not hungry?” You look at him, head tilting down in concern. 

            Mark finally looks at you and notes how comfortable you seem while he feels like he’s internally falling apart. There shouldn’t be any fucking issue in his head when it comes to this situation, but here he is, panicking because a pretty girl is in front of him. He feels so dumb, so obvious, so embarrassed… Maybe he should eat something, at least so he can buy some time to focus on something else before he starts stuttering through your studies. At this rate, all you’re going to learn about today is how awful Mark is around women. 

“Maybe I should eat, yeah–” He says in a small voice, still staring at the books as he places them on the table.

“Come look in my kitchen, we can eat something together?” You ask, reaching toward his hand. 

            He pulls back from your touch and tries to play it off casually like he was just reaching for a pen, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hands were cold.

            Taking note, it starts to dawn on you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, and it was always an interesting situation. To check your theory, you rise from the chair and lean over the table, being sure to squish whatever cleavage you have visible to make it more visible to him. 

“Salty or sweet?” You ask, watching his eyes intently and the way they struggle to leave your breasts. Score one for you, Mark is definitely a man above all. Luckily for him, you have lots of experience in that field, while he appears to have very little in the field of women. 

“Sweet…” He drones out, pulling his eyes away from you in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks immediately flushed. 

“Great, Let’s see what I’ve got!” You laugh, propping yourself back from the table and hopping into the kitchen, checking behind you to see if he follows.

            By the time you round the corner, he isn’t short to follow you. Peeping your head around the corner, you watch as he holds his hands in front of his groin, looks down at himself, and then lets out a deep sigh. You then watch as he adjusts himself in his pants, uncomfortably hiding a semi-hard on so that he could come into the kitchen without suspicion. 

            By this point, you’ve already decided that studying will very likely not be part of today’s schedule. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing like this, right? You should help him, right?

“Took you long enough.” You joke, turning to look at Mark and intentionally trailing your eyes down his body just to see if you can see any sort of bulge. He’s safe though because he apparently must have skills in hiding his arousal during the worst times. 

            Mark, on the other hand, can already tell that your shift in mood is intensely different compared to before he went to the bathroom. Twice now you’ve been blatant towards him and it is not helping him at all right now. Is he reading it wrong because he’s very obviously horny right now? Were you really trying to dangle your breasts in front of him like that? Are you really checking him out right now? 

“Sorry, I dropped something.” He offers as an excuse as to why it took him so long to follow you, uncomfortably trying to shift from your view and avoid eye contact. 

“Sure.” You say with a roll of your eyes, knowing full well that he was hiding his cock. “ You said you wanted something sweet, right?” You change the subject, reaching out and running your fingers down his arm. 

            He swallows hard, stiffening his shoulders and nodding to you. Without hesitation, you let your fingers stay against him for a few seconds longer, keeping eye contact with him before turning and opening a cupboard. 

“Peanut butter crackers, cereal, and oatmeal.” You deadpan, slamming the cupboard and stepping to the fridge. “Pudding.” Then you open the freezer. “Popsicles, and ice cream.”

            Mark just stands there when you close the doors to the fridge and look at him in question. He could opt for the crackers but his throat is already dry. Cereal could work but that would be embarrassing, for some reason. Oatmeal is an option, solely for how disgusting it looks, surely it would tame his boner. But, popsicles. No.

“Grab whatever you want, I'm eating a popsicle.” You say, raising a brow and throwing open the freezer door again to take your pick.

            Of course, it was intentional. It’s fun to see his eyes light up at the very idea of seeing you eat a popsicle, and even more fun to imagine how flustered he’s going to be in mere minutes.

            Mark looks to the floor and heads towards your fridge, also opting for a popsicle, probably so you didn’t think he was such a pervert, but more so because if you truly are trying to come onto him right now, at least his lips will taste sweet.

 ~

             You had expected Mark to get flustered, and boy did he. What you didn’t expect though, was to become flustered yourself by the image of Mark’s tongue darting over sweet ice, and then over his own lips to suck up the melted and sticky juice. The only image in your head right now is the idea of if he would lick his lips like that if you were to spread your legs for him. Would he lick up your mess on his face, chasing the flavor the same way he’s doing right now?

            A dull ache begins to spread throughout your body as you watch him. His eyes still avoid you but you still manage to catch him a few times. Each time he makes eye contact with you, your gaze shoots to his lap just to see if he’s gotten hard enough for his cock to leave its tucked position into his waistband. 

            Mark is hyper-aware now, with the way you’re staring and almost leaving your popsicle unattended as he eats his own. He feels confused, but over the moon nonetheless. 

            By the time the popsicles are finished, your fingers are sticky from allowing it to drip down the stick. You make a point to suck each of your fingers innocently, looking under your lashes at him for split seconds as you begin to shuffle through the papers on the table. 

“So,” You say, popping one finger out of your mouth and inserting another. “Can we start here? I need to have a paper written on at least one topic on this list and have no idea how to find a good source to read from.”

            Mark hears and sees you in tunnel vision right now, but he manages to catch the ass end of your sentence and begins to try and focus on the studies at hand. Still watching you suck your fingers into your mouth, he clears his throat and places his own popsicle stick onto the table. “I wrote mine based on this topic, and I found a lot of good sources for it. I don’t think our professor would think too hard about us choosing the same subject–” 

“Yeah, especially because it’s me. They’d never guess you’re in my apartment right now.” You laugh, smirking over at him. 

“I would’ve never guessed either–” Mark says without thinking, barely processing how embarrassing he is before you squint at him with a wider smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, raising a brow and leaning forward. “Why’s that?” 

            Mark tries to look around but now can’t seem to force his eyes away from you. A much different circumstance compared to before when he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. There’s a connection here, he can feel it. You’re definitely coming onto him and you have been for the past however long he’s been here.

“You’re kind of out of my league, y’know?” He laughs more at himself than he does the situation, and to you, he honestly looks pitiful after saying that. It’s incredibly attractive to you in the way he seems to praise you for being a failure simply because he’s attracted to you. At least, that’s the case if you’re reading him right.

“Who said someone like you couldn’t teach me a thing or two?” You have a smile in your voice, and it comforts him, but that comfort is shot down when you stand to your feet and walk over to him. “Who says I’m out of your league?” You ask again, watching him scoot back with his chair as you come closer.

            You prop yourself against the table, essentially blocking him from his books and papers. You look down at him now, dipping your head in a playful way. “I don’t think I’m out of your league.” 

            Mark notes how you’re between him and the table now. You look comfortable leaning in front of him like this, and when his eyes trail up to your face all his body can do is give in. He looks at you through large eyes, the overhead light is sparkling through them at you. 

            In that instant, you can see his embarrassment fill his body because he’s no longer resisting the urge to be himself. He’s staring at you as if you could be a god and saying nothing in response to your words. 

“If anything, Mark–” You soothe him, grabbing one of his hands and smiling at the way his pen immediately falls out of his grip. “You’re out of my league.” 

            He blinks up at you, soaking in the words and not yet understanding in full what you’re doing until he feels warmth envelope the entirety of his hand and wrist. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you’re here right now?” You ask him, basking in the way you can see his breath get caught in his throat. “How lucky I am that you’re not only smart but, hot too?”

            He dips his head at this, a bashful show of your words having an impact on him. He hides his face briefly against his arm and then he realizes–

“Is this okay?” You ask, holding his hand in place as you begin to move your hips against his palm.

            Mark watches the way you’ve managed to pull his hand out and plant it between your legs, all so you could grind against it without so much as a warning. He’s not against it though, if anything, his head is shot back to reality and he’s immediately back to glancing around the room and avoiding the scene in front of him.

            His palm is against your dampening panties and all he can think to say right now is, “You could write your thesis on human connection and its effects on the brain.” 

            You smile at his attempt of continuing to study through this moment.

“I could,” You say with a hoarser voice than before, feeling the way his hand stays relaxed in your grasp as you grind against it. “Or we could think about how your brain is being affected right now?”

            Mark groans, feeling the warmth of your wet beginning to seep through the fabric, and honestly, it is happening so fast that he’s sure it would be more embarrassing if he walked out now. 

“How are you feeling?” You reword your question towards him, intentionally swiveling your hips so that you can position his fingers into your underwear. 

“You’re warm.” Mark chokes out, eyes now zoning in on your core in front of him as he sits. 

            You let out a small laugh at this, pulling a bit on his arm to pull him closer, but he doesn’t compute it at all. 

“Do you like it?” You ask again, this time slipping his fingers into you. You let out a deep sigh and let your eyes roll back, fucking yourself gently against his fingers before you open your eyes again to look at him. 

            He’s nodding, probably more thankful now that you’d worn a skirt today rather than pants. He didn’t allow himself to take note of your attire, because if he did, he would have made even more of a fool of himself. But he’s nodding now, watching the way you hold his arm in place and slide his fingers in and out of you. 

            His silence is louder than his words could be right now, you think. You can feel him straighten his fingers inside of you, you can practically see him salivate at the very idea of how you’re using him right now. You’re not done though, no no. He’s far too cute like this, but you want to hear words.

            Gently, you pull your hips back effectively slipping his fingers out of you. There, you lift his arm and examine your wetness against his fingers. You smile again, eyes now adjusting to his face rather than his wet fingers in front of him. 

            Mark watches as you guide his fingers to his lip, and without a second thought, he opens his mouth to taste you against them. He licks circles around each of the two fingers, closing his eyes almost instantly so that he could relish the experience.

“Do you like the taste too?” You ask, releasing his hand and watching how he continues to suck his fingers. 

“Yeah–” Mark groans with his closed mouth around the digits, making damn sure to suck every bit off of him. 

“You’re pretty, you know that?” You compliment him this time, tearing your eyes from him and slipping your panties down your legs. You turn yourself over so that you’re now bent over the table and you ignore the corner of one of the textbooks poking against your ribs, all in favor of what sound Mark will make when he opens his eyes. 

“You can lick it for real then.” You comment, lifting to look behind you at the way his fingers drop from his mouth and his eyes immediately zone in on your bare pussy displayed for him under your hiked-up skirt. 

            He does let out a whimper, one that seemed entirely desperate to do just that for you but he doesn’t move. He just stares, soaking in the words you’re saying, memorizing each fold and dip in your pussy–

            You don’t intend to wait though. Reaching behind you, you grab the back of his head by his hair and guide his face to you. The way you can hear his chair tip over as he falls to his knees makes you quiver a bit before him, and you’re almost surprised to not just feel a face against you. It appears that Mark instantly jumped into action when your fingers laced into his locks. 

           You can feel his tongue exploring and his other hand reaching to lift your skirt entirely over your ass. His tongue is soft, warm, wet, and so entirely eager to lick and suck every inch of your core. It’s not until he starts allowing his moans to vibrate into your flesh that you hike one of your legs up and open your pussy against his working tongue for easy access.

            Guiding him by his hair, you press his face harshly into your pussy with little to no fight for air from him, and you’re loving it. Loving the way he whines for more when his tongue reaches the furthest limit of your folds, loving even more when he finally reaches his hands up to your pussy and spreads it out more for himself. 

            He isn’t even thinking at this moment, just tasting and feeling you guide his tongue as if this is what you wanted all along. The thought alone of someone like you wanting to fuck his tongue like this sets his cock on fire in so many ways. He’s so hard right now that it hurts to think about it at all. Mark doesn’t give a single fuck about how pathetic he must sound to you right now, whimpering and panting against you as if this was the only sweet thing in your apartment he wanted to eat anyway. 

            You hear a clatter to the floor, knowing for a fact that he’s knocked his glasses off of his face from the angle in which he skewed his neck in order to fuck his tongue into you now. You wonder what’s going through his mind, because god damn he’s eating you out like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s impressively messy and loud with it too, making you feel as if you must taste like the sweetest thing on earth to him. 

            For some reason, thinking back to all of the non-sexual situations you’d passively seen Mark in turns you on even more. The big-brained student who is constantly making straight As and never going out to parties eats pussy like this? Eats your pussy like this? Better than half of the men you’d already been with? Mark doesn’t miss a single centimeter of it, and you can tell he’s focusing on you more than he has ever focused on his homework or studies before. 

            You feel so incredibly wanted in this moment by Mark that all you can do is let out a desperate moan for him. One so that he knows he’s not the only one utterly stunned by the turn of events, but also because you’re fucking loving what he’s doing to you.

            With each moan, Mark picks up his pace, gripping your folds and spreading them out impossibly wide just so he can bury himself in the slippery wet heat. He’s spreading you apart so well that it almost pains you to move without the fear of being torn open by his tongue alone. Your clit has barely even been reached but he still managed to make you feel sensitive to the point of wanting to beat your fists on the table out of sheer frustration for not approaching him sooner. 

            Not only can he help you pass your classes, but he surely could make you feel like a fucking queen on top of it all, licking you up and down as if he were born and trained for you and you alone.

“You’re so–” You groan out, releasing his hair from your grip but pressing your ass out more so that you can feel him slip his tongue back to your clit with impossible reach. He continues that, sliding his tongue from your clit to your entrance, dipping in and swirling the muscle before going back to your clit. All while he’s moaning, groaning, and panting against you. 

            It’s too much, he’s so incredibly eager that you’re honestly too sensitive to let him keep going, so you pull your hips forward and lift from the table. Your legs are shaking when you do this, and shaking even more when you turn to face him and lean against the table again. 

“How–” You look down at him in surprise, watching him lick his lips much like you hoped he would. “How are you so good at this?” 

            Mark is stunned by your question because in all fairness, he’s never gotten to eat a girl out before. He wasn’t really thinking about what to do, or how to do it, he was just obsessed with the taste and smell of you to the point of going absolutely fucking feral at the mere chance. 

“I’ve–never done it before.” He shamefully admits, nonchalantly moving his hands to his pants and unbuttoning them. Not to fuck you or anything, mostly just to release his cock from the chokehold of the denim rubbing against him. 

“You’re lying.” You deadpan, running your hand between your legs and quivering the moment your fingers run over your swollen clit. “There’s no way you haven’t done that before.” You gasp, looking at him as if no other man existed. 

            He shakes his head, looking up at you from the floor with innocent eyes. His lips are wet, his eyes are hooded, his hair sticking up from your fingers guiding him– it’s a lot to see him like this when you’ve only ever seen him as that goody-two-shoes student who doesn’t know how to have fun. Clearly, Mark knows how to have fun.

            Your gaze on him makes him bashful as he looks down to the floor, feeling embarrassed that you’re praising a complete amateur at this. 

            Using your leg, you nudge him, and you spread your legs. “You did all of that and didn’t even touch yourself?” You ask in curiosity, noting how he had only just now undone his pants to relieve pressure. “Let me see it.” You say again, almost demanding as you hop up on the table and spread your legs even more.

            Frantic at your tone of voice, Mark stumbles to his feet and pushes his pants down to his thighs. His cock springs out and stands erect in front of you. You could stare all day, honestly. Mark, of all people? He’s the one with a cock this big? He’s the one with a cock that could make you feel as if you’re being split in half. Fuck.

“God.” You comment, mouth falling open at the way it twitches in mid-air. “All of the girls would be fucking swooning, Mark.” You get a bit flustered yourself now because only now do you understand who you just seduced and what he’s got to offer outside of brains. 

            In all of his shyness, Mark hides his face from you again despite his cock out in all of its glory. Your mouth could honestly start watering if he hadn’t just eaten you out to the point of needing him to stop. 

            Without another thought, you pull your shirt and bra off all in one go. No way in hell is he leaving without fucking you stupid with a cock like that. Absolutely no fucking way would you let this go to waste.

“When’s the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?” You ask, reaching for his arm and pulling his gaze back towards you, now almost completely naked save for your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

            Mark stares at you again, much like he did when you spread your legs in front of him for the first time, this time zoning in on the way your nipples are erect and begging for his mouth to be put to use again. He nearly forgets that you’re talking to him because of the way you’ve presented yourself. The reality is right in front of his face, but he still wonders if this must be a dream.

“I– right out of high school before she broke up with me,” He says in a lazy voice, slightly raspy. It sounds as if it doesn’t even matter to him because he is so focused on you in front of him. “I’ve only had sex one time.”

“Aw,” You pitifully look at him. “What a waste, you’re such a pretty boy.” You coo, wiggling your hips as if to entice his cock to make its way towards you. “You’ve got the brains and the cock for it. You must feel so neglected.”

            All he does is nod, because yes. He does feel fucking neglected, partly because he let it happen and mostly because he knows he doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Right now, Mark could genuinely start crying if you keep talking to him like this. He can’t tell if you’re mocking him or being genuine, but the only thing he wants to do right now is bury his cock so deeply inside of you that all you can do is moan out mantras of how pretty he is, how much time has been wasted without his cock inside of you, how badly you’d want him again and again after this. 

            You can see his facial expressions change every few seconds and your body is yearning to be filled. With the way he is looking at you, there’s no way he doesn’t want to.

“Do you want to fuck me, Baby?” You ask, realizing that you much prefer calling him intimate names rather than his own because he seems to lean directly into it. 

“Yeah,” He sighs out, hanging his head to look at the way his cock still stands painfully erect throughout the conversation. “Can I?” He asks now, making pleading eye contact with you.

            You reach out for him, grabbing his waist and pressing his cock directly against your core. You lean your head back a bit to look at him and the way his eyes sear straight through your own. His pupils are darkened, his cheeks are red, and his lips are glistening– You lick against his lips, and the way he immediately starts to kiss you makes you think he’s a liar. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth regardless of where it is. His tongue presses into your mouth so beautifully that you genuinely could argue that this man has only ever had sex one time. Maybe he’s a natural? 

            Mark knows exactly when to grind his cock between your folds, knows exactly when to pull back to kiss your neck, and knows exactly how to lean you back with his hand protecting the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam against the table. 

            He slips his cock between your folds so beautifully as he trails his kisses to your breasts, suckling gently against one of your nipples before he nearly can’t stand it anymore. 

           With ease, Mark grabs his cock and presses it directly into you. He isn’t slow or gentle with it. You can feel how eager he is when the moment the head of his cock enters you, he’s slamming in just to feel the way your pussy grips around him to adjust.

            He’s lost himself in the moment, and you’re loving it. Loving the way his tongue picks up against your nipples, and the way there is no rhythm or rhyme to his thrusts. His size alone is enough for you, and you can admit to loving every single push and pull his body is offering.

            The room is silent save for his whimpers, your gasps, and the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re quick to wrap a leg around his waist so that when he presses in again, you can force him to stay in place so that he can genuinely feel what it’s like to have a pussy clenching around a cock so big.

“Can you feel it?” You groan out, feeling his teeth pinch against your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body. 

            He nods frantically, pulling your nipple with his lips as he does it. You can tell he’s drooling, wetting your chest in such an embarrassing way, but he’s so–Mark. He’s Mark. This is Mark.

            You watch his face and the way he winces with each pulse of your pussy quivering around the sheer size of him, and you coo out at him when his cock twitches in response. 

“I can’t believe this is only your second time, Pretty Boy.” You sing out. “You’re so good, so-”

“I can’t–” Mark whimpers out, beginning to move his hips again, this time at a quicker pace. His mouth falls open against your breast and his hands shoot to your waist as he pulls himself up and opens his eyes. He watches the way your wet coats his cock as he slides in and out of you, fingers pressing so hard into your hips that you feel he could be bruising you. 

            You’re so in awe of him losing complete control that you want nothing more than to cum with him inside of you. You quickly reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive spot almost to the point that you could start crying out at how painful it truly is at this moment. You’ve never been this sensitive for a man, and yet, you’re coming undone beneath him and nearly losing as much control as he has. 

           A mess of moans and groans are filling the room as Mark chases his high, and you are at the point that you want to say the nicest and dirtiest things to him out of sheer arousal. So you do, you talk, and you talk. Whispers of “Can’t believe you fuck this good”, turn to screams of, “Baby, right there, just like that.”    

         It wasn’t until you moaned out, “Make a mess for me, cum with me.” 

Mark’s hips stuttered and his eyes closed tightly in a frustrated groan. “Stop–” He grunts, hips pressing into you impossibly hard. To the point that you scooted up on the table. “Stop, I’m-” He groans again, attempting to pull out so that he could release against your pulsing and empty pussy, but you don’t let him.

            Your legs hold him in place as you release your clit and pull yourself up on your arms just to grab against his neck and pull him down with you against the table. 

“Make a mess of me.” You say in a half moan, holding his face so that he can’t look away from you.

            You watch the way his pupils dilate, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, and then his eyes roll back. 

            Mark’s eyebrows fall much like his mouth does when he comes inside of you. His hips are frantic but his face looks calm, and not a single sound releases from his lips. You’re very quick to begin rubbing your clit again, and the pressure of his abdomen pressing against your hand as you do it sends you over the edge, effectively allowing your orgasm to hit you harder than a fucking freight train. 

            You grab onto him harshly, without a thought in your head besides kissing him. He kisses you back, realizing that despite having sex before, this may be the first time he’s ever made a girl cum. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever felt his cock being tugged by the walls of a pussy as it works itself through an orgasm.

            He can’t stop coming, lasting entirely far too long and far past sensitivity. Mark opens his eyes to look at you when you’re coming around him, all while he’s coming inside of you. Your voice is beautifully raspy, and the way you hold onto him makes him feel like you should never let go. 

            Upon his ears popping and feeling the mess between the two of you, Mark pulls back and notes that the hem of his shirt is absolutely fucking soaked. In an attempt to take a small step back in order to remove himself from you, he nearly trips over his pants that had fallen to his ankles.

“Oh.” You laugh, wincing as you feel his cock leave you empty. “Probably should have undressed you.”

            Mark steps out of his pants and just kind of stands there awkwardly, watching the cum spill from you. Then panic spreads across his face. 

“Um,” He croaks out, voice cracking almost immediately. “I- I didn’t pull out…”

“I didn’t want you to.” You soothe him, noting how he’s right back to his awkward and shy persona the moment he’s finished fucking you. “I’m on birth control.” You confirm for him, just to see the relief replace that panic.

 ~

 “So…” You comment, looking down at the wrinkled papers in front of you. “You really expect me to try and write at least 1200 words tonight?” 

            Mark tilts his head at you, sitting with a blanket covering his entire body as his clothes go through the cycles of a wash. “If we hadn’t gotten off track, you could already be almost done with it.” 

“God, you are such a fucking bore.” You laugh, shivering at the cold air hitting your bare skin. “I’m literally naked and you’re not even making a move.” 

“Finish your paper and we can talk about that.” He shoots back, not afraid to sound the slightest bit cocky at this moment. 

            In his defense, it does work. Promising you any amount of him after what happened was enough to force your focus on your school work. Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he will always want to fuck stupid girls. If anything, Mark deserves someone who respects his work ethic and need to help others right? The huge cock is just a bonus when you think about it.

            You know it’s going to be a hell of a month after tonight, but for the most part, you think that studying with Mark may have been your best college decision to date. You can learn a lot from him, and apparently... he can learn from you too. You just hope he doesn’t run off and use that knowledge on other girls once he realizes he’s definitely got the ability to break hearts. 

~

#neohub #mark smut #nct smut #mark lee smut #nct-writers #nct fic #mark fic #mark lee fic #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Forgiveness is requested but not expected. Downhill we go!!

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 3:

Over time, you grew less and less worried with Leon’s nice behavior. Your math grade has gone up significantly, surpassing a low C which is a passing grade, but since the tutor sessions have become much more bearable, you haven’t felt the need to stop going. Besides, you have an A streak to fulfill.

Your friends stayed suspicious about the frat boy’s intentions, however. The way you’d become so unbothered with everything relating to him had them stressed, yet at the end of the day, “no asshole can hold up a facade like that for this long”, as per Sky’s words.

Easygoing is the best way to describe Leon at this point. A gentle soul, from what you can tell. He goes out of his way to hold the door for you, share his food with you whenever he brings it, and he even gets excited with you whenever you get an A on any of your assignments or tests. It makes you happy that you held out for him.

“And that makes sense to you?” Leon was standing next to you, leaned over with both his hands on the table. You were both in the study room, only this time you had finished everything math related. Thanksgiving break had come and gone so everything had shifted towards the finals before Winter break, meaning now you were using the space to go over the study guide for the final given by one of your other professors, though it would’ve been nice to have your math study guide to burn into your brain since it’s your biggest struggle.

“Yeah, this is easy for me,” you mutter, hand against your mouth as your eyes move back and forth across the packet of information in front of you. Having Leon leaning over you had been commonplace since mid-November. He turned out to be very nosey. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your own classes?”

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was extremely confused by your study guide. “Uhh.. nah,” he stood upright and slowly made his way around the table, sitting down in front of you with a small groan as he relaxed into the seat. “I’ve made it through the past couple years here without ‘em. No need for ‘em now.” You nodded to the side at his, bringing the pen you were holding up to your mouth to nibble on the end of it. “Makes sense…”

It took awhile before you noticed his nervous fidgeting, looking up from your study guide to give him a worried look. “Are you bored? I can finish up in my dorm if you-”

“Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?” He cut you off, his eyes meeting yours before the room fell silent. The question was so sudden and you weren’t expecting anything like it, so it just had you confused. You must’ve looked it, too, since he moved his eyes away from yours while crossing his arms. “I mean-.. Y’know, figured I’d ask..”

Seeing him get nervous was always pretty cute to you, such a handsome guy getting worked up over you never failed to flatter you. “Oh, yeah! I’d like that, actually..” You giggled when Leon looked back at you, soon grabbing your few supplies to put back into your backpack. 

Relief spread across his face, moving to stand as you collected your items. “Good, okay, uh.. How’s Olive Garden sound?” To the average college student, Olive Garden was some high class fine dining. Anyone would be a fool to say no to an offer like that.

Just like your friend told you not to do, the absolute biggest no-no when it came to these types of college guys, you let Leon get even closer. It was just dinner in the beginning, but you started seeing him outside of study sessions afterwards with him going out of his way to seek you out and hang out with you and you the same. “Just going out to dinner” turned into dates real fast, faster than you even had time to process. 

You’ve almost completely forgotten about just how nasty he was towards you not three months prior with how he doted on you. Leading up to finals week, Leon made sure to bring you food after noticing your long study habits. He wouldn’t even give you a choice, just a simple “whaddya feeling tonight?” over text. He’d hang out in your dorm with you while you ate, much to your roommates dismay, and sometimes he’d just show up for no reason other than to see you. You’d blush and shy away from his flirting, he’d tease you, and you’d get mad at him for distracting you in a playful way. Even if you wanted to be actually mad at him, you couldn’t, not with that cheeky little grin he’d give you.

You never questioned his nosiness as he familiarized himself with your dorm, rummaging through your drawers as you whined at him from the bed to stay out of your stuff. Honestly, you’d probably look through his stuff too if you had the chance.

Having a boyfriend during your first year of college wasn’t exactly a goal, and you don’t know if this is even a relationship or not, but you weren’t complaining. It was so nice having someone care about you like this, especially when it’s someone who’s, to you, way out of your league in almost every sense. Though he wasn’t the most outgoing, he was very well known, and being seen with him meant the attention he received was spilling onto you. Hell, you didn’t even know he played football until he passed by you with his friends, all in their football get-ups. He never bragged about any practices or games to you, maybe you should’ve asked about the various bruises and scuffs he’d show up to the study sessions with. Oh well.

Every night during finals week, Leon would take you out for dinner under the guise of “destressing from the long day”, not that you minded, of course. You were growing increasingly anxious about your last final, the big one; math. The two of you were sitting in his black Jeep Wrangler as it idled out in the parking lot of McDonald’s, snacking on what was left of your meal in a comfortable silence. The combination of the heater blowing on you and the food in your stomach was settling you, if only a little.

Leon kept his eyes on you the entire time, hand rubbing soothingly up and down your thigh. His hand was so warm. “You’ll pass, I know you will.” His soft touch barely had you cracking a smile, looking through the windshield as large snowflakes quietly fell, lit up by the streetlights surrounding the parking lot and by the headlights on his car. The snow had accumulated an inch on the ground already, the sun having set nearly two hours prior. Winter and its short days, a blessing and a curse. “I don’t know..” You could feel his eyes on you, yet yours were stuck staring out at the falling snow. “My nerves always get me. I’m gonna make the stupidest mistakes and then once the final grades are in my parents’ll wanna see and then I’ll be surrounded be disappointment and shame and guilt.”

You closed your eyes and slumped your shoulders when you felt Leon squeeze your thigh, finally able to turn and look back at him. “You know that’s not how it’s gonna go.” He let out a breathy laugh when you raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on, you’ve got it down! Plus, you had an amazing tutor~..”

With a dramatic groan, you rolled your eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows at you, unable to hide your smile. “I guess, but you weren’t that amazing..”

Leon moved his free hand and brought it up to his chest, holding it there with a strong pout to feign hurt. “You wound me.. Was I nothing to you?” His smile quickly returned when you clicked your tongue at him, chuckling through his nose. “Seriously though, I’ve never met anyone as smart as you are. You learned how to do that kind of stuff incredibly fast, so I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you won’t demolish that final.” His compliments always left you blushing and at a loss for words, playfulness giving way to a more heavy air. “Thank you, Leon. Really, thank you...” 

You were too wrapped up in watching the snow fall through the windshield to notice when his hand pulled away from your thigh, or just how guilty he looked as he silently watched you.

The math final was easier than you were expecting. You understood basically everything that had been put on it minus a couple things that you scolded yourself for not brushing up on last minute. Grades weren’t put in until a week or more after the finals were turned in, yet you were confident enough in how it went to feel good leaving that room afterwards. 

This first semester had really tested your limits, but you were lucky to have your friends, lucky to have Leon. It didn’t feel strange having him around anymore, it felt natural, real. There weren’t enough ways to thank him for all that he did between tutoring you and taking care of you overall. 

You yelped with laughter as Sky picked you up, their arms around your midriff, waving you side to side as they yelled how proud they were of you. Ella only stood by and laughed along, making sure to take a picture of the moment as keepsakes. “Guys, I don’t even know if I passed yet!” You pushed away from Sky and they placed you back down on the ground, smoothing out your shirt which had you swatting their hands away.

“But! You survived and that’s always cause for celebration.” Ella pocketed her phone and took a couple steps forward so you were all standing in a small circle now. “You really pulled through these last few months.”

Thanks to Leon. “I did, huh?” You looked down with a bashful smile, shrugging before pulling the strap on your backpack further up so it wouldn’t slip off your shoulder. “You know,” Sky started, resting their elbow on your other shoulder while pursing their lips as they slowly turned their head to look at you, “you’re not very good at hiding your love for Leon..” 

You weren’t trying to hide it, it's just that even the vaguest thought about the man had you flustered and stumbling over your words like a fool. All you could do now was glare at your friend, who just raised their hands up in defense. “Hey now, not poking fun, just making an observation.”

Ella placed her entire hand over Sky’s face and pushed them away from you, ignoring their muffled complaints as she looked at you. “We’ll always be suspicious because we’re your friends and we care about you, but as long as you’re careful, we’ll keep our distance.”

Sky pulled Ella’s hand off their face, making gross-out noises while wiping their face off. “Blegh, anyways, yeah. Keeping our distance, but still watching from afar.” They pointed their index and middle finger from their eyes to yours before smiling.

You hung around in their dorm as Ella finished packing up her suitcase. She’s had her plane ticket back home booked for a month, constantly expressing her need to leave as soon as finals were finished during that time. Sky was leaving the same day you were, which was in two days since you both drove or were driven here. Leon stayed at his frat house all school year, so you were thankful to have two people sticking around so you weren’t left all alone.

Unfortunately, this meant you had your own packing to do. Thankfully though, your roommate had already left, sparing you from their menial chit-chat. Packing was almost cathartic in a weird way, almost as if you saw going home as a reward for working yourself to the bone at this university. Quiet music was playing from your phone as you gathered the essentials, you’d be coming back in three weeks so there wasn’t any need to pack up everything.

A gentle knock knock knock at your dorm’s door startled you from your thoughts, causing you to blink a few times to make sure it wasn’t just coming from the song that was playing. Slowly, you made your way over to the door, and before you’d even opened it fully, Leon slipped his way through, side stepping into the room with a cheeky smile. 

You scoffed as you watched him weasel his way in, hand stuttering away from the door handle to allow the heavy door to shut. “You could’ve waited until I opened the door all the way.” 

“I knocked, though.” Mischief was evident in his tone as his eyes landed on the suitcase sitting on your bed. “Getting ready to leave?”

“Not for another couple days. Just.. wanna be ready.” You walked past him over to your suitcase, continuing to fold the last few pieces of clothing you wanted to bring back home. “Perfect, got some extra time to spend with you then.” Leon chuckled, now standing next to you to watch you get back into rhythm.

Having him admit that so casually had you nervous, cheeks heating up as you glanced over at him. “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your friends?” The eyebrow raise he gave you made you stumble as you tried to elaborate. “N-not that I don’t want to hang out with you! I just feel like you’d have more fun celebrating the end of the semester outside of a stuffy dorm.” You tried to laugh away the embarrassment, moving your focus back to the suitcase as you zipped it up.

“I can celebrate with those slobs any time, but for right now, I would really like to be around you.” Leon carefully lifted your suitcase off the bed, placing it near the door for you. “You’re nice and quiet. They’re not.” You sighed after lifting yourself up onto your bed, sitting criss-cross right in the middle while meekly smiling to yourself, watching him walk back over to stand in front of you.

“By the way,” he said, turning his head to look out your window for a split second before looking back down at you, “I haven’t had the chance to tell you how proud I am of you for coming out of that math final. I know results take awhile, but you seem pretty pleased with yourself.” He crossed his arms and bent forward a bit with a teasing smirk as he not-so-subtly looked you up and down.

You covered your face with your hands and laughed into them, a poor attempt to hide your ever increasing blush. After letting your hands fall away, you bunched the end of your hoodie up in them, fiddling with the thick fabric as you replied. “Yeah, uh.. I think I did alright.” You were going to say more, but you stopped when Leon’s hand found its way under your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking at him. “C’mon, don’t downplay this, baby. You did amazing and you know it.”

Your mind went blank at the pet name and you were finding it hard to breathe with the way his hand felt under your chin. The air in your dorm was a tad tense before, yet now it just felt heavy. Stifling. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

“Did I catch you off guard?” He said with a breathy laugh, gently tilting your head side to side as he studied you. And you let him. Your mouth felt dry, face hot as he leaned in closer. “You’re so beautiful..” His voice dropped an octave and his eyes were lidded as they stared into yours. “So smart, so brave..” Soon his lips were brushing against yours, whispering out a final “So perfect..” before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

It didn’t take long for you to relax into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to mimic Leon’s movements. His hands cautiously slid down to grasp at your waist while yours moved up to cup his face, pulling him closer. He slowly crawled onto the bed with you tugging him along, leaving you laying down as he hovered over the top of you, knees planted on either side of your legs while one of his arms moved up to support himself. 

He was doing his best to be careful with you, noting your nervous tremble as his right hand slid under your hoodie. “M’gonna take care of you, ‘kay?” He hummed against your sensitive skin, kissing along the underside of your jawline. You only nodded as his lips trailed down your neck, stopping when your hoodie got in his way of the rest of you. “Need you to say ‘okay’ f’me, baby.”

Nearly whining when he stopped, you nodded again a bit more vigorously this time, voice barely a whisper. “O-..Okay..” You propped yourself up slightly when Leon pulled his head away from your neck, his eyes meeting yours as both his hands were now playing with the end of your hoodie. “Y-Yeah, okay…” You repeated.

First it was your hoodie, then it was his jacket, and before you knew it, he had you in his arms, chest pressed against yours as he reached around to unclasp the hooks on your bra. You immediately brought your arms up to cover your breasts once Leon leaned back after pulling your bra off, self-consciousness suddenly settling in. “Hey hey, no need to hide from me..” He cooed, eyes raking down your body as he grabbed your hands to pull your arms away, thumbs rubbing circles onto the tops of your hands as he stared with a crooked smile. 

You took the opportunity to take in his form; muscular, a couple old scars and freckles standing out to you. He was gorgeous, through and through, no doubt about it. He took notice, craning his neck to look down at his exposed chest before looking back up at you. “Looks good, huh?” That got a small giggle out of you, at least.

He slowly guided you back down onto the bed, his hands firmly rubbing up and down your sides. “You look even better, though. Layin’ pretty beneath me~..” His right hand found its way to your panties, running his fingers along the band before trailing further down to press his middle finger against the gusset. You gasped at the feeling while he laughed quietly, leaning back a bit further to catch a glimpse of the wet spot he was feeling. “You’re soaked.. Lil’ bit of touching got you all worked up?”

Your hands flew up to hide your face again as he rubbed his finger up and down your clothed pussy, letting out small gasps and whimpers all the while. You shakily nodded, subconsciously spreading your legs further apart as he slotted himself between them. 

“Tell me something, babe.” Leon paused his movements to look up at you, huffing a chuckle through his nose when he noticed you’d covered your face. “You seem real nervous, so I’m jus’ wonderin’...” Dread settled in your stomach at his implication, you were hoping he wouldn’t ask this. “Yes..” You whispered, parting your fingers over your right eye so you could look at him. “Don’t make me say it, please…”

He hummed low in his chest, eyes darkening as they moved back down to your panties. “Juuust wonderin', is all..” His finger started to caress you over your panties again while adding a bit more pressure. “There’s no shame in being a virgin. Only means I gotta make this extra special for you~.” You moved your hands to shoot him a weak glare and he smiled in return. “Didn’t say I couldn’t say it.”

Once he felt your tremble start to dissipate, he brought his hands up and hooked his fingers on the band of your panties before slowly tugging them off, letting out a low groan as a string of slick stayed connected to the gusset from your leaking pussy. “Fuck, that’s hot..” He breathed in sharply through his teeth, taking your panties into one hand before grabbing his hoodie, stuffing them into the large pocket in the front.

Leon didn’t waste any time putting himself back between your legs, languidly dragging his middle finger up and down through your folds. He relished in your every noise, even as you tried to hold them in. “You ever finger yourself before?” He asked, voice gravelly as he repeatedly pulled his finger back to watch your slick cling to it by a string. 

“... no..” Your innocence had him groaning to himself again. He could ignore the guilt eating away at him long enough to handle you the way you needed to be handled. “Let’s give it a try then, yeah?” He hunched over some more so his face was hovering above yours, middle finger now gently circling your clenching hole.

“P-Please be careful..” You whimpered, slightly panicked at the feeling of his finger nudging your entrance, one of your hands grasping the bed sheets while the other held onto his bicep that was closest to you.  “I’ll be so careful, baby.. I promise I’ll be careful.”

And he was. What would’ve normally been a relatively quick process turned into ten minutes of Leon tenderly stretching you on his fingers. He studied your face the entire time, whispering sweet words into your ear, even letting out deep moans to encourage your own timid ones. You needed the time. There's no rush.

He moved down to pair his fingers with his mouth, tongue running through your wet folds as his fingers stroked your walls. The noises you let out when he sucked on your clit were intoxicating. You were intoxicating.

Once Leon pulled his mouth and fingers away from you, you knew what was coming. And when he paused for a moment after standing up, hands hooked in his boxers, eyebrows tightly furrowed together in thought, that only served to make you more nervous.

“..Leon?” You managed to say, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched his shake himself out of his head. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking about the best way to go about this. Don’t wanna scare you.”

“You-... I’m not gonna be scared..” You looked from his face down to his boxers, eyeballing where his fingers were still hooked in them. He just clicked his tongue, nodding his head to the side with a soft “if you say so”. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were scared. There wasn’t much frame of reference, but Leon was… sizeable, for lack of a better term. And it wasn’t just his size that was intimidating to you, it was the idea of sex itself. Sex has always been made out to be this big grandiose milestone by everyone around you, so now that you’re about to actually do it is giving you the same sinking feeling that public speaking does. 

“You’re scared.” Leon had pulled his boxers all the way down without you noticing, letting them lay abandoned on the floor as he took the small step back towards you. “No.” You were quick to object, eyes still glued to his dick. He chuckled and tilted your head back by your chin once more. “Yes, you are, and it’s okay. I’m not gonna kill you with it.”

“You might…” You muttered under your breath, eyes lowly making their way back down to his dick as he got back up onto the bed and in between your legs. “I promised you I’d be careful, right?” Leon grunted, his hand squeezing the base of his cock before giving it a few slow strokes. 

You swallowed dryly, pulling your eyes away and back up to meet his. “Yeah…” He nodded, giving you a wobbly smile as he teased his thumb across his tip. “Right. So don’t worry, I’ve gotcha..”

You only nodded, doing your best to keep your eyes up and focused on his face as he lubed himself with your juices. Your eyes widened once you felt him line himself up with your hole, body jerking a bit at the slight pressure.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart..” He used his freehand to stroke your thigh before pulling your right up over his shoulder, hand moving back down so his thumb could rub your clit. “Just breathe and focus on what my hand’s doin’, alright?”

The two of you were lucky that a lot the people in your dorm building left already, cause when his tip finally pushed past that ring of muscle, you let out an embarrassingly loud yelp. It hurt, but it was also such a new feeling that it simply startled you. “Okay, okay, that’s the hardest part. You did it.” You panted, hands tugging at the blankets beneath you as he stilled. “Okay…” You copied him, nodding your head once you felt you were ready for him to move.

The sting of the stretch was the hardest to get by, however it was easily masked by just how full you felt after Leon was fully sheathed inside you. So new, yet so good. 

You let out a shaky sigh, eyes closing as you rested back against the bed. Your heart was beating and your body felt hot. It was actually a nice feeling. “You- ugh.. You can move.. a little..” You breathed out, grunting softly when you felt him twitch.

“Mhm..” Leon agreed with only a hum, not trusting his mouth enough to speak. He pulled back an inch before thrusting just as slowly,  eyes darting around your face for any sign of discomfort. A minute or so of taking it slow led to deeper thrusts, following your command as you asked for “harder”, “deeper”, “faster”. All with that sweet voice that he couldn’t say no to.

You were eating away at him and you didn’t even know it; wrapped around him so perfectly, that delicious honey of yours dripping down his balls, moaning his name, looking at him with those glassy eyes, fuck. He fits you so well.

He kept his eyes closed, unable to look at you any longer. Ignoring the guilt was harder than he thought, even with him thrusting into you like he owned you. You weren’t his, he can't have you the way you want him to-

“Shit-!” He gasped, too lost in his own thoughts to notice you’d grown close until you abruptly clenched around him, sloppy cunt milking his cock. His thrusts stuttered to a stop as he buried himself deep into you, cumming with a whine of his own. Looking at the wall with bleary eyes, he furrowed his brow again, chewing on the inside of his cheek while he caught his breath.

Clarity crashed into him when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a weak hug. He needed to go, but how could he leave you like this? God, he was so fucked.

He should’ve just stayed an asshole, that would’ve kept you far away. And he should’ve never taken that stupid bet. All this for a pair of panties to wave around like a trophy.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik

(few of your blogs won't work, but i really tried 😩)

#college au my beloved #bully leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy #re4 leon #leon scott kennedy x fem reader #leon scott kennedy x you #multichapter #multi chap fic

[polaroidpascal]

let me || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after two weeks of frankie coming home knocking on death’s door from exhaustion, you decide to give him a break.

tags : fluff !!, no use of y/n, you taking care of frankie, very small nods to sex, undressing, showering together, cuddling, short and sweet glimpse into domestic life with frankie 🥹

WC : ~1.8k

a/n : i’ve never written pure fluff before, but the frankie brainrot has reached an all-time high and i desperately need to take care of this man. hope you like this little slice of domestic life with frankie 🫶 (not beta read or proofread much, just psa!)

You’re cozied up on your recliner reading a book in the soft light from your lamp when Frankie finally comes home from work.

He opens the door gently, tiredly. He never knows if you’re going to be asleep or not, so he errs on the side of caution just in case. Plus, he’s too exhausted to make more noise anyway.

You watch him from the corner as he sets down his keys. They clink against the ceramic dish that he made for you forever ago after you had moved in together. He sets down his backpack opting to unpack it tomorrow and hangs up his hat, running his hand and fingers through his curls with a long, tired sigh before he kicks off his boots.

He turns around to see you in your pajamas wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, book in hand, the lamp illuminating you from behind like an angel descending from heaven.

No amount of exhaustion can keep the tired smile from blooming across his face. “Hey, baby,” he says, his hand now rubbing the back of his neck to soothe the sore muscles there.

“Hi, love,” you say back sweetly. “How was work?”

He answers with another sigh and tired eyes, his smile fading just a bit remembering the absolutely packed couple of weeks he’s had. “It was alright, just tired.”

Frankie has come home beyond exhausted every day for the past two weeks. The first few nights, you were already asleep by the time he came home, unable to keep your eyes open any longer to wait for him. You had sent him a text telling him to wake you up when he got home, but of course your sweet boyfriend would never do that, not when you look so peaceful in your sleep.

One night, you happened to be awake when he came home, much to his surprise. He tried to play off how drained he was, bringing you in for a hug that swallowed you whole in his broad figure, whisking you off to your bedroom to try and ignore his exhaustion. But you could see it in his eyes from the moment he walked in that he was barely hanging on, and he definitely slept hard that night.

After that, you made sure you were up every night long enough to catch him walking through the door, picking up a new novel series to pass the time while you waited.

You rise from the recliner and shuffle over to Frankie in your fuzzy socks and his t-shirt loosely fitting your frame, the wide neckline exposing your collarbones. “You look tired, Frankie. And I’m not saying that in a mean way.”

He takes you in his arms and kisses the top of your head breathing another sigh, like he’s relearning how to breathe after being so busy all day. “I know, baby.”

You stay wrapped in each other's arms for a minute, Frankie’s head resting atop your own. His dead weight grows each second that passes and you let him stay until you can’t hold him up anymore. You rub and pat his back gently before you whisper, “Why don’t we go take a shower, hm?” looking up when he lifts his head again.

He looks back at you with his big, brown, pouty eyes and mumbles, “But you’re already in your pajamas…”

“I know,” you nod, reaching your hand up to cup his cheek and glancing across his face at his tired and beautiful features. “You’re always taking care of me. Can you let me take care of you this time?”

His eyes are still pouting and nearly half closed now as he pauses, then gently nods, letting you lead him to your bedroom.

He stands in the middle of the room reaching down to the hem of his shirt to undress but your hands stop him. He looks at you confused.

“Let me,” you say. He has no protests.

He watches you lift his shirt exposing his stomach and chest, raising his arms so you can slip it over his head. You toss it to the side while Frankie reaches down to take his socks off. Your hands move down to his belt, slipping it out of the loops of his jeans. It clinks to the floor and you unbutton his pants, slipping them down with his underwear. He watches you the whole time, stepping out when you reach the bottom before you stand up again.

When you meet his gaze, the love radiating from his eyes almost makes your heart burst from your chest. You smile gently at him, reaching up to give him a soft kiss before leading him to the shower.

You run the water warm, more on the hot side, and start to undress yourself. Frankie watches you strip, the way your shoulder blades move as you pull your shirt over your head and unhook your bra. The way your spine flexes as you reach down to pull your pants off and shimmy out of them. How angelically perfect the curves of your body look.

You turn around to look at him and see tears welling in his eyes.

Immediately, your heart drops and you rush to cup his face in your hands. “Oh, Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing, I just…” He looks your face up and down examining all the features he finds so beautiful and takes a breath. “I love you so much,” he says, the end of his sentence getting quiet, tapering off choked in emotion.

You stare at the gorgeous boy in front of you, exhausted from his hard work, so full of emotion that he’s brought to tears, and you feel your own eyes start to sting. All you can do is hug him and bury your face into his chest, his warm, soft skin pressed against you as your arms clasp around him. “I love you too, Frankie.”

You feel his breath get a little quicker as he tries to keep himself in check, the fight against his tears getting harder and harder. You pull back and wipe away a few strays that started rolling down his cheeks before pulling him into the shower.

You wash Frankie head to toe helping him clean the day off. He leans down some so you can wash his hair, making sure to give his scalp a little massage while you suds up his curls. His eyes close and he softly hums as your fingers card through each strand. He loves when you play with his hair.

You gently wash his back, watching the soap slowly roll down his body as you rub circles into his skin. The muscles look tight, flexing some just with the slow breaths he’s taking. You reach up and dig your thumbs into the visible knots you see near the base of his neck where he was rubbing before. His head drops forward a bit, a soft groan leaving his lips at the relief.

You turn him around and wash his chest, watching the soapy water cascade down his pecs and stomach.

He watches you as best he can, wanting to savor every second, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the soothing feeling of the warm water flowing across his skin… the soap erasing the dirt from the day… and most importantly of all, your feather-light, loving touch behind every movement.

You rinse his chest a little and give him a soft kiss to his sternum, handing him the sponge to wash the rest of his body while you wash your own.

He silently watches you move, feeling himself get emotional again thinking about how lucky he feels to have you. That you’d do this for him. That you care so much about him. The love in his heart threatens to burst at the seams.

When you’re both done, Frankie grabs your hips and carefully spins you around before leaning down for a kiss. A kiss that’s worth a million words all condensed into one little action. A kiss that screams I love you, endlessly and eternally.

You stay under the shower head, lips locked with the silent words of affection being exchanged. You only think to get out when you feel the water starting to run cold.

When you get out, you loosely wrap a towel around yourself before grabbing another to dry off Frankie. You rub his hair and his face, draping it around his shoulders and tip-toeing up to kiss his nose before you finish drying yourself off.

You slip back into your pajamas and Frankie puts on his sweatpants before you both climb into bed together. Frankie immediately plops down on his side of the bed, lying on his back and draping his arms over his eyes as he sighs deep, finally comfortable after the long, long day he’s had.

He feels you crawl into bed with him, your weight shifting the mattress around him as you climb on top of him, legs straddled over his sides.

He moves his arms to look up at you staring at his chest tracing circles onto his skin. His hands rest on the tops of your thighs and he rests his head back on his pillow, but you swear you can feel his entire energy shift.

“You okay?” you ask, resting your palms on his skin.

“I…” he starts, looking up at you with sad eyes. “I love you so much, you know that… I’m just… I’m really tired, baby. I don’t know if I can—“

“Frankie,” you cut him off. “I’m not in the mood either.”

He looks at you with his pouty doe eyes again. “You’re not?”

“No,” you assure him. “I just wanted to look at you. How pretty you are. How lucky I am to have you.”

Frankie’s chest gets tight, the tears stinging in his eyes again as he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve someone like you. Who loves him unconditionally. Who takes care of him so tenderly. Who is straddled on top of him just because she wants to look at him.

Before you can catch his eyes getting redder, he pulls you down to lay by his side, cradling you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. “It’s me who’s lucky to have you, amor.”

You hum and settle into his embrace, inhaling his clean scent and relaxing against his soft skin. Just as you’re starting to drift off, you hear a faint mumble, “Thank you.”

And you don’t even need to respond. You just press your body closer somehow, planting a kiss to his chin before nuzzling into his neck.

And it’s the only answer Frankie needs.

#francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (13) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: coriolanus doesn’t understand why you've shut him out. 

word count: 1,878

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, a shorter chapter rip, coriolanus the cat is a menace™, pet name (petal), not proofread

Coriolanus Snow could not even begin to understand you. Where had he gone wrong? In the days leading up to the wedding, you were so affectionate with him. It felt like the difficult part of this was finally over. Sejanus, his only real competition, was long gone. You were finally calling him Coryo. You spent time with him without complaint and, dare he say it, even seemed to enjoy his company. Yet, it all came crashing down so quickly, so suddenly. 

What had happened last night? Coriolanus spent the entire night wracking his brain, going through each part meticulously, trying to determine where he went wrong. Had he missed some sign that you were uncomfortable? Had he unintentionally pressured you? What had he done to deserve the cold look you gave him? For you to accuse him of only caring about himself? Coriolanus couldn’t deny that he could be a selfish man, but for you? Did you not realize the lengths he would go to, to make you happy? 

When morning came, you said hardly a word to him. The most he heard of your voice was when you were speaking to your lady’s maid, telling her of any questions you needed answered about the trip to the cottage. Coriolanus nearly lost his temper then. What had he done that was so wrong, so hurtful, that you were cutting yourself off from him? He had half a mind to bring up the agreement made during your courtship, about how you would behave, but he thought better of it. You never responded well to his attempted pressuring. To do so now might push you away. Might irreparably damage this relationship. 

Now he sat across from you in the carriage, traveling through the countryside, still just as clueless about what he should do. Worse yet, every time he attempted to speak, that damned Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him from its perch on your lap. 

“The cottage has a library,” he tried, hiding his flinch as the cat swatted its paw at him. “Not nearly as impressive as the one in the palace, of course, but I believe it should be satisfactory during our stay.”

Finally, finally, you looked over at him. Your eyes were blank, completely void of emotion. Your voice was the same when you said, “Placating me with a library worked once. I will not allow it to work again.”

Then you turned back to the window, watching as the flat lands of the Capital swooped into rolling hills. Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him again, as if it was in agreement with you. 

“Petal, tell me what I’ve done wrong. I don’t wish for this to be an unhappy marriage. I…” He swallowed thickly. This would pain him far more to say than it would for you to hear. “I would be alright if you never love me the way I love you. But I don’t want you to think that this is a political affair. Or that I care more for Panem or the want of an heir more than I do you.”

You stared at him for a long moment. It almost felt like hours. Coriolanus wanted to say more, but he fought against his instincts. If anything could be repaired from this relationship, he could not force you into it. 

“How long until we arrive at the cottage?”

“Three hours, assuming there are no delays.”

“Very well then.”

You plucked a book from the stack beside you. Coriolanus should have known you wouldn’t want to speak to him when he watched as a half dozen books were placed in the carriage.

You didn’t say anything to him again. 

He should have known that bringing up the possibility of a delay would, in fact, cause a delay to occur. When the dark gray clouds began to dot the sky, Coriolanus had hoped that the storm would pass by. But with each rumble of thunder and flash of lightning, it became more and more obvious that luck was not going to be on his side. Even nature was turning its back on him. Finally, the coachman announced that it would no longer be safe for the horses and that he would be stopping at the next available inn. 

The cat hissed at Coriolanus as if he was the one to cause the storm. 

Coriolanus stepped out of the carriage first, his nose wrinkling as he stepped straight into a mud puddle. Was the entire universe against him now? Could he not even have a nice, clean pair of shoes? He bit back his disgust as he reached for your hand. Admittedly, he was surprised you took it, allowing him to lift you out of the carriage and far away from that damned puddle. 

“Coriolanus hates the rain,” you said, reaching out for the cat. 

“Yes, I do,” he muttered. He took the cat before you could, not wanting you to get scratched up by the beast. Coriolanus pulled back his damp jacket and tucked the cat inside, careful to make sure not a single droplet of water hit it. The cat hissed and clawed still, not impressed by Coriolanus’s attempts to keep it (mostly) dry. Once secured, Coriolanus reached for your hand again. You didn’t shake him off. “Come, let’s get inside before we get sick.”

The innkeeper was already waiting with a bundle of towels when Coriolanus led you inside. Coriolanus passed one to you, before taking another to dry off the hissing beast. The innkeeper flinched, but held his own tongue lest he offend his King or Queen. Coriolanus nearly laughed at the idea of you chewing the man out for offending your precious beast of a baby. Once the cat was bundled and in your arms, Coriolanus took a towel for himself. 

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” the innkeeper began to say, “but there is only one available room left for tonight. Had I known that you would be stopping in, I would have made sure there would be plenty of room for your staff. Unfortunately, all that is left beyond that room is the stables.”

So Coriolanus would be sleeping in the stables tonight. Wonderful. He just hoped you would be gracious enough to wait until after the innkeeper was gone to kick him out of the room and reveal the already apparent marital problems. 

“That will be quite alright,” Coriolanus said. It wasn’t. But part of being King was knowing when to play the part of a courteous monarch. “If you could please show us our room, that would be most appreciated.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the innkeeper said. Then he turned his gaze to you and bowed his head. “And if I may, congratulations on your nuptials.”

Coriolanus half-expected you to spit in his face for mentioning your marriage. Instead, though, you offered a smile. “Thank you. And thank you for being so accommodating to us.”

“It is my honor, Your Majesty. Now, if you’ll follow me.”

The entire walk up to the room, Coriolanus braced himself to be thrown out. Even as the footman followed behind, carrying a trunk with his belongings, he nearly said to not bother. He was sure that, within a few minutes, you would be demanding a room alone. He could only hope that you would be kind enough to minimize the embarrassment.

Yet, when he found himself alone in the room with you, you did not make any demands, save for asking Coriolanus to help you out of your gown. He undid the fastenings, but turned away when you stepped out of the gown and into a nightdress you plucked from the trunk. 

Fine. If you weren’t going to make the demand yourself, he would go. “I shall see you in the morning, petal,” he said. 

You turned, but where he expected your brows to be furrowed, your face was blank. “You think you are to sleep in the stables?”

What game were you playing? Last night, you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. But today, you are confused as to why he might leave? “After last night, I thought you would want some privacy.”

You looked out the window, at the torrential downpour and at the stables that felt like a million miles away. “I am not cruel, Coryo.”

Not like me, he finished. Instead, he said, “I don’t understand you.”

“I believe part of your agreement was that I refrain from causing any scenes. I can think of no greater scandal than me throwing you out to spend the night with livestock the day after our wedding.”

“There is no one here to spread a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes. “Much of our staff is here, as is the innkeeper. They talk as much as the ton. If I make you sleep in the stables, by the time we return from our honeymoon, the Capital will be in disarray that the seeming lovebirds are already on the outs. Whether they blame you or I, I cannot say for certain. But it would ruin the public perception of us.”

Coriolanus was proud that you had thought these things through, but part of him nonetheless ached over you allowing him into your bed only so as to avoid scandal, not because you enjoyed his presence.

With nothing more to say, you climbed into the bed, laying down as close to the edge as you could manage without falling to the floor. Coriolanus let out a sigh and then, too, got ready for bed. Once dressed in his nightclothes, he crawled into bed. You shuffled even closer to the edge. He worried that you might fall if you moved any further away. 

Was he truly so repulsive that you’d rather risk falling to the floor than share a bed with him? 

And though he knew better, he still reached for you. All he wanted was to hold you. He had been deprived of that last night, deprived of the ability to tell you how wonderful you are, how he enjoyed being your husband. A part of him hoped that the forced proximity might make you more willing to be held. 

You pushed his hand away. “Not tonight, please.”

“Petal…”

“I shall fulfill my duty some other time. Today has been too stressful.”

“You are more than a duty. And I want more from you than that. I want your love, but if you can’t give me that, can’t I at least hold you?”

You started to move, and, for a moment, Coriolanus thought you might burrow yourself in his arms. But instead, you picked up that damned cat from the floor and dropped it between the two of you. “Hold your son.”

Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him. Coriolanus (the human) had half a mind to hiss back. Instead, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to come. 

It never did. 

Not with the beast looking at him like he was a meal. Not with his wife acting like this is all a transactional affair. And certainly not when, some minutes had passed and you allowed yourself to cry, perhaps taking his stillness as a sign he had gone to sleep. 

Oh, where had he gone wrong? 

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[otomiyaa]

From 🐺 To 🐶

Wriothesley x Lyney

A/N: This was such a joy to write. Special thanks to @lovelynim for the inspiration (this fic is a huge mashup of multiple loose ideas she had), and to @ticklygiggles for proofreading and motivating me with her enthusiasm.

Summary: Wriothesley has done it. He pissed Lyney off for being too rough. After a chilly silent treatment, Lyney gives him the chance to make amends. (Also on AO3)

Note: They have no canon ages in Genshin but in this fic they are both adults (Lyney young adult, Wriothesley some years older).

Word Count: 4K

Ah, wasn’t it just marvelous? That sweet, hysterical laughter. Those cute and rosy cheeks. The way he writhed and squirmed. Wriothesley only needed one hand to pin his boyfriend’s arms firmly above his head, and one hand to tickle him.

His fingers were long enough to touch multiple sensitive places all at once. And boy, Lyney was ticklish. What a delight. 

“WRAHah-Wrioahaaha! Nohoho- ahahaha !” Lyney’s lovely sounds didn’t go wasted. Wriothesley embraced them, drank them like they were the finest tea. 

Still holding Lyney’s arms firmly and pinning his legs with just his weight, straddling him effectively, Wriothesley spidered his fingers mercilessly all over Lyney’s small torso, digging into his sides and tummy and eliciting the most hysterical bouts of laughter.

“WAHAHah! Nohoh-ohohow stahahahp!” He had him right where he wanted. When he tickled Lyney’s armpit and realized he wasn’t going anywhere no matter what he tried, he released his arms and tickled his other armpit as well, digging his fingers under there to find the hidden treasure.

“And that activates the laughter,” Wriothesley commented dryly as if Lyney hadn’t been laughing all along.

“AHAHAHH! Wahahait- NAHA -” Lyney jolted and arched his back, helpless to Wriothesley’s merciless tickle attack.

“Plea-ahaha nohoho! I cahahan’t breheheathe!” Wriothesley only nodded in response. When he clawed up and down Lyney’s ribs, the hysterical laughter dissolved into the cutest pitchy shrieks and squeals. 

“AAAaahhh! Nohohoooo staahhaap!” Just a little more… He dug his fingers into Lyney’s torso again, his fingers wiggling mercilessly and -

“AHAH Wrioehehehe - IT HURTS !” Wriothesley froze, his hands stopping their assault on Lyney abruptly, and he looked at his face. He looked - ahem. Cute, erotic, but also… Angry. His face was flushed, tears were sparkling in his eyes, and his brows were furrowed.

“Finally - you - stopped. Wriothesley.” 

Wriothesley leaned back and looked at him in surprise. “Did I go too far? Did it tickle too much?” he asked. Lyney weakly moved up and gasped for air. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Don’t talk to me,” he said before getting up on shaking legs and walking away. Wriothesley watched him go. Oh no. He always playfully tickled Lyney and he would never be this angry? 

“Lyney come on, I was just playing,” he said, following after him and placing a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. To his surprise, Lyney suddenly took his own shirt and lifted it, almost as if he was flashing him to seduce him, but it was to make a point.

“Just playing? Do you see this? I’ve been asking you to stop all this time, and yet you went on. You’re always too rough and I've had it!” 

Wriothesley saw the red marks on Lyney’s delicate skin and he shook his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize - “ Lyney then showed him his arms, all red as well. 

“Did I do that?” Wriothesley asked, perplexed, and he remembered pinning those arms down... Was it that rough? Lyney rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated grunt.

“Did you do that? Gee, I wonder who else has been pinning my arms and violated my whole body like I’m some sort of toy without feelings. It’s a miracle you didn’t crush me, Wrio. And you don’t listen so… Just leave me alone.” 

Ouch. 

Lyney went into the bathroom and before Wriothesley could say something, the door closed with a loud slam.

Oh no. He looked at his own hand and clenched it into a fist. Was he really that rough? He didn’t mean to hurt him. Of course he didn’t. It was just some playful tickling he thought. He was making Lyney laugh, he thought. They were having fun, he thought. Damn, he really hated himself for hurting the person he held so dear. 

He waited until he heard the shower running and decided to put some effort into making up with Lyney. He rummaged into his storage and found some of the best and most valuable teas he had been saving for special moments. Well, this was a special moment… He needed Lyney to forgive him. 

While Lyney showered, Wriothesley prepared the best quality tea for him, and put it on a tray together with a plate of Lyney’s favorite biscuits and some grapes. 

When Lyney came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of Wriothesley’s oversized shirts - throb - Wriothesley gulped and quickly got up. 

“Lyney, I’m so sorry. I made you some tea, it’s really good tea and should be a comfort to your eh, throat,” he said guiltily, realizing that Lyney must probably not only have a sore body, but a sore throat as well.

Lyney sat down on the couch and side-eyed him. He didn’t say a word, but judging from his attitude, he would accept the tea.

“Here,” Wriothesley said, handing him a cup. He was relieved when Lyney indeed accepted it and brought it to his lips. Wriothesley sat down next to him and waited awkwardly for him to drink it. 

“Too bitter.” 

Eh?! After just one taste, Lyney put down the tea and without even grabbing one of the biscuits, he got up again. 

“Lyney wait,” he reacted, but Lyney shrugged and went to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him before Wriothesley could say anything. Argh. Wriothesley stared at the tea, then took it and gave it a taste.

It was fine, but… Ah right. He sighed. It was fine for him. Lyney liked his tea sweet. This was anything but sweet. 

Wriothesley couldn’t believe he was ruining their weekend together. It wasn’t often that Lyney did not have performances to work on, and Wriothesley was busy with work almost 24/7. 

Finally they were together for the whole weekend and he managed to piss Lyney off like this. Wonderful. At this rate, he was going to leave him. Wriothesley stared at his bedroom door and sighed. Well, he had work to do. 

He gave it a second attempt. Lyney only deserved the bestest, sweetest tea in all of Teyvat. So Wriothesley again looked through his collection and found a tea kind from Mondstadt, made with Calla Lily which was known to not only be bitter but also sweet. If perfected with sugar and honey, it had to be to Lyney’s liking. While preparing the tea, Wriothesley started to realize how little he knew of Lyney’s preferences. 

Or well, he did know about them, but how little he actually took them into consideration. Maybe that was how he ended up tickling Lyney until he was angry like this. To him, tickling was just some playful roughhousing, and maybe he didn’t know his own strength either... Oof, bad boyfriend behavior. He had to make it up to him.

“Hmm,” Wriothesley hummed, and he tasted the tea first. Oof, very sweet. He wasn’t a fan, but he was sure Lyney would like it. Satisfied, he knocked on the door and waited.

“Lyney, please. I remade the tea, can I come in?” It was his own bedroom, but right now Lyney was inside, so he had to be the gentleman he usually wasn’t… 

“Fine,” Lyney said on the other side, so Wriothesley was glad to enter and found him on his bed, reading the book Aether had gotten him recently from Liyue. 

Wriothesley put down the tray and gave him the tea. Lyney tasted it, and without a word, continued to drink.

“Is it good?” Wriothesley asked. Lyney nodded quietly. 

“A-alright…” Wriothesley wasn’t sure what else to say or do. Maybe Lyney really wanted to be left alone now…

“Well, is there anything else I can get you?” Lyney shook his head. Oh. 

“I see. Should I leave you alone?” 

Lyney nodded again. Ah, that stung! 

“Okay, I understand. Let me know if you need anything…” Wriothesley literally felt like a kicked dog as he left the bedroom again. Lyney liked the tea, which was good. But he was still angry. Surely he should’ve known a cup of nice tea wouldn’t make things magically better again. 

So, he went out. By himself. Only to grant Lyney the time and space he needed, and of course, to visit some shops and buy some nice things to spoil him with. He found a cute plushie of a black cat and purchased it, then in the next store he also got Lyney a new mug, and a bag of sweets. 

With these bags, he returned home. It was silent and Lyney couldn’t be seen, so without knocking he rushed into the bedroom, afraid that Lyney had already left. 

“Ly- oh,” Wriothesley said, watching in surprise how Lyney was half naked. Lyney was just taking off his shirt, showing that sweet lovely skin Wriothesley loved to touch and tickle so much and - no! Bad Wriothesley! 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, and he put down the bags.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked. Lyney gave him a look. Oof, was he still that angry?! 

“Some fresh air will do me good,” Lyney said. How mean. After Wriothesley just went out by himself. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t as if he invited Lyney to come with him…

“I got you something,” Wriothesley said, and he took the plushie out. It was wrapped in the prettiest wrapping paper, and he handed the gift to Lyney. Lyney stared at it.

“I don’t want it.” 

Wriothesley almost fell backwards. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Lyney rolled his eyes. “I don’t want it. It’s not my birthday.” He continued dressing himself, and Wriothesley quickly got the other gifts out.

“I got you these too.” Like he feared, Lyney only eyed the gifts but didn’t bother unwrapping them.

“Nice. We can save them for my birthday.” 

Wha-! Wriothesley dropped the bags and grabbed Lyney’s shoulders.

“Lyney, stop being like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I said I was sorry right? What else do you want me to do? How will you forgive me?” 

Wriothesley asked. Lyney only stared back at him. 

“I’ll do anything,” Wriothesley insisted. Ah, now there was some response. Lyney raised an eyebrow.

“Anything…?” he asked.

Wriothesley nodded. “Anything. Whatever you want,” he confirmed. Lyney hummed.

“So… If I say: I want you to let me tickle you, you will do it?” 

Ah, it was still about tickling? Wriothesley nodded. “Of course!” If it was still about tickling, he should’ve just gone ahead and told Lyney he could tickle him back, if that was all he wanted! Stupid of him to not even think of that! 

“For as long as I want to?” Lyney asked. Wriothesley nodded again.

“Sure!” It wasn’t as if he was super ticklish or anything. Lyney could tickle him however he pleased for as long as he liked.

“Good. I will teach you the difference between your technique and mine,” Lyney said. So, he was going to tickle him softly, was that it? 

“Of course, go ahead!” Lyney appeared a little surprised that he agreed just like that. Perhaps a ticklish person like Lyney couldn’t comprehend that someone would submit so easily to a tickle torture on voluntary basis. 

“Good. Then we will do it now.” 

“Right now, wonderful. What do you want me to do, should I undress?” Wriothesley asked eagerly, relieved that this would also stop Lyney from leaving. 

“Just your jacket,” Lyney commanded, so Wriothesley took off his jacket. 

“And your pants,” Lyney added. Wriothesley had to fight the perverted thoughts coming in as he stripped while Lyney still gave him this cold stare. When he was just in his T-shirt and underwear, Wriothesley stood in front of him and spread his arms.

"All yours, baby,” he said jokingly. Lyney still hadn’t melted his ice, and he simply gestured that Wriothesley should move to the bed. So he climbed on his bed and went to lie down on his back. 

“Like this?” he asked. Without answering, Lyney climbed on top of him and eventually straddled him. 

“Hmhm. Comfortable?” Lyney asked, staring down at him. Even when angry, he was so considerate. Wriothesley only started to feel worse about treating Lyney so roughly…

“Yes, I’m fi-” Before Wriothesley could finish his answer, Lyney reached out and without warning scribbled his fingers against Wriothesley’s lower stomach.

“Hohaha,” Wriothesley let out a strange sound as the ticklish sensation surprised him. Lyney repeated the soft tickle, his fingertips fluttering against his abdomen. Despite wearing his shirt, he could feel the tingly sensations right through it, and he shuddered.

“Ohohoh w-we’re hehe stahaharting ahahalready hmhmhm?” he chuckled, surprised that he already felt the urge to laugh while Lyney barely used any pressure.

“Yes, so hold still,” Lyney said, using his other hand to wiggle his fingers against his side. Just softly, without digging in too much, but enough to tickle.

“Hnghh yehehes o-of couhourse,” Wriothesley giggled. How silly. The reflex to move his arms was really there already, but he didn’t want to be in Lyney’s way. Lyney’s touch was so soft and delicate, like Lyney himself. It suited him. His fingers scratched very softly, rubbing circles against Wriothesley’s sides and tummy and causing him to let out a stream of giggles he had preferred to hold back.

“Hehehehe ahahalright y-you’re quihiihite good ahaaht thiihis,” he laughed to encourage Lyney. It felt quite ticklish, but he wouldn’t call it torture. More like a massage that made him laugh. It actually felt pleasant. 

“Ahhhahah!” Wriothesley jumped when Lyney’s fingers moved under his shirt. It felt entirely different to have those soft tickles on his bare skin, and he began to squirm. 

“A-ahahare you ehehenjoying yoursehehelf?” he asked Lyney, but he didn’t get a response. Lyney’s fingers tickled their way up his ribs and paid thorough attention to them, scribbling and fluttering as if Wriothesley’s ribs were the magician’s new musical instrument. They then traveled to his bare tummy and spidered lightly, causing Wriothesley to jump a second time and - oops. 

“Wrio?” Lyney asked in a warning tone when Wriothesley had grabbed Lyney’s wrist. 

“Hehehe reflex, sorry about that,” Wriothesley giggled, and he put his arms back beside himself. He hesitated and then raised them above his head. 

“I’ll - I’ll put them like this,” he said, and Lyney eyed him coldly.

“Good.” Wriothesley braced himself for the continuation of the tummy tickles, only for Lyney to suddenly reach for his exposed and vulnerable armpits.

“HYAh!” Wriothesley let out the most embarrassing sound and moved his arms down in an instant.

“It can’t tickle you this much, move your arms. I remember you telling me you’re not that ticklish at all, so it shouldn't be hard to keep your arms up,” Lyney said, wiggling his fingers gently against Wriothesley’s armpits despite his desperate attempts to defend them.

“Ahahaha I’m nohohot uhuhused to thihis!” Wriothesley laughed. He could remember it too; him telling Lyney confidently that he could try and tickle him back but that it would be no use, since he was not that ticklish. He then proceeded to tickle poor Lyney to tears. One of the many times… To think that Lyney put up with his apparent rough and ruthless tickle attacks for so long, and here Wriothesley was, already squirming and wriggling because of this very soft and gentle tickle session.

“Are you really going to keep moving your arms? I can’t tickle you properly,” Lyney complained when Wriothesley again moved his arms to cover up his most sensitive areas.

“If you can’t keep your hands away, I’m afraid I’ll have to use this.” 

Wriothesley heard a familiar sound, and the next second he saw his very own handcuffs being twirled around by Lyney. He was sure he carried those handcuffs on him earlier as he went out, kind of a habit even on his day off. When did he…?  

“Did you forget your boyfriend is a magician?” Lyney asked, judging the confused look on Wriothesley’s face.

“No I… I’m sorry.”

“Will you keep your hands out of the way, or do we cuff them?” Lyney proposed. Wriothesley shook his head.

“I’ll keep them out of the way. AHh-hehehe!” He was immediately laughing again and his hands shot forward to catch Lyney’s fingers that had tickled his hips all of a sudden.

“Y-you caught me off-guard!” Wriothesley whined, but Lyney shook his head and took the cuffs in his hands. He lifted himself off Wriothesley and flipped him over on his stomach. Just like that!

“We will do it like this,” he said, cuffing Wriothesley’s hands behind his back. Wriothesley wasn’t protesting but… he was also still processing the fact that Lyney was tying him up. He was going to tickle him while in a helpless state.

“That’s… Unfair. I never cuffed your hands when tickling you,” he tried to reason calmly. 

“Did you ever need to? Besides, what’s so bad about handcuffs? I know how to free myself from them. I’m sure you can do it as well, no need to be a magician for that, not-so-ticklish Mr. Wriothesley,” Lyney lectured. Eep. Wriothesley blushed for getting himself into this position, and he wondered how he was going to endure this. His confidence had kind of faded...

He waited for Lyney to turn him back around, only to suddenly feel an unbearable ticklish sensation on his sides as Lyney had wriggled his fingers there so he could brush against his bare sides and tummy from behind.

“Nahhah! Hehehe-” Wriothesley laughed. Maybe this position was a blessing. He was anything but cool right now and wouldn’t want to face Lyney like this!

“Does that tickle?” Lyney teased.

“Yehehes! It does- hahahaa!” Wriothesley felt his laughter increase and increase even more, especially when Lyney’s fingers climbed back up his ribs again. He squirmed and struggled, but with his hands tied behind his back, he really was more helpless than he had ever been before. 

And with those ticklish sensations intensifying…

“Lyehehe-Lyney! I’m reheheally sohohorry!” he apologized through uncontrollable giggles.

“Are you now?” Lyney sang. His fingers arrived at his armpits again and managed to find those sweet spots that made Wriothesley jump. He felt Lyney bounce on top of him, still straddling him, and more laughs and cackles left his lips.

“Eeehehehee! Dahahaamnh!” He wriggled from side to side. That tickled so bad! And still all this time, Lyney was only using minimal pressure. After tickling his armpits until Wriothesley’s voice got even louder, Lyney’s light tickles moved towards his neck. It was a spot Wriothesley hadn’t even tried on Lyney before since he’d just squeeze and claw at Lyney’s slender torso until he cackled, but he realized the neck could be rather sensitive with how much he was laughing and writhing.

“Nohohot thehehere!” he whined, moving his head from side to side. It was such a vulnerable spot, and Lyney skilfully trailed his fingers against the skin of his neck, under his chin, even his ears. Why did it tickle so much!

“Not here, really? Is this the spot?” he heard Lyney ask. Before he could process what happened, Lyney managed to flip him over on his back again with surprising strength for a guy so small. And finally Wriothesley could see his face again and… He was relieved to see him smile. He no longer had the cold aura around him. The look in his eyes was as soft and tender as his tickles were, and Wriothesley couldn’t help but blush and feel shy under his judging gaze all of a sudden.

“Plehehease,” he whined when Lyney’s fingers scribbled randomly at any spot they could find under his shirt. He arched his back and gasped.

“Please what?” Lyney asked, probably thinking he was going to beg him to stop the tickling.

“Kihihiss me,” Wriothesley giggled instead. He was so in need of that affection after seeing Lyney angry. Lyney smiled and leaned in.

“Ask again,” he said with a smirk, his fingers finding a really sensitive spot right at his waist and tickling it very softly with his nails.

“HNghehehhe! Kiss me,” Wriothesley moaned softly. Lyney finally closed the final distance between them and kissed him. Their lips moved together while Lyney’s fingers continued to explore the most sensitive places on his body. Which was... anywhere actually, Wriothesley learned. From his tummy to his sides, and he even moved his hands further and found a really sensitive spot on his lower back that made Wriothesley shudder when it was tickled with quick and soft little scribbles.

“AHhhaha not thehehere!” he laughed again, but Lyney shut him up with another kiss. Damn! Wriothesley’s entire body was on fire as he moaned, his giggles muffled while Lyney continued to kiss him more passionately.

They kissed and kissed, he laughed and giggled, and all of a sudden he heard a click. His hands were released from the handcuffs. He had no idea how his magical boyfriend did that so smoothly without him noticing, but he wasn’t going to ask. 

Satisfied with his freedom, he immediately wrapped Lyney into his arms and kissed him as if his life depended on it. However even while kissing, he now remembered: soft. He didn’t need to pin him down or squeeze him firmly, or kiss him without a break until he couldn’t breathe. He shouldn’t hold him too tightly, he shouldn't do anything that might hurt him. He could take it slow and easy, and he realized that was how Lyney enjoyed it the most.  

With Lyney still on top of him, they made out, and finally when they pulled apart, Wriothesley asked, just to be on the same page: “Are you still angry?” 

Lyney smiled. “I was never angry.” 

Wriothesley frowned. “Hm? You were very angry.” 

“Wasn’t. How else was I going to let you submit to this?” Lyney asked, demonstrating by tickling Wriothesley’s cheek and neck softly. Wriothesley responded with a sudden giggle and he twitched.

“Buhuhut…” Before he could ask, Lyney kissed him again.

“You forgot again. Your boyfriend is a magician, but also a performer. I know how to act.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course I was a little irritated. You tickled me so much until it did hurt a little, and I was also embarrassed. But everything else was just me making sure this would happen,” Lyney admitted, and he tickled Wriothesley again.

“I cahan’t believe y-you hehehe,” Wriothesley laughed, but he couldn’t help but hug him tightly again. He loved his boyfriend so much, and everyday he would still learn new things about him.

“So... About those gifts…” Lyney finally said, and he looked at the bags. 

“May I still receive them? I’m curious what they are.” 

Wriothesley chuckled and shook his head. “Of course. They’re all yours baby.” And he watched fondly how Lyney jumped off the bed and rushed towards the bags with adorable excitement. Yeah, never a dull day with a ticklish and sneaky cheeky magician Fatui as his boyfriend. But Wriothesley wouldn’t trade him for anyone else!

[Epilogue]

“Ahahahah! Wrioheheh-Wriothesleheheey! Nohoho!” Lyney couldn’t stop giggling as Wriothesley lightly tickled his stomach and sides. 

Hugging his newly gifted cat plushie tight didn’t give him any protection. The plushie even happened to be a nuisance when Wriothesley’s fingers found his underarms and brushed gently against the spots. Embracing the plushie, it was hard to move his arms, and Lyney kicked as a reflex. Of course that didn’t affect his huge boyfriend in the slightest.

“Hehehehe not thehehere! I cahahan’t mohohove!” 

It was the morning after a long and lustful night during their weekend together, and Lyney was currently facing Wriothesley’s wrath and revenge for tricking him the previous day. Well, it did result in something. He now tickled him with so much care, softness and tenderness. In a way it felt even more ticklish than ever. It felt better.

“Do you want me to stop? Just say the word.” 

Ah, they had also officially introduced a safeword now: “Nehehever!” Alright, that wasn’t the actual safeword. No way would Lyney surrender now. But, the safeword was ‘jellyfish’. Just a random word they came up with together during their heated night together, but with the way Wriothesley was indulging him right now, Lyney doubted he should ever use it. 

“Alright, then I’ll continue tickling you just as I please~”  

Wriothesley sounded so happy and content that Lyney couldn’t help but feel that his little act really paid off. Just another improvement in his remarkable romance with the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide!

#genshin impact #wrioney #tickling #tickle fic #wriothesley #lyney #wriothesley x lyney #advice if you enjoyed this: look up [wrioney] on twitter #so much glorious fanart with them #I'm STUCK in the algorithm and happy there<3 #otomiya!writes #lee!lyney #lee!wriothesley #ler!lyney #ler!wriothesley

[rottngdeer]

Bloodsuckers — 5

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Vampire!Female!Reader x Will Graham

Part 5/?

Part 4

Contents/Warnings || Not proofread. Hannibal being Hannibal, blood consumption, implied murder, SMUT !!, fingering, p in v.

Authors Note || hi, so sorry for the delay in chapters. my mental health has been trash and junior year of college is beating my ass :’) but i’m rewatching hannibal again and finally got enough inspiration to start writing again wooo.

AO3 || here

“So Jack hired you and doesn’t even believe in what your saying?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. What’s your excuse?” Will asks.

“Me and Hannibal have.. an arrangement. One that I can’t get out of.”

A silence came between you and Will. He had shown up to your house out of the blue, pushing you further about your relationship with Hannibal. It seemed like Will only knew Hannibal’s secret, but not yours, and not what you and Hannibal’s relationship really was.

“Look, Will, I can’t help you with this.”

“Does he have something on you?”

“No.”

Another silence. You lied, obviously, but you could tell that Will didn’t believe you.

“What is it?”

“Will-“

“What is it?? We can help each other.”

“No, we can’t. Whatever you think it is, it’s not that, trust me.”

“Why can’t you trust me?” Will asked straightforwardly.

“It’s complicated. I trust you, but I really, really can’t talk about this.” You put your hands on both of his shoulders, gently squeezing them, “I can take care of myself. And I can take care of Hannibal.”

“Take care of him, hm?”

“No like that,” your arms fell back to your sides. “I can take care of my situation with him.”

You were annoyed. Annoyed that Will wouldn’t stop pushing you about Hannibal, annoyed that Hannibal had power over you, annoyed that you hadn’t consumed any blood in a few days. Your eyes kept landing on Wills neck, but your thoughts kept wandering to Hannibal.

“You should go,” You told Will, rubbing your temples, “I don’t want to talk about this again.” Will looks annoyed, but he doesn’t fight you. He leaves without another word, and you stand alone in your living room for a few minutes but pulling your phone out of your pocket, hesitantly calling Hannibal.

He picks up quickly, “Y/N.”

“Do you.. have anything for me?” You ask, staying vague on the phone.

“20 minutes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. hanging up. You pace the room while you wait, hungry and tired.

Hannibal was punctual as usual, ringing your doorbell at exactly 20 minutes. “Hello,” He says when you open the door. You pull him inside, locking the door behind him as he says, “I’ve only brought myself for you.”

“That’s fine,” You watch him take off his blazer and roll up his sleeve. There’s faint marks on his arm from the last time you fed off him, only serving as a reminder for how good he tasted. He sits down on your couch and waits for you to join him, holding his arm out comfortably for you. You sit close beside him and lean down, running your tongue along the vein on his arm before sinking your fangs into him. As you feed, you feel his eyes glued to you. You both knew that he got something out of watching you feed; a fascination or morbid curiosity about your species and how you work. You eventually pull away, licking the droplets of blood that spill out of the puncture wounds.

He wiped a line of blood off of your chin with his thumb, keeping eye contact as he sucks it off of his finger. You eventually break the silence by saying, “I’ve never met a human like you before. I mean that as both of a compliment and an insult.”

Hannibal doesn’t reply to that, roughly grabbing your chin and commanding, “Open.”

You slowly open your mouth and watch as Hannibal eyes your fangs curiously. You close your mouth after a minute and are suddenly met with Hannibal’s lips hitting yours. An almost violent make-out ensues, with both of you fighting for dominance over each other for a few minutes. You eventually bite his tongue, not too hard but enough to draw blood. He breaks the kiss, tasting his own blood in his mouth. He gives you no time to react as he roughly grabs your hips and spins you, shoving you onto your stomach on the couch. You feel the weight shift as Hannibal moves from sitting normally to standing on his knees. He grabs your hips again, pulling them up so your ass was in the air.

“That was very rude of you,” He says, his hands reaching around your waist and unzipping your jeans, swiftly pulling them down and off. He pushes your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You look over your shoulder at him as he licks two of his fingers before pushing them inside of you. You let out a low moan and buried your face into the couch cushion. He wasn’t gentle with you, shoving his fingers in and out of you quickly, stretching you out to prepare you for him.

Your hips instinctively pushed back against him, craving more as he continued, only to feel his fingers pull out of you. You hear his belt clink and his pants unzip before he grabs your hips again, holding them still before pushing himself inside you. You hiss and grab the couch cushion, the pain and pleasure of it overwhelming you.

Hannibal gave you a minute to adjust before pulling out almost fully and slamming back in. “Fuck!” You cursed, clenching around him, only encouraging him to start a rough pace, pushing in and out of you hard and fast.

He keeps his pace steady, his hands holding your hips in place as you attempted to squirm. It didn’t take long for you to feel the fire in your stomach grow hotter as your orgasm approached. Your moans began to get louder at each thrust, your nails digging into the couch cushion. You felt Hannibal’s weight press against your ass as he leaned forward, one of his hands leaving your hip to reach around and rub small circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you began to shake, your moans going up in pitch before you came, crying out his name.

Hannibal kept his pace up for another minute before his hips stuttered and you heard him groan before spilling inside of you. He stays inside of you for a moment before pulling out, pushing your panties back into place. You slowly sat up, finally looking at him as he zips his pants back up and tucking in his button up.

The two of you sit next to each other for a minute before he says, “I’ll run you a bath.” He stands, looking down at you and holding out his hand. You hesitantly take it, following him into the bathroom, wondering just how much more complicated this would be now that you’ve done this with him.

#hannibal #hannibal x y/n #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #nbc hannibal #will graham fanfic #will graham #will graham x reader #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal smut #hannibal x reader smut

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

#edward nashton #dano!riddler #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #dano!riddler x reader #paul dano #danonation #the batman #edward nashton smut #edward nashton fluff #edward nashton ily forever -abram #gonna log off for the night to keep my nerves down i think

[eetherealgoddess]

i found your works recently and I FELL IN LOVE <333 if you feel up to it would you be able to write about a foreign exchange reader with any tr boy possibly ending in smut?

Thanks for the support! I love when you guys send requests and love!! I hope you enjoy this! ♡︎♡︎♡︎

Shoutout to @deadxyeyes for our brainstorming that led me to this idea!! The original idea we talked about was a bully au but then while I wrote the story, it became different and my brain just went on autopilot.

ꨄYou’re Never Leavingꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Foreign Exchange Student Au

❦You catch Kazutora’s eye❦

Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Pretend it’s all in Japanese bc you learned the language, except when you speak to the people from your home.

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

I’ve only been an outsider to foreign exchange students visiting America when I was in high school. The reader will be from wherever you are and this will take place in college. I did a little research on studying abroad but I can’t promise complete accuracy!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

You’re Never Leaving

Preparing years in advance for this wonderful opportunity, you finally reach the end of your second week at your new college in Japan. Excitement fills your senses as you take a selfie to send to your friends back home while sitting in the study room of your dorm. Your plan is to complete a whole year, having saved up all the money you made from working in high school for this very moment.

You’re currently sitting in a chair with a foot propped onto the mini wooden table in front of you. Your laptop open on an incomplete assignment you had been working on for the past hour, deciding to take a break. Your eyes meet the door when you hear a click, watching as a man you haven’t seen walks into the room.

You analyze his features, attempting to ignore your thoughts that begin to race at the attractiveness of the guy who entered the study room. You grab your laptop and set it on your lap after setting your phone down, continuing the paper. You keep your eyes on the screen as the brunette with blonde strands sits in the seat placed beside you.

“You’re one of the new exchange students in the dorm right?” He greets, a sly smile as he leans back in the chair, crossing his legs once his feet were placed on the table. He eyes you up and down, observing your features as well as your different aura. You turn away from your screen to acknowledge him with a friendly smile.

“Yes, I’m Y/n.” His smile seems to widen at the mention of your name.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He says, your name rolling off of his tongue as he plays with it. “Pretty name. Hanemiya, Kazutora. Call me Kazu. Say, aren’t you bored of your homework?” One of your eyebrows raise.

“Depends on where you’re going with that sentence.” You respond, giving a sly smile of your own. In all honesty, no matter where you're in the world, completing papers has never been your favorite thing to do unless it was something you were interested in.

“Let me show you a good time?” He offered, a hand raising as well as one of his eyebrows.

You give a look of contemplation with a finger on your chin. Deciding that you can postpone the completion considering it’s not due for another one or two days, you shrug.

“Sure.”

Once you packed everything, he walked you to your dorm room to grab your purse and set everything else you had aside, locking the door behind you once you got all your things. Throughout the night, he took you to different bars and clubs as well as the other hot spots in Japan, you both taking pictures with each other as you enjoyed your time together. You hadn’t known but you had already caught Kazutora’s eye from when you first moved in. The unexplainable attraction caused him to search a little more about you, though he couldn’t find much besides a few selfies on your social media.

He decided to get your attention so he could get to know you, take you out and see you in a more laid back setting besides school. He didn’t regret it, you both having a blast with each other as you drank the night away and danced. He pointed out different foods for you to try as well as feeding them to you which caused giggles that he already loved so dearly to spill out of that pretty mouth. He just knew that you’d be perfect together, your personalities fitting very well. He feels a connection he had never felt before with his one night stands and past girlfriends. Yes, he knows it’s ridiculous to be this infatuated with you and you only just met, though he can’t control how he feels.

The end of the night finally came and he walked you to your dorm. Usually he’d be in the girl’s bed, already getting to know her intimately, though he had wanted to go a little slower with you, deeming this a perfect opportunity to obtain an official girlfriend at some point. Yes, he’s moving fast but it’ll be worth it when you’re in his clutches.

“When are you free tomorrow?” He asks.

“Anytime after the morning. Gotta call my boyfriend.” You respond. His delighted expression drops when he hears the mention of your boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend?” He questions in disbelief.

“Yeah! He’s so sweet!” You say cheerfully before dismissing yourself politely, giving him a ‘goodnight,’ before walking into your room.

He stares at the door for a moment before he turns red with embarrassment and anger. This can’t be right considering the obvious connection you two seemed to have. He can’t be wrong. How could you have a boyfriend when you had so much fun together? This is your fault for acting so casual. Your fault for leading him on. Your fault for seducing him. A vixen you are. A sneaky little serpent who tricked him. He walks away from your room to enter his own.

Over the weekend, you hadn’t heard from your new friend. A little concerned considering he stood you up the next morning, not answering your messages or calls. You let it go with slight disappointment, going on your own adventure as you toured the area, video chatting with your friends a couple of times and taking memorable pictures.

When the week began, you still hadn’t heard from Kazutora until he walked up to you during a break.

“Sorry I stood you up. Something important came up. Let’s make up for it tonight.” He says, giving a charming smile.

“That’s okay. I’m cool with that, but let’s have a chill night. I have to wake up early in the morning.” He nodded in response before you both separated and went to your designated classes.

When the night came, you both met up in the same study room you met. He brought some alcoholic beverages which caused you excitement because it helps you stay awake. You drink as you both converse and complete assignments together. As time went on, drink after drink you began to feel drowsy and hot, sweat building as the clothes on your body began to feel tight.

“You okay there?”

Kazutora had been studying you the whole night after he gave you the spiked drinks. He made sure you kept drinking by innocent friendly contests with the shots filled with aphrodisiacs, along with sleeping medication.

“I-it’s so hot in here! I’m burning up, man.” You whine as you take your sweatshirt off, too intoxicated to care that you’re only wearing your bra and pants. He smirks as he eyes your chest, ready to grab them though holding himself back to make sure the plan goes accordingly.

“Come ere.’ Let me help you feel better.” He says, motioning for you to come toward him. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to hold your head up.

“W-wait, Kazu. I c-can’t get up.” You whisper, your eyes closing as you lean against the chair only to open your eyes wide and try to hold yourself up. You look at the floor with confusion as a heartbeat forms in your panties, wetness beginning to stain.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He chuckles, standing up from his chair and picking you up, setting you on his lap cowgirl style as he sits back in his chair.

“You’re so pretty, angel.” He states, using his thumb to caress your cheek which causes a shiver to go down your spine. You grab onto his shoulders as you feel a bulge form through his pants. Barely holding yourself up you try to push back, the sensation of your whole body weakening slightly scaring you.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening.” You say as tears form. He brings your face closer as he uses his other hand to rub your back.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” He says as he unclasps your bra with one hand. He tosses it to the side as he eyes your hardened nipples.

“K-Kazu?”

“Relax. Everything’s okay, baby.” He flicks his tongue against your nipple, causing your breathing to pause as you look down at his mouth. He continues his kitten licks before closing his lips around the nub, sucking as he traces your back with the tip of his fingers. You couldn’t help but release a quiet moan as your hips moved against his bulge. Both of your arms wrap around his head as you lean into the sensation, grinding drunkenly as your head falls back. He continued to rub your back and suck your nipple as one of his hands moved into your pants, fitting into your panties as he parts your lips with his fingers, pressing against your clit.

Everything felt intensified, causing you to be sensitive by even the smallest touch. Pleasure engulfs you as you grind against his finger, fingers tightening in his locks as you moan shamelessly. He rolls his finger as he stares at your eyes, both of you making eye contact when your head hasn't fallen black with your eyelids closed.

“Feels good?” He whispers against your nipple, slightly nibbling. You nod your head causing him to stop moving his finger. You look at him with confusion.

“Tell me how good you feel.” He demanded with a husky voice. God you want this so bad, he can see it all over you. He just needed to hear it. Yearning for your praise.

With your hands placed on his face you lean over near his ear and whisper, “It feels so good, Kazu.”

“Yeah?” His face pink with an intoxicated look of lust on his expression, eyelids heavy without his usual smile. You nod, “Yeah.”

He continues to roll his finger against your nub, placing his lips back on your nipple as you grip his head and roll your hips. Your mouth stays slightly open as your head falls back once more in awe.

“Take my cock out. I wanna show you how hard I am for you.” He pulls his hand out of your pants as you comply, moving back to where you're kneeling on the floor in between his legs. He sits as if he’s on a throne, watching you pull his erection out after unbuckling his pants and pulling them down along with his briefs.

“See that? See what you do to me, Y/n?” You eye the length quietly, observing the veins and how the thick girth pulsates. Your pussy tingles as you feel more juices spill, leaking in your underwear as you become more turned on by the second. An intensifying heat spreads throughout your body as you lean against his legs for balance, still going in and out of darkness.

“Show me a good time.” He smirks as you nod, gently wrapping your fingers around the length. You lower your head, circling your lips around his tip, sucking lightly around the lining of the mushroom. His cock twitches in response as he gives a slight moan. You close your eyes as you fit his entire girth into your mouth, easing down your throat as your lips meet his base.

“Fuck.” He whispers, pulling his phone out as he aims it to your face, eyeing the angle through his phone as he makes sure to get your bare titties in there once he presses record.

You begin to bob your head slowly, saliva and pre cum dripping out of your mouth as you wet his dick, engulfing it in warmth as he moans, lifting his hips slightly when his head hits the wall of your throat. Too occupied with his cock you open your eyes, too high to register that a camera is in your face. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything right now. You only care about receiving his nut like the good little vixen you are.

Tired of recording, he presses the button to stop it as he sets his phone down. Using a hand to grab your head as he lifts his hips once more, pushing you all the way on his cock.

“Good. So fucking good.” He breathes as he pulls his hips back and begins fucking your mouth. Easing in and out as he accelerates. You begin to hold his thighs as he roughly thrusts his hips, becoming sloppier as time passes. Edging himself, he pulls you back abruptly.

“Take off your pants and get on me.” He says, ready to explore that pussy. You drunkenly comply as he helps you before snatching you off the floor.

“Show me what you can do.” He states, guiding his head to your entrance before you ease down, moaning as his girth stretches you out.

“Shit!” You hiss as his head immediately meets your g - spot. You grab onto his shoulders as you pull your hips back and drop down, grinding as he holds your thighs, helping you as he picks your body up and slams you back down, speed accelerating.

You both breathe heavily in each other’s ear, moaning and cursing as his hips meet yours, rutting against you desperately as he bites down on your neck.Your hands reach around his neck as you grip his shirt, scratching through the fabric with your nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. Eyes rolled back into your head as you bounced on his cock.

“Yeah! Just like that.” He grunts, fingers gripping your skin, nails piercing as they leave indents, his mouth hanging open as he leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. The effects of the medication begin to take you as you almost faint on his cock, drowsy by the sensations as they overtake you before he wakes you by pushing you back and using one of his hands to grab your neck.

“Stay with me, angel. S’ fucking close.” You groan as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot.

“So deep, Kazu.” You whisper as a moan follows, a warmth building in your core before he slams you down one more time, the pressure causing you both to finally release, his semen shooting deep inside you as he holds you down against his lap while you grind out your orgasm.

“You did so fucking good, Y/n. My beautiful girl.” He holds onto you tightly as you begin to fall asleep on top of him, unknown to what awaits you in the morning.

You grunt as the constant ringing of your phone wakes you up, your hand grabbing your throbbing head as you slowly sit up in your bed. Your eyes are squinted as you read the contact name, confused as to why your boyfriend is calling you so early. You answer with a croaked out, “Hello.”

“How could you do this to me? To us?” He exclaims. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at what I sent you!”

You immediately put him on speaker as you comply, opening your chat. Your eyes widen and your hand goes to cover your mouth as you watch yourself sucking a random person’s erection, furrowed brows as tears form. You try to remember when this could’ve happened and how but you had no memory before today. Just distant memories of your first week in Japan.

“Derrick, I-I don’t know or remember, or even how this happened! You have to believe me, please!” You cry out, scared of losing the love of your life. The one you planned to marry. Tears threaten to fall as your hand shakes over your mouth.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Y/n.” You gasp as the line goes dead. You attempted to call him back but you were only met with his voicemail. You check the group chat with your friends to respond to all of the notifications, only to see the same video one of your friend’s said Derrick had sent to them. They shamed you and apparently blocked you. You searched their social media and couldn’t find anything.

You begin to cry, your life feeling as though it has fallen completely apart. You only hope that they won’t send the video around to anyone else at home, not that you knew many people personally. You skip your classes and sulk in your room, curtains closed as you weep for the rest of the day. You contemplate getting out of the bed when you hear a knock at your door.

With a blanket wrapped around your head and body, you opened the door to tell the visitor to go away. Of course, Kazutora doesn’t listen and walks in anyway, pulling you into a hug as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You explain to him everything, anxiety filling your mind from your violation. You talk to him about how scared you are because of the unknown person you had sucked off, stds being a fear as well as just feeling shame in general. You couldn’t believe you allowed that to happen. He explains how it wasn’t your fault and he’ll go with you to the doctor’s. He embraced you and allowed you to cry on him. He knew you needed him. Heknew that you just needed a push in the right direction. He knew that there was nothing truly wrong with you considering it was just him. He’s clean anyway.

He was prepared for the tears and pain though he knew it would be worth it once you're in his arms. After a month of healing, you both became a couple, Kazutora asking you out in a romantic way. He had patience throughout the relationship, wanting you to be comfortable in your own skin once more. A year passes and you decide to stay in Japan, having nothing left in your old country. Having attended therapy, you both live on happily, though you are still unknown to the truth that ruined your life in the first place.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere reader #yandere au #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #college au #foreign exchange #student #college #toxic love

[luwritesomething]

Billy Loomis x Reader: even the strong ones break.

Words: 1315

Warnings: bad parenting, swearing probably, not proofread, i can’t remember lol

Summary:    It was the first time ever you had seen Billy cry, and it was certainly shocking to see him fall apart so miserably, but that wasn’t stopping you from trying to make him feel better. He had been strong for a while now, and everyone needed a break from time to time, even Billy Loomis.

Author's note: OKAY SO MY SCREAM OBSESSION IS STILL STANDING, and i’ve been writing in ao3 instead of in here because i wanted to get away from my responsabilities and numerous dodge mason & wednesday show request. sorry, i got overwhelmed, but i’m back, and i’m bringing all of my pieces in ao3 with me. here you go. you can find the link to ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39896499

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! The list for the characters I write is HERE.

Your head hurt from reading with a bad light for too long. The simplicity in the beauty of reading every night before going to sleep had taken you a bit too far, but what could you say? You weren’t giving up on reading just because of a light headache, you were strong enough to handle it.  

Still, you had enough for tonight and you decided to put your current read aside in order to already go to sleep. Your eyelids felt too heavy to continue and you could be stubborn, but not dumb enough to fall asleep while reading in an uncomfortable position that would have you complaining the next day. Your arm reached out for the switch next to your bed, turning the lights off after you had gotten in bed, ready to get some good quality sleep. It was perfect: the bed felt nice, your pillow was cold, the sheets were smooth against your skin, it wasn’t too hot nor too cold in your room and there were some nice, comforting sounds outside the window.

There were noises outside your window. You jumped out of the bed once your brain was able to process the fact, without needing to wonder who it could be. Stu had never snuck through your window, which didn’t sound that weird knowing he didn't have what it took to speak softly after sneaking into your room — Billy, however, was all about crawling through your bedroom’s window and being secretly soft. He had justified his passion for sneaking in with the adrenaline of maybe getting caught, but you also knew it kinda had to do with the quick of energy he got whenever he saw you. 

You unlocked your window as fast as you could and opened it, immediately stepping aside to let Billy sneak in, knowing he would need no help to do so. He had become a real expert with that, and that’s the reason why your alarms got set off when you saw how Billy almost tripped with his feet once he was in your room. 

“Well, it’s dark in here.” He said, and even his voice sounded off. More dry and less playful than usual. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was about to,” you shrugged before turning around to switch the lights on. Once there was light, you carefully glanced at him, noticing the exhaustion and anger on his face. “Everything alright, Billy?”

Billy nodded, looking away. “Yeah. Just got bored from the fighting, that’s all.”

Of course, that was the reason why he was acting so strangely. It had taken Billy an eternity to confess his parents had been fighting a lot lately, and he was a worse actor than he thought he was — since he had opened up, all the signs of him acting different instantly gave away how hurt he felt, even though neither you or Stu thought he would ever admit it. Billy was too proud for that, but you sometimes just wished he would let his pride aside.

“Can I—?” Billy’s voice broke before he could finish his question. You immediately looked at him, alarmed and shocked when you discovered tears in Billy’s cold eyes. He looked as vulnerable as he did annoyed with himself. “Fuck!”

“Hey…” You walked up to him and put your hand to his arm, not wanting to overwhelm him. The physical contact actually made him sob and break down in furious tears, but you knew it wasn’t your fault “Oh, Billy”

You pulled him in for a hug, comfortably wrapping your arms around him. Billy leaned into your touch, incapable of stopping his crying as you tried to comfort him and ground him. It was the first time ever you had seen Billy cry, and it was certainly shocking to see him fall apart so miserably, but that wasn’t stopping you from trying to make him feel better. He had been strong for a while now, and everyone needed a break from time to time, even Billy Loomis. 

“It’s so bad, Y/N,” sobbed Billy, pressing his head into your shoulder. “They’re filing for divorce”

You caressed his black hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “I’m so sorry, Billy.” Your hand traveled to his back, rubbing circles there.

Billy shook in your arms, and you guessed it was anger. If you had learned something about him during the last months was the amount of fury and anger he had inside him, a type of anger not even football allowed him to break out from. He snapped from time to time, snickering and saying things he regretted later, and he would bottle up his feelings and hide them in the darkest place — Stu had told you to get used to it. You just thought it was sad —. Being able to see him like that was kind of comforting, knowing he wasn’t holding back from his feelings anymore, but it was also terribly painful, because it showed how much he was hurting and that hurt you too.

“Talk to me, Billy.” You murmured, holding him tightly to make sure he knew you were there for him.

He shook with his head, and you mentally cursed his mentality of keeping everything to himself. As he kept shaking, you kept stroking his hair and drawing grounding circles on his back. You didn’t make him move until he had kept shaking, pulling him slightly away from you to check how he was, to see into his soul through his truthful eyes. 

Billy had stopped crying, no more tears were coming out of his dark eyes, but he kept sobbing like a kid who had fallen while riding his bike. Your hand came to his face to cup his cheek, lovingly caressing the clear skin with your thumb.

“Stay for the night.” The whisper came out of your lips without you having to think about it, and Billy instantly nodded, looking away. He hated that you were seeing him like that.

The hand that was cupping his face fell to his hand, so you could carefully grab it and guide him to your bed. Billy joined you in the bed once you had already laid down, and it surprised you when instead of laying down next to you, he crawled towards you and found a space for himself in between your thighs, finally laying down with his head pressing against your chest. Half Billy’s weight was on you, but thanks to the way he had laid down it was definitely manageable. Stu was the one who did that, claiming the space between your thighs, while Billy usually played the role of the big spoon by your side. 

“Hey, Billy,” you muttered through his infinite sobs, muffled by his head pressed against his chest. Still, you knew he was listening to you. “I love you. A lot, okay? You know that, right?”

In sync with a sob, Billy nodded his head. You didn’t need for him to say it back, not at that moment at least. But you guessed he really needed it to hear it from you, and you guessed right. 

Billy’s sobs grew quieter with the time passing, but you kept holding him and playing with his head in order to distract him. You could still, from time to time, hear a muffled sob that let you know he hadn’t still cried himself to sleep. It actually took you some moments to realize he had fallen asleep when he did, but the way he breathed calmly and heavily and the silence gave it away after some minutes. Only when you were completely sure Billy wouldn’t wake up, you reached your arm out to switch the lights off again, this time ready to sleep. Before closing your eyes, you leaned in to kiss Billy’s forehead, murmuring again the words i love you, wondering if he could hear it in his sleep.

#billy loomis #billy loomis fic #billy loomis x reader #scream #scream 1 #scream 1996 #scream franchise #reader is inclusive #lu writes #lu writing #my writing #fanfiction #ao3 saw this first #please request for scream characters i love them #requests are open

[multifandomfanficss]

You Look Like Shit

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Adrian helps you calm down at the end of a stressful work week.

Warnings: Stress, a ridiculous amount of hurt/comfort

A/N: This is so so deeply self indulgent. If you know me and my real life no you don’t. Look away lol. Sorry if you see typos. This was barely proofread. Just a short little thing I wrote on a night where I had trouble sleeping. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You sat in the driver’s seat, dissociating, staring into space at your home through the windshield of your parked car. Eventually you blink, take a shakey breath, and get out of your car, slowly heading to the door.

“Babe, is that you?” You hear your boyfriend call from the other room.

“Yeah.” You force a response out, despite feeling like your energy is running on empty. You’d just worked a pretty tough night shift. Just standing up right felt like an impossible task.

“Hey have you seen my- woah… don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.” Adrian says, stopping in his tracks to look at you. He’s half dressed in his Vigilante suit, but he’s missing the chest piece. You can barely focus your eyes on him.

“Two no call no shows, a regular call out, unhappy customers, screaming babies, and something in the back of my head is still worried that building is gonna blow up because we never figured out what that weird smell coming from the heater was a couple days ago. Not to mention one of the no shows was a friend and now it’s my job to find her and connect her with work because somehow some way they don’t have her fucking phone number.” You feel tears start to build in your eyes.

“Holy shit…” Adrian’s voice trails off.

“And if I wasn’t stressed enough I’m covering extra shifts left and right and I don’t even have time to prep for my supervisor interview next week for the promotion and I’m massively overstimulated and everything is just going wrong.” Your voice cracks.

“If they don’t give you that promotion they’re stupid.” He sighs.

“Can I please have a hug?” Your voice trembles as tears begin to fall.

“Come here.” He holds out his arms. As soon as you reach his arms you start sobbing, finally letting out the tears you were holding in all night, the tears your body wouldn’t let out before because it only feels safe enough to do this with Adrian when it’s so stressed. He pulls you close, giving you the pressure you crave. He runs his hand across your back slowly. Your mind tracks the calming repetitive motion. “I’m sorry you’re so stressed. You have every right to be, but you’re home now and I’ve got you. You don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

“But- but I- I can’t stop stressing! I can’t stop! Like what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Adrian notices as your breathing quickens. You’re struggling to keep it at its normal pace.

“Hey hey hey.” He shushes you. “Why don’t we go lay down? Let me take care of things for the night.” He suggests.

“But I thought you were going out.” You gesture to his suit.

“No, I don’t need to go out. Not when you need me here.” He kisses you on the forehead, starting to play with your hair.

“But the city needs you.” You don’t want him to go, but you don’t want to be selfish.

“No, my partner needs me. The streets have been quiet this week. P can handle it on his own and if he can’t he can call me.”

“I just don’t wanna fuck anything else up.”

“Look at me.” He separates from you enough so you can see his face. “You’re not fucking anything up. I’m choosing to take the night off because it’s pretty chill out there and quite frankly I deserve it and I’m gonna use that time to hang out with my awesome partner. You’ve been working your ass off. That place wouldn’t run without you. Just let yourself try to relax with me tonight. We both deserve it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask quietly.

“Positive.” He smiles at you. He leads you to the bedroom where he helps you get changed. He picks out more comfortable clothes for you, letting you wear his clothes because he knows you always prefer his shirts over your own.

“That’s better.” He smiles, kissing your forehead after you’re eventually cuddled up to him in bed for the night.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” You say, looking away.

“You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t even wanna go out. It’s kinda cold. Plus who wants to kill criminals when I could be killing your bad vibes.” You laugh quietly.

“I love you so much.” You snuggle into him.

“I love you too, but you should try to get some sleep. You really need it. It’s not like you have to be anywhere in the morning. You can just rest. You don’t have work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I’m just so stressed about work. I don’t wanna sit here. What if something goes wrong? Not to mention, not setting an alarm just feels wrong. I keep thinking I’ll oversleep and miss work, but I don’t have work tomorrow.” He feels you tensing in his arms as you ramble.

“But you’re with me now, Sugarplum,” He reminds you. “and I wouldn’t let you miss work, so get that out of your head. I know it’s hard, but try to relax. Your body is stressed about things and it’s just creating more stress, but I’m literally gonna find a way to shrink down and go inside your brain and start hitting buttons like Inside Out to get you to stop. Actually, Chris told me there’s this guy called Batmite and he’s pretty small so maybe he could crawl through your ear-“

“Adrian!” You cut him off.

“Sorry I forgot that’s gross to you.”

“Ear stuff is gross to most people.”

“I think your ears are cute.” He smiles.

“I think you’re weird.” You giggle. “And cute.” You add. “Very, very cute.” You smile. You don’t know how even on nights like this he can make you smile. On nights when nothing feels right and the world is broken, Adrian is the only thing that makes sense to you.

“Well you’re way cuter.” He smiles.

“I’m so deeply in love with you.” You say what you’re thinking out loud.

“Well that’s a relief because I’m so deeply in love with you… and I’ll be deeply in love with you in the morning too. I’m gonna be here all night. I’m not gonna leave you- well… I might get up to pee, but that’s like a 2 minute side quest. Okay the point is, I want you to try to sleep.”

“Can you keep talking? I’ll close my eyes, but I really love your voice. It helps. Just until I fall asleep?” He smiles at your request.

“I’d talk all night if it helped. I’d talk until my voice box broke. I’d talk until I die.” He vows.

“Please don’t die. I just want you to talk long enough that I can stay calm enough to fall asleep.”

“I guess I can do that too, but where’s the challenge in that? I could tell you how much I love you in a million ways and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’s like those papers you wrote in detention where you have to write you’ll never do again what you did wrong like 100 times on a sheet of loose leaf… I guess I’ll start off by staying that you’re strong and I love you and I’m proud of you and that I’m happy you’re strong, but you don’t have to be so strong around me. You can let me take care of you. I’m here and you’re safe.”

Your eyes get heavy and you fade away to Adrian’s reassurances.

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #peacemaker #freddie stroma #peacemaker hbo max #vigilante x reader #peacemaker fanfic #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase oneshot #adrian chase one shot #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase fanfic #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante oneshot #vigilante fanfic #vigilante imagine #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante dc #vigilante #peacemaker one shot #peacemaker imagine #peacemaker oneshot #peacemaker dc #freddie stroma fanfiction #freddie stroma fanfic

[mother2monsters]

More of the Hobi scene

for those that are interested in more...still not proofread and still trash lol...not sure how to link to the other part or how to start to post for real... i think i'm going to post on ao3/wattpad.

He slowly lowers himself to his knees to prostrate himself at her feet. Lifting her right leg to center her foot on his chest right over his heart, he states, “from the first time I saw your smile, my life was over” massaging her ankle and gently bringing her foot closer to his face reverently as if every part of her was precious to him. He softly ran his lips up the side of her foot. “And from that point on, I belonged to you” placing a kiss in the center of her foot causing her to squirm, he looked into her eyes, “I want to worship you…” licking from the bottom of her foot to the tip of her big toe, “all day, I want to exist only to pleasure you” sucking her toes into the heat of his mouth is such a strange yet erotic sensation that she closes her eyes. Growling at her, she opens her eyes as he tells her to keep her eyes on him. As he takes his tongue and filthily licks between her toes. “I will worship the ground you walk on” as his lips move towards her ankle, kissing, biting and licking his way up her leg. “You have the capacity to ruin me” as he moves on to her other foot placing her right leg over his shoulder. “You have the capacity to redeem me” as he bites her heel softly and soothes it with a kiss, “you have the capacity to break me” he whispers into the arch of her foot, “do you understand yet?” He asks as he kisses up her leg sucking marks into her chocolate skin. “I smile a lot, to hide sometimes. You saw through me” roughly pulling her to the edge of the bed, mouth hovering over her core. Groaning, “I’m a weak man when it comes to you” grazing his nose up the crease of her thigh, “I tried to do right, get a handle on this crazed feeling, this obsession, if you will” as he grips her thighs painfully as if he could control the lust through sheer physical strength. “I tried to protect you from the darkness within me” tongue  slowly collecting the wetness leaking down the inside of her thighs, “because I knew that once I allowed myself to have you, to fully have you, to suck and lick all the juices out of this beautiful beautiful pussy, to bury my cock so deep in you my cum will never come out…to own you and control you, to finally feel you, to taste you” tongue grazing the tip of her arousal soaked clit, “that I’d never be sane again.  You are mine, he growls as he attaches his mouth to her dripping cunt and she swears he must have three tongues as she trashes around, pleasure too intense for her to withstand. Tightening the grip on her thighs, he stands up where she’s powerless to get away as he fucks his tongue into her pussy repeatedly all the while groaning at how good she tastes. Back arched, arms shaking as she tries to hold herself up, she screams she’s going to come but her doesn’t stop.  Drinking her cum like a man dying of thirst, trying to suck the rest out of her body. Her arms give out as he pulls her up and wraps his arms around her back so she doesn’t fall. She’s straddling his face in mid air, grabbing his hair not sure whether to push him away or pull him closer, he softly bites her clit. “You don’t deserve to touch me right now, touch your tits. Touch my hair again I’ll suck this pussy until you pass out” he growls as tears start running down her face.  “Fuck, Hobi” she screams as she cums again , dripping down his chin and the look in his eyes he looks crazed, “Hobi….fu….ho….plea….” as he stares in her eyes while she squirts all over his face, never breaking eye contact and never letting go. “Months I’ve had to wait for this pussy. Driven mad by my need for you…I just needed a little while to get these urges under control…. But then the love of my life, my reason for breathing, for surviving the service wants to leave me, not because she doesn’t love me. But because she thinks I don’t want her. Don’t find her attractive. Don’t rub myself raw at the thought of her.” 

It wouldn't let me post more...idk

#bts x black noona #bts needy #bts sub yandere idol #bts x chubby reader #bts x plus size reader #hoseok x reader #idol!bts x noona!reader #bts x noona

[themirokai]

Never say never on returning to wips you love.

In late 2020 and through 2021, I was writing a Mystrade series called His Professional Capacity in which Mycroft is a spymaster. I had the first chapter of a sixth (and probably final) story for the series written, but I never quite figured out where to take it and I moved on to other fandoms.

Now, three years later, I’ve written a five chapter story that nearly doubles the length of the series. It’s getting proofread and beta’d now, but I hope to start posting it soon. Because the vast majority of you followed me after 2021, and I want to entice as many people to read this as possible, I’m going to start posting the stories in the series here. First up:

What He Does

Greg encounters Mycroft's security detail and comes to understand the reasons for it.

~ 2,601 words. I've tweaked some minor things from the AO3 version, which was not Britpicked, but kept the rather American conception of when someone might be carrying a gun, since it's integral to the plot. Please enjoy despite inaccuracies.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Greg pondered whether he should take Mycroft’s arm. Or his hand. Or offer Mycroft his arm. Or put his hand on Mycroft’s back. This whole “dating” thing was confusing. Greg hadn’t dated for decades, and back then it had been women. Not a mature, somewhat intimidating, incredibly posh, devastatingly gorgeous man. He wasn’t quite sure how to act.

Greg would admit that dinner had been a success. The conversation was comfortable, interesting, and somewhat flirty, just as it had been for their previous two dates. And the several meals and drinks they’d shared before that - before Greg had gotten up the nerve to ask Mycroft on a real date. They had chemistry. That was certain. And when the meal ended and Mycroft had suggested they go for a walk to enjoy the fresh fall air, Greg had jumped at the chance to keep the date from ending.

He pondered the possibility of a good night kiss, but wasn’t sure if that should come before or after holding hands or linking arms on a walk. What were the procedures for physical contact with a man who made your stomach do somersaults every time you thought about him? How were those procedures different when the man in question held a highly secretive and incredibly powerful government position? Were they different? Greg settled for moving a little closer to Mycroft as they walked along, allowing the sleeves of their coats to brush against each other.

Mycroft finished the anecdote he was telling about Sherlock as a child, and Greg turned to smile up at him. As he did, movement caught the corner of his eye and Greg glanced behind them. There was a man walking half a block behind them. Greg frowned.

“Shall we take this left?” he asked Mycroft.

“If you like,” Mycroft responded with a soft smile.

They turned and Greg waited about half a block before glancing back. The man behind them made the turn as well. Greg risked a slightly longer look this time and realized with alarm that he recognized the man from the restaurant. His mind immediately ran through possibilities. Mugger. Someone after Greg because of a case he’d worked or was currently working. Someone after Mycroft for whatever shadowy reason. Someone after either or both of them as a way of getting to Sherlock.

“Gregory? Is something wrong?”

No sense in worrying him. Greg could handle this. “No, uh, no. Let’s just - do you mind if we turn down this alley for a moment?”

Now Greg did take Mycroft’s elbow to guide him into the small alley, mentally kicking himself that the first time he touched the man was out of fear and necessity.

“Gregory, what-”

“Please, just stay here a moment and keep quiet, I’m sure it’s nothing, I’ll handle it.”

“Gregory!”

But Greg was not listening, he could hear the man’s footsteps speeding up and getting nearer, and drew his gun. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Mycroft reaching for him, but he was already committed to whirling around the corner and slamming the oncoming man against the wall, holding him with an arm across his chest and leveling the gun to his cheek. “That’s far enough, mate. Who are you and why are you following us?”

The man slowly raised his hands, but a female voice suddenly cut in. “Drop the gun! Now!”

Greg did not drop the gun, but turned to look down the barrel of another weapon held by a well-dressed woman who Greg was also fairly sure he had seen at the restaurant. Before Greg had a chance to respond, Mycroft stepped out of the alley.

“Stand down, Ms. Bell.” Mycroft sounded tired.

“Sir, please stay back!” the woman responded.

“Ms. Bell, Inspector Lestrade is not a threat.”

“Respectfully, sir, then why is he hustling you into an alley and drawing a gun on your security?” Ms. Bell kept her own gun trained on Greg, who was frozen.

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because he did not know that I have security and thought Mr. Spooner was following us with malicious intentions.” Mycroft squared his shoulders, and put the tone of command into his voice. “Stand down, Ms. Bell. That is an order.” The woman grimaced and holstered her weapon. “Gregory, kindly unhand Mr. Spooner.”

Greg stepped back, but was not quite able to pick his jaw up off the floor. “They work for you?”

“Indeed,” Mycroft said, as Mr. Spooner, with a face like a thundercloud, started brushing off his clothing. “Mr. Spooner and Ms. Bell are … associates of mine and - for the time being at least - they have been charged with ensuring my safety.”

Greg holstered his gun. “Do you always have security?”

“Yes,” Mycroft said simply.

“So the other times we’ve been out together?”

“They were there and you did not notice them. Which is how it should be,” Mycroft lowered a meaningful look at Spooner, who squirmed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Greg asked, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he was apparently trying to date someone who merited two armed guards at all times.

Mycroft sighed. “In retrospect, that was clearly a mistake. I-” he paused, looking at the three of them, then shook his head. “The bar in the hotel across the way is nice and quiet. May I buy you a drink, Gregory? I’m afraid the walk has been a bit ruined.”

“Sure… yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Fifteen minutes later they were ensconced in a booth at a swanky hotel bar. Greg had a single malt Scotch, and Mycroft was twisting the stem of a glass of red wine in his long fingers. Beautiful fingers, Greg thought. Spooner and Bell had taken a table on the other side of the bar where they were too far to hear the conversation, but had clear sight lines to Mycroft.

“So how long have those two been your bodyguards?” Greg asked, nodding at Spooner and Bell.

“They’ve only been on this rotation for about a week. They’ll spend a month with me, before moving on to another assignment and being replaced by another two. And I wouldn’t call them bodyguards. They are field agents.”

“Ms. Bell sure seems like a bodyguard.” Greg took a swig of his drink.

“Ms. Bell knows that she will be held partially accountable for Mr. Spooner’s carelessness. This assignment is meant to give a more experienced agent - in this case, Ms. Bell - an opportunity to train a less experienced agent - Mr. Spooner - in the field. It also allows me to observe agents in the field to get a feel for their strengths and weaknesses. I’m afraid tonight revealed some weaknesses.” Mycroft sipped his wine.

“It’s not their fault you decided to go out with a cop,” Greg grinned.

“Yes, but-” Mycroft stopped himself and smiled. “Yes, you’re right.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “You expect them to be better than me. It’s alright, you can say it.”

Mycroft considered Greg for a moment before responding. “I expect them to be able to follow their mark unnoticed, even if their mark is accompanied by a particularly intelligent and observant detective.”

“Fair enough, and I’ll take the compliment,” Greg chuckled. “So is that the only reason you have security? For training and observation?”

Mycroft twirled his wine glass in his fingers again before responding. “Gregory… I have enjoyed our time together, and if you are willing I would like to continue to see you.”

Greg grinned. “More than willing.”

Mycroft smiled. “Thank you. There are many things I am unable to talk about with you, for your safety, and mine, and that of others. And even with this I must tread a bit lightly, but … I would like you to go into,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them, “this, with your eyes open.”

“I’m listening.” Greg sat a little straighter.

“The work I do, the work I have done in the past, has risks. I… have enemies. Enemies who would prefer that I were no longer operating. While I am generally able to take care of myself, I am not as young as I was and there have been … close calls, as it were. And so now my security detail is part of the field agents’ rotation.”

“How close were the close calls?”

“Too close.”

“How too close?”

“A few centimeters from a major artery, too close.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

They both sipped their drinks. “Well then I’m glad Ms. Bell pulled her gun on me. She was probably right to,” Greg said after a minute. “Don’t be too hard on her tomorrow.”

Mycroft smiled and hesitantly reached across the table to touch Greg’s hand. Greg immediately took the opportunity to grab hold of the long, slender fingers. “You don’t… mind? That I live a life that requires that I am under surveillance?”

“I mean you have some privacy, don’t you?”

“Yes!” A blush was climbing up Mycroft’s cheeks. “Yes, of course! I - um - they - well, I mean-“

The sight of Mycroft Holmes stuttering like a schoolboy melted the last of Greg’s discomfort and he grinned, then squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “Can I safely assume that if I go to kiss you when we leave here that I won’t end up looking down the barrel of Ms. Bell’s gun again?”

Mycroft gaped at him momentarily before recovering. “No - um - no, that would be fine.”

“Just fine?” Greg cocked an eyebrow, leaning in to the newfound confidence.

A slow smile played over Mycroft’s features. “More than fine. Welcome.”

Greg settled back into his seat with a grin. There was one thing sorted.

Greg squinted across the restaurant. “Is Bell wearing a wig?”

Mycroft took a sip of his drink. “Gregory, kindly do not peer at her. She is more effective if it is not clear that there’s a connection between her and I.”

Greg turned his eyes front, but not before he saw Bell glower at him. “Sorry,” he grinned at Mycroft. “Is it a wig though? It’s awful. Don’t you all train in costuming or something?”

Mycroft coughed and wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin, avoiding Greg’s eyes. “I believe she dyed her hair.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. “No. Mycroft, no. Not that colour.” Mycroft cut another bite of his meal without looking up. “Did she do it because of me?” Greg asked, astonished. When Mycroft neither confirmed nor denied, Greg clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“You’ve been… a little too good at spotting her,” Mycroft said after a minute. “But her new assignment starts in a few days. I believe the change in hair colour is more related to that.”

“There is no way that shade is good for any kind of undercover work, darling, you’ve got to get her to change it. It looks like it doesn’t know whether it’s red or purple.”

Mycroft started a bit at the pet name, and watched carefully as Greg applied himself to his meal. After a moment, he relaxed with a smile. “I’ll speak to her.”

“Mycroft.”

“Mm?”

“The chap on the bicycle.”

“What about him?”

“Is he your new security?”

A heavy sigh, then, “Kindly leave your gun holstered, Gregory.”

About a month, a number of dates, and many quite pleasant kisses after their first, Greg and Mycroft lay naked in Mycroft’s bed following their first time having sex. Greg was gently tracing his fingers over one of the several scars that broke the plane of Mycroft’s pale skin. He had seen the scars when he had undressed Mycroft - a lengthier affair than he was used to, with far more buttons - but had been preoccupied at the time. Now he took his time to study them.

“More of these than I was expecting,” Greg said, tracing what he suspected was the remnant of a knife wound to Mycroft’s side.

Mycroft started moving away from him. “I’m sorry. If it bothers you I can-” He was stopped as Greg wrapped an arm around his waist.

Greg pulled Mycroft close. “Don’t be daft. You’re beautiful and I want to see all of you. It’s not like I like the idea of you being stabbed,” he touched the knife scar, “or shot,” his fingers found the scar from a bullet wound on Mycroft’s shoulder, “or shot again,” the scar on Mycroft’s left thigh, “or burned,” the matching marks on the forearms, “or … what is this?” Greg fingered the vaguely triangular scar just above Mycroft’s right hip.

“Stabbed, I suppose you could say,” Mycroft replied quietly. “It was an ice pick.”

“An… ice pick.”

“Indeed. The result of an error in judgment of a much younger man.”

“Just to be clear, you were the younger man with poor judgment, right? There’s not some young tosser running about who caused you to get ice picked?”

“That’s correct. I read a situation erroneously and suffered the consequences.”

“With an ice pick.”

“Just so.”

“Any chance I could get more of the story behind that?”

Mycroft considered for a moment. “If two governments were to permanently fall… no, even then it wouldn’t be unclassified in either of our lifetimes.”

Greg leaned up to kiss Mycroft’s chin. “You’re fascinating. Does anyone actually believe you work for the Department for Transport?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade. People from whom I have not had to take away investigations, and who have not had to deal with my brother, and who have not seen me in a state of undress - essentially everyone in the world who is not you or who has not otherwise encountered me in my professional capacity - generally believe that I am a minor government official.”

Greg planted a kiss on his chest. “People are daft, then. You dress too well to be a minor anything.”

Mycroft’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Thank you. I think.”

“Anyway,” Greg picked up his prior thought. “I don’t like the idea of you being hurt. I hate it in fact. But the scars are part of you. And I like you. I like all of you. Very much.”

Mycroft drew Greg up so that they were face to face and kissed him deeply. “I also like you very much, Gregory,” he breathed when they finally broke apart.

Greg pulled himself tight against Mycroft’s side and rested his head on the other man’s chest. The angle put the bullet wound on Mycroft’s thigh in his line of sight. “This is the newest one,” he murmured, touching it gently.

“Very astute, Gregory.”

“Not a youthful error of judgment, then?”

“No. That one is the reason I have a security detail.”

Greg covered it with his palm. “A few centimeters from your femoral artery.”

“Mm,” Mycroft acknowledged. “The circumstances were such that if my assailant’s shot had been better - or worse, I suppose, given your perspective - I likely would have bled out before assistance could reach me.” Greg hugged him a little tighter. “That caused my superiors to insist that I be under guard,” Mycroft finished.

Greg frowned. “You have superiors?”

“One or two. It’s a bit … complicated.”

Greg huffed. “I bet it is.” He planted a kiss on Mycroft’s chest. “You’ve certainly led an interesting life.”

“I believe the corollary to the traditional curse is ‘may you live an interesting life.’”

“Do you feel cursed?” Greg asked, craning his neck to see Mycroft’s face.

“On the contrary,” Mycroft smiled, “the fact that in spite of all this, or perhaps as a result of all this, I have ended up here, with you, has me feeling incredibly fortunate at the moment.”

“Me too,” Greg grinned.

~*~

Thanks for reading! The next story is now up over here.

#mystrade #his professional capacity #<- will use that tag for this series #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #mirokai writes #mycroft x greg #mycroft holmes x greg lestrade #bbc sherlock

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

Cardigan

Sirius Black x reader

warnings: implications of past self destructive thoughts and behaviors BUT nothing specific described, mentions of past mental issues, swearing, consumption of alcohol, underage smoking/drinking. summary: you’ve dealt with everything on your own, but Sirius changes that. Tags: light Angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, hurt/comfort Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form romanticizing self destructive behaviors or tendencies. It’s something I’ve dealt with for years and am healing from. If you need to talk to someone my messages are always open. Also, English isn’t my first language and this story isn’t proofread, so if you find any mistakes let me know :) Word count: 2k

Lastly, this is a gift to myself for staying clean for almost a year

also on ao3

You drew stars around my scars

You have always been quiet, kept your emotions and thoughts to yourself. Never feeling interesting or important enough to share them, free them. Not even when times were dark and life felt impossible.

You felt hopeless, alone, unloved, that is why you sought out help in the form of something equally dark as the thoughts in your head. That kept going for years, shaping your identity, convincing you that YOU were the problem, the darkness that lived inside your chest was who you were supposed-destined to be, and that is why you never asked for help, never told anyone about your secret.

After sometime, the storm passed, and the sun came out. Realizing that you aren't unworthy of happiness, that you deserve love is a war that you still haven't won. You lose somedays, but you keep fighting. You know now that you owe it to yourself to at least try, try and fight the dark thoughts that sometimes find shelter in your mind.

So the dark days might have passed, but they have left their mark on you. Most days you try to ignore the marks, scars on you, not put much thought into them. Until now. And why is that? Now you have people that care about you, you had them before, but now you feel their love- you let yourself feel their love.

Sirius Black was your exact opposite and almost the same person as you. What you didn't have he did, and what he lacked he found in you. You were his shelter when the storm inside him tore everything apart, he was a blanket poured over you when the days were cold and the fireplace inside you couldn't be lit.

You were each others north star, lighting up the darkest of nights. You don't exactly remember when or how he became important to you.

Maybe it was during a Gryffindor party, he found you outside staring into the nothingness of the night sky seeking refuge in the stars. You were surrounded by your friends, by people you cared about, but you felt so so alone, as if there were glass walls separating you from them, not letting you hear the jokes that made them laugh or the music they danced to.

He offered you a drink and a smoke, you accepted, you still don't know why. He made a joke about something professor Binns had said to you in history class and you responded with a genuine laugh you'd grown to miss. "I didn't think you paid attention to Binns, your eyes are always half closed during history, come to think of it, last week I could've sworn I heard a snore." , you respond and earn a laugh from him.

He shrugs before he answers "I pay attention to you, not Binns." and at that you scoff. He giggles and if the sun was out you'd notice a faint blush over his cheeks, "No, really, you are always drawing something during his classes but somehow are able to pay attention to him. Talent- that", you stare at him now, unable to find the right words to respond.

You shake your head and look forward, taking a long drag of smoke. Turning back to him you say smirking "Careful Black, if I didn't know better I'd be scared you're stalking me.", instead of laughing it off like you'd expected he smiled and said "Darling, maybe I am.", he stood up to get back inside and added "You, sketching me one day, is the only thing keeping me up in class", before leaving you, startled, with a stupid grin that wouldn't leave your face for the rest of the night.

Come to think of it, it might have been an entirely different day. It was late at night, and you were returning to your dorm, after a not so productive study session at the library. As you were walking down the cold corridors, you spotted Sirius Black walking slowly to his dorm, hand in his stomach, quietly cursing to himself.

"Black?", you whispered loudly and after catching his attention, asked "What are you doing up this late? Are you hurt?", "I'm fine", he answered but as he turned to leave you saw him wincing in pain letting out a groan. You rushed to his side and checked his face, black eye and split lip, you removed his hand from his stomach and stared into his grey eyes, silently asking for permission to lift his shirt.

He nodded and as you saw his wound you muttered a curse. "How the hell did this happen?", you asked. "Bloody Malfoy and his friends had it out for me, next time I see him I'll argh...", "Sorry." , you whispered quietly, "Want help getting to Madam Pomfrey?", "Can't, Poppy will have my head, along with Dumbledore and Mcgonagall. Don't worry love, got it covered, I've had my fair share of healing charm practice. I'll figure something out. " , you try not to react to his words and say, "I can help you, let me."

And somehow he did. You dragged him to an empty classroom and he performed a lighting spell for you as you healed him. He paid close attention to you, as you worked. Noticing your moves, calculated- not sloppy like his were when performing these spells, as if you'd had years of practice, which you did, but he didn't know that.

Your face was calm, focused, you didn't look scared or anxious, he liked that about you. How you always kept composed, as if you'd grown shields around you, not letting the darkness of the world harm you. He wished he could also do that. Protect himself from his parents, the purebloods who threatened him and his friends, even his family who constantly expressed their disappointment to him. Disappointed by his friends, beliefs, choices, disappointed by him and who he was.

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "Sirius, I'm done, how are you feeling?" "Great, you should consider healing, you'll make a proper fortune..", he joked trying to change the subject, lighten the mood. But you asked again, sincere interest written on your face, "Apart from the wound, how are you?"

He grabbed your hand, squeezed lightly and responded with a small smile "Better now, truly." you smiled back and something fluttered inside you, a different feeling arising, but you couldn't understand what is was back then. You walked back to your dorms together and said goodnight to each other, like it was something you'd done millions of times before.

Many memories with Sirius flood your mind, weekends at Hogsmeade, drinking hot chocolate and butterbeer with your friends- spending more and more time together ever since Lily (your best friend) and James started seeing each other-,him making fun of James' obvious infatuation with Lily and you smiling at your best friends constant blushing at the seekers compliments.

Going shopping together, Sirius making an effort in helping you pick out clothes and you making fun at him for that. Ruining your and Remus' study sessions at the library. Jamming out to ABBA, Queen and Bowie. Seeing his face light up after introducing him to Fleetwood Mac. Being partners in Potions, brewing Amortentia together and you trying not to make it obvious that his cologne and leather jacket are the only things that you smell.

It is safe to say that you two had grown very close, he had a special place in your heart, not a friend or crush, something entirely different and unique. And utterly beautiful, just like him.

Going from friends to something more was like a slow reaction sped up by your friends, who'd grown tired of watching you two dance around each other, both scared to act on your feelings- not wanting to lose one another.

It happened as a dare, James dared Remus to kiss you over a game of spin the bottle. You laughed awkwardly and said no, but everyone insisted you'd go on with it, Remus remained quiet giving you and Sirius quick glances.

After taking a sip of Firewhiskey to calm your nerves and closing your eyes you exclaimed "Okay, just get it over with.", Remus slowly got close to you until Sirius stood up and left. James shouted "Oi where are you going?" and Sirius responded with an angry "Out.". The rest of you looked at each other worried and you stood up to check up on him.

You found him taking long strides down the corridors leading to the field and you ran behind after him to catch up, whilst also shouting his name. After getting outside, he stopped abruptly and you having finally caught up to him exhaled deeply.

"Why'd you leave so suddenly?" , you asked, secretly hoping, wishing for the answer you craved. That he was jealous, that he loved you, that he couldn't look at anyone kissing you, couldn't bare the thought of you being touched by anyone but him.

You scoffed at yourself for thinking like that. Imagination getting the better of you, once again. You braced yourself for the answer that'd hurt you "I got bored", or "Needed a smoke", prepared yourself for disappointment. But he said, "You know why."

And you gulped, you needed him to say it, not trusting yourself. You opened your mouth, but what came out was the repetition of "don't know" and "Sirius" and "I". You couldn't stop, nerves controlling you now, so Sirius did the one thing he thought would help, while also wishing he hadn't read you wrong all those months, he kissed you.

At first you were shocked and didn't respond, not until he pulled back, Now he was nervous and blabbering "I'm sorrys". You just grabbed him by his shirt and crashed your mouth on his, eyes finally closed, hands sliding around his neck and hair, you were kissing Sirius Black. And he was kissing you back!

Time stopped and everything felt unreal. After a few moments, not really wanting to separate from each other, you both took a step back, and there you stood, with Sirius' hands not letting go of your waist and both of you smiling at each other before you heard shouts and laughs from a few feet behind and Marlene’s voice screaming "I told you it would work!".

And all that takes us to the present. After kissing Sirius, you two have grown more and more close. Currently you are in the Gryffindor common room, alone and sprawled out on a couch near the fireplace. Sirius on top of you humming, as you run your hands through his hair with one hand and hold your book with the other.

You aren't able to focus on the story you're reading, your mind constantly reminding you of the past Sirius will find out sooner or later, the awkward conversation you'll eventually need to have and the vulnerability you have no experience with. Sirius calls your name and snaps you out of your thoughts,"What is going on up there?"

You look at him nervously, not knowing how to open up, how to talk to him about this. "I..." you say and sigh again, closing your eyes, he sits up and you follow him, now playing with your hands. "I don't know how to talk to you about this, I don't really know how to talk to anyone about it really".

He grabs your hand and caresses your cheek "Talk to me whenever you're ready, I'll always listen. I'm here and I don't ever plan on leaving." You smile awkwardly, tears gathered in your eyes but not able to flow down your cheeks. "Nothing you say to me can change the way I think of you."

You look into his eyes and know he is telling the truth; you've never been more thankful for him, you trust him and he knows that too. That is why when you open your mouth you tell him everything.

Everything you've kept inside all those years, the things you've had to deal with, the things you did to survive. He stays true to his word, he doesn't see you as weak or pathetic, his hand stays in yours as you talk, his grip stronger now, afraid you'll somehow disappear.

He holds you close when you start crying, muffled apologies whispered in your hair, along with "im with you"s, "im proud of you"s. You stay like that for a while, curled up in each other, kisses placed on your hair and forehead, your hands locked around his back , eyes closed. Letting it all out being the most exhausting thing you've ever had to do, but you’re relieved.

You watch as the sun comes out and know that everything will be okay.

#Sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #Sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #Sirius black hurt comfort #Sirius black #Sirius black imagine

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (epilogue) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: a look into what the future holds.

word count: 6,120

warnings?: visiting elaine’s grave, talks of death, pregnancy announcement, inaccurate depictions of giving birth, marc being anxious about being a father, fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread 

The Royal Cemetery was a place that was rarely visited. It was completely closed off from the public. Only members of the Royal Family and their guests were allowed to enter. You had only gone once before, just after your mother had passed. You were supposed to be in school at the time, but it had not even been a week since she had been buried. You couldn’t focus on your studies at all, so you found yourself sneaking out the back door and walking all the way to the cemetery. You sat in front of your mother’s grave well past nightfall. You told her all about how you missed her, how you wished you could have hugged her one last time, told her you loved her one more time. You had every intent on staying there forever, but Pearl arrived just as the stars began to twinkle.

When you returned to the palace, Benjamin banned you from going to the cemetery again. At the time, you convinced yourself that he had been worried about you, that he didn’t know where you had gone. You had been so sure that if you asked just nicely enough, he might visit your mother’s grave with you one day. That day never came. Now, you knew he banned you from the cemetery because he cared about his public image. The King didn’t know where the Princess was? He couldn’t keep track of his daughter? It was a tabloid mess if there ever was one. That day had been the beginning of the end of your freedom for a long, long time. 

It was strange being back there now. It was even stranger being there with company. Marc held your hand tight, a bundle of flowers in the other. He dropped your hand as he carefully placed the bouquet on Elaine’s grave. He glanced at you, then back to the headstone. 

“Your daughter is a wonderful woman,” Marc said to the headstone. “I…I want you to know she’s in safe hands. I will never let a day go past without her knowing how loved she is. She deserves all the good in the world, and I will make sure she gets that.”

Your mouth quirked up into a smile. It was still so rare for Marc to make grand statements of love and affection. He was more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words kind of person. You, of course, appreciated his actions. You wouldn’t change a single thing about him. But, still, when he had those rare romantic movie type of declarations of love, your heart always soared. You knew how big of a deal it was to him, and so you savored every last word. 

“I wish you could be here,” you said. “There’s not a day that doesn’t go by without me missing you. I like to think, though, that you’re still here, guiding me through life. Guiding me straight to the loveliest, kindest men I’ve ever met. I mean, you did guide me straight to the truth about my birthright, didn’t you? Thank you. I love you, mommy.”

Marc looked at you, his pretty brown eyes soft. “We should come here more often, keep your mom updated on our lives. Maybe even bring Cleo down, our kids when we have them.”

Your smile grew. Marc still had his doubts about becoming a father, but he had slowly started talking more about the future. One day, he even told you how he wanted three kids. He even confirmed that he liked Steven’s suggesting of naming your son, if you should ever have a son, Randall. Sometimes, when he was feeling even bolder, he would tell you about family traditions he wanted to share with the children. How they would have a bar or bat mitzvah. How Marc couldn’t wait to teach them how to play dreidel. How he looked forward to sharing family recipes. Once, you even found him ordering children’s books, ones Steven told you had been his favorite during his childhood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

Marc slipped his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze once, twice, three times. You bid your mother farewell before the two of you began walking around the cemetery. Every so often, you would point to a headstone, tell Marc about the family member. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention. Most of his focus, it seemed, was on you and you alone. That is, until a question came to Marc’s mind.

“Is Benjamin buried here? I would have thought he’d be buried beside your mom.”

You pointed to a corner of the cemetery darkened by the shade of a large tree. A new headstone had been placed there, but it was already being destroyed by winding tree roots coming out of the ground. “Over there.”

Marc snorted. “You pick the spot?”

“I would’ve left his grave unmarked if I did,” you said. “I let the groundskeeper handle it. I almost expected him to bury Benjamin beside my mother. That had always been the plan. Benjamin even had the gravesite picked out. But the groundskeeper holds grudges against those who forbid their family from coming here, it seems.”

“Have you got our spot picked out?”

“I was thinking beside my mother. I feel like she might be lonely, all by herself.”

Marc smiled. “That’s sweet of you, dove.”

“And a bit morbid,” you laughed. “Now, come on. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Good, because Steven’s been begging to eat for the last little bit.”

“And you just let him starve?” you said with a fake gasp. “We’d better go now, then. We can eat and talk more about the future, yeah?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan, dove. A perfect plan indeed.”

Coronation day had finally arrived. You felt like an odd mix of Anna and Elsa from Frozen, Anna’s excitement fueling you but Elsa’s anxieties making you keenly aware of just how many eyes were going to be on you. It felt a bit silly to be so nervous. After all, you had already been Queen for a year. This was more of a formal ceremony than anything. The power was yours, it couldn’t be taken away. However…You certainly could make a fool of yourself. 

What if you tripped on your way into the cathedral? What if, when you got out of the car, the door was shut on the train of your dress and it got ripped as the driver drove away? What if you jumbled up all of your words? What if you dropped the crown? Oh, it could all be a disaster!

“You’re gonna do fine, my dove,” Steven said watching as you fussed over your dress. 

Well, all things considered, even if the worst happened, at least you looked beautiful while it happened. You had chosen an off-the-shoulder blue gown, adorned with floral appliques. It was tradition that royals wear blue—the family color—to coronations. In any case, the dress was gorgeous when you picked it out, and it looked even more gorgeous on you. 

“I’m scared,” you said. 

Steven rose from his seat before you could blink, coming to stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips, turning you around. As you looked at him, he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s scary going out there,” he said. “Can’t deny that, can I? I can’t. Every time we do a public engagement, I’m terrified that I’ll come out as a bumbling fool. That I’ll trip over my feet or I’ll say the wrong name. But every time, I get up and it turns out fine.”

“What if this time is different?”

“I’ll be there to support you. Marc and Jake, too, if you’d prefer one of them to jump in. Your entire support system, honestly. If you end up doing something silly, we’ll all do the same thing. You fall? I’m taking a tumble too. You start speaking backwards? I’ll jump up and start speaking backwards too. Alright? The only thing you need to be scared of is the press running stories about how the Queen married a brainless half-wit.”

You let out a laugh. “You’d really do that?”

“Without a second thought.”

You bit down on your lip, holding back another laugh. “Well, then I think we should go now, yeah?”

“Lead the way, my Queen Dove.”

The streets were lined with citizens from all over the kingdom and abroad as the driver took you to the cathedral. As the car passed by, cheers erupted from the crowd. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of people were waving at you, pointing at the car. Your heart lifted at the sight. Part of you knew that many were gathered just to say they caught the glimpse of the Queen on her way to the coronation. But, it felt nice to see so many people there in support of you. 

You reached over, taking Steven’s hand, as the car approached the cathedral. When the car came to a halt and the door opened, Steven got out first before helping you. Attendants descended upon you, aiding you with the long train, ensuring that the door did not slam on it and rip it. Steven walked in front of you, leading the way into the cathedral. You gave a few smiles to the press as you walked, but you mostly kept your gaze focused on the entryway. 

All eyes were on you as you walked inside. You, again, tried to ignore it. Kept your eyes to the front. Focused on the officiant waiting for you. Watched Steven as he went to his seat in the front row. You stopped when you reached the stairs, letting the officiant hold his hand out for you to take as he helped you up the stairs. You turned to face the crowd as the attendants fixed your train.

Finally, you sank into the throne, look out at the crowd. The officiant stepped in front of you. He asked, “Madam, is your Majesty willing and able to take the Sacred Oath?”

“I am willing and able,” you answered.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of our Great Kingdom according to our laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

“Will you promise to protect our Great Kingdom against enemies without and within?”

“I always will.”

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

The officiant took the Royal Scepter from one of the attendants and passed it to you. You held it carefully with both hands, swallowing hard. Wow. This was real. This was becoming a reality—even more so than it already was.

“Then repeat after me.” When you nodded, the officiant continued. “I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

The officiant turned to another attendant, taking the crown off of its velvet pillow. He turned back to you, holding the crown over your head. “In accordance with law and custom, I crown you, /N Y/M/N Y/L/N, Queen of our Great Kingdom.”

He placed the crown on your head, then turned to face the crown. “Long live the Queen.”

The crowd echoed back—perhaps Steven the loudest of all— “Long live the Queen!”

Layla squeezed your hand as you looked at the white stick in your hands. You couldn’t believe it. You had wanted this, but…God, it felt so different when you knew it was a reality. You had been feeling sick for a week, waves of nausea constantly washing over you. This morning, when you looked at your calendar and realized you were weeks late for your period, you sent a worker out to pick up an assortment of pregnancy tests. She came back with five, and all five told you the same answer. 

“When are you going to tell them?” Yelena asked.

“Soon,” you said. “I want to do it today, but…I don’t know. I’m scared that it might scare Marc.”

“Marc will be fine,” Layla assured you. “He’ll be scared shitless, sure. But if you think he might run or stop fronting or whatever you’re worried about…I know him well enough to know he would never abandon you like that. Especially not when you’re in such a vulnerable state. He would sooner die.”

“How should I tell them, though? Should I do something elaborate? Be more coy? I just…Pregnancy announcements are a big deal. I want to get this right.”

“Just tell them outright, don’t make a big fuss of it,” Yelena said. “Walk up to them, say I’m pregnant bitches!, and go about your merry way. No muss, no fuss.”

“…you’re pregnant?”

“No, not me, Y/N,” Yelena said, turning towards the door. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the man in the doorframe. “Oh shit.”

You lifted your head to see Jake standing in the doorway to your office, his jaw slack. You dropped the pregnancy test, it clattering on the desk. 

Scott, who stood behind Jake, peaked around him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was a bad time,” he said. 

“It…It’s not a bad time at all. Jake, come in. Um, everyone else…Could we have a bit of privacy please?”

Layla stood up and ushered Scott away. Yelena, however, remained standing beside you. When you raised an eyebrow at her, she let out an “oh!” before following Layla and Scott out, shutting the door behind her. You stood up, picking up one of the pregnancy tests, and walked over to Jake. You took his hand, and placed the test in it.

“Two lines…That means positive?” he asked as he looked at it. 

You nodded. 

“And, you’re sure?”

“I took five tests, all positive. We’ll still have to go to a doctor to check. False positives do happen and all that. Plus, it’s good to just start going to a doctor and getting everything ready. But…Yes. I’m sure.”

Jake’s arms were wrapped around you in an instant, squeezing you tight, nearly lifting you right off the floor. “We’re going to have a baby! We’re going to have a baby! We need to go get a, a crib and a bassinet and a stroller! We need to get baby books and parenting books and diapers! Babies poop a lot, so we should start stocking up now! And—”

You placed your hands on either side of his face, stopping his rambling with a kiss. “Shh, we have months to worry about all of that.”

“Times flies, my dove.”

“Well, waiting a day won’t kill us.” You kissed him again. “How are the others holding up?”

“Steven’s been jumping for joy, trying to take control ever since I walked in here,” Jake said. 

“And Marc?”

“He’s still rambling about all of the things we need to do to prepare for our little baby.”

You let out a laugh. Well, you supposed that wasn’t the worst reaction. In fact, it was probably the best reaction he could have had. “In that case…I suppose it’s time for a celebration, hm?”

Jake wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said, “Oh, I’m ready for the biggest celebration.”

And, oh, he was. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Her Majesty, Queen Y/N Y/L/N and His Royal Highnesses, Princes Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley in a union commended to be honorable among all,” the officiant said. 

You looked at Marc in front of you, unable to hide your smile on your face. You still couldn’t believe he had offered to front for the public wedding ceremony. The one that would be televised internationally. The one that everyone would be watching. If you were honest, you had thought Steven might have been the one to front again. He was all about grand statements of love, after all. But this…This felt perfect. 

Marc held your hand, his thumb rubbing the top of it. “You look beautiful, my dove.”

You had reworn your dress from the private ceremony, with some small alterations. You were a few months into your pregnancy now, and you were just starting to show. Before the dress had been let out, it had been near impossible to close the dress up without ripping the seams because of your belly bump.

Marc had been…Well, you hesitated to call his reaction feral, but it was pretty damn close when he walked in your dress fitting and saw your bump. For all intents and purposes, he was still incredibly nervous about being a father. But there was something about seeing you carry his child that sparked a sort of energy in him that was near impossible to contend with. 

“And you look handsome, my love.”

“And therefore, this union has not been entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly, and solemnly. Into this, these two persons present now come to reaffirm their wondrous union,” the officiant continued. 

The officiant paused, looking between you and Marc, before smiling and continuing, “William Penn tells us to never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely. He that minds a body and not a soul has not the better part of that relationship, and will consequently lack the noblest comfort of a married life.

“Between a man and his wife, nothing ought to rule but love. As love ought to bring them together, so it is the best way to keep them well together.

“A husband and wife that love one another show their children that they should do so too. Others visibly lose their authority in their families by the contempt of one another, and teach their children to be unnatural by their own examples.

“Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affection; it being the basest of passions to like when we have not, what we slight when we possess.

“Here it is we ought to search out our pleasure, where the field is large and full of variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, poverty or disgrace being not able to shake it because it is not under the moving influences of worldly contingencies.

“Nothing can be more entire and without reserve; nothing more zealous, affectionate and sincere; nothing more contented than such a couple, nor greater temporal felicity than to be one of them.”

Marc had been the one to pick out the opening reading. He had found the poem among Steven’s books and declared it perfect for the ceremony. And oh, how could you deny him when he pulled out his pretty puppy dog eyes? 

“There are few loves in this world as pure as the one I have witnessed between the Queen and the Prince Consorts,” the officiant said. “In the short time I have shared with them, it has become clear to me, as it should be clear to all, that these two adore each other. Their love is the kind of love we should all strive to have. They care of each other. They respect each other. They ensure the other’s happiness, always. It is surely the kind of love that artists try to paint, that writers try to write, that will endure forever, always.”

You took a moment to look out at the crowd. The cathedral was filled to the brim and then some. This was, after all, the event of the year. Everyone who was anyone wished to attend. Members of Parliament, foreign dignitaries, and, of course, all of your friends. It was almost strange, seeing so many people there. At least, compared to the more intimate, private ceremony. 

You looked back at Marc as the officiant said, “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness have chosen to share the traditional vows.”

The two of you had done personal vows for the private ceremony. You and the boys debated on sharing an updated version of those vows today, but in the end, the answer was clear. Some parts of your love, of your lives, was meant to stay private. The entire ceremony was to be broadcast internationally. The world didn’t need to know all of the ins and outs of your love for each other. 

“Your Royal Highness, if you would repeat after me: I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” Marc paused. “And every day after that, too.”

You smiled as the officiant directed you to say the same vows. Once you finished, the officiant said, “We will now exchange rings as a symbol of this couple’s love. May we have the rings?” Layla stepped forward and gave you Marc’s ring and Marc your ring. The officiant looked to Marc, and said, “Your Royal Highness, please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” Marc said, sliding the ring onto your finger. 

The officiant turned to you. “Your Majesty please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” you repeated, placing the ring on Marc’s finger.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and husband.” The officiant looked at Marc. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“My pleasure,” Marc said. 

Marc grabbed at your waist, spinning you into a dip and kissing you positively senseless. Well, that was certainly going to be the picture plastered across the front page.

As Queen, the annual birthday parade now celebrated your birthday instead of Benjamin’s. The first two years of your reign, you had opted out of the tradition. There was far too much going on between gaining your footing as Queen, planning the coronation and public wedding ceremony, and recovering from the string of attempts on your life. Now, after all of the dust had settled, you decided it was time to revive the tradition. 

You settled in the open carriage, smoothing your hand over your much larger baby bump. You were a month out from delivering your little bundle of joy. This was actually to be your last public engagement for a long while. After this, you planned on resting until you had to go to the hospital. Finally, after months of carrying her, you would finally get to meet your baby Eliana. 

“Little one bein’ fussy?” Jake asked he sat next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on your belly. “Because I told her this morning that she needed to be extra good for a couple of hours.”

Jake loved doing that. Talking to your baby bump, you mean. Most mornings when you woke up, you would find Jake with his head resting on your bump, telling little Eliana all sorts of stories. About how her daddies were excited to meet her. How he hoped she grew up to be like her mommy. Sometimes, he would tell her fairytales, though he often forgot most of the details and made them up on the fly. (And, sometimes, you woke up and found Marc doing the same, though he often stuck to telling her how much he loved her. You never let him know you caught him, letting him have the moment to himself.) 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s settled down after breakfast,” you said. “Think she’s taking a nap in there right now.”

“Good.” Jake leaned, kissed the side of your head. The carriage jolted forward as the parade began, leading out onto the streets of the capitol. “Can you believe this time next year, she’s gonna be sitting right here in between us?”

“No,” you said. “I can hardly believe that in a month’s time, I won’t be carrying her in my belly anymore. I think I’m gonna miss it.”

Jake gave you a wicked grin. “Guess we’ll just have to put another baby in ya then, won’t we?”

“Mm, I would like that.”

Before Jake could say any more, your attention was pulled away by the sound of the cheering crowd. You painted on a smile, getting ready to wave at those in attendance. As you got closer to the crowd, though, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd. You tapped your hand against Jake’s leg. He looked at you, following your gaze to the girl in the crowd. Little Daisy stood there with her parents, giving you both a toothy grin. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she shouted when she realized you were looking at her. 

“THANK YOU, DAISY!” you shouted back, turning to look at the way her face lit up as the carriage continued down the road. 

“Did ya hear that? She remembers me!” you heard her say before you turned back around to face the front. 

“I hope Eliana is as happy as Daisy,” you said to Jake. 

“With you as a mommy? She definitely will be.”

You grabbed Jake’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, my dove.”

“Just one more push!” the nurse said. “Just one big one, okay?”

You screamed as you pushed, gripping Marc’s hand so tight it might break. He squeezed back, telling you encouraging words that you mostly drowned out with your shouts. Then— A noise louder than your screams filled the room as your baby was born.

The nurse held your baby as the doctor cut the umbilical cord. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling widely as you. “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” you repeated. You looked at Marc, a tired smile on your face. “We’ve got our sweet Eliana. Oh, I can’t wait to hold her!”

“Well, let’s not think about that right now. We got another baby to have,” the doctor said. 

You raised your head off the pillow, looking at the doctor with furrowed brows. “Another? You told us we were having just one!”

“Sometimes, one of the babies blocks its twin in the ultrasounds,” he said. “In any case, you need to get ready to push ‘cause this baby’s coming out whether you only expected one child or two.”

The nurse, who had passed your baby to another nurse so she could be cleaned up, glared at the doctor. “Don’t be such a dick,” she hissed at him. She looked back at you, smiling. “Just gotta do it one more time, okay? Lean back, and start pushing when we tell you to, just like we did before.”

You settled back, head falling on the pillow again. You took a moment to look at Marc, seeing the color drained from his face. “You okay, my love?”

“I wasn’t prepared for two. I was barely prepared for one,” he whispered. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “We can handle assassination attempts and hidden family plots, can’t we? We can handle this just fine.”

Marc swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Several minutes, too many pushes, and a sore throat later, your second child was born. A boy, your Randall. You watched as he was taken away, too, to be cleaned up. You glanced at the doctor, who started to get up. 

“No more, right? No secret triplet I should know about?” you asked. 

The doctor shook his head. “Just the two, I swear.”

“You also swore there was just one,” Marc muttered. 

You patted Marc’s arm, turning his attention back to you as the doctor left. “You’re gonna be okay, love. It’s not what we expected, but we always wanted multiple kids. We’re just getting a head start on that big family sooner than expected, yeah?”

“One newborn is hard, two is…unimaginably difficult,” Marc said. 

“We can handle it. And if we can’t, we have a wonderful support system to help us.”

Before Marc could reply, a couple of nurses entered the room, your babies in their arms. “It’s important the babies get plenty of time with mommy,” one of them said, passing you Eliana. The other nurse handed you Randall. Both babies were settled in either book of your arm, nestled in there like it was home. “Don’t want to shock them too much after leaving the womb, hm?”

You thanked them and they soon left the room after telling you to shout if you needed anything. As you and Marc were left alone, you looked at him, seeing his gaze entirely focused on your children. He almost looked like he wanted to ask something but like he was too scared to say anything. You took a shot in the dark as to what that might have been. 

“Go on, my love, hold her,” you said, holding Eliana out towards Marc. 

He stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His gaze lifted to look at you, his head giving a small shake. 

“She deserves to know all of her fathers. My love, I wouldn’t ask you to hold her if I thought you would drop her or scare her or hurt her in any way. You’re one of her fathers. You deserve to hold your baby.”

Marc looked back at Eliana. He glanced at Randall, nestled in the crook of your other arm. Eliana cooed at him, wiggling in her cocoon of a blanket as if she was trying to reach out for him, practically crying out, hold me! hold me, please!

“I trust you.”

Slowly, Marc extended his arms, one hand going behind Eliana’s head, supporting her as she nestled in his arms. “She’s so tiny,” he breathed out. “She looks like she could be broken so easily.”

“Not so easily. Babies are resilient, you know,” you said. “This is gonna be hard, Marc. I can’t lie to you about that. But we can get through. That’s what matters. That we don’t give up, that we try to do what’s best for our kids. Sometimes, they might love us for it. Others, they might hate us for it. But let them grow up knowing that we all tried.”

Marc sniffed. He leaned down, brushing his nose against the top of Eliana’s head as he kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna keep you safe,” he whispered. He looked back to you, his eyes glassy. “I’m gonna make sure no one hurts our family.”

You watched as Randall doddled around the ballroom, his chubby little hand clutching Layla’s fingers. Of everyone in attendance, he was probably the most comfortably dressed. Rather than forcing him into a tuxedo and making him uncomfortable all night, you had purchased one of those t-shirts that has a tuxedo design printed on. Paired with some comfy shorts, he was practically wearing pajamas. Eliana was similarly comfortable, wearing a pink t-shirt and shorts. Unlike her brother, though, she had clung to her daddies all night long. 

“Are you gonna let me dance with daddy?” you asked, tickling under Eliana’s chin as the band began a new song.

She shook her head, giggling. 

“Hm…Well, how about we both dance with you?” you asked. 

Her little face lit up. She let out a noise that almost sounded like she said “yess!!”

Steven let out a laugh, adjusting Eliana so he had a better grip on her before leading you and her onto the dance floor. You placed one hand on Steven’s shoulder, wrapping your other arm around Eliana. Steven put one hand on your waist. Together, the two of you swayed to the music.

“Me!”

You looked down, seeing Randall doddling up to you as quickly as he could manage. Layla let out a laugh, scooping him up and helping him get the rest of the way to you. You let go of Steven, balancing your baby boy in your arms, before continuing to sway.

“How could I ever forget my boy?” you asked, kissing his cheeks. “Gotta have both my babies, don’t I?”

It was your first birthday ball since…Well, the horrible one that sent your entire life as you once knew it spiraling. You had chosen to not hold the ball last year when you revived the birthday parade tradition. It was one thing to sit in a carriage and smile and wave for a few hours. It was an entirely different thing to stand in the ballroom for a couple of hours, even if you did forgo the heels. Now, though, as your sweet babies were nearly a year old, it felt right to bring it back. A new family, a better tradition. 

“What about this boy? I think you forgot his kiss this morning.”

You lifted your gaze to look at Marc, who was now fronting. You smiled and leaned in, careful to not bump Randall’s head against Eliana’s, and gave him a gentle kiss. “That better, my love?”

“Hmm, it’ll have to hold me over for now.” He smiled slightly. “Happy birthday, dove.”

The song came to an end and Layla stepped forward, Yelena by her side, offering to watch the kiddos so you and Marc could have a moment to yourselves. You both agreed, passing the toddlers to them, before slipping your hand in Marc’s and leading him out to the balcony. 

“As nervous as I was for all of this,” Marc said, looking up at the stars, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

You smiled at him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. Everything is more amazing than I ever could have imagined.”

You felt a shift in Marc’s body language and, when you lifted your head, you realized that Jake was now fronting. “I can think of something that would make this even more amazing.”

A brow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Adding another member to the family.”

You smiled. “You know, I think that would be an amazing birthday present.”

It was almost strange, feeling so happy. So content. For so many years, you had been on edge. You were scared and anxious and hated the way your life was headed. There was a constant weight on your shoulder. But ever since you met your husbands, that weight was slowly being lifted off of you until now, when you felt as light as a feather. You could breathe. You weren’t afraid anymore. Ever since you met your husbands, you felt free to live, to love, to be authentically you. Sure, you still had to paint on a smile for public engagements (after all, anyone who spent their days being attacked by flash photography could much rather glare than smile), but otherwise? You didn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You once thought that, if you had a choice, you would be anything but a royal. You thought that it wasn’t what you wanted. You thought it ripped your freedom from you. You thought you would never be able to do anything right. Now, you knew that this was the life you always wanted. Being a royal had its issues, to be sure. But when you looked at your life that you had built with Marc, Steven, and Jake by your side…You wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“I love you, dove. We all do.”

“And I love you all, too, my loves. Forever and ever.”

And all was well for now and forevermore. 

FIN.

#do not chastise the dove: a royal moon knight au #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x female reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #starrywrites #starryevermore

[shipskicksandgiggles]

32 with uh. yhose little gay bitches from stranger things. steddie.

the second I saw this I knew exactly what I was going to write. this is so them, thank you

32. “I don’t like the way you just implied you couldn’t legally drive in the state of Illinois.” (from this list)

also on ao3

The fact that they had a protocol for the world ending probably should have been more of a concern to Eddie than it was. 

Well, it wasn’t so much of a protocol as it was a process. It started with everyone landing at a home base. 

Chief Hopper’s absolutely destroyed cabin seemed to be that home base. They spent their days there, clearing away debris and coming up with a plan. 

The kids always seemed to get their first, followed by him, Robin, Steve, and Nancy.

Eddie was a more recent addition, the hospital having released him sooner than they probably should have, but not soon enough for Eddie’s liking. 

Then more people showed up. 

Johnathan Byers, his younger brother, Little Wheeler, a long haired guy Eddie assumed was from California, and a small girl whose head looked like it had been shaved recently appeared the day after he did. 

Joyce Byers, a not-dead Hopper, and some guy named Murray showed up about a week after them. 

Given the month he’d had, Eddie gave up on asking questions. 

Without any adults present, they seemed to get on fine. Nancy was a powerhouse when it came to planning, and the kids were always ready to workshop ideas. 

Things only seemed to get easier after the girl with the shaved head arrived. 

He learned her name was Eleven. El for short. 

Johnathan gave him the footnotes of her story one night, under a haze of weed. She really was a superhero. 

Steve was also a powerhouse, but in a different way. Work horse might have been a more apt description. He was the one who made sure everyone was eating and sleeping. He drove everyone everywhere they needed to go. His house became the unofficial crash pad for party members whose houses were destroyed or families had left. 

He kept watch constantly, making sure no Upside Down creatures could hurt them. 

Eddie didn’t think he slept, or if he did, he slept sitting up, never not on guard. He saw him one night when he couldn’t sleep himself, watching out the back window with a baseball bat with nails driven into it propped up against the chair, perfectly in reach. 

These people had seen things more horrific than probably anyone else on earth, and yet they endured. 

It made sense that there was a process. 

By the time the adults made it to Hawkins, they were running themselves ragged. Eddie was exhausted, physically and mentally. He’d almost popped one of his stitches that morning, but Steve had come to his rescue, somehow still alert despite probably being the worst off of all of them. It was a relief to finally have more people who knew what to do. 

After the joyous reunions of mothers and fathers with sons and daughters, everyone sat down, introductions were made, and a plan was developed. 

The Upside Down coming to them was an unforeseen complication. El, Will, Joyce, Nancy, and Murrary would be the ones to problem solve and maybe find a solution. 

The rest of the kids plus Robin, Johnathan, Argyle, and Hopper would take whatever they found and help make it actionable in whatever capacity they could. 

As for Steve and Eddie?

“There’s some equipment and paperwork we’ll need to avoid unnecessary government involvement,” Murray told them. “I’ve got everything stored in a bunker in Illinois. I need you two to go get it.”

“You might need to take my truck,” Hopper told them. “There’s a map in the glove box for all the traps he set out.”

“Of course you made a map,” Murray muttered. “Before you leave, I’m going to proofread that map to make sure he didn’t miss anything.”

His tone was dead serious. Who the fuck were these people? 

“You want us to go?” Steve asked. “Are you sure you don’t still need my help here?”

Murray gave Steve the same look he gave him when they were introduced. 

(“Steve,” he’d said, sticking out his hand for Murray to shake. “Steve Harrington.”

“Harrington,” Murray had said, shooting a look at Nancy. “Really?” He looked him up and down incredulously before conceding. “If you say so.”)

“We can hold down the fort here, Steve,” Joyce reminded gently. 

“What about me?” Eddie asked. “Are you sure you want me and Harrington to go on a road trip together?”

“I could go with Steve,” Robin piped up. “Eddie can switch roles with me.”

Murray ignored her. “It’ll be good for you two to take a step back from all of this,” he told them. “My guest room should still be made up, you can stay the night there.”

“But if it’s just in Illinois-”

Murray gave him a different look, one that probably had more meaning than just a glare. “Look, I’m not usually one to beat around the bush, so I won’t. Steve, you need a break. For the love of god, get out of Hawkins and sleep for a night, please. Munson, you also need to get out of here. This town makes you jittery, and you both deserve a night where nothing is trying to kill you. We also just happen to need paperwork and equipment. I’ll give you a list and check over Hop’s map. I expect you to have your bags packed and be on your way to Illinois by sunset.”

Neither of them wanted to argue with him, so they agreed quietly and the group disbanded. 

“I’m going to head back to my place to pack my bag if you need anything,” Steve said. “You can come if you want.”

Eddie dropped into the passenger seat of his car. “I need to pack a few things too, and I think most of my stuff is at your place anyways.”

“Very convenient. Certainly saves us some time,” he said, starting the car and immediately turning down the stereo that started blaring Springsteen. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“And you’re not going to either.” He pulled out onto the road. “I will let you pick some of the music for this trip. I’m not listening to you bitch a fit about my music for six hours, so you can bring some tapes of your own.”

“Did I pop a stitch and bleed out? Harrington, doth mine ears deceive me?”

“Cut it out,” Steve chastised. “Don’t make me regret it before we even start.”

“Alright, geez, I’ll be quiet. I need to start planning which tapes to bring anyway.”

Steve sighed again, but he didn’t say anything, so Eddie took that as a win. This road trip might not be so bad after all. 

~~~

It didn’t take either of them long to pack for the night, so they were back at Hopper’s cabin a couple hours later. 

They had barely stepped out of the car when Murray was handing them three maps; one for the drive, one of the traps Hop had mentioned, and one of Murray’s bunker (seriously, who was this guy?) complete with a list of everything they needed and where the items would be located. Short of getting on the highway, they were all set. 

Then Hopper handed Eddie his keys. 

“Why-”

“No offense kids, but Harrington’s car probably isn’t the most equipped for my property,” Murray said. “It’s best if you take Hop’s truck.”

“Don’t worry, Munson, there’s a tape deck, it doesn’t have to be a quiet drive,” Hopper told him. 

“Why did you hand me the keys though?”

“You think I’m about to let Harrington drive when he hasn’t slept in over a week? Absolutely not, I would hardly trust him to navigate.”

“I’m fine, Hop,” Steve insisted. 

Eddie knew he was lying. “I promise I’ll take care of your truck, Chief.”

“I know. Drive safe, follow the rules of the road, don’t get caught by anyone who wants you dead, got it?”

“Got it,” the boys chorused. 

They said their goodbyes to everyone, loaded everything into Hop’s truck, and got on the road. It wasn’t long before they crossed over the Illinois border, and Eddie let out a soft snort. 

“Something funny?” Steve asked. 

“It’s nothing. Just that I’m glad it’s been enough time that I can drive in Illinois again.”

Despite the music, Eddie could still hear the gears turning in Steve’s head. 

“I don’t like the way you just implied you couldn’t legally drive in the state of Illinois.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was when my dad was still in my life. The state couldn’t do much other than tell me to not drive until I was an adult with a license and kicked me off to Indiana to live with Wayne. Anyways, I turned out fine and I can legally drive here now, so no harm done.”

“Hopper will have your skin if he finds out.” 

“Oh, I know. There’s a reason I was confused when he handed me the keys.”

He glanced over to see Steve smiling. It wasn’t a laugh quite yet, but he seemed to relax the longer they drove, so he counted it as a win.

After that, it was a pretty quiet drive, the silence only being broken by changes in the music or Steve telling him where to turn. A few hours later, Eddie pulled the car off the road onto what seemed to be a hidden driveway, and stopped. 

“Switch to map number two,” he instructed. 

Steve folded the first map up and grabbed the next one in the pile. “You can drive for another hundred feet or so before you need to make a left. There should be an old tree, that’s your marker.”

“Great,” Eddie muttered. “Of course the man who has everything we need is paranoid as shit.”

“Murray means well, he’s just been through a lot,” Steve said lightly. “I don’t really blame him sometimes. That’s the tree, make a left.”

Eddie did, and saw a rock that would have dropped onto the truck in the rear view mirror. “Right.”

Another 15 minutes went by in much the same fashion. The only indication they were getting close was the gradual increase in traps to the point where Steve was constantly listing turns when they could see the building. 

Finally, Steve said “Park,” and Eddie did just that. 

Both of them sat in silence for a moment, breathing heavily, and then Eddie started laughing. 

Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and eventually Steve joined in. This entire situation was too ridiculous to not laugh about it.

It took a while to calm down, mostly before once one got themself under control, the other would start up again, but they got there eventually. 

Steve grabbed both of their bags out of the back while Eddie went to figure out the door. Once they got in, Eddie was surprised to see that Murray’s bunker looked a lot like a normal apartment on the inside.

“Is it weird that I expected more, I don’t know, blank metal walls and plastic chairs?”

“Or at least some sort of indication of doomsday preparation?” Steve joked, dropping their bags next to the couch.

“Check the bookshelf, I think I saw at least one survivalist manual.”

He did. “What do you know?”

“See? Even Murray can live like a normal guy while still having this side of him. Did you grab the list of things we needed?”

Steve pulled it out of his pocket. “I’d say let’s split up so we can tackle more ground, but it might be better if we stick together this time.”

“For sure.” Eddie looked over his shoulder. “Pull that copy of Julius Caesar out of the shelf.”

“How did you even see that?”

“Better question is, why does Murray have Shakespeare on his doomsday shelf-”

The shelf swung open as Steve pulled it out.

“-if not to hide something?”

“Holy shit.”

“I’m starting to love this guy.”

“You would.”

Eddie grinned and winked, ducking back into the space. “Let’s see what we’re working with, shall we?”

Murray’s list and accompanying map were organized well enough that they were able to locate what they needed easily. 

“Looks like we’ve got two things in this room. One form is in a box labeled ‘1985’ with a star and a down arrow next to it, and the other is in ‘1985 Battery Protocol’.”

“I don’t want to know how his brain works.” Eddie started searching the room for either of the boxes. 

“Is it bad that I think I get it?”

“Maybe it’s just because you’ve been around this longer. You start to all think alike.”

Steve snorted. “Right, sure.”

He finally found one of the boxes and started rifling through it while Steve kept looking for the other one. 

“Did Murray ever, like, talk to you about anything?”

Eddie paused. “Not really. We had a weird conversation the other day where he told me it was cool that I was still unapologetically myself even after everything, but I got the feeling we weren’t having the same conversation. Why?”

“I had something similar happen, where he said something and I didn’t think we were on the same page. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t figure him out.”

“Hopper and Joyce can.”

“Yeah, that’s not a can of worms I’m willing to open.” Steve dropped down to the floor next to him with his own box. “Find the ‘Guide to Reporting Russian Activity’ yet?”

“Just start looking for the battery sheet. Should have the equations to figure out how many batteries we need to appropriately stock however many walkies for the apocalypse.”

Steve made a face. “Switch boxes?”

Eddie slid his over. “Hand it over, big boy.”

~~~

They found a spare box to store their materials in, which they set on the kitchen counter once they emerged from the storage part of the bunker. 

“Is it weird I forgot it was normal out here?”

“After the 20 minute mark, I convinced myself I imagined it,” Eddie admitted. “Shall we see what he keeps in his kitchen? Make some dinner and then we can sleep?”

“Do you honestly think he has anything worth cooking in this kitchen?”

“He might keep a drawer of take out menus?” Eddie opened a random drawer, and sure enough, he found them on the first try. “Jackpot. How do you feel about pizza?”

“That sounds amazing. I’m going to see if Murray has cable. Or at least a VHS player with some halfway decent movies.”

“Good luck!”

Ten minutes into negotiating with the pizza place, it turned out Eddie needed luck too. The pizza place was familiar with the address and refused to deliver to them. Thankfully, he was able to talk them into meeting him at the road so he didn’t have to drive all the way into town, but the delivery driver didn’t have to deal with the traps. 

By the time he made it back to the bunker, pizza in hand, Steve was loading a tape into the TV.

“What’d you find?”

Steve held up the case. 

“Star Wars? Really?”

“I was shocked too. He’s got all three too, so we’re set.”

“Wow.”

“I know! I’m beginning to think there’s no end to how weird this guy is.”

“Keeps you guessing, that’s for sure.” Eddie propped the box up on the coffee table and sank into the couch. “Well what are you waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!”

Halfway through the first movie, Steve started nodding off next to him. Eddie went to turn it off, but Steve stopped him. 

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Keep it on.”

Eddie gave in, but he wasn’t at all surprised when Steve was lightly snoring by the end of the movie. He smiled, and quietly went about cleaning up. The leftover pizza went in the fridge, and he rewound the VHS and put it back in the case, leaving it next to the TV because he wasn’t sure where Steve had found it. 

Finally, he shook Steve awake. “Steve.”

“Hmm?”

“C’mon big boy, I need you to wake up enough to walk to an actual bed.”

Steve opened his eyes slowly. “Is the movie over?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled. “Which means it’s time for bed. I’ll grab your bag so you can change into pajamas, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He waited until he was sure Steve was up and moving before he made his way into the entryway where they dropped their bags. He grabbed his bag and Steve’s before heading for the guestroom where Steve was standing in the doorway. 

“Uh, Steve?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder, and sure enough, there was only one bed. “I can see that.”

“I can take the couch, I fell asleep fine there before.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie shut him down as soon as the sentence was out of his mouth. “If you think I’m letting you sleep on the couch, the concussions must be getting to you because you’ve lost it, buddy.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either, Eds,” Steve argued. 

He knew arguing with Steve would get him nowhere, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting him sleep on the couch, so a compromise it was. “You know, I think both of us could fit on that bed.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“That’s got to be a queen sized mattress, so unless you sleep like a starfish or kick a lot in your sleep, I think we could make it work.”

“Eddie-”

“Steve, the whole point of us coming out here was so you could get a decent night’s sleep. In an actual bed, because I know you keep sleeping in the living room, and I’m sick and tired of you not taking care of yourself. Emphasis on the tired because this whole situation is exhausting, and I don’t know about you, but I want to go to bed.”

He pushed past Steve into the room and dropped their bags by the foot of the bed. “Which side do you want?”

“Either is fine.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. He took the right side, knowing despite Steve’s insistence that he didn’t care, he’d want to be closer to the door. 

“I’m going to shower and change into pajamas unless you want first dibs at the bathroom.”

“If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, your highness. I can wait.”

Actually, given that Steve looked like he was still on the verge of passing out, he was happy to wait. He didn’t take that long, and Eddie ducked into the bathroom right after him, making sure to squeeze as much water out of his hair as possible before swapping into softer clothes, leaving his rings and chains on the counter. 

When he emerged, Steve was lying on top of the covers. 

“Steve, what are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” he muttered. “Shhh.”

“Get under the covers, Steve.”

“‘M fine.”

“Steven Michael Harrington.”

He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at Eddie. “How do you know my middle name?”

“Unimportant. Get under the covers, or so help me god.”

“Fine, Jesus.” He stood up and pulled the comforter back before crawling back in. “Happy?” 

“Yes.” Eddie finished putting his clothes away before climbing into bed next to him. “See, I don’t bite.”

“Sure, that’s what I was afraid of.”

Eddie ignored him. “Are you okay with me turning the light off?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Don’t need me to make a pillow barrier or anything between us?”

“It’s fine, Munson, just turn off the damn light.”

“Alrighty then.” He hit the light switch before making his way to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Harrington.”

“Night, Eddie.”

Despite what Eddie said about being fine sleeping next to Steve, it was hard to not be aware of him. He laid down on his back, as still as could be. It was kind of freaky, which coming from Eddie was kind of impressive.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me you don’t actually sleep like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re made of wood, dude. You know you can relax, right?”

“Sorry, it’s hard. I’m not used to it, I guess.”

Eddie sighed. “Alright, sit up.” He felt for a switch on the lamp sitting in the bedside table, and the room was bathed in a soft, yellow light. 

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Steve, I swear to god.”

Steve pushed himself up, and Eddie shifted closer to him. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Put your back towards me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He stared at him for a second, and Eddie couldn’t help but feel bad. His pillow rumpled hair and tired eyes made it so much more obvious how exhausted he was. 

“Of course I trust you,” Steve said finally.

“Then turn around. Let me help you.”

Once his back was to Eddie, he sat up on his knees. “Do you mind if I touch your hair? I know it’s like your thing, but I’ve got an idea, and I think it’ll help you relax.”

“You’re gonna play with my hair?”

“Not quite, but if you think that would work, I’ll give it a shot.”

“I don’t care if you touch it, I’ll fix it in the morning. Just get it over with.”

“Bossy. Now hush, and do your best to relax.”

He pressed his fingertips to Steve’s scalp and started rubbing small circles just behind his temple. The effect was almost immediate as Steve slumped in on himself. 

“Feel good, sugar?”

“Mm.”

“Good.”

“Magic,” Steve murmured. 

“What’s that?”

“Your fingers. They’re magic.”

“Oh darling, you think this is magic, I have excellent news for you.”

Steve tipped his head back to look Eddie in the eye. “I believe you. Just don’t stop doing that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Might fall asleep sitting up though,” Steve hummed.

“I’ll lay you down if you do.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Not just for this.” Steve caught his hand and turned to face him. “For everything. For driving, for watching the kids when I can’t, for saving my life. I’m glad you’re here, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie hadn’t noticed before how Steve had faint laugh lines by his eyes. It struck him how deep his eyes were, tired, sure, filled with fear and resignation, but also how alive they were. How they seemed to spark when he smiled.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Steve Harrington.”

His hands had shifted with Steve’s movement, so he was holding the sides of his face. It felt so natural to pull him into a kiss, that he didn’t realize he had until Steve was dragging him in by his waist, causing him to practically fall into Steve’s lap.

“Woah.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t think ‘okay’ even begins to cover it,” Eddie laughed. 

Steve’s smile only grew. “So?”

“So what?”

“You like me?”

“Do I have to say it? Can’t I just-” he leaned into Steve again, but he was stopped by a hand pressed against his mouth. 

“Eddie…” Steve sighed. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

He moved the hand away from his face. “Yes, I like you Steve. Had a stupid crush when I thought you were just hot, then I had to go and find out you’re the sweetest man alive who cares too damn much and would probably fight the armies of heaven and hell combined if one of the kids asked you too and that did me in. So ‘like’ might actually be underselling it.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Well then, I guess that settles it.”

“What?”

“That I’d fight the combined armies of heaven and hell for you too, darling.”

Eddie covered his own face this time. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude after you just kissed me.”

“I will call you whatever I damn well please, Steve. And don’t think this is getting you out of sleeping, by the way. You’re not going to distract me.”

“Call it delaying the inevitable,” Steve said, leaning back in. “I’ve been told cuddling can help people sleep.”

“Is that so?”

“I’d be willing to give it a shot. You know, in the name of science.”

“Science, of course.”

 “One thing though.”

Eddie frowned and leaned back. “What?”

“I actually do sleep on my back, so I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

“You little shit.” Eddie smacked him with a pillow. “Just lay back down so we can turn off the lights and actually go to sleep. I’m sure we can figure our placements out without much trouble.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later found Eddie tucked into Steve’s side. “How should we tell everyone?”

“They’ll probably just figure it out on their own,” Steve said. “The kids are nosy like that, and they’ll just tell everyone else.”

“Why do I get the feeling Murray is going to be happy about this?”

Steve didn’t answer him, and for a second Eddie thought he dropped off. Then- “I was thinking the same thing. There’s no way he could have planned this, right?”

“I don’t think so. Unless he knew something we didn’t.” Then Eddie’s eyes widened. “Just out of curiosity, what was the conversation where you didn’t think you were on the same page?”

“It was about how I’d moved on from Nancy, and how we’d never really fit, and that I’d done a good job growing up into the person I was meant to be surrounded by the people meant to be my family.”

He tapped on Steve’s chest. “He knew. He totally knew. That’s what he was getting at, but he couldn’t just outright say it.”

“This was planned,” Steve said slowly. “Son of a bitch.”

“What do you buy a survivalist as a thank you gift?”

“We’ll figure it out in the car tomorrow.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“‘Night Eds.”

And for the first time in almost a month, Steve slept, and Eddie did too.

#steddie #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #fluff #fluff and hurt/comfort #murray bauman gets them together #what else do you need #steve needs sleep #that's all #nate tag #ellis writes